Chapter 14
MATTHEW
Troye was the perfect amount of sass and mischief all stirred up and tucked away behind his insecurities. He was irresistible in his ridiculous underwear, something that you’d never catch me dead wearing, but for some reason were perfect for him.
“Those are amazing.” I told him, kissing the corner of his mouth.
His jaw. My body had a mind of its own now that he was in my arms, and it wanted to touch, to taste, to explore.
It didn’t want to talk about underwear or anything.
It certainly didn’t want to examine the way Troye had entered my life and slid under my skin like he’d always belonged there and was just waiting to come home.
“I have others.” His words were breathless and barely there as I kissed my way down the column of his throat. My hands mapped the curve of his back and the smoothness of his skin. I wanted the heat of my hands to brand him as mine. I wanted everyone to look at him and know that he was mine.
My fingers skimmed along the waistband of his ridiculously perfect taco cat underwear and a strange kind of joy fluttered in my soul.
Troye trusted me enough to break his routine, to come over here even after he’d been tucked into bed at home.
And he trusted me with this part of him.
Because the taco cat underwear had been noticeably absent in the hotel room.
The sound of Troye whimpering made a growl rumble in my chest. His little whimpers unmade me. I was no longer this completely composed man. Now I was more beast, more feral, suddenly half desperate and out of my head with need.
Pulling him close to me, so close neither air nor light could pass between us, I slanted my mouth over his.
Troye swooned and submitted to me, letting me lead the kiss.
When I slipped my hand into the back of his underwear and skated my fingers over his ass, Troye pressed himself closer to me, grinding his cock against mine.
I liked that we were a pretty even match when it came to height. It made it so all the important parts lined up effortlessly, like he was made to fit against me. I grabbed a handful of ass cheek and squeezed, and Troye let out a sharp whine, yanking his mouth away from mine.
“You said we could negotiate.”
I might have been worried that I did something wrong were it not for the way he pressed himself against me, seemingly trying to climb inside me.
“Do you want something? Tell Daddy.”
Troye bit his lower lip, and I felt him shift nervously.
“I can’t give you what you don’t ask for.”
“I—”
He paused and took a breath, and I saw the determination flicker in his gaze. The same sort of look I’d witnessed before he dropped himself into my lap.
“Do I have to… be bad… for you to spank me?” He said the word bad like it didn’t belong in his mouth.
Like the idea of being bad was so off-putting that he almost couldn’t bring himself to say it.
His body seemed to reject the idea too, like he didn’t want to be bad so much that it made him jittery.
He hadn’t minded misbehaving on that plane, and he hadn’t minded the consequences later, but that was before he knew what they were. Before he knew what I was. That was back when I was nothing but a stranger with a firm hand.
“You don’t have to misbehave to get a spanking, my little jitterbug.”
Troye wrinkled his nose at the name but didn’t address it.
“So you’d spank me just because I asked? I mean… if I asked. Theoretically speaking.”
“Theoretically…” I let the word hang between us, silently calling it out for the lie it was.
“Yes. I’d spank you just because you wanted it.
Spanking doesn’t always have to be corrective.
Sometimes it can be a prevention, like I’ll spank you now so you remember to behave later.
And sometimes it’s neither of those. Sometimes we want that release we get from it.
And sometimes we just want it because it hits the right buttons inside of us.
We want it because it gets us off, and that’s fine too. ”
Troye let out a breathless laugh. “I don’t even know why I liked it so much.”
“If you want one, all you have to do is ask me nicely.”
Did I want him to ask? Hell fucking yes, I did. Would I be disappointed if he wasn’t ready for that yet? Yes, but the way he looked at me gave me hope that it wouldn’t be long before I earned that kind of trust from him.
I didn’t want to stand there and stare at him and wait for any kind of answer, so I went back to kissing him.
His lips had the lingering taste of toothpaste, minty and fresh.
His jaw had the slightly rough texture of day-old stubble breaking free from the surface of his skin.
I knew from his streams that he usually kept himself cleanshaven, but I secretly thought he’d be sexy as hell if he rocked a bit of a beard.
I’d made it as far as his neck when he spoke. And as he did, I felt the weight of his words and what it cost him to say them. The vulnerability was palpable, pouring off him in waves.
“Will you spank me… Daddy?”
My heart cracked in half and shed its old shell so it could grow three more sizes to fit Troye inside of it where I could keep him safe forever.
“Of course, I will, sweetheart. Let’s have a seat for a minute.” Reluctantly, I let go of him and sat on the edge of the bed. I patted my lap, indicating that’s where I wanted him and his silly taco cats to sit.
He shuffled over and gingerly placed himself in my lap. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his bare shoulder. “There’s rules for fun spankings too.”
He huffed out a breath like he was already exasperated by hearing about rules, but they were too important to let him avoid.
“The rule is that you need a safe word. Because sometimes when we’re in the moment, you might want to say stop, but you might not want me to actually stop.”
Troye rolled his eyes so hard I practically heard them hit the back of his skull. “I know about safe words. I might not have had a daddy or done anything kinky before, but you can’t shake a stick on the internet without hitting a dick joke.”
“The internet isn’t always the best source of education.”
“I’m not saying that I’m an expert because I saw jokes about pineapple being the safe word. I just know what they are.”
Gripping Troye’s chin with my fingers, I turned him to face me and planted a rough kiss on his lips. “What’s your safe word?”
“How about I just go with red? It seems easy to remember.”
“That will do.”
“And you can stop anytime, okay? And I won’t be mad or sad or disappointed. I promise.”
The promise at the end made Troye exhale the last of his nerves. “Okay.”
“Okay. Safe word is red. Now, I want you to get on your feet and take your underwear off for me.”
He stood, but it took him a second to gather himself enough to where his hands would obey the command to undress.
His fingers flitted nervously at his sides and then suddenly he whisked his underwear off to reveal his rock-solid cock.
It pointed straight out and bobbed around in the air as it muscled its way to standing upright.
I took mercy on him after that and reached for him. Taking his hand, I pulled him close, and then I grabbed him, easing him down on my lap. I sat far enough back on the bed so he could stretch out across my lap and have the bed as a support, get comfortable, and sink into it.
After making sure his cock was protected, nestled between my legs, confined without being crushed, I smoothed my hand down his back. I followed the curve of his spine to where it became the swell of his ass.
“I think you were very brave for asking Daddy to spank you. I want you to remember that you’re not in trouble. You’ve not been bad. You’re a very good boy, and I’m going to reward you now. Are you ready?”
Troye gave me a jerky nod. His nerves were going to shake him apart if I didn’t quell them soon.
“Yes, Daddy.”
God, I could get used to hearing that come out of his mouth.
I loved how he made it sound. He wasn’t sassy or sour about me wanting to be called Daddy.
He didn’t balk at the use of the honorific or the way I wanted to care for him.
Some men took any sort of offer of help and guidance as a slight against their masculinity.
Like it made them less for me wanting to do things for them like starting their car. Or spanking their ass.
They needed to see what I saw. Troye, stretched out across my lap, the picture of strength. Broad shoulders and a narrow waist, a sharp jawline dusted with day-old stubble. He was power and grace. Command and supplication. And he was mine.
My hand smoothed down his back again, and I mapped the curve of his ass, the roundness of each cheek, the place where ass became leg. And then I squeezed the fleshiest part. Troye’s moans were muffled because he was hiding his face, but that was fine. For now.
I pulled my hand back and watched him stiffen in anticipation, and I waited. Finally, he took a breath, then let it out and relaxed. And that’s when I delivered the first blow. Sharp and strong, I struck the cheek of his ass and watched the way his skin rippled in response.
Troye let out a keening noise that was less moan and more whine and part shock as if he were somehow surprised that I’d done it.
Or maybe it was that he liked it. Or maybe it was for a million different reasons I’d never be able to discern.
Rubbing the spot I just struck, I took a breath to steady myself.
Troye was a ripple in my calm. He made me want to do things to him, to push the envelope, to unmake him brick by brick and put him back together again in a version that was still all him, but also more mine.
When I hit him again, he relaxed faster.
He’d caught onto the fact that I liked to wait for him to let go, to breathe out, to find his calm while I warmed him up.
I wanted him to sink into himself, to release whatever it was he held on to so tightly.
I wanted him to want more of this. More of me. Of us.
Troye was an intoxicating man to have over my knee.
I could tell he tried his best to keep still, but the longer I went, the less he was able to.
By the time his ass had started to turn a pretty shade of red, he was squirming and panting, and maybe crying.
His breath came in shudders, and I paused.
The skin of my hand had started to sting so I knew his ass had to be on fire.
“Can you take a bit more for me?”
Troye nodded, and he turned his head, giving me a glimpse of his face. His eyes were rimmed with red and glistened with tears. His cheeks looked wet with it, and I wanted to lick the tears off him, taste the salt of his skin. Kiss him better.
“Please.” His voice cracked like the weight of the word was too much to bear. “Please,” he said again, a new kind of desperation in the tone of his voice. “Please, Daddy.”
“That’s a good boy, just take a breath now. Daddy’s got you.” Troye sighed, throwing all his trust in me in that moment, and he turned to liquid in my lap.
I had him.
Now I had to keep him.