15. So Soft
When I wake up, it’s to a warm body entangled with mine.
I open one eye, then the other, adjusting to the darkness of the room.
Sandy-blond hair tickles my nose as I turn my head, and long, slim limbs press against me everywhere—an arm over my chest, a leg between mine, and a head resting on my shoulder.
The memories come back to me in a rush. Oh God. Oliver. We slept together—we had sex, and afterward, we must have fallen asleep. I wait for the regret to come, but his warm breaths against my chest crowd out all my doubts and fears.
The cadence of soft breaths changes, and moments later, his eyes open slowly and find mine. “Daddy?”
I brush his bangs out of his face. “How are you feeling?”
“Sleepy,” he whispers. “What time is it?”
I glance at my smartwatch. “Eight thirty.” We napped for about an hour.
“Oh.” Oliver frowns. “I should text the twins.”
I make a move to get up, but he grabs my arm.
“No, wait.”
I sink back onto the mattress, the need to take care of him overriding everything else. His mouth opens and closes, and I wait for him to say what’s on his mind. The words come out whisper-quiet, his hand grasping my arm.
“You asked me how I’m feeling, but you didn’t say… how you’re feeling. About this.” He glances down at our naked bodies, and all the unspoken words between us hang heavy in the air.
How do I feel about this? I might be wrong for it, but for now, I just want to lie here with Oliver in my arms and not think about the consequences or the wrongness of what we’re doing.
All I know is this: I’m not saying it’s right, but I want it too badly to stop.
Every time he looks at me, touches me, I feel my control slipping even more.
God, I shouldn’t, but I don’t want to let him go.
I let out a deep breath, and as he presses himself tighter against me, I can already feel his cock hardening against my thigh. I stroke his side, the smooth skin of his back. When my touch trails further down, toward his ass, he tenses, and I withdraw my hand.
He shakes his head, looking up at me with pleading eyes. “No, please… Please touch me there.”
“Here?” I slide my hand back down to his ass.
He nods, eyes fluttering shut. “Yes.”
I rub my finger between his cheeks, and Christ, he has the smoothest, softest hole I’ve ever felt. I pause to lick my finger before I go back to rubbing it over his tight pucker, and he gasps, rolling his hips.
“When are you going to do it?” he whispers.
“Hm?”
“When are you going to fuck me?”
I inhale a sharp breath, and my dick gives an eager pulse.
“We need the toys to prepare you and get you ready, remember?” There’s no way his virgin hole can take me without getting him used to toys first. Even seasoned bottoms have trouble taking my cock, and there’s no way in hell I’ll let Oliver be in pain.
He pouts and rocks his hips against me. “But… I want it. Want you to fuck me.”
“I know. You need to be patient.”
“I’m not good at that.”
I smile. “I know.”
“If I can’t have Daddy’s cock, then… I want Daddy’s finger.” He grips my wrist and presses my hand harder against him. “Want it inside.”
We really should use lube for this, but since he’s being so stubborn, I’ll do this just to prove my point. Withdrawing to lick my finger again, I press the pad of it to his opening, and he hikes his leg up over my body to give me easier access.
“Relax,” I whisper against his lips, and when he exhales, I press my finger past the first tight ring of muscle—or at least I try. His hole is so tight, I can barely get the tip inside.
“Oh.” Oliver squirms, and there’s an edge of pain to his voice. “Oh, wow.”
“See?” I go back to stroking the outside of his rim. “This hole is so small. Do you really think you’re ready?” I grab his wrist and bring it to my cock, and he wraps his hand around it. “For this?”
“Oh God,” he whimpers, jerking me slowly, uncertainly, testing the weight of it in his hand.
“See? There’s no way Daddy’s cock will fit inside.”
“But I want it,” he whines. “Want Daddy’s cock.”
“Then you need to be a good boy. Be patient and follow Daddy’s lead.”
“I will,” he gasps, his hand squeezing my shaft. “I’ll be a good boy. Please…” He rolls his hips, his dick leaking precum against my stomach. “I’m so close.”
I shift my hand away from his ass and stroke his cock instead while he strokes mine.
Even though he jerks me clumsily and in an uneven rhythm, his soft gasps and needy whimpers have me close to the edge as well.
I thrust my hips into his hand, and he leans in to kiss me, whispering sweet words like, “Please, Daddy,” and, “Feels so good,” and, “Wanna come.”
When I flick my thumb over his slit, his whole body jerks, and I know what’s about to happen.
One more stroke, and he comes with a cry, splattering cum all over his stomach while he writhes and moans like it’s going on forever.
With a growl, I close my hand over his and help him pump me to completion.
Afterward, we lie sweaty and sated, skin to skin, breathing into each other’s mouths.
“I love how sensitive you are,” I murmur against his lips.
“Sorry.” He looks up at me with big eyes.
“What have I said about apologizing? You have nothing to be sorry for, sweet Ollie.”
“It’s embarrassing,” he whispers.
“What is? How needy you are for me, and how little it takes for you to come?”
He nods, biting his lip. “I can’t help it.”
“Well, Daddy likes it, so don’t be embarrassed.”
“Okay,” he whispers. “I’ll try.”
“Good boy.”
He shudders, cheeks flushing at the praise.
Curious, I reach down between his legs, and as expected, his cock has thickened again, his balls full and drawn up against his body.
He stares at me, looking embarrassed, and the need to reassure him is impossible to ignore.
Sliding down his body, I take him into my mouth, in awe that he can be horny again so soon.
To be fair, I’m in awe that this is happening at all—that we met again after so many years, that he wants me, and that I’m allowing myself to do this.
“Oh shit.” He bucks his hips, body trembling, and it strikes me that he’s never had anyone do this to him before.
Every experience is his first. I’m his first, and my responsibility is far from lost on me.
I need to make sure he’s comfortable, that he’s feeling good at all times.
Pleasuring my partners has always been something I’ve enjoyed, and with Oliver, I shouldn’t be surprised that I enjoy it more than ever before.
“Do you have another one in you?” I lick his slit, tasting the cum from his previous orgasm.
“I don’t—know,” he gasps. “Shit, that feels amazing.”
He bucks his hips again, and I let him fuck my face, humming at his taste and his needy whines. I swallow him easily, my nose buried in the tuft of pubic hair at his root. Like that, it doesn’t take long until he grasps my head, thighs trembling.
“Holy shit, I’m gonna come again. Ohh my God, Daddy…”
He fills my throat with his hot release, and I keep my mouth on him until he’s soft and pliant and until incoherent words spill from his mouth. Climbing over his body, I kiss his sweet mouth, letting him taste himself on my tongue.
Hovering over him feels wrong somehow. Too intense. He’s not tiny by any means—he’s rather average—but I’m so giant in comparison that I tower over him. With a grunt, I roll to his side and let him lie on my chest. He gives a pleased sigh, burying his face in the crease of my neck.
“You’re so soft,” he mumbles, hiking a leg up over my side to push himself closer.
“I’ve let myself go a bit.” While I’ve always been on the bigger side, with wide shoulders and big hands—big everything, really—I’ve put on a number of pounds in the last few years. I go to the gym on a regular basis, but I suppose I enjoy food too much to maintain a slimmer figure.
“What? No, I like it. I love it.” Oliver nuzzles into my neck, nose rubbing against my beard. “So soft and warm.”
“Wouldn’t you want me to have a sixpack?”
He shakes his head vehemently. “No—why would I want that?”
“It’s what most people like.”
He pouts. “Well, most people are idiots.”
I chuckle and ruffle his hair. “Come on. Let’s get up.”
“No,” he groans. “I don’t wanna.”
When I sit up, Oliver wraps his arms around my shoulders and clamps his thighs around my waist. As I stand up with a grunt and carry him into the kitchen, he hangs onto me like a baby koala, giggling in delight.
I put him down on the kitchen island and kiss him on the forehead, finding it hard to contain the warm feelings floating around in my chest and the overwhelming desire to give him everything he wants.
There’s one thing I haven’t given him, I suppose, and the glint in his eyes as I make him a sandwich says it all.
He’s waiting—somewhat patiently, like the good boy he promised to be—and I’ve always been terrible at denying him what he wants.