Chapter 18
Simon
The nightlight had been the easiest gift to choose.
I'd noticed that first night—when Tanner had fallen asleep in his clothes, exhausted and overwhelmed—that he'd left the lamp on. At first, I'd thought it was an oversight, that he'd been too tired to reach over and turn it off.
But then it kept happening.
Every night, even when I was there with him, he'd leave some light on. The lamp. The bathroom light with the door cracked. Even just the hallway light filtering under the door.
He never said anything about it. Never explained.
But I understood.
Darkness could be overwhelming when you were already struggling. When your mind was racing with thoughts and worries and fears, the dark just made it all feel bigger.
So I'd ordered the nightlight—a projector that would cast stars and galaxies across the ceiling. Something that tied back to his star blanket, to that theme of comfort and softness and light.
Chasing away the dark, I'd written in the note. You don't have to be afraid of it, but you don't have to face it alone either. Let the stars keep you company.
The package had arrived this morning, and I'd wrapped it immediately, leaving it on his nightstand while he was downstairs having breakfast with Sean. I was going to need to send our delivery driver a big gift once the holiday was done. They’d been working overtime for my gifts alone.
I was out in the north pasture with Jackson and Corey, checking the herd since we got word another storm was coming. The weather had been unpredictable lately—clear one day, dumping snow the next.
"You're distracted," Jackson observed, his eyes locked on the animals despite his comment about me.
"Am not."
"Are too." Corey grinned at me from where he was leaning back in his saddle. "You keep looking back at the house like Tanner's going to disappear if you don't keep an eye on him."
"I do not—" I stopped, realizing I'd been doing exactly that. "Okay, fine. Maybe a little."
"It's cute," Jackson said. "You've got it bad."
"I'm aware. Is it that obvious?"
"To everyone except Tanner, yeah." Jackson paused in his work. "Though honestly, he's just as bad. Boy lights up like a Christmas tree every time you walk into a room."
The thought made warmth spread through my chest. "He does?"
"Oh yeah. It's disgusting how cute you two are." But Jackson was smiling. "Seriously though, I'm happy for you, man. You both deserve this."
We worked in companionable silence for a while, the rhythm of the work soothing. This was what I'd always loved about ranch life—the physical labor, the tangible results, the way you could lose yourself in the simple tasks.
But even as my body went through the motions, my mind was on Tanner. Wondering if he'd found the nightlight yet. Hoping he liked it. Planning what I'd get him next.
"Yep, definitely got it bad," Corey muttered, but he was grinning.
By the time we finished getting everyone sorted, the sun was already starting its descent toward the horizon. Winter days were short and darkness came early.
I headed back to the house, stomping snow off my boots on the porch before going inside. Voices drifted from the living room—Tanner's laugh, bright and carefree, mixing with Sean's excited chatter.
I found them sprawled on the floor, coloring books spread out between them along with what looked like every colored pencil and marker in the house. Peanut the elephant sat propped against the couch, watching over them.
"Hey, Daddy!" Tanner looked up, his face lighting up exactly like Jackson had described. "Look what Sean and I made!"
He held up a coloring page—an intricate mandala done in shades of blue and purple, with silver gel pen details that made it shimmer.
"That's beautiful, bud." I came over to get a closer look. "You two have been busy."
"We had an art party," Sean announced. "With snacks and everything. Tanner shared his goldfish crackers."
"Very generous of him." I ruffled Tanner's hair, and he leaned into the touch. "You take any breaks?"
"Some," Tanner said, which probably meant no.
"Mm-hmm." I glanced at the clock. "Well, it's almost dinnertime anyway. Why don't you two clean up here, and I'll go see if Harlan needs help in the kitchen."
"Okay." Tanner started gathering markers, and I noticed how careful he was with his supplies. How he organized them by color, made sure each cap was on tight.
In the kitchen, Harlan was pulling a lasagna from the oven, and the smell made my stomach growl.
"Tanner find his gift?" he asked without preamble.
"Haven't asked yet. But he seems happy."
"He is. That boy's practically glowing these days." Harlan set the lasagna on the counter to cool. "You planning to tell him before Christmas?"
"Why would I do that?"
Harlan gave me a look. "He's driving himself crazy trying to figure it out."
"That's part of the tradition, isn't it? The mystery?" But guilt pricked at me. I'd seen how much the not-knowing bothered Tanner, how he kept trying to piece together clues.
"It is." Harlan pulled out plates. "Just don't wait too long. That boy's got feelings for you, and he's tying himself in knots worrying that his Secret Santa might expect something he can't give. Bobby Allen mentioned Tanner said something to him."
"What?" I straightened up. "Why would he think that?"
"Because the gifts are personal. Intimate. The kinds of things a caregiver gives a little." Harlan started cutting the lasagna. "He thinks his Secret Santa might want to be his Daddy, and he doesn't know how to handle that because he's already chosen you."
My heart clenched. Tanner had been worrying about this? Feeling guilty about accepting gifts because he thought someone else might have expectations?
"I need to tell him," I said.
"Not yet." Harlan held up a hand. "We're too close to Christmas now. Just a few more days. He can handle a few more days. And the relief when he finds out? That'll be worth it. Ignore earlier me. Do what present me is saying."
I wasn't entirely convinced, but the man had a point. Christmas was in three days. I could make it three more days.
After dinner—where Tanner ate two helpings of lasagna without being prompted, which made me absurdly proud—we all gathered in the living room. Someone put on a movie, but I barely paid attention.
I was too focused on Tanner curled up against my side, his head on my shoulder and his hand resting on my chest. Every so often, he'd trace idle patterns there, and I'd feel it all the way to my bones.
When the movie ended, people started drifting off to their rooms. Sean and Atticus disappeared upstairs. Jackson and Beau headed to their cabin. Griffin and Harlan weren't far behind.
"Ready for bed, bud?" I asked Tanner quietly.
He nodded, already half-asleep. "Will you read to me tonight?"
"Of course."
Upstairs, he went through his nighttime routine while I picked out a book from his shelf. When he emerged from the bathroom in his elephant pajamas, he stopped short.
"Daddy." His voice was hushed, almost reverent. "There's something on the nightstand."
"Is there?" I tried to keep my expression neutral. "Maybe you should check it out."
He approached the package slowly, like it might disappear if he moved too fast. When he picked it up, his hands were trembling slightly.
"Another gift," he whispered.
"Open it, bud."
He unwrapped it carefully, and I watched his face as he revealed the nightlight. It was sleek and modern-looking, with a rotating dome that would project the stars across the ceiling.
"It's a star projector," he said, running his fingers over the smooth surface.
"There's a note," I pointed out.
He found it tucked in the box and read it silently. I watched emotions play across his face—surprise, understanding, gratitude, and something that looked like it might be more tears.
My boy was a crier.
"They noticed," he said softly. "My Secret Santa noticed that I leave the light on."
It wasn’t all that hard to figure out I imagine. The light was bright enough to create a glow both under my door and against my window. All it would take is the person knowing which room I was staying in for them to put the pieces together.
"Seems like they notice a lot about you."
"They do." He looked up at me. "Daddy, I—" He stopped, biting his lip.
"What is it, bud?"
"Nothing. I’m not all that tired anymore." His voice was coy, like maybe he wanted something more. At the same time, I couldn’t let him skip over seeing his gift in action, no matter how much I wanted to explore him.
I took the nightlight from him. "Want to try it out?"
He nodded eagerly, and I set it up on the nightstand, plugging it in and turning off the main light.
When I switched on the projector, the room transformed.
Stars and galaxies swirled across the ceiling and walls, soft blues and purples and whites creating the illusion of floating in space. It was beautiful and calming and perfect.
Tanner's breath caught. "Oh."
"Like it?" I asked, though his expression already told me the answer.
"I love it." He climbed into bed, never taking his eyes off the ceiling. "It's like sleeping under the stars."
We laid there together for several long minutes, neither of us speaking. There was a peacefulness to it all. A quiet that I appreciated.
“Daddy,” my boy eventually whispered, voice soft with awe, “I need you.”
That word—Daddy—always did something filthy to my blood. I reached over, tugged the box from his fingers, and set it aside. Then I hooked an arm around his waist and rolled half on top of him, pinning his wrists above his head with one hand.
“Let’s see how bright those stars really get.” I murmured against his throat, feeling his pulse jump under my lips.
He squirmed, but it was the good kind—the kind that told me he was already hard under his sleep pants.
I nosed along his collarbone, tasting salt and warmth, and let my free hand drift lower.
When my palm cupped the hard line of his cock, he arched with a broken little sound that went straight to my dick.
“Stay still, boy,” I warned, voice rough.
I released his wrists only to shove his t-shirt up, exposing that smooth stomach I could never get enough of.
My mouth followed the path of my hands, teeth grazing a nipple until he gasped, hips jerking.
“You wanted stars? I’ll give you the whole damn galaxy. ”
I yanked his pants down just far enough to free him, his cock bouncing free. The sight of him—flushed, leaking, thighs already trembling—made my mouth water. I wrapped my fingers around him, slow and tight, stroking once, twice, just to watch his eyes flutter shut.
“Look at me,” I ordered.
His lashes lifted, green eyes glassy and desperate. “Daddy, please—”
“Please what?” I leaned in, letting my beard scrape the sensitive skin of his inner thigh as I settled between his legs. “Please make you beg? Please fuck you until you see every constellation behind your eyelids?”
He whimpered, nodding frantically. I rewarded him with a long, wet lick from balls to tip, savoring the way he jolted, thighs clamping around my shoulders. When I took him deep, hollowing my cheeks, he cried out.
Sharp.
Needy.
Perfect.
I worked him mercilessly: tongue swirling, hand twisting at the base, the other sliding lower to press a slick thumb against his hole. He was tight there, his body resistant to my intrusion. It took a bit of work to get him open. It took time and patience.
I had an excessive amount of both.
“Simon…Daddy…fuck…” His voice cracked. His hands fisted in my hair, tugging hard enough to sting, and I growled around his cock in approval.
I pulled off with a wet pop, replacing my mouth with my fist, pumping him fast and rough.
“You’re gonna come just like this,” I told him, adding a second finger alongside the first, scissoring deep.
“Then I’m gonna flip you over, spread you wide, and fuck you until that little projector’s the only light you can still see. ”
Tanner’s back bowed off the bed, hips snapping into my grip. “Yes…yes…please…”
I curled my fingers, nailed that spot inside him, and he shattered—coming hard over my fist, stripes of white painting his chest, throat working around my name. I kept stroking, milking every last shudder out of him until he sagged, boneless and panting.
Only then did I let go, crawling up his body to claim his mouth in a messy, bruising kiss. He tasted like surrender. I reached blindly for the lube on the nightstand, knocking the star projector spinning. It clicked on by accident, bathing the ceiling in slow-moving galaxies.
Perfect.
I nudged his thighs wider, lined myself up, and gently pushed in with one long, slow glide. Tanner’s head fell back against the pillow, mouth open on a silent cry as stars danced over his skin.
“That’s it, boy,” I rasped, setting a punishing rhythm, the bed creaking beneath us. “Look up. Watch Daddy give you the universe.”
And then I delivered on my words.
I fucked my boy until he was begging me again, pleading for me to fill him up. He wanted to be bred like the perfect submissive he’d become. No, that’s not right. He’d always been submissive. It took finding the right person to explore with for it to truly shine.
After we were done and cleaned up, I grabbed the book I'd chosen and climbed in beside him. He immediately curled into me, his head on my chest and one arm wrapped around my waist.
"Comfortable?" I asked.
"Mm-hmm. This is perfect." His voice was already drowsy, the events of the day catching up with him.
I opened the book and started reading, keeping my voice low and soothing. The story was about a little bear who was afraid of the dark, and by the end, the bear learned that nighttime wasn't scary—it was just different.
By the time I finished, Tanner's breathing had evened out into sleep. But I didn't move. I just lay there, holding him, watching the stars dance across our ceiling.
Our ceiling. Our room. Our life together.
From the first moment he'd stumbled out of his car, exhausted and lost, I'd known. This was my person.
My boy.
My future.
I pressed a kiss to the top of his head and whispered into the darkness, "Three more days, sweet boy. Three more days and you'll know everything."