by Nora Phoenix
22
Their first week together as daddy and boy was everything Rhys could have hoped for. It was incredible how things had fallen into place in ways Rhys had never thought possible. He still got a rush every time Cornell called him Daddy, and he could see that same thrill in his boy's eyes.
And Cornell was his boy, his sweet, perfect boy. Every doubt Rhys might’ve had about whether it would work, considering the age difference, had been wiped away by how they’d both taken to their roles, their dynamic. They matched like two halves of a whole.
He'd finished up his last days at his job, leaving behind an unhappy supervisor. The man had hoped Rhys would forfeit his rights to his accrued leave, but there was no way he would spend more time away from Cornell than he absolutely had to. He’d written up notes on all his patients for whomever they’d be transferred to, had called a few regulars to say goodbye, and walked out with zero regrets.
Being at home had been wonderful. He took care of Cornell in every way he could: cooking for him, making sure he did his exercises, took his medicine and vitamins, got enough sleep, you name it. He also pampered him whenever he could with his touch, and Cornell soaked it all up.
That didn't mean he and Cornell spent every waking hour together, because after all, Rhys did have a business to start. So he'd been disciplined in setting up a new day rhythm for both of them, with him starting up the mornings with Cornell, inspecting him after his shower and providing him with his healthy breakfast.
After that, he retreated into his office to hash out all the necessary details to get his solo practice up and running. He was a week from launching officially, and he already had his first appointments booked, which thrilled him. Ford's sub Shawn had been looking for a new physical therapist, one who understood more about the lifestyle and his desire to serve his Dom. That made Rhys a perfect match, and he couldn't wait to see how he could help him. He loved working with veterans, and the fact that Shawn was a sub was even more perfect.
In between all the business stuff, which admittedly, was somewhat boring, he checked in on Cornell throughout the day. They shared lunch together, and whenever he was in the mood, there was always time for a quick encounter. Rhys smiled as he thought of one particularly dirty blow job where he'd snuck up on Cornell, who had been napping on the couch, and had woken him up by sucking him off as fast as he could. The man had practically needed another nap after coming that hard, which had made Rhys smile.
Then there was the other side of their dynamic, the side that at first wasn't as obvious in a daddy-boy relationship. He'd picked up on Cornell's penchant for soft humiliation kink almost instantly, even before they'd gotten involved. That, combined with the man's deep desire to please his Daddy and his joy whenever he could serve him, made for some of their more kinky encounters.
That first day, he had kept him plugged the entire day, and Cornell had blushed fiercely every time Rhys had asked him to bare his ass. But the fact that his dick had been hard every single time was all the proof Rhys had needed he was fully on board with this. He'd taken him twice before he'd finally allowed him to come, and after that, Cornell had been pretty much useless the rest of the day, too worn out.
Rhys loved it, this sexy yet sweet dynamic they had going. It kept surprising him, how easily he could read Cornell and how readily Cornell submitted to him on his part. It was like they were two pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together, and already, Rhys couldn't imagine his life without him. That was a scary realization after such a short time, but every time he thought that, he reminded himself of what Ford had said. This was not a new, fast relationship. This had been years in the making.
Cornell had slowly taken on more household responsibilities, even though Rhys hadn’t specifically asked him to. Cornell had commented that since Rhys was working and he wasn't at the moment, there was no reason why he couldn't do things around the house. So he'd been doing the laundry, performing some basic cleaning duties, and he'd kept the beds made, the house tidy, and had even done some small repairs here and there.
Rhys still cooked, maybe because they both knew that was his forte, but also because he loved taking care of Cornell that way. They also continued his daily massages and exercises, and Rhys was thrilled to see his mobility improve by the day. Bending his knees was still hard, but he could walk around the house now with much more ease, and he didn't tire as quickly.
In short, things were going far better than Rhys could have ever hoped. One of the highlights of his day was his daily inspection of Cornell in the mornings and making him breakfast. It was the perfect combination of taking care of him, mixed in with that underlayer of humiliation they both loved so much.
Sometimes, he fucked him. Other times, he was in the mood for a blow job, or he would suck Cornell off. He liked to keep him on his toes and change it up every day, but they always shared some kind of intimacy in the morning. They hadn't discussed it, but it wasn't hard to see that Cornell loved it as much as Rhys did.
Cornell was waiting for him, as had become standard now, perfectly positioned in their room, his body showing deference for his Daddy. It was interesting to see how they had almost seamlessly merged their previous D/s dynamic with their daddy-boy one and them being boyfriends.
"You look beautiful and perfect as always," Rhys praised him, knowing how much Cornell needed to hear that. And he wasn't lying, taking great pleasure from the way Cornell presented his body.
He kissed him softly on his lips, then allowed the kiss to deepen a little to fulfill his need for more. Besides, he liked Cornell's lips swollen from his kisses. Or glistening with saliva. Then again, smearing his lips with his cum was also highly satisfactory. Oh, who was he kidding? He liked the man's lips, period.
The soft sigh Cornell emitted when he broke off the kiss was music to his soul. "I can't get enough of you, sweetheart," Rhys told him, meaning every word.
He let his hands roam Cornell's body, caressing and stroking, rubbing his nipples between his fingers until they grew hard, which was another small thing he really loved to do. Every day, he was learning more about Cornell's body, like you would learn the intricacies of a delicate instrument. He was still tuning him, adjusting his approach based on his reactions. It was almost eerie, the way he could read him.
"Lift your eyes to me," he told him softly. "I want to see your beautiful baby blues."
Whereas usually, Cornell would obey instantly, now there was a delay. It was a second, maybe two, but Rhys noticed, just like he noticed the slight pout on Cornell's lips. Ah, something was troubling his boy. Now the challenge was to find out what without asking directly.
"What are you in the mood for today, sweetheart? You feel like a quick fuck? A little frotting?" he asked.
Something flashed over Cornell's face before he answered. "Whatever you want, as long as I get to come."
Rhys lifted one eyebrow, waiting silently.
"Daddy," Cornell added with a hint of defiance.
Someone was in a mood, Rhys decided. The question was how he should respond. As Dom, he would've instantly punished Cornell for disrespecting him, but what was his role as a Daddy here? He tried to work it out in his head as Cornell stared at him, raising his chin slightly, but enough to warn Rhys this wasn't over yet.
What did Cornell need from him right now? He had to know he was being a brat and that that would have consequences, so what was the outcome he was expecting? It meant he wanted those consequences. Rhys had a pretty good idea where this was leading, but he had to make sure. It wasn't the most subtle way, but he'd be damn sure to get a reaction from Cornell if he was right about this.
"The last time I checked, I was in charge of your orgasms, and not you. To remind you, you're now on a twenty-four-hour orgasm denial, so good luck with that. I don't want to see you touching yourself, and if I discover you came without my permission, you'll find the consequences highly unpleasant. Am I making myself clear?"
Cornell's eyes predicted a storm, but Rhys w
as tuned into every emotion flashing over the man's face, and there had been relief as well. Still, the man wouldn't give in quite so easily.
"With all respect, but that's ridiculous. I told you I was fine with whatever you wanted to do, and now you're gonna punish me for that?"
Oh, it was crystal clear now. He was soliciting, and while as a Dom, Rhys would be damned if he allowed sub to goad him into doing anything, as a Daddy, the rules were different. He put on his stern face, grateful for all the times he’d made himself practice that in the mirror.
"I don't know what your problem is this morning, but this tone will not stand, boy. You just earned yourself a punishment. Go downstairs to the playroom and bring me a paddle."
He shouldn't feel as happy as he did on the inside when he saw Cornell's mouth drop open just a little. Sure, if the man wanted to earn himself a punishment, Rhys would oblige. But he'd damn well make it a real punishment, so Cornell would know that being bratty had consequences.
"A paddle?" Cornell whispered, and all his bravado seemed to be gone.
"Yes, boy, a paddle. I'm pretty sure you know where they are. Now, hurry the fuck up so we can get this over with."
Cornell swallowed visibly. "Yes, Daddy."
He didn't run out of the room, but he left it with enough speed that Rhys was satisfied the man knew he meant business. While he waited for Cornell to return, Rhys looked around the room, quickly assessing how he could best do this. He would've loved to have him over his knee for this, but feared that would still be too much for Cornell's knees, especially in combination with the pain from the paddling. Oh, he wouldn't go all out on him, not for a minor infraction like this, but Cornell had to feel he was being punished. A mild spanking wouldn't do, because that would bring him only pleasure.
In the end, he decided bending over the bed would work best, so he positioned himself next to it and waited for Cornell to come back. To the man's credit, he hadn't picked the smallest paddle, but a medium one. It could pack a wallop if Rhys used it at full force, which he had zero intention of doing.
"Bend over the bed," he told him, keeping his voice stern.
Cornell obeyed instantly, though he did shoot a look of worry in Rhys's direction. Rhys wished he could smile at him and assure him everything would be okay, but that would defy the purpose of this little experiment.
"Why is Daddy disciplining you?" he asked.
"Because I was a brat and wasn't showing you the proper respect," Cornell said, his voice small.
"Do you feel like you deserve to be disciplined for that?"
Cornell's soft "Yes, Daddy" tugged at Rhys's heartstrings enough to almost make him reconsider. Almost, if he hadn’t known beyond a shadow of a doubt this was what Cornell needed. They both needed this, to add this new layer to their relationship.
"Five strikes," he told him. "Count them out, please."
He immediately brought down the paddle for the first one, and while he didn't swing it as hard as he could, he did make sure Cornell would feel it. The hiss of pain he let out confirmed he'd succeeded.
"One," Cornell said, his voice muffled.
The second strike was just as hard, but on the other cheek.
"Two."
After that, Rhys went a little softer, hitting each cheek one more time and finishing off with a slap in the middle.
"Five. Thank you, Daddy," Cornell said, his voice choked up.
Rhys followed his instincts and put the paddle down, then gently pulled Cornell up from the bed and gathered him in his arms. "Come sit with me, sweetheart," he said, tugging his hand until Cornell followed him to the sofa chair and sat down on his lap, wincing when his undoubtedly sore cheeks hit Rhys's legs.
Cornell put his cheek against Rhys's shoulder, nuzzling his neck with his lips that were wet from his tears. Rhys allowed him to come down a bit, holding him and caressing his skin wherever he could touch it.
"You made Daddy proud in how you took your discipline, sweetheart. Now, do you want to tell me what happened?"
* * *
Cornell had managed to stop the flow of tears, but they were still close to the surface, his emotions storming inside him.
"I was angry when I woke up this morning," he said softly, snuggling even closer to Rhys, whose arms instantly tightened around him.
"Were you angry about something specific or upset in general?" Rhys asked, and Cornell loved that the question already implied the acceptance of the second option.
"Just annoyed," Cornell said. "My shoulder hurt, I was still pissy about the phone call with Sarah yesterday, and I missed Jonas. It was nothing you did," he added.
He'd had another call with his sister, and while it had gone slightly better than their previous one, since at least she hadn't mentioned their parents' money, she'd not been amused to hear Rhys was now officially Cornell's boyfriend. She'd had some choice opinions on that one, and the words cradle robber had been mentioned.
"I'm sorry," Rhys said. "It's hard to wake up like that and already feel annoyed and dejected when the day is just starting."
"Yes," Cornell whispered, grateful that Rhys understood. "And my brain went on all kinds of tangents and inner rants, which didn't exactly help either."
Rhys's right hand found that spot on his neck where Cornell loved to be scratched, and he almost purred when he felt those warm fingers touch him so perfectly.
"Were you starting to doubt us?" Rhys asked.
Cornell was ashamed to admit it after everything they had been through already, but he couldn't deny the truth. "I felt like you only wanted me as long as I was perfect, that you would reject me if I ever stopped being what you wanted."
"So you thought you'd test that theory?" Rhys said, and Cornell was relieved to hear a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Not consciously," he said. "I didn't realize that's what I was doing until you dropped the word paddle. It was like a cold shower, making me realize what I was doing, but by then it was too late to reverse course."
Rhys was quiet long enough that Cornell started to worry. "Are you upset with me?" he checked.
"Oh no, sweetheart, not at all," Rhys said instantly, and the warmth in his tone assured Cornell he was speaking the truth. "I was going over what had happened in my head again, now looking at it from your perspective, and I wonder if I handled it the right way."
"You did," Cornell said immediately. "As strange as it sounds, you gave me exactly the proof I needed, even though I didn't know that was what I was seeking."
"But I punished you for what you now admit was acting out of insecurity. How was that what you needed? To be fair, I thought you were debating me on purpose, that you wanted to test out your limits."
Cornell considered it. "You know, I think that's exactly what I was doing, except unconsciously. I needed to know that even if I was a brat, you would be there for me. That you would discipline me, but also forgive me, and that's exactly what you did. You called me out on my behavior, you made me face the consequences, and now I feel like everything is good between us."
"It is," Rhys said, kissing Cornell on his head. "And I'm glad I handled it right. If I ever get it wrong, promise you'll tell me. We're both still figuring out how all of this works, so I'm sure we'll get it wrong at times. If we do, if I do, I need you to call me out on it."
That was a promise Cornell could make. "I will."
They sat quietly for a bit, and then Rhys asked, "How's your ass feel?"
Cornell grinned. "Like I got paddled."
He could feel Rhys chuckle, the sound to reverberating in his chest. "You were, and you deserved it. But it wasn't too much?"
"No, it was perfect. Just enough to make me realize you meant business."
He thought about it, all his encounters with previous Doms. He'd never been in a position where he could be bratty, where he felt safe enough to act out and know he would be forgiven for it. The older he got, the more aware he'd been how precarious his position was. He had to be perfect, or he would
be easily replaced by someone else.
And the six years with Asshole Arnold, they hadn't been any different. Looking back, Cornell had trouble figuring out why he had stayed with him for so long, when even in that relationship, there had always been the pressure to be perfect. He'd known that imperfection would mean losing Arnold, and in the end, that was exactly what had happened, though the irony had been that it had been his age, his body that had caused the imperfection, not his behavior.
"Sweetheart, you can be as bratty as you want, if that's what you need. I'm fine with you asking me outright for a bit of discipline, if you feel that's what you need to ground yourself, or you can implicitly ask for it by acting out. I'll pick up the signs, and I'll give you whatever you need. And if I get it wrong, you always have the option of using your safe word," Rhys said, his voice warm and calm and with all the assurance Cornell needed.
Cornell's eyes watered with the perfection of that answer. He'd had a safe word when he started out in the scene, but in recent years, he'd reverted to the well-known green-yellow-red system. It had happened to him once, that a Dom had to interrupt the scene because he'd forgotten Cornell's safe word, which he’d clearly stated at the beginning of the scene. It had scared the crap out of him, and ever since, he’d decided to use the color system.
But now, things had changed, and it was time to trust again. He didn't want to use his old safe word, which had been linked to Jonas and everything they had shared together. No, he needed something new, something that had meaning for him and Rhys. Within seconds, he'd found it, and he had to smile at how perfect it was.
"My safe word is oatmeal," he said. "And I trust you with all my heart to remember it, Daddy."
His reward was another kiss on his head and then more neck scratches. He sighed with contentment, even though his ass informed him indignantly that being a brat was not smart. Maybe, but he’d loved it just the same.