Chapter 13
Danny
The evening sun dips low outside the windows as we step into Olivier's apartment, the city lights starting to flicker on like distant stars.
My body's buzzing from the day— that wild playtime at the Dancing Daisy, the unexpected spanking that left my bottom tingling in the best way, and now this quiet return to my Daddy’s sleek space.
After the Dancing Daisy Olivier had restaurant work to do, and I was more than happy to go for a walk around the city and check out some cool spots.
I don’t always need company, and often I find that I actually love to be by myself.
It lets me think, process things quietly, and just enjoy myself in a more tranquil way.
I know that I might not look like the kind of guy who would enjoy that, but it’s who I am, and I’m cool with it!
Anyway…
Olivier locks the door behind us, his hand warm on my lower back as he guides me inside. "Bath time, boy," he says, voice low and commanding but with that soft edge I've come to love. "You need to unwind."
I nod, a shy smile creeping up.
"Yes, Daddy."
The word Daddy still feels new, thrilling, like a secret only we share, although in the right context more and more people know that’s what we are together.
Daddy leads me to the bathroom—a luxurious setup with marble tiles, a massive claw-foot tub that could fit us both easily, and those fancy fixtures that make everything feel posh and fancy.
While Olivier runs the water, steam rising in curls, I strip down, folding my clothes neatly on the counter. Lexi sits on the edge, watching with his bright dragon eyes.
The tub fills fast, bubbles foaming up from the lavender-scented soap Daddy adds—big, fluffy clouds that promise fun. He tosses in a couple of rubber ducks, their yellow bodies bobbing happily, and then, with a grin, adds two army figures in scuba gear.
"For adventure," Olivier says, winking. “Plus they’ve got hot bodies!”
“Hehe! Daddy!” I laugh.
I giggle some more and slip into the hot water first. It envelops me like a hug, soothing the faint sting from earlier.
Olivier undresses next—methodical, revealing that compact, strong body I can't get enough of—and slides in behind me, pulling me back against his chest. His arms wrap around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder.
"Comfy?"
"Perfect," I murmur, leaning into him. The bubbles tickle my skin, and I grab a rubber duck, making it swim toward the army guys. "Look, Daddy. The ducks are invading the scuba base!" I quack dramatically, pushing the duck forward.
Olivier chuckles, deep and rumbling against my back, grabbing one of the army figures.
"Not on my watch!" Olivier bellows.
He makes the figure dive under the bubbles, popping up to attack the duck.
We play like that, splashing lightly, voices pitching into silly accents—Olivier’s a gruff commander, mine a quacky rebel.
It's ridiculous, pure fun, and I love seeing him like this: carefree, playful, the stern chef mask slipped away.
No restaurant stress, no relationship decisions looming—just us, in a bubble-filled world.
The warm water works its magic, easing every knot from the site's hard labor that has built up over the week. As much as I’ve been enjoying it, it’s been hard work and it kind of feels like that is catching up with me now.
My eyelids droop a bit, the lavender scent lulling me.
Olivier notices, his hands pausing their gentle massage on my shoulders.
"Getting sleepy, darling boy?"
I yawn, nodding. "A little. But the bath's too cozy."
Olivier kisses my temple. "Bedtime, then. Early night for you. I want you rested ahead of the new week. You’ll thank me come Monday morning."
“I know, Daddy,” I say, my eyes heavy and my heart fluttering.
I smile, warmth spreading through me—not just from the water. An early night sounds perfect, especially if it means more cuddles.
Olivier stands first, water cascading off him, and offers a hand to pull me up. The cool air hits, making me shiver, but he's quick with the fluffy towel—big, white, and soft as clouds.
"Let Daddy dry you," Olivier says, starting at my hair, tousling it gently.
I giggle as he works down, the towel tickling my neck, my chest. His touch is careful, thorough—patting my arms, my back, then lower.
When he reaches my waist, wrapping the towel around and rubbing firmly, a spark ignites. The friction, his proximity—naked, focused on me—stirs something. I feel myself hardening, a definite bulge forming under the towel.
"Daddy..." I whisper, blushing. “Whoops…”
Olivier looks down and notices, his eyes darkening with amusement and heat. But he shakes his head, voice firm.
"Nope. What you need is rest, boy. Early night. No distractions." He dries my legs efficiently, ignoring the arousal, though his fingers linger just a second too long on my thighs, making me squirm. "Be good."
I pout playfully but nod.
"Okay, Daddy," I say.
The truth is, I'm wiped.
Olivier helps me into my pajamas, soft cotton ones with cartoon trucks, a set he surprised me with this morning. They fit snug, making me feel small and cared for.
"Adorable," Olivier murmurs, buttoning the top.
We head to the bedroom, the big master bed waiting with its crisp sheets and plump pillows.
“Wow. I really am tired,” I say. “I could just collapse and go sleepy.”
“See, Daddy’s always right,” Olivier says, a wink and knowing look in his eyes.
The city hums faintly outside, but in here, it's our world. I climb in first, Lexi under my arm, scooting to make room. Olivier joins, pulling the covers over us, his body warm and solid as he spoons me from behind.
"Story time," he says, arm around my waist. "Once upon a time, there was a brave Little dragon named Danny, and he had the biggest wings in the whole kingdom..."
My Daddy’s voice is soothing, low like a rumble, weaving a tale of adventures—me as the dragon, Lexi my trusty sidekick, flying through clouds, battling storms but always finding home with my strong Daddy knight, Sir Chefking.
Olivier weaves in details from our day… the Dancing Daisy castle, bubble baths as magic potions.
My eyes flutter, the words blurring into comfort.
Safe in his arms, Lexi soft against my chest, sleep pulls me under.
The last thing I feel is his kiss on my hair, whispering, "Sweet dreams, my boy."
I drift off, content, dreaming of dragons and Daddies.
Morning comes and I blink awake slowly, stretching under the heavy duvet, my body still carrying that delicious, heavy feeling from yesterday. Lexi’s tucked against my chest, his soft scales tickling my chin. I nuzzle him for a second, smiling like an idiot, then roll over to reach for Olivier.
He’s not there.
The sheet on his side is cool, pillow dented but empty.
A little flicker of disappointment curls in my chest, but it’s chased away by the smell drifting in from the kitchen—coffee, something sweet like cinnamon, and that faint, comforting scent of Olivier himself.
I yawn big, rubbing my eyes, then swing my legs out of bed.
My pajamas ride low on my hips, the waistband loose from all the wiggling I did in my sleep.
“Daddy…” I mutter, still half asleep but knowing that Olivier won’t be far away.
I pad barefoot through the apartment, Lexi under one arm, the hardwood cool against my soles.
The city hums faintly outside the big windows, but in here everything feels quiet, soft, ours.
I know this is Olivier’s place, but I really like it and, unusually for me, I actually feel comfortable in a space that isn’t mine for real.
I find him on the living room couch, legs crossed, laptop balanced on his thighs.
He’s in a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair still a little messy from sleep, brow furrowed in concentration.
The screen glows with spreadsheets, graphs, numbers marching across columns—financial projections, profit margins, cash flow curves.
Serious stuff.
Restaurant stuff.
Olivier glances up when my bare feet scuff the rug. His expression melts instantly, stern focus replaced by something warm and amused.
“Morning, sleepy dragon.” His eyes drop to the front of my pajamas, where morning wood has made an enthusiastic appearance, pushing the soft cotton out in a very obvious tent.
My face ignites.
“Oh, ummm…” I try to angle Lexi in front of me like a shield, which is ridiculous because he’s tiny and I’m huge. “Sorry, Daddy, I just… woke up.”
Olivier’s chuckle is low and fond. He sets the laptop on the coffee table, closes the lid with a soft click, and pats the cushion next to him.
“Come here, boy.”
I shuffle over, cheeks burning, clutching Lexi like a life raft. When I get close enough he reaches out, hooks a finger in the waistband of my pajamas and tugs me gently forward until my knees bump his.
“No hiding,” Olivier says, voice calm but firm. “You’re beautiful like this. All sleepy and needy.” His hand slides up my thigh, thumb brushing the outline of me through the fabric.
I suck in a breath, hips twitching forward without permission.
“Daddy…” It comes out half-whimper, half-plea.
He smiles, slow and wicked. “Sit.”
I do, straddling his lap carefully, knees sinking into the couch on either side of his hips. The position puts me right above him, my erection pressing insistently against his stomach through the layers.
Before I know it, one arm wraps around my lower back, holding me steady, the other hand slips inside my pajama bottoms.
Skin on skin.
I gasp, head dropping forward to rest against his shoulder. His fingers wrap around me—warm, sure, perfect pressure. He strokes once, slow and deliberate, thumb circling the tip where I’m already leaking.
“Such a good boy,” Olivier murmurs against my ear. “Waking up so hard for Daddy.”
I can’t speak.
This is hot.
It’s freaking hotter than the sun.
Words dissolve into little whimpers as he works me—long, steady pulls, twisting at the head just the way I like. My hips rock without conscious thought, chasing his hand. He lets me, encourages it, his free hand sliding up under my shirt to rub circles on my back.
“Look at me,” Olivier orders softly.
I lift my head. His eyes are dark, focused, full of something that makes my chest ache.
“You’re mine,” Olivier says, voice rough. “Every sleepy, horny, beautiful inch of you. Now let it happen. Show Daddy how much you want to cum.”
I nod frantically.
He speeds up, hand slick with pre-cum now.
My thighs tremble, breath hitching.
I’m close—too close—already.
“Please—”
“Let go, baby,” he whispers, lips brushing my temple. “Cum hard for Daddy.”
I feel my ass cheeks tense up. My whole body locks, a broken moan tearing out of me as I spill over his fist, hot pulses that seem to go on forever. He milks every drop, stroking through the aftershocks until I’m shaking and pressed up against him.
When I finally slump, panting, Olivier kisses my forehead, my cheek, the corner of my mouth.
“Good boy,” he murmurs. “My perfect boy. Now get that butt in the shower to clean off and I’ll make you some yummy breakfast.”
I stay there, face buried in his neck, Lexi squished between us, heart hammering.
The laptop sits forgotten on the table. The graphs, the numbers, the big decisions—they can wait a little longer. And something tells me that even though it’s not my area of expertise, the reason Olivier was looking at it all might just be related to me in ways I don’t quite know yet…