Epilogue #2
It happens instantly from there. The sound registers first. The loud hiss of his release announcing it before the hot liquid streams down onto my thighs.
“Oh,” he gasps, going rigid, “oh no.”
“Shhh,” I tell him, rubbing his back, starting to thrust up inside him, rocking my hips slowly to try and savor everything about this moment, “relax. Let it out.”
“I was trying to hold it,” Benji sniffles. “I couldn’t hold it.”
“I know, baby,” I croon, closing my eyes to really soak in the competing sensations of his hot pee on my legs and his warm, slick channel tightening around my dick.
Getting tested for STIs so we could start fucking bare was the best life decision ever, because sex with Benji without barriers is as close to nirvana as I think I’ll ever get.
“I’m peeing, Daddy.“ His voice is high and reedy and plaintive, but it’s the words themselves that really push me to my tipping point.
I’ve been on the edge since we first discussed doing this today, and now it’s going to be all over in these few short moments as he empties his bladder all over my lap.
“Fuck, I’m coming, sweetheart. I’m coming. You feel so fucking good for me.”
“Daddy,” he rolls his hips, grinding down, taking every last drop of my cum, “I want to come, too.”
The wave of endorphins almost has me forgetting the purpose of our scene, but I catch myself before I agree to let him off early.
Chuckling, I grip his hips and give them an affectionate squeeze, leaning forward to murmur in his ear, “You were naughty earlier, sweetheart. We’re going to finish out your punishment right here, sitting in the mess you made. ”
He squirms, shaking his head, but I hold him in place. “The rule was—“
“No moving,” he whines. “But, Daddy—“
“Nope. No buts.” Letting go of his hips, I reach for my phone and settle back against the couch, enjoying the stickiness on my thighs and the feeling of my own cum surrounding my still-hard dick inside him. “I’ll say when your punishment is over.”
Now that he’s not fighting the desperate urge to pee, he huffs and mutters under his breath while he serves his sentence. It’s barely loud enough for me to hear, so I just smirk to myself and let him have his only mode of distraction. Eventually, my cock starts to soften.
“Time’s up, baby. You did it. Good boy.”
I’m careful as I slide out of Benji, and he finally turns around in my lap, straddling me with a knee on either side of my bare hips.
“Can you please take the cage off now, Daddy?” he asks sweetly, his cheeks still flushed and his eyes a bit glazed. “I’m sorry I was naughty.”
This, I have discovered, is part of his sub drop.
When he’s bratted himself out and clings to a healthier way of managing those old, depressive self-deprecating thoughts, it makes him a bit shy and unsure, and very cuddly and apologetic.
It’s very sweet, and I’m as determined as always to give him as much reassurance and love as I can.
“All little boys are naughty sometimes,” I tell him, reaching up to cup his pretty face with one open palm. He leans into the touch like a cat. “But you were a very good boy for Daddy during your punishment. I’m proud of you.”
He’s working on accepting compliments and praise, even if it’s not part of his kink. “I’m glad, Daddy.” He scrunches his nose. “But can we go clean up now? After you take the cage off?”
Grinning, I bend forward to kiss him, delighting in the way he melts at the sweet attention. “Of course, baby.”
Later, after we’ve showered and I’ve sucked him to orgasm as a reward for playing the scenes so nicely, I reminisce about everything we’ve been through and everything that’s still yet to come.
I’ve booked us a return trip to the age play camp after reaching out to Theo, the camp’s owner, to explain that I want to return as just a Daddy and not a counselor.
While we’re there, I want to give Benji all the experiences he missed the first time around, and face the things that went wrong as well.
But, more importantly, I want to stand on the grassy hill overlooking the lake, in the spot where we first met, and get down on one knee.
Before now, I would have argued that marriage is a heteronormative construct. That we don’t need rings and vows and a piece of paper to show how much we love each other. But since I’ve been with Benji, I’ve started to see it as more than that.
In my mind, proposing is just another way to show him that I want forever with him.
There’s no rush to go straight from engagement to marriage, or to get to the marriage part at all if he doesn’t want to.
But he likes shiny things, and, more than that, he loves it when I surprise him with new ways of showing him how much I care.
And, you know, if Benji wanted to get married right away?
I’d be happy to do that, too. Because at the end of the day, he’s the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, marriage certificate or no marriage certificate.
I’m starting to honestly believe that our meeting was kismet — meant to be.
It might not have been what I thought I wanted, but I am damn glad I listened to my instincts.
So, I’m going to listen to them again now. And for as long as I can, if it means I get to continue to call Benjamin Slater my boy, my lover, my best friend and my partner.
“Daddy, you’re thinking too hard,” he complains from where he’s nestled against my side in bed.
“Am I?”
“Yes,” the blankets crinkle as he shifts his weight around, “and I’m trying to go to sleep.”
I snort. “And what if I told you that I was thinking about how much I love you?”
There’s a mildly irritated huff, then a sigh around the vicinity of my exposed pec. His warm breath ghosts over the skin. “You can think about me with less intensity. Go to sleep, Kris.”
I chuckle and kiss the top of his head. “Sorry, baby. I love you.”
He lets out a ‘hmmph’ that makes my heart feel like a puddle of goo. He pairs the sound with a lazy kiss to my chest. “I love you, you big idiot. Now go to sleep.”
“Okay,” I nod and snuggle in a bit closer, trying to quiet my saccharine thoughts, but it’s hard to do.
My overtired, grumpy brat is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I’m really looking forward to seeing where the rest of our adventures take us.
***
Thank you so much for reading Kristian’s Kismet.