Epilogue #2
He scrambled off my lap and practically ran down the hall. I followed, taking a moment to appreciate the view of him in those soft sweatpants that clung to his ass.
In our bedroom, he was already pulling his shirt off, impatient and needy in a way that made my blood sing.
"Slow down," I commanded, and he froze. "We've got all night, sweet boy. No need to rush."
"But I want—"
"I know what you want." I approached him slowly, deliberately. "And you're going to get it. But on my terms. Understood?"
He shivered, nodding quickly. "Yes, Daddy."
"Good boy." I reached out and ran my fingers down his chest, watching goosebumps rise in their wake. "Strip. Slowly. I want to watch."
His hands shook slightly as he hooked his thumbs in his sweatpants and pushed them down, taking his boxers with them. He stepped out of them carefully, then stood before me completely bare except for his collar.
God, he was beautiful. Lean and pale and marked with the evidence of ranch life—a bruise on his hip from where a horse had bumped him, a scrape on his elbow from fixing a fence. Real and imperfect and absolutely perfect to me.
"On the bed," I said. "On your back."
He obeyed, climbing onto our bed and arranging himself against the pillows. His cock was already hard, flushed and leaking against his stomach.
I took my time undressing, letting him watch. His eyes tracked every movement, his breath coming faster with each piece of clothing I removed.
When I was finally naked, I climbed onto the bed and settled between his legs.
"Please," he whimpered. "Daddy, please."
"Please what?" I ran my hands up his thighs, avoiding where he wanted me most.
"Touch me. Please touch me."
"I am touching you." I pressed kisses along his inner thigh, feeling him tremble beneath me.
"You know what I mean," he gasped when my beard scraped against sensitive skin.
"Use your words, bud. Tell Daddy exactly what you want."
He made a frustrated sound. "Want your mouth on me. Want to feel you. Want—" He broke off with a moan as I finally, finally licked a stripe up his length.
"This?" I asked, doing it again.
"Yes, god, yes."
I took him into my mouth slowly, savoring the weight of him on my tongue, the salt-sweet taste of him. His hips tried to thrust up, but I held him down, controlling the pace.
"Daddy," he sobbed, his hands fisting in the sheets. "Please, I need—"
I pulled off with an obscene pop. "What do you need, sweet boy?"
"You. Inside me. Please, I need to feel you."
"Yeah? Need Daddy to fill you up?"
"Please." Tears were leaking from the corners of his eyes now, overwhelmed with sensation and need. "Please, Daddy, need it so bad."
I reached for the lube in our nightstand, coating my fingers. "Gonna take care of you, bud. Gonna give you exactly what you need."
I worked him open slowly, carefully, watching his face for any signs of discomfort. But there was only pleasure, only want, only trust as he opened himself to me.
"Ready?" I asked when I had three fingers inside him.
"So ready. Please, Daddy. Need you now."
I lined myself up and pushed in slowly, inch by inch, until I was fully seated inside him. We both groaned at the sensation.
"Okay?" I asked, holding still to let him adjust.
"Perfect." He wrapped his legs around my waist. "So perfect. Please move."
I started with slow, deep strokes, wanting to savor this. Wanting to make it last. His hands came up to grip my shoulders, his nails digging in slightly.
"That's it," I murmured. "Take what you need, sweet boy. You're doing so well for me."
"Faster," he begged. "Please, Daddy, need it faster."
I picked up the pace, angling to hit that spot inside him that made him see stars. His head fell back, exposing the line of his throat and the collar resting there.
Mine. Completely and utterly mine.
"Touch yourself," I commanded. "Show me how good I make you feel."
His hand flew to his cock, stroking in time with my thrusts. The sight of him like this—desperate and needy and trusting me completely—nearly undid me.
"Close," he gasped. "So close, Daddy."
"Come for me," I said, leaning down to bite gently at his shoulder. "Come for Daddy, sweet boy."
He came with a cry, spilling over his hand and stomach, his body clenching tight around me. The sensation pushed me over the edge, and I followed him into release with a groan.
We stayed locked together for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, coming down from the high.
Finally, I pulled out carefully and collapsed beside him, immediately pulling him into my arms.
"Love you," he mumbled against my chest. "Love you so much."
"Love you too, bud." I pressed a kiss to his sweaty forehead. "So fucking much."
We lay there in comfortable silence for a while, just holding each other. Eventually, though, I knew we needed to clean up.
"Come on," I said, sitting up. "Bath time."
"Carry me?" he asked hopefully.
I laughed and scooped him up, carrying him to our bathroom. While the tub filled, I grabbed a washcloth and gently cleaned him up, taking care of him the way he needed.
In the bath, I settled behind him, letting him lean back against my chest. My hands moved in soothing circles over his skin, and I felt him melt into the warmth.
"Daddy?" he said sleepily.
"Yeah, bud?"
"I'm glad I broke down that night. Glad I came here."
"Me too, sweet boy. Me too."
"Do you think…" He paused, like he was gathering courage. "Do you think we'll always be this happy?"
I thought about my years with Wren, about the happiness we'd shared and the grief that had followed. I thought about finding Tanner, about building this new life together.
"I think we'll have hard days," I said honestly. "Life doesn't work any other way. But yeah, I think we'll always have this. This connection, this love. It's not going anywhere."
"Good." He laced his fingers with mine under the water. "Because I never want to lose this. Lose you."
"You won't. I promise you that, Tanner. You're stuck with me."
"Best news I've heard all day."
After our bath, I dried him off carefully and helped him into his softest pajamas—the elephant ones, naturally. Then I tucked him into bed, making sure Peanut was within reach and his weighted blanket was positioned just right.
"Story?" he asked hopefully.
"Of course." I grabbed one of his books from the shelf and climbed in beside him.
As I read, I watched him slowly drift off, his breathing evening out, his face relaxing into sleep. The nightlight projected stars across our ceiling, and somewhere in the house I could hear the old furnace kicking on.
This was my life now. This beautiful, unexpected, perfect life.
I thought about that first night when Tanner had shown up, lost and broken and desperate for something he couldn't name. Thought about how I'd been drawn to him immediately, how every instinct I had screamed that he was mine to protect.
And now here we were, months later, building a life together that was everything I'd hoped for and more.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand—a text from Atticus.
New arrival tomorrow. Young guy, high-powered job, burnout. Thought you and Tanner might want to help him get settled. Sound familiar?
I smiled and typed back.
We'll be there.
Because that was what this place was about. What we were about. Taking in the lost ones, the broken ones, the people who needed space to heal and rebuild.
Tanner had found his healing here. Had found me, found himself, found a home.
And now maybe we could help someone else do the same.
I set my phone aside and settled deeper into the bed, pulling Tanner closer. He mumbled something in his sleep and burrowed against me, completely trusting even unconsciously.
"Sweet dreams, bud," I whispered. "I'll be right here when you wake up. Always."
And I would be. For all the days and nights to come, through the easy times and the hard ones, through little space and big responsibilities and everything in between.
This was my promise. My commitment. My forever.
Tanner was mine, and I was his.
And nothing—nothing—would ever change that.