Nikolaus #2
He’s making these tiny, helpless noises, like he’s not even aware of them, like it’s just his body’s way of begging for more.
I press my face into his hair and inhale, and his scent is so innocent, so fucking sweet, that it almost makes me blow.
“Alright, baby. This will be a quick one. So just lie there and let Daddy make you feel good, okay?”
He nods, glassy-eyed, and his legs fall open even wider.
I start to move, drawing out just enough to feel friction, then pushing back in. The way he trembles and rocks with each thrust makes me want to ruin him like our first time, but I hold back, making him feel every second. His back arches, and his cock bobs against his belly, leaking and flushed.
“Feels so good, Daddy,” he whines.
“Yeah, you think you’re close, baby?”
“Yessss.”
I reach down and stroke him, matching the rhythm of my hips. His head kicks back, mouth open, panting as I squeeze him just how he likes. I can tell he’s holding on by a thread, and the thought that he’s trying to hold back, to be good, to make it last for me, undoes me.
Charlie sobs, clinging to me, bare and desperate and shaking, and as cliché as it is, and as much as I’ll probably regret dropping the words for the first time while balls deep in him, I can’t help myself.
“Come for me, Charlie. Come for the man who loves you.”
His eyes betray his shock for a split millisecond, then roll back as his ass starts to flutter around me, small twitches at first, then seismic shudders as I fuck him through the crest of his pleasure.
His cock pulses hot into my palm, a sticky arc against his belly, and he lets out the purest, most broken moan of release.
“Fuck, that’s it,” I grunt, hips stuttering, sweat dripping off my brow. “Let Daddy have it, come on—”
I chase my own end, slamming in hard enough to bruise, and when I finally lose control, I swear I see stars.
Charlie sobs out with each pulse, and I hold him so close I can feel his heart beating, wild and erratic, beneath his ribs.
And for a long time, I just stay like that, buried deep, hands cradling his head, my own face buried in the crook of his neck.
He doesn’t mention my love declaration, but I’m okay with that. He doesn’t need to answer yet. He just needs to know that my heart beats solely for him.
* * *
Less than twelve hours later, we stand beneath the cavernous fluorescent lights of a craft store the size of an aircraft hangar. The air smells faintly of plastic and fresh lumber.
Brightly colored boxes line shelf upon shelf—window art, painting, tie-dye, crocheting, crystal-growing sets—anything a kid could want.
Or a Charlie.
Other shoppers occasionally drift past us, some casting wary glances. One mother steers her child away as though I’m an active threat to their safety. Another woman spots the outline of my holster beneath my coat and backs off, bumping her cart into the next aisle.
Charlie doesn’t appear to notice. He’s too entranced by his options.
He sits in one of those motorized carts, and my job is to get the items he picks from the shelf and add them to the basket.
I’m proud of him for choosing to use something that will make his life just a bit easier.
When we first entered the store and he saw one available, he went straight to it, explaining to me that he knew he’d take a really long time choosing his crafts and couldn’t stand for all that time.
Then he said that he feels more comfortable using the accessible option because I’m with him.
“Look,” he breathes, pulling me out of my head. “That one grows glow-in-the-dark crystals!”
“Wow, baby. Does it get to go into the cart?”
He beams. “Yes, please.”
Around an hour later, we exit the store with the glow-in-the-dark crystals, a kit to make your own bouncy balls, a slime-making kit, two different painting sets, a “spa science” kit—whatever that entails—a DIY fairy garden complete with seeds, a Chia Pet hedgehog, a Chia Pet Godzilla, a create-your-own window art kit that I will 1000% be proudly displaying on the penthouse’s windows, a friendship bracelet making kit with a little loom included, and obviously a volcano.
In the car, Charlie seems to realize he’s bought several weeks’ worth of activities. “Um… We’ll just do some of them today.”
“Sounds good to me, sweetheart. Have you decided which ones you want to start with?”
“The bouncy balls, bracelets, and maybe one of the Chia Pets?”
“I think that’s a plan,” I tell him, smiling at his look of pure joy.
The grocery store takes half the time the craft store did.
Charlie chooses a round Funfetti ice cream cake from the bakery’s freezer, and I have the old woman behind the counter write “Happy Birthday, Charlie” on the top of it.
While she’s working on that, Charlie discovers a cake candle section and selects two sparkler candles—“2” and “6.” By the time we check out, our cart looks like a hungry, sugar-addicted kid’s daydream.
Back at the penthouse, Marta assists Charlie with setting out the craft kits on the dining table, while Elise plates our snack spread, and I double-check that all Charlie’s presents are accounted for.
I can’t help but smile at the balloons littering the first floor.
I never instructed my housekeepers to do any decorating, but when we arrived home from shopping, we were greeted by balloons and streamers.
Charlie got teary-eyed at the sight, and I mentally made a note to up their end-of-year bonuses.
Charlie chooses the friendship bracelet kit first. Predictable, but also a little heartbreaking, because of course he’d want to make something for me on a day meant to celebrate him.
The packaging is gaudy with teal and purple and pastel chaos, clearly aimed at preteen girls, but that doesn’t stop him from setting it down with reverent care on the table.
He’s all business, consulting the diagram on the back of the box and reading out the instructions with a concentration that is, honestly, adorable. “It’s got a clip,” he says, “for your wrist, so you don’t need a third person.” He glances up at me. “But maybe you can help me tie it when it’s done?”
“It would be an honor,” I tell him, and mean it.
I choose a mix of black and red and white, because “those are Daddy’s colors,” and Charlie spends at least five minutes agonizing between “galaxy” and “pastel rainbow” before picking both and splitting the difference. He picks out beads to spell “NIKO’S” for my bracelet and “BABY’S” for his.
Charlie’s tongue pokes out as he threads the floss through the plastic loom, working diligently. Every so often, he looks up to verify my progress, as if this is a race or maybe a trust exercise.
I finish my pattern first—a spiral of red and black, white letter beads for the name, and a plain silver bead for the apostrophe.
I wrap it around his wrist, careful not to tie it too tightly.
He holds his hand out at arm’s length like he’s been bedazzled by priceless jewelry rather than acrylic and nylon, then wiggles his fingers.
“Pretty,” he says, with quiet awe.
Holding my own left wrist out for the favor to be returned, I ask, “Do I get mine now, too?”
“Yeah.”
His hands are clumsy but gentle as he knots the ends and snips the stray floss. The “BABY’S” beads are a bit off-center, the color pattern a little wild, but when I open and close my fist, the thing fits perfectly.
He’s watching my face for a verdict, and I make it official. “It’s absolutely perfect, Charlie. Thank you.”
He beams at me, basking in the praise. I cup his chin and tilt his face up, just so I can press my lips to his forehead. “I love it. I love you,” I whisper, and he swallows the words like medicine he’s been craving for years.
Charlie’s got the bouncy ball kit out with the lid popped before I can even clear the spent floss from the table.
“You have to pick your own mold,” he instructs, lining up the plastic spheres. “There’s a star-shaped one, a regular one, and a heart.”
“Which do you think Daddy should use?”
He hums, gaze flicking between molds. “Stars are for wishes and hearts are for love.”
“Which one means ‘I would burn the world down for you’?”
Charlie giggles, then shyly nudges the heart across the table. “This one, I think.”
“Good choice.” I go for the pastel ball powder, shake it into the mold as the instructions say, and Charlie does the same, selecting bright blue and purple to make a galaxy swirl.
They take some time to set, so we make another one together, and when that’s done, the others are ready to be taken out of their molds.