Chapter 15
TROYE
Daddy’s got you.
Those words got under my skin and went straight to the marrow of my bones. Deeper. Down to my soul. They filled parts of me I didn’t know were empty. Before Matthew, I hadn’t thought much about kink, one way or another. It was neither good nor bad, it just was. It existed but not for me.
But this felt like more than a kink. Like more than a fun Friday night a few times a year.
This felt necessary. Like maybe it wasn’t a kink for me at all, but a necessity, and that should’ve terrified me.
It probably would’ve scared someone with half a brain, but I kept looking for fear and coming up empty-handed.
Matthew didn’t scare me. Being spanked certainly didn’t scare me. The only thing I was afraid of at that moment was disappointing him. But he kept heaping the praise on me. Every time he said I was good, something inside me got a little brighter. A little hotter.
Somehow, being spanked didn’t feel like a punishment. It didn’t feel like I was in trouble. It felt like he cared enough about me to correct me in that hotel room. Even before he really knew me, he still wanted what was best for me.
And now he cared enough about me to spank me because I’d asked for it.
He made it that easy to get what I wanted.
If I asked, he would give it to me. And I did.
So he did. Knowing that, experiencing it maybe for the first time, where I was able to ask and then receive and there was no hidden caveat, no waiting, no bargaining, no refusal, it unmade something inside of me.
I’d been used to asking and not getting.
To bargaining and not receiving. To begging the universe for a break and getting scraps.
Eventually I stopped asking. I stopped looking for anyone else to help me.
And yeah, I made it on my own. I was a successful streamer with a great following, and somehow I’d managed to turn that into a thing that paid my bills and let me help others.
But it was hard, and exhausting, and so lonely sometimes that I thought my chest might collapse under the weight of it.
Daddy’s got you.
I fell apart on his lap. The warmth in my ass had built from an idea of heat to an inferno.
Matthew spanked me like he wanted my ass to stay warm forever.
Each sharp strike against my flesh knocked another part of me loose.
A sob hitched up my throat on one strike and escaped my lips on the next.
He switched from cheek to cheek, moving his hand around, targeting his strikes so that my entire ass was warm now.
When that sob crawled out of me, digging its way to the surface, scratching my throat, Matthew soothed me. He paused, running a hand over my ass, and then another hand raked through my hair. Fingers smoothed over my scalp with a touch so delicate that it broke me and another sob escaped.
“That’s a good boy.” His voice was a soft, warm blanket wrapping around me. Matthew was under my skin again, bringing comfort to all my little hurts. I wondered if he knew what he was doing. How he was affecting me. How much I needed this.
“That’s a good boy. You’re taking this so well. We’re almost done, though, okay? A little more and you can have a reward.”
That was the thing that broke me. My sobs wracked my body, and tears poured out of my eyes, hotter than my skin.
It burned to try and hold them back so I had to let them out.
And the harder I cried, it seemed the harder Matthew spanked me.
The whole time, my hips were thrusting, seeking friction. Release. Oblivion.
My arousal had been there the whole time, but it had somehow taken a back seat temporarily to the feeling of being taken care of.
Of being looked after in such a strangely intimate way.
All my vulnerabilities were on display, and Matthew still thought I was good.
My ass was on fire now, and he still thought I was good.
As suddenly as the spanking started, it ended.
I was a quivering pile of mess and emotions.
Old sadness leaked out of my eyes. I cried for a Troye who’d needed someone for a long time and didn’t have someone.
I cried for the Troye I was now, the person Matthew thought was good and worthy and smart.
I cried for reasons I didn’t understand.
I might have also cried a little because I was so fucking horny and so close to the edge but unable to get over it on my own.
Matthew’s hand soothed me, stroking down my back, through my hair.
He petted my ass, rubbing some of the sting away, but the heat never left.
And then I was hot all over and still unable to come.
My body tried to get there on its own by rocking my hips, thrusting against Matthew, looking for a release that remained elusive.
Then I remembered that I could ask.
I could ask.
“Daddy,” my voice cracked on how right the word felt coming out of my mouth. But not for anyone. No one else in the world would be Daddy to me. Only him. Only Matthew. “Please. I’m so close.”
His voice was honey in my ears, thick and sweet and smooth. “Do you need something?”
His fingers teased down the crease of my ass, barely dipping inside. My hips lifted, chasing his touch, chasing more, but he didn’t give it to me.
“Daddy, please.” I took a breath to try and steady myself, but I was so thoroughly off balance that I couldn’t.
My body wanted to shake apart. My bones wanted to climb out of my skin.
I wanted to fucking come, but I couldn’t get there, not without some kind of help.
A hand. A mouth. A finger in my ass. Something.
“Please. I need to come. Help me come,” I said, wanting to be sure he understood the assignment. I didn’t have much strength left in me, and I was in danger of falling apart for real.
“That’s a good boy. Sweet boy, asking for what you need.
Turn over for me,” he said, even as he helped me turn over.
My overheated ass pressed against his lap, my hard, leaking cock on display.
I wound my arms around his neck, and he gazed down at me like I was the best thing he’d ever seen.
He had one arm wrapped around me to hold me up, hold me close.
With his free hand, he cupped my face and pulled me in for a kiss.
Matthew kissed like a man restrained. Like he wanted to devour me, but knew I’d break so he was gentle.
Soft. Addicting. Alluring. The more he gave me, the more I wanted, and I didn’t know if that made me greedy.
Maybe he wanted me greedy because he kissed me like I mattered, and he reached between my legs and grasped my cock.
Precum oozed out, and he smeared it around.
The kiss ended so Matthew could spit in his palm, and I curled into him, burying my face into his skin, breathing him in.
And finally, fucking fi-na-lly, he touched me. His hand was miles hotter than my dick. The spit was just enough when it mixed with the precum and my sheer desperation.
“Give Daddy a kiss,” Matthew said, and I obeyed eagerly.
Tilting my head up so our mouths could meet, I let him devour me.
This was like falling asleep but waking up all at the same time.
Like nothing was real in this moment because everything was too real.
Too bright and too big, too close to focus on.
Matthew’s hand on my cock was the best thing I’d ever felt, and I’d wanted it to last, but it had only taken a few strokes before I was arching, my body bending like a bow being drawn. No air passed my lips, no muscle moved, and then everything happened all at once.
I breathed. I came. I cried. I painted my chest, and probably Matthew, with my cum. Coming felt a lot like being blown apart, but it felt a little like my pieces were falling into place too.
Matthew had unearthed something about me, something that needed this. Needed him. Something that bloomed when he called me names like sweetheart, and sweet boy, and good boy. He’d reached inside me and found all my touch-starved places and made them feel worthy of affection.
I didn’t realize I was still crying until Matthew kissed my cheek. My salty tears soaked into his lip, and he murmured more praise to me. Everything was kind of far away now that I’d come. Everything was softer and fuzzier.
With a strength I wasn’t aware he possessed, Matthew stood with me in his arms, carrying me like a bride and when my arms tightened around his neck, he praised me again.
“That’s a good boy. Hold on tight. Daddy’s got you.”
My whole life, I’d never felt safer than I did then, in his arms, covered in tears and cum and sweat.
Matthew didn’t take me far, just picked me up and turned around and laid me on the bed. He had no choice but to crawl in next to me because I wasn’t letting go of him. I don’t think he was letting go of me either.
I wasn’t sure when I stopped crying, only that it had taken awhile and once I did, I realized my face hurt more than my ass. I rubbed at my eyes only for Matthew to take my hand and ease it away from my face.
“Are you all done, sweet boy? Do you feel better now?”
Coming from someone else, those words might have sounded mocking, but from Matthew, they made me soar. I loved the way it made me feel when he said shit like that. Like I was this treasure he was determined to look after.
“I think so, and… I think so.”
My answer made Matthew laugh and he kissed my hair.
“Then it’s shower time for you.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to move.”
I burrowed closer to him, plastering myself to his side, tangling our legs together. I realized Matthew was still dressed. Still in his faded college tee shirt and a pair of soft pajama bottoms.
He’d spanked me, made me come, let me cry, and hadn’t sought a single thing in return. And he was still more focused on me than on his own needs. Which I knew he had. A glance down showed the proof of his arousal.
I thought I was done wanting things today, but it turned out that giving me what I wanted only made me want more things. Matthew’s stomach was warm and slightly furry, which I loved.
A sound rumbled out of him, deep and dangerous.
“What are you doing?” His voice was soft and gentle as I dipped my hand under the elastic of his pants.
I looked up at Matthew and smiled. It felt strange on my face, like my tears had dried my skin and the smile had to work to exist, but once it did, I couldn’t stop it.
“I think you know what I’m doing.” I slid my hand deeper when he didn’t stop me. His nostrils flared, and he took a deep breath, and he still didn’t stop me. But I stopped myself just short of touching him. I paused and looked at him.
“Can I, Daddy?”
The way Matthew’s face both softened and lit up made my heart turn to mush. He was so pretty sometimes with his thick, dark, eyelashes and the way his eyes shifted color in the different lights. He made it impossible to resist him. Impossible to look away.
“Of course, you can,” Matthew told me, brushing a kiss against my lips. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
The way he talked, voice filled with an intoxicating combination of awe and reverence made me sound like I was his. Like I belonged to him. Like I deserved to.
I wanted to believe it.