Chapter 13 #3
“Yes.” And damn it if I didn’t want to add, Sir.
Yes, Sir. I’d dived headfirst into BDSM before I was even legal to drink alcohol.
My boyfriend had been older and was training to be a Dom.
As a result, I’d never been with anyone who wasn’t involved in the kink community.
And in San Francisco, there was no lack of finding a gay for a hookup.
And yet, there I was acting like a naive preteen coming into puberty.
I placed my hands on Jude’s waist when I didn’t know what to do with them as he made quick progress in unbuttoning my shirt. He stopped halfway and parted my shirt. Jude stared and in an almost reverent tone, but laced with arousal, he murmured, “Your nipples are pierced.”
“You’re making me feel vulnerable,” I whispered.
“That’s a good place to start,” Jude proclaimed, humming in admiration at my nipple rings, my tattoos, and down my body. “It’s scary, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I agreed.
Jude skated over the nipple rings with his fingers before going lower to my abs that were like iron.
“I’ve always believed that a boxer knows a fellow pugilist by our bodies.
I realize that’s not logical or true even, yet I feel a sense of connectedness when I’m around someone else in the sport, whether it’s a man or a woman. ”
I sat on the bed, bringing Jude down with me on a chuckle when his foot tangled with mine and he tumbled half over me.
When he righted himself, we scooted nearer the headboard.
I lifted Jude half off the bed and turned him around so he was straddling my thighs.
Placing his hands back on my skin, I felt a flush rise up my neck. “I like them on me.”
“You don’t mind my cock hardening against yours?”
“No…” I thought for a minute, then lifted each set his fingers and nibbled on the knuckles. “After all the worry, maybe because we talked about our expectations ahead of time it’s made this easy. And I trust you.”
From his straddled position, Jude rested his head on my chest, the hair tickling his nose. “You’re as furry as I am smooth.”
“Your skin is as light as mine is dark,” I retorted. “Yet, you have brown eyes, like rich earth, and mine are green.”
“Your eyes are emerald, the brilliant color complemented by your tattoos.” Jude outlined the tattoos with his finger.
Rolling waves, dolphins, seagrasses, and bottom-dwellers.
“Now that I’m close up, I see that the tattoos are a story of the sea.
A tribute.” A large crab was prominent, with the claw reaching up onto my neck.
Across the claw were the words, il mare. “Does il mare translate to ‘the sea’?”
I reciprocated Jude’s exploration by roaming my hands up and down his sides, following the slight swell of his hips and dip of his abs.
His skin was virgin, an expanse of pure smoothness without blemishes or color.
“Yes, where I come from is on the coast of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Seafood is a major staple, and the crab is for my grandmother. One of her favorite dishes to cook is spaghetti with crab.”
Jude licked the claw. And then he kissed it. “Is your grandmother still alive?”
“She’s in her mid-eighties and thankfully, still healthy. I plan on going back right after the winter holidays, when work slows.”
“That sounds nice. I’ve never been anywhere except Philadelphia, where I was born, and California when I was twenty-one to attend seminary for eight years,” Jude said reflectively as he smoothed his hand over the flowing inked waves on my shoulder.
“After that, I was posted at three different parishes before coming to Long Beach.”
Jude’s soft touches and intermittent kisses had my cock grinding with his.
He had to feel it because he shifted rather than grinding down harder—which unexpectedly disappointed me.
That wasn’t going do and with my hand still on his waist, I pulled him down.
“Better,” I whispered behind Jude’s ear. “I want to kiss you.”
“Please,” Jude pleaded as he wrapped his arms around my neck.
I took the move as an invitation and covered his mouth with soft, chaste kisses.
My tongue was warm against the seam of Jude’s lips, waiting to be let in.
When Jude opened for me, I slipped in and the slow, tangling dance with his tongue was too erotic.
I crushed him to me, pressing him tight to ward off the orgasm that began in the pit of my stomach and slowly spread, curling around my limbs like a live wire.
My balls tightened and despite my lightheadedness, I grabbed Jude’s face, the kiss hard and rough and untamed.
Jude pulled away but only long enough to whisper against my lips. “Let yourself go, baby. Make a mess.”
The dirty talk was all I needed, and the tremors that began in my balls snaked up my groin to my cock. “Fuck… fuck…” I rasped out as my body spasmed, and my hips thrust up into Jude involuntarily. My toes curled, my body arched, and I grunted out my release, Jude’s name getting stuck in my throat.
Jude held me, peppering my head and temples with kisses until the aftershocks slowed. Then he swung his leg around and sat close to me, my head thrown back against the back of the sofa. Jude placed his hand over my fast-beating heart.
“We were just kissing,” I said, still breathless. “But you tasted and felt so fucking good, it… took me by surprise when you gave me permission.”
Crawling off me, Jude straightened and faced me. “I’m sorry. Permission? I didn’t mean to. I said what came naturally to me… what I thought you might need to hear. You looked like you were holding back.”
“Yes, permission. And you called me baby,” I remarked, a mix of amusement, contentment, and then… a realization that the endearment was a slip of the tongue and meant nothing. I stiffened at the thought and pushed my other emotions to the wayside. “I gotta clean up before I go.”
Jude stopped my forward motion by preventing me from getting up. Hands on my shoulders, he said, “We agreed not to run away, Ethan. So tell me what’s going on in your head.”
I fell back against the cushions. It wasn’t the first time I had to clean up cum after I’d been sitting in it while it dried. “You called me baby,” I reiterated.
“I did,” Jude said quietly.
“Why?”
Jude shrugged. “It came out on its own like everything else I said. I felt you needed to hear that someone cared about your pleasure. And using that endearment… felt right.”
“You were right about me needing to hear permission. Being a submissive, it’s how I’ve been programmed.
” Sighing, I said, “About the endearment…” I looked away, but Jude brought my focus back on him as he’d done earlier.
“I thought you said it unintentionally… that you were caught up in my impending orgasm.”
“No, Ethan… I mean, yes, I was caught up. But watching your expression morph into bliss was raw, and sensual. Knowing your history has made me acutely aware of what I say to you. I might screw up, but never with the purpose of hurting you.”
I blinked slowly, letting his words float in the air around us.
Jude cradled my face. “Are we good?”
“We are, but I do have to go. Can I use the bathroom to clean off my mess?” I stood, grimacing at the feel of the squishy semen inside my briefs.
“You could take a shower here and borrow sweatpants,” Jude said, pushing to his feet.
“Thanks, but then I’ll want to crawl into bed with you. Better that I leave.”
Jude indicated the door to the bedroom. “Through there.”
When I returned after a few minutes, I pulled Jude to me by his waist. My kiss was feather soft.
“Thank you, Jude. I became convinced that I’d never be with another man again.
And maybe I wouldn’t if it wasn’t you. The times in the confessional put me at ease with you,” I said on a smile.
“But I am feeling like a selfish prick for not—”
Jude placed two fingers on my lips. “Don’t even say it. What we did tonight was not transactional. I would like to see you again, though.”
“Yeah, I would too,” I confirmed. “I’ll call you after work tomorrow.
I’m sure you’re going to have a lot to deal with and I thought maybe you’ll want a distraction.
” I dug my keys out of my pocket. Then with my free hand, I held the back of Jude’s head and urged him close so our mouths were almost touching.
“I get that what we did wasn’t transactional, but I’d like the chance to watch you lose yourself. ”
Jude shivered against my grasp and blushed. “I’d like that.”
I pressed an openmouthed kiss to the back of his neck. “Good night, fa— Shit, sorry. I almost called you father.”
Jude sucked in his bottom lip, seemingly considering my slip. “You could… if you want to. I kinda like the juxtaposition of you calling me father with me referring to you as baby. Not that I think you’re a baby or anything kinky like that.”
“Wouldn’t it be a sour reminder that you’re not a father any longer in the clerical sense?”
“No,” Jude said with conviction. “Whenever you used it, even in the confessional, I never heard it as a religious honorific for some reason. Perhaps because I was already detached from the Church. Or maybe…” Jude waved his hand dismissively.
“Never mind. I’m not sure where these things I’m rambling about are coming from. ”
“What?” I pressed. “What were you going to say? Because I might have an answer for you.”
“When you call me father by itself, without my name attached, like Father Jude, it’s as if you’re showing me respect.”
I managed not to gasp at Jude’s explanation because it was too good to even consider. Instead, I asked, “Have you ever read or seen anything regarding BDSM?”
“Some,” Jude said. “One time I had a weird thought about why wearing the clerical collar made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.
And that led to thinking about why submissives want to be collared.
Tell me if I’m wrong, but the collar gives you freedom to be yourself, right?
Knowing you have a dominant or in some cases, a Daddy controlling you but also taking care of you. ”
“I’ve never been collared but yes, if I were ever so lucky to have a Dom desire me in that way… well, I’d be in fucking heaven for sure. I’d never want to take it off. In a genuine D/s relationship, that’s synonymous to wearing a wedding ring.”
“Hmm,” Jude hummed thoughtfully.
“Would you do me a favor?”
“What?” Jude asked.
“Before we meet again, find BDSM sites that are legitimate. Not only chat groups or personal websites. And do some research on the meaning of being in a Dominant/submissive, or D/s relationships. That is, if you’d be open to exploring more in BDSM.”
Jude eyed me curiously. “I guess I would, but why?”
“Read up on it and we’ll talk when I see you. If my intuition is right, you’re going to feel right at home with the information regarding being a Dominant.”
“All right, I will.”
“Good, thank you,” I said as we made our way to the small foyer and Jude opened the door for me.
“In the meantime, sweet dreams, baby.”
I flushed as a craving seized me when an alternative endearment came to mind.
I wanted it so badly now that I’d had a chance to be with him in person intimately.
Playing with the keys in my pocket, I let them go and finally admitted in a whisper, “Instead of father, I’d like to call you Babbo.
It translates from Italian into father or papa.
I’ve never been interested in being in a Daddy/boy relationship.
I’ve only ever called a Dom either Sir or Master.
But they seem too stiff and unrelenting for you. What do you think?”
“I can’t make it sound as sexy as you do, spilling from your lips, but yes…” Jude nodded his head and then kissed both my cheeks and laid a brief kiss on me, with tongue. “Yes, baby, I like that a lot.”
I must’ve fucking glowed like a Halloween lantern the way my face burned red.
And when I heard the click of the door behind me, a whoosh of air left me.
I was still stunned by the events of the night and made it outside to the main entrance when suddenly, my legs wobbled.
Thankfully, the hotel provided an area designated for smoking not more than five feet from me.
I sat down gingerly on a bench and let the images of me with Jude float through my inner vision like a leaf floating on slow running water. Leisurely, contemplatively.
Before Luca… before Thorne and Napa, there had been a boy.
We were both seventeen, freshly graduated from high school and figuring out the ways to be with each other sexually.
Even back then, I gave the other boy the lead.
We’d learned a lot from each over the summer before we went our separate ways to college.
His name was Ben, and he was the only other person to call me baby. I treasured the endearment from Ben because it was so like him. He’d been kind and caring in his dominance even when we’d explored light impact play. He’d inflicted the pain that I craved but without roughness or cruelty.
Jude reminded me of Ben, and maybe that was why being with Jude sexually came easy. And why Jude calling me baby felt special, despite the label being overly used.
I let out a stuttering breath. After so many years of celibacy, of missing out on the pleasures of sensual contact, I’d been with a man.
I’d kissed Jude with a fierceness I hadn’t experienced since Ben.
He’d dazzled me and I was his baby. I instinctively understood that’s why calling Jude “father” had slid out so naturally.
Father was an authority figure, similar to that of a Dom.
Or maybe even a Daddy Dom. I never considered addressing a Dom as Daddy.
However, Jude was clearly a caretaker. Babbo felt right.
When I felt steady, I walked to my truck, mesmerized by the sky glittering with stars and the thin, finely shaped arc of the moon.
A new moon that marked the beginning of a lunar cycle, and a metaphor for a fresh start in life, wasn’t lost on me.
I’d wondered during all the years of therapy if I’d ever not be taxed by guilt—a heavy burden that had gradually made my shoulders slump under its weight.
That evening, as I moved under the canopy of the moon and planets, I felt light and emboldened.
It was a good feeling, one that stayed with me for the rest of the night and into the next day.