Chapter 8
YVES
If Ollie and I had been at a different stage in our relationship—if I’d been entirely confident that the feelings that had grown so strong for me since our chance meeting in the Orlando airport, the ones it very much felt like he returned, implied the start of the type of relationship I hoped for—I might have lovingly tortured him on the way home from the airport, then put him over my knee to “punish” him for his transgression with the little plushie once we arrived.
A punishment which would have ended only when his delectable little ass was blushing as beautifully as his face did and my lap was soaked with his spend.
But there were a million reasons we weren’t at that stage yet, not the least of which was that I had no idea if he would find a spanking as erotic or enjoyable as I’d intend it to be. So instead, I was the one tortured on the drive to my home.
“I can’t believe how comfy these seats are,” he said, running his hands over the supple leather, then bouncing on it, then pressing his face against the window trying to catch a glimpse of the massive sculpture at the heart of Hudson Yards known as The Vessel once the driver told him about it.
“Are we almost there?” he asked more times than I could count.
“Not quite, mon précieux petit,” I answered each time, charmed at his constant stream of adorably excited chatter.
He had the little plushie I had gifted him, the one I now entertained such wonderfully dirty ideas for, clutched against him with one hand while I held his other securely in mine.
It was the only touch I allowed myself given that the car I’d booked from the airport was not equipped with a privacy screen, and if I hadn’t been a man who appreciated the pleasures of anticipation, spending the long drive from JFK to my home in Midtown not touching my boy the way I wanted to would have gone from simple torture to a living hell.
Or maybe not. Dramatics aside, I couldn’t imagine any moment spent with this sweet boy could ever fit that description, especially since my own personal version of hell was the emptiness my heart had endured before serendipity had given me this chance with him.
“Is this it?” he asked when we finally arrived at the building I lived in. “Finally?”
“It is, mon petit trésor,” I said, his eagerness bringing the patience I’d exercised ever since he’d said yes to being mine to an end. I guided him out of the car before the engine had stopped purring. “The driver will bring our bags. Come.”
“But shouldn’t we carry our own—” he started to protest.
I pulled him against me before he could get any further than that, tipping his chin up so I could reach his delectable mouth and quieting him with a hungry kiss.
There was so much I wanted to do with this boy, so much I hoped for, but it would have to wait until we were inside. I wasn’t willing to share any part of him with an audience. Even a well-paid, discreet one.
And the driver was well-paid. Enough so that I didn’t feel even the tiniest twinge of remorse at my lack of social courtesies now that we’d reached my home.
“Come,” I repeated once Ollie went pliant and soft in my arms. “I want to see you in my bedroom.”
He blinked dazed eyes, then gave me one of his dazzling smiles. “Yes, Daddy.” But then, his shoulders hunching as he peeked back over his shoulder at the driver and then back at me, he whispered, “Sorry? I shouldn’t say that word in front of other people, right?”
“You should say it always,” I corrected him with a smile.
A complicated look played across his face, his chin wobbling for a moment before he caught it. “Okay,” he finally said. “I… I will. Daddy.”
I frowned, something about his agreement not sitting right with me.
But then I decided I didn’t want to find out what it was until we truly did have some privacy, so I told him he was a good boy—because that would always be true, even when he was delightfully naughty as he had been with his plushie on the plane—pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead, and guided him into the building, not stopping until we’d reached the apartment I owned on the top floor.
“This is amazing, Daddy,” he said, his steps slowing and his eyes wide as he looked at the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the outer walls. But then, with a shy smile and another beautifully rosy blush, he asked, “But can I see your bedroom now?”
“You don’t want a tour of my home first, sweet boy?” I teased him, despite my cock’s immediate response to his request.
“Oh! Um, yeah,” he said, looking mortified… which would never do. “Sorry. I just thought…”
I pulled him to me and kissed him until he settled. “I am just teasing you, mon c?ur. I am just as eager as you to take those liberties you’ve promised me. But I would also be happy to wait if—”
“No,” he interrupted me, clutching at my shirt. Then he let go, looking embarrassed again, and smoothed the wrinkles in the material as he avoided my eyes. “I mean, I thought that was why you brought me here?”
For a moment, I was at a loss. It was why I’d brought him here, but it also wasn’t.
Or more accurately, it wasn’t only that.
But at what point did I tell this beautiful boy with whom I’d only had a passing acquaintanceship—and fascination for—for the last couple of years that I wanted him to be mine now? Truly mine?
The minute you want him to turn around and run back out the door, said the devil on my shoulder with an evil cackle.
The angel took off her halo and reached around to smack him with it. Good relationships are based on honest communication, she said. Go for it.
“Daddy?” Ollie asked uncertainly. “Did you change your mind?”
“No,” I said, shaking those two pests off my shoulders and focusing on what mattered. “About you? Never.”
For some reason, my answer brought a flash of sadness to his face, reminding me that he’d hesitated in agreeing to call me Daddy once we’d arrived, and I still needed to know why.
If I needed to slow down for his sake, I would. If I was being blind to unpleasant truths again, if this wasn’t what he really wanted and would never enjoy the way I truly wanted to care for him, it was best to find out now.
But if his hesitation turned out to be something I could fix, then that—above and beyond my desire to have him naked and mewling for me—was and always would be my top priority.
“Sit with me,” I said, guiding him to the butter-soft leather couch behind us.
“So, not your bedroom,” he said, slumping against the soft cushions. He set the little dinosaur plushie down next to him, then picked at the frayed hem of his denim shorts. “Can you at least tell me what I did wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said forcefully, lifting him bodily and arranging him on my lap before I could employ good sense. “Ollie, you have done nothing wrong, but you didn’t like what I said just now, and I need to know why.”
His eyes went wide, but he made no attempt to leave my arms. “Um, no? I like everything you say, Daddy.” He bit his lip, looking away. “It’s just that I like some of it too much.”
I turned his face back toward me. “Explain, please.”
He shook his head, his lip trembling for a moment before he stopped it and forced a smile. “It’s nothing. I’m just being dumb. Can you just… just tell me what you like, and we can do that now? I’m really good at, um, you know. Bedroom stuff.”
My cock twitched under him, but I would not be distracted.
“What I like is you,” I told him honestly. “But I do not like hearing you use words like that.”
“Sorry,” he whispered, shrinking in on himself.
Ah. This sweet boy. I could see it clearly; he had been told too many times what others did not like about him. He needed praise, not punishment or censure. And I hoped, I so dearly hoped, that he also needed the kind of release from adult expectations that he could safely find with me.
But that was for later.
I kissed his forehead. “You’re forgiven. Not telling your Daddy how you feel may be ill-advised, but it is not dumb. You are not dumb. And nothing you’re feeling is ever dumb, mon trésor. If you’re really going to be my boy—”
“I am,” he blurted, clutching me. “I mean, I want to be. For as long as you still want me, at least.”
Mon Dieu, the promises this sweet boy made were impossibly tempting… but also, was that it? He was already worried that this would end too soon? Or, like myself, that it would end at all?
I took a deep breath, trying to settle my heart and not get ahead of myself. First things first. “Then, if you’re mine,” I said, watching his face for any sign that I was overstepping his desires, “you will follow my rules, and the first one is that you don’t speak of yourself that way.”
“Okay,” he said, eyes still wide as he nodded eagerly, as if he craved direction and guidance as much as I needed to give it. “What are the other rules?”
“We will have to discuss that, but I’d say the next one is that you tell me what you meant about being mine for as long as I want you. What do you want, Ollie?”
He had, after all, just ended things with the odious Grant. Just because I was an impatient fool who already found anything other than keeping him forever too unbearable to contemplate, that didn’t mean that accompanying me home was anything other than a rebound fling for him.
My stomach soured at the thought… or maybe it was from the way Ollie was taking so long to answer me. But before I could press him on it, the angel on my shoulder smacked me with her halo, muttering words that were distinctly unangelic under her breath about how obtus and borné I could be.
The devil was much more succinct. Idiot, he said, poking me with his pitchfork.
They were both in agreement about my “impatient fool” assessment, but neither believed Ollie could possibly respond to me the way he did if he wasn’t feeling something akin to what I was.
Ollie was simply too genuine not to be real, and as soon as they knocked my insecurities out of the way, I realized my mistake.
“I do want to hear what it is you want, Ollie,” I said, smoothing his hair back and cupping his face, “but maybe you would like to hear what I am hoping for first?”
He let out a gusty breath, tension leaving his body in a great rush. “Yes, please. And I can do it. Whatever you want. I’ll do anything.”
My chest tightened painfully. “Non, mon trésor. You will not do ‘anything.’ You will only do what you are comfortable with. What you enjoy.”
“I enjoy making you happy,” he said promptly, and I knew this to be true. I’d seen this in him every day from the first one. It brought him pleasure. He positively glowed with it.
“And I will enjoy nothing more than making you happy, little one,” I told him sincerely. “I want to take care of you and spoil you and enjoy all those liberties you’ve granted me the right to take. But still, we both have to want what happens between us, non? Otherwise, it cannot last.”
He froze like a cornered rabbit, the vein at the base of his throat beating so fast it was a blur. It would have worried me if I’d thought it was from fear, but instead, my heart soared. It looked like hope.
“You want it to last?” Ollie finally whispered. “With me?”
“I do,” I said, understanding him now. I needed to be clear and—as my ange agacant, my annoying angel, had said—lead with honest communication.
“I want you to be my boy, my little boy, without an expiration date.” He stopped breathing completely, his eyes so wide they looked like saucers.
I forged ahead anyway. “I would like you to stay, Ollie. In my life, in my bed, in this apartment with me when you are ready. And I am hoping, very much, that if we suit, you will decide to stay… always.”
“But,” he said after an achingly endless pause, “why? You don’t know me. I mean, you know me, but not that well?”
“Of course,” I said since he was correct, even if my heart didn’t agree. “I apologize. It is too much.”
“No!” he practically shouted, wiggling around to face me completely, straddling my lap as he grabbed my shirt and rose up on his knees to stare into my eyes. “No, Daddy. That’s not… I didn’t mean that. It’s not too much. It’s… it’s not.”
“No?” I asked, a fierce, burning hope growing inside me as I slid my hands up the back of his bare thighs, underneath the soft denim to cup his sweet bottom.
A tremor went through him, his lips falling open on a soft gasp.
But then he looked away, his grip on my shirt loosening.
“It’s just that you said ‘if we suit,’ and…
and we may not.” His eyes suddenly snapped back to meet mine.
“I mean, you suit me. You definitely suit. You’re…
you’re everything, but I’m just… me. And no one ever wants to keep me. Not after they get to know me.”
My lips tightened in anger. Those men he spoke of, they were no one. No one of consequence. No one worthy of this boy.
“They were fools,” I told him, letting the truth of it burn in my eyes as I kneaded his firm bottom with my hands, my cock swelling underneath him with my passion. “And I hate that you were hurt, mon chéri, but I am selfishly glad for it. I want you for myself. I want to keep you. But...”
I hesitated. Ollie’s eyes had grown brighter and brighter as I spoke, but that final word dimmed them again.
“I knew there would be a but,” he said with a sigh, looking forlorn. “Go ahead, Daddy. Tell me.”
I would. I had to. I knew my desires were not shared by many, but once again, my angel was correct in this. It must be said plainly if we were to not just start, but also to last, because it wasn’t just about me wanting to keep him, it was about him wanting to stay.
Wanting to be not just my boy, but my little boy.
I took a deep breath, then picked up his peluche. “Let me tell you what kind of Daddy I’d like to be for you, mon choupinou…”