Chapter 5
Timmy
“I’m a very good boy.” Now my words come out rushed when Jake—Daddy Jake—doesn’t say anything at all and just keeps staring impassively at me.
Before, he was acting out of sorts and almost like he was nervous, but now there’s no emotion whatsoever showing on his face, and that just makes all my insecurities flare up.
“I mean, I’ve never had a Daddy, not past a few hours at least, but I know it’s what I want, and I know I can be a very good boy.
I want to be a good boy. I always say what I want, though, and sometimes that’s not what .
. . it hasn’t been great for the, uh, the Daddies I’ve met before.
Sometimes.” All the bravery I had a minute ago is gone and now I’m just rambling, but I do pause to gesture between us and to take a fucking breath.
“I don’t know if that’s something I can change, really, but I can give you what you want if you give me a chance.
Just one chance please, and I’ll show you, Daddy. ”
My throat and lips feel dry, my hands clammy, so I stop to swallow and lick my lips, ready to find another argument to convince him when he stands and makes his way around the desk.
He sits on the edge of it, right in front of me, then crosses his arms over his chest and looks at me with intensity in his eyes. Or is that heat?
I feel like he’s about to tell me to go to hell, so maybe not.
“Say that again,” he demands.
“What?” I ask, my blood pumping at the command, at how much I want to do whatever he says. “I can show you how much of a good boy I can be?”
“No, the last part.”
“Daddy?” His pupils go wide, his eyes almost purely black, so I say it again. “Daddy.”
He lets out a harsh breath that sounds almost like a growl.
So he likes that, and I don’t know if it’s me saying it or just anyone saying it, but I’ve heard two people call him that tonight, so . . .
“No one’s ever called me that. Even the boys I’ve been with.”
“But just now—”
“They call me Daddy Jake,” he interrupts me. “But I’ve never been just Daddy.”
“You can tonight. If you give me a chance.” Is that too much?
God, I’m probably going to put him off with how pushy I’m being. Why didn’t I just keep my trap shut? Why did I have to go ahead and spill all my wants to him?
Because this is too good a chance to pass up, my subconscious offers, and it gives me another boost of confidence.
Taking another big leap, I sit again, right at the edge of my chair, then slowly lean in until my mouth is a hair’s breadth away from his crotch. I keep looking up at him.
“Let me show you, Daddy,” I whisper.
His mouth drops slightly open as he looks down at me, his arms coming loose slowly and his chest rising and falling with breaths that are becoming more ragged the more time passes.
“You’re more than a decade younger than me,” he says.
“That’s more than fine by me. I wanted this before I met you, and even if you say no, I’ll still want this after. I don’t mind you being older. You’re hot.”
“You’re Benny’s teammate,” he says, clearly trying to come up with any excuse. That gives me pause.
“Do you not want me?” Am I making him uncomfortable? God, that’s mortifying.
“No, no, no,” he shouts, and shakes his head quickly. That has me breathing easier.
“Okay, then, what’s the holdup? What does it matter if I’m Benny’s teammate?”
“You’re also one of his best friends.”
“Yeah,” I say slowly, waiting for him to get to the point.
“What if this just—”
“What if we just try, and if I’m not the boy you’re looking for, then we forget about it?”
“Just like that?” he asks, looking skeptical.
“I promise, Daddy,” I whisper.
He stares deeply into my eyes for a long moment, then nods and straightens, and moves to the side—which has me mourning our closeness.
He walks over to a couch pressed up against the left wall.
“Come here and we can figure some stuff out before anything else happens.”
Going with my instinct, I straddle his lap, and my heart fucking flutters when he lets out a guttural groan and grips my hips tight.
“We can talk like this, right Daddy?”
My head stops swimming with endless questions. There’s nothing to second-guess anymore. Here, I’m safe.
Here, I can be and ask and say whatever I need to.
“Yes,” he says in a gravelly voice. I lean in to kiss down his throat.
His answering moan is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
“Wait, we need to, we have to . . . talk?” I giggle, not willing to swallow down the fucking glee at being the reason he’s distracted, at the evidence that I have a strong effect on him.
“You wanted us to figure some stuff out?” I ask, my voice small but full of happiness. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this free.
Maybe it’s because I know he knows what he’s doing, maybe it’s because he obviously cares about rules and consent, or maybe it’s just my attraction to him.
“Ah yes, right, I wanted to . . .” I kiss below his ear and his hands start drifting back to my ass.
I moan when he squeezes a bit.
“Safe . . .” Then he clears his throat. “Safe word. What’s your safe word?”
That’s easy to answer, even while his hands keep exploring my ass—it’s a great ass, I know it, by normal standards, but it’s still pretty good for hockey standards too.
“I like ‘stop’ for a full stop, but red, yellow, and green also work,” I tell him, and his silence tells me he maybe didn’t expect me to be so familiar with the stoplight system.
“What else do you need to know, Daddy?” I whisper so we can move this along.
“I uh, I’ll take care of you, that’s non-negotiable.”
I stop and have to lean back.
“What do you mean?”
His eyes clear a bit, and I can see him swell with a confidence that’s somehow not cocky—it’s natural, innate. His steel eyes are steady as he looks up at me, his mouth curved in a soft smile even while his hands keep patting my ass gently.
“I mean, I don’t need you to be a good boy. The point of a dynamic like this one is to focus on what you need, and whatever you need, I’ll do. Whatever’s best for you, I’ll make sure that’s what you get.”
I mull it over for a second but it still doesn’t quite fit into what I thought this was . . . even with all the research I did.
“I thought . . .” I trail off. What did I think?
I can actually feel my mind leave that happy place as I try to string a logical thought together. Thankfully, he keeps explaining before I can blunder this any more.
“Being a boy doesn’t mean you have to be perfect, Timmy. That’s not what I want. What I want is a boy to spoil and to please and to help. Is that not what you want?” he asks gently.
The sudden knot of emotion in my throat comes out of nowhere. I can even feel my eyes dampen.
That’s what I want, some voice in the back of my brain whispers. The only word that I can use to describe it is innate—again.
That’s truly what I want and what I never thought I needed.
I thought that I had to be good to be taken care of. The idea that I can get what I need without having to worry constantly that I’m not good enough is too much to process right now.
I don’t have the patience for words anymore.
I fall into him, and kiss him deeper than I’ve ever kissed anyone. It’s the only way I know how to show him what he’s given me. What it means to me to have him explain what I didn’t know was my deepest wish.
“Baby, are you sure?” he asks, but I just use the sudden space between us to wrench off my shirt.
“Okay, then,” he adds, his voice full of happy laughter as I reach for his shirt and start quickly undoing every button.
“Here, baby boy,” he says and gently but confidently guides me to lie down on the couch.
“You’re gonna let Daddy take care of you now, huh? ”
“Uh-huh,” is all I can manage as he undoes my belt, pulls down my briefs with my pants, then takes off my shoes and socks. He squeezes my foot, and for some reason that has my eyes dampening again. “Daddy,” I whisper, though I don’t know exactly why.
“I got you,” he whispers, then reaches down to circle my hard dick. “Such a perfect big boy. Just relax now, baby.”
He leans down without preamble and licks at my leaking tip. He hums in pleasure, and then . . . and then he’s sucking me deep into his mouth. That perfect hot, wet suction never gets old, it’s always a relief.
“Daddy,” I moan, unable to explain in any way how much I need him.
“You can come whenever you want, baby boy. Daddy will take care of you.”
The second his mouth is back on me, the second I feel that perfect pull, I come undone.
At any other moment, with any other man, I might feel embarrassed by my hair trigger, but I can’t.
Not when Jake is humming in approval, when he’s lapping up at my slowly deflating dick like it’s a treat for him.
“Perfect,” he says simply, and I know my smile is blinding in that moment.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
His crinkling eyes are full of the same satisfaction I feel, but also that same need—it’s the only reason why I dare ask for more.
“Please fuck me,” I beg, not minding even a little.
He stares for a long moment, and his hands still over my hipbones, while his eyes sharpen with new intensity. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I can’t help but dream of a time that I will.
I imagine a day when I get home exhausted, finding him there, and with only a simple glance I can tell what mood he’s in. In this magical future, he also knows exactly how to take me, what I need, what I’m able to take.
Ridiculously, I feel emotional, wanting that vision more than I’ve wanted almost anything before.
“I want you inside me. I want you to take care of me.”
I hope he knows I don’t mean sexually—or not only. Yes, right now that would be the way to take care of me, but what I want most is to feel him all over me, to have proof that he feels me too, that he wants me too . . . maybe as much as I want him.
I might not know him very well, but I know need and desire when I see them, and Jake wants me.