“I’m going to make this so good for you.” I licked his reddened flesh and pulled his thighs farther apart. Taking my time, I rubbed the thick, slippery, mushroom-shaped cockhead, sucked his balls and pressed a thumb to his taint. I dipped down, feasting on his entrance until my fingers slid easily in and out of him.
I rimmed and fingered him until he became incoherent with pleas for more, all the while dreaming up lines that would play into his fantasy while I fucked him. He wanted a daddy, but being unfamiliar with the scenario, I wasn’t sure if he liked the older-man-in-charge dynamic or if he wanted to feel like a good boy, someone who pleased me.
Unzipping my jeans, I used an undignified dance to lower them far enough so I could kick them off. Lucas chuckled softly into the pillow until I smacked his ass with my free hand, reached for a condom and tore open the wrapper with my teeth. His breath hitched with anticipation and his shoulders and back tensed. I pushed a finger inside him and decided to take the second pause necessary to grab my lube.
He moaned the loss of my finger. As soon as I uncapped and drizzled the liquid on his pucker, I pushed my finger back inside. He lifted his hips. “That’s it, honey. Ride back on my hand. Show off for Daddy.”
He jerked his hips, impaling himself fully. He moved seductively and layered in plenty of moaning and cursing for good measure.
“Good boy. You gonna do that with my cock, baby? You gonna work that ass for me?”
Lucas eyed me, panting softly as he lifted his hips to take three fingers like he was born to be fucked. “Yes, Daddy. I want your cock so bad. Give it to me. Please.”
My cock throbbed with the slight whine in his voice. He sure played up his strengths—batting his eyes like a goddamn virgin and begging to be fucked. Only then did I fully join Lucas in our little role play. Damn. It blew my mind I could learn something new about myself at my age. I rolled on the condom and watched his body welcome me home. I roared with pleasure as he clenched around me. “Fuck, Lucas. You’re so tight, baby.”
Despite my weight, Lucas managed to rock up to meet my thrusts, tilting his ass up for me. That arch would have killed my back, but Lucas’ spine flexed like a Slinky. I pressed up until my form resembled the start of a push-up and I angled my cock. I connected with his spot on the first pass. Lucas cursed. “Right there. Right. Fucking. There. Please, Kyle.”
Emboldened by his response, I locked my arms and pistoned my hips, up and down, again and again. With each thrust, Lucas fell apart a little more. My filter fritzed out and I said every filthy thought that entered my head in between our endless chorus of pants, grunts and curse-filled moans.
During a particularly hard set of deep thrusts, Lucas’ hand left the headboard and reached back to still my thigh. “Slow down, Daddy.”
I slowed immediately, but his body language didn’t match his request. His body still took me easily and his hips vibrated under me. His hand sought out mine and squeezed, a silent encouragement to keep up the play.
“Didn’t I tell you not to let go of the headboard?”
He managed a strangled cry and shifted his hands to grip the slats again. I dropped my knees to the mattress, balanced with one arm and wrapped a hand around his neck. His pulse raced under my fingers. “Who’s in charge of making you feel good?”
“You are,” he cried. His voice dripped with need.
“And who owns this ass?”
“It’s yours, Daddy. All yours.”
I buried myself inside him, and he hissed. “Oh, fuck, Kyle, you fuck me so good.”
In a single motion, I shifted my weight to my knees and tugged his hips up until he was on all fours. He immediately rocked backward on my dick, which throbbed inside his passage. I clasped his waist, and he rose to my challenge.
“Fuck, babe. I want to come,” he cried out. I realized too late he was asking permission. He roared, “Oh shit. Kyle, I’m coming.”
His muscles clenched like a vise around my cock, and he impaled himself with a primal cry. I could do nothing to stop the orgasm spiraling through me. I surged forward, collapsed on his back and emptied everything I had into him. Consumed with lust, I bit his shoulder and shuddered as the last shockwave rocketed through me.
The fog of endorphins cleared, and my leg and back muscles seized from exertion. I couldn’t find the wherewithal to care about the soreness which would undoubtedly get worse before it got better. Lucas shook under me, and I rolled off him, panting in time to his labored breaths.
I said the only thing I could manage. “Goddamn.”
Lucas turned toward me, his chest heaving and skin flushed a brilliant red. He choked out a laugh and tossed his arm over my body. “That was”—he sighed and dropped a kiss on my cheek, before moving to my lips—“perfect.”
“Yeah?”
He rolled his eyes and thumped my cheek, as though he found my question disingenuous. Perhaps it was. I’d known hot sex before, but we’d lit the sheets on fire.
Lucas fell back to the mattress and laughed in exhausted delight. I raised an eyebrow in question. “I liked you too much when I thought you were a bottom. This was more than I hoped for.”
I laughed, took a few deep sighs of utter satisfaction and waited for my heart and respiration rate to normalize before removing the condom. “You inspired me. All that daddy talk does something for me after all.”
He curled up next to me and craned his neck to kiss me. “I loved it.”
“Yeah, I could tell. It’s a bedroom thing, though, right?”
With a gleeful noise, he said, “Yeah, I wouldn’t try telling me what to do outside of bed. It might not end nearly as well.”
“So, is that the best way for you to get off?”
He shook his head, suddenly shy. He wanted to say something more. Words of encouragement formed on my lips, until I realized it might be unsafe territory and stopped myself.
He cuddled into me and stroked me absentmindedly before answering, “I don’t need it. You know?”
I pushed the hair out of his eyes so I could see him clearly. “I’m versatile,” he muttered. “I like to switch, but I don’t get it as often as I like. It’s been… It’s been difficult to find someone who didn’t expect me to be a certain way in bed. Don’t get me wrong, I know my dick is practically a novelty dildo and I’m happy to indulge my partner, but it’s rare for me to get past that stage and get to have the kind of sex I want. Before you, I can’t think of a single guy who took the time to pleasure other parts of me. I know we aren’t supposed to talk about it, but you need to know that this was amazing, Kyle, and it was amazing because of you.”
I rolled to my side and propped my head up with my palm. “I’m glad you told me. I still don’t get why you’d want anything to do with me.”
“Because you’re sweet and thoughtful—and fearless.”
“Hardly,” I huffed.
“When we met, I thought you’d followed me because you had a chance to fuck Tommy Bruiser.”
“So not how that would have gone down,” I confessed, “but continue.”
Lucas smiled knowingly. “You couldn’t form a complete sentence. I knew you had never done anything like that before. I loved that you were willing to follow me anyway.”
“Most men would follow you, Lucas.”
“Few do things that they’re afraid of, and most men wouldn’t have left for the reasons you did. I’m in awe of you, Kyle. You’re like that unicorn they talk about.”
I laughed. “Unicorn?”
“Yeah. A sexy man who doesn’t know he’s hot. You’ve got your shit together—a good job, a house which you basically built on your own and you’re driven, like me. You’re talented and creative, in addition to being a genuinely nice guy—total unicorn. To top it off, you’re great in bed. I’m all in. What else can I say?”
“You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”
“It’s all true.”
My face warmed and I kissed his forehead. “I have a feeling I’m not going t
o be great at following our rules.”
Lucas beamed his brilliant smile. “Does that mean I can sleep over tonight?”
I rolled on my back and checked the clock. “It’s barely three. Let’s shower and get your paint job done. We’ll see what happens.”
Chapter Six
It became abundantly clear that Lucas did not belong in a home improvement store. He’d been clingy since we’d left my bed, and while I appreciated the affection, I was all business the second we stepped through the sliding double doors. Lucas paused to grab a cart but I proceeded straight to the paint counter, picked up a quart of semi-gloss paint and handed over the color. While I waited for the attendant to mix it, Lucas navigated through the crowded aisles and explored the myriad of brushes and supplies in the painting section with the enthusiasm of a kid in a candy store.
He picked up a fourth item—a bag of roller pads—and I shook my head with an amused smile. “I’ve got all the supplies we need,” I explained. Frowning, he put them down.
After receiving his paint, we traversed the aisles. I held my tongue as he picked up random objects, patiently reassuring him that I had whatever it was on hand.
“Do you have this?”
I turned to see Lucas scoop up an industrial-size paint sprayer from a floor display and rest it on the cart. I couldn’t hold back my laughter. “No. That I don’t have.”
His eyes lit up. “It says it spreads the paint more evenly. We need one.” He heaved it over the edge of the cart with a broad smile. His chest puffed out and he strolled along in front of me.
I bit my lip to keep from saying anything. The oversized box made the cart awkward to push, and when Lucas glanced over his shoulder, he quickly returned to help. We moved along. I pushed the cart and he walked next to me, looking satisfied with his selection. We wandered into the patio and garden section, an area of the store where Lucas was clearly more comfortable. He pointed out flowers and decorative items he liked and asked my opinion as though we were making a joint purchase for a shared home. Part of me wondered how close we’d get to the checkout before he stopped playing around, but I wasn’t about to do anything to ruin his fun. Shopping with him was strangely domestic, and I enjoyed being with Lucas, even if we were both pretending to be more to each other than we were.
We approached the checkout, and I motioned him ahead of the cart. “You sure you want this?”
“You think I’m stupid for buying it?”
I couldn’t figure out why, of all things, he wanted that sprayer, but he had eyed it so longingly that I couldn’t flat out answer him honestly either. “Not stupid. Just don’t understand why you’d need that when you live in an apartment.”
“I don’t have any tools,” he sulked. “You have everything. It’s very emasculating.”
“Well buy something practical, like a drill set. Or better yet, get a hammer. They’re under ten dollars.”
“How much is that thing?”
I inspected it and estimated the price based on the brand and features. “Like three hundred, give or take.”
His eyes bugged out.
“Yeah.” I laughed. “So, let’s use my stuff, and you can work on getting your own set of tools when you buy your first place.”
He sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll put it back.” He lifted the bulky box from the cart.
“Take the cart,” I offered.
“I got it,” Lucas insisted and, clearly struggling, returned it to the aisle where we’d found it while I checked out.
On his return, he caught my eye, strutted and flexed his bicep, then promptly tripped over a display, drawing a surprised laugh from me. I willed my face to relax the over-the-top smile Lucas had inspired. “Smooth,” I teased as he neared me. “Here. Hold your paint, show off.”
We exited the store, and he tucked his arm around my waist. I squeezed him gently before lacing my fingers with his. It’d been a long time since I enjoyed something as simple as holding hands with someone.
Lucas drove a yellow Mustang, and to be honest, the flashiness made me cringe a little. It was such a ‘look-at-me’ kind of car which, combined with its lack of power, left me struggling to see its appeal. And I couldn’t quite reconcile it with the same guy who moments before had tripped over a store display and owned it like a fucking boss rather than shirk away. Lucas’ authentic brand of confidence didn’t need showiness. Ugh, it’s just a car. Overthink much, Kyle?
“I can see smoke coming out of your ears. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Lucas laughed and opened the trunk using his key fob. He placed the paint next to the supplies I’d stashed from my garage.
“Nothing. Just thinking,” I said.
Lucas’ bemused expression suggested he had read my thoughts and invited me to elaborate, but he didn’t push. “Well, don’t hurt yourself.” He laughed.
We drove to his apartment, and Lucas advanced through a handful of hardcore rap songs and listened to less than a full verse of some classic rock song I didn’t recognize. He studied my face then navigated to a Beatles station on his Spotify and scrutinized me again. It struck me that he was searching for something someone my age might enjoy, which was sweet but brutal for the ego.
“Listen to whatever you want.” I smiled and patted his leg.
“But what do you like best?”
“My taste varies. Honestly, whatever you want is fine.”
At a stoplight, he searched his phone and added a few songs to the queue. When the light turned green, I was treated to ten minutes of Lucas singing Taylor Swift songs at full volume until, thankfully, we arrived at his apartment and unloaded our supplies.
Lucas tried to help, but his version of helping involved a submerged paintbrush handle and a screw to the outlet cover dropped behind the refrigerator. I suggested he let me handle it, and in short order, I had Lucas’ kitchen wall prepped and painted, but Lucas was nowhere to be found.
“Babe,” I called for him, loving how naturally the endearment fell from my lips. When he didn’t respond, I searched his small apartment. I found him in his bedroom, lying on his bed, reading. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yep,” he answered without looking up. I knew that tone. That was the universal tone for ‘you’ve fucked up’.
“I’m sorry, Lucas.”
He dropped his book. “I wanted your help today, not for you to order me out of the kitchen like I’m some sort of incompetent child. I told you I’m only into the daddy thing in the bedroom.
“I know. I do it all the time, babe. It was nothing.”
“That’s not the point,” he said in a low whine. His sexy pout stirred up something inside me. I moved toward him, suddenly awash with memories of the sex we’d had and was newly turned on. I kneeled on the bed and knee-walked up the mattress and straddled his hips. “No whining or I’ll have to punish you.”
His pout morphed into a smile he tried gallantly to conceal. “Oh no. You can’t be all sexy daddy now. It’s not the time. Besides, I think you’ve got it backward. I should punish you.”
I sat back on his thighs, relocated his book to the nightstand and kissed him gently. “I’m sorry. I don’t mix work and play well.”
“You’re good with your hands.” He cupped my palms and kissed the rough callouses. “I know it was nothing for you, but I want to learn.”
“Next time, I’ll teach you instead of taking over. I promise. And I’ll tell you what. I’ve wanted to finish my garage this summer after the semester ends. You want to help?”
“Yeah.” Lucas nodded and hauled me down for a kiss. “But I want to learn how to use real tools, not a hammer. And I want to feel like I’m learning from my boyfriend and not my dad.”
“Boyfriend?”
Without answering my implied question, his expression asked if I was okay with the label. Since I’d already pissed him off about the painting thing, I didn’t feel the need to respond. Despite my ‘free to do whatever’ rule, I was never the type of guy who bed hopped, a
nd if Lucas wasn’t either… Where is the harm?
I laughed and shifted out of his lap so I could lie next to him. “It’s fine,” I said. “How do a table saw and drywall tools work for you? I’ll even let you wear my tool belt.”
“Perfect,” he answered.
“At the risk of seriously ruining this daddy deal, why exactly did your own father not teach you how to work with tools? I’m getting the impression he’s not a blue-collar man.”
Lucas barked out a laugh. “Ah…no. My father is an accountant. Or was. He’s retired now.”
“Really? My dad recently retired. Wait… How old are your parents?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“No. Probably not, but tell me anyway.”
“My father is sixty-seven.” I sighed relief before he added, “And my mother is forty-two.”
“Forty-two?” I choked.
“She’ll be forty-two next month.”
“Forty-one!” I sat up and hyperventilated. “Lucas, holy shit. I’m the same age as your mom.”
“Calm down.”
“I can’t breathe.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Calm down. It’s not the end of the world. Also, I’m adopted.”
“What?”
“My parents adopted me when I was five, okay? So, technically, my mom would have been pretty young if she’d given birth to me. And clearly, they won’t be scandalized by our age gap, since they have us beat by eight years.”
“I didn’t know you were adopted.”
“It hasn’t come up. It’s not a huge family secret or anything. My mom had to have a hysterectomy shortly after my parents got married, so they decided to adopt. My birth mother died and, supposedly, she didn’t have any family. I was in the foster care system for about a year, but honestly, I don’t remember much before my parents took me home.
“I’ve been loved my entire life and my dad is great, but he’s more of a ‘help with homework’ kind of dad. He taught me how to play chess, and we go to movies and stuff like that.”
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