Another hot rush of tears filled my eyes, and I offered him another nod, this one weaker.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Is that my fault?”
“No,” I rasped.
He disagreed, “I think it is.”
“Daddy—”
“I’ll make it right, though,” he interrupted me, tucking his dick back into his pants and taking a half-step away from me. “I’ll make sure you never forget who I am to you…who you are to me.”
I’d never felt so weak and so strong at the same time. I wanted to crumble and build myself up with the same breaths, the same actions.
“Go back to bed,” Hunter said slowly. “Get some lube and one of your toys.”
Of all the things he could have said, that might have been the last thing I ever expected. My first instinct was to question it, but the look on his face stopped me in my tracks. Hunter was in full Dom mode, something he rarely let himself slide into on account of the fine line he and I walked in that regard, but he looked so at home in his skin and I felt so good on my knees, I didn’t want to ruin it for either of us.
“Yes, Sir,” I whispered, climbing to my feet and scrambling into the bedroom.
He didn’t immediately follow, instead giving me more than enough time to dig through my box of sex toys and find the dildo that most closely resembled Hunter’s cock. It was longer than his by an inch or so, but the girth was almost spot on, and while I didn’t know if it was for me or him, it would be fun either way. I tossed the dick and the lube onto the bed and sat down on the edge, nervous but ready.
Ten minutes later, Hunter finally appeared in the doorway. He had his coffee in one hand and both of our cellphones in the other. He tossed his onto the dresser, then turned mine around a few times in his hand before setting it down next to his. There was an unspoken question there about filming whatever was about to happen next, but I didn’t want to press him on asking it. The same way Hunter always waited for me to be ready, only pushing when he knew I was ready for it, I needed to wait for him. His expression shifted, chest expanding with a long breath.
“Daddy,” I whispered, a low moan dying in the back of my throat every time I called him the honorific. “Did you want to record it? Did you want to save it so you can watch us later?”
Hunter sucked his tongue across the front of his teeth and set his coffee down beside our phones.
“I want to fuck you with whatever toy you picked out of that box,” he told me simply. “And then I want to fuck you with my cock alongside it.”
It was my biggest fantasy come to life. I was going to die a miserably undeserving but happy man.
“I…” he trailed off, rubbing his palm over the bulge between his legs.
“Film it,” I told him. “Prop the phone up against your mug, the angle’s fine.”
“Are you—” he stopped, nodding. “Yes, Sir.”
The versatility of our scenes was going to be the actual death of me, the easy way Hunter moved between dominant and submissive, modeling for me what it meant to be so fully devoted to another person you could be everything they needed in every single moment you were together. He was that for me, and the dark want in his eyes promised that no matter what my traitorous brain told me, I was the same for him. Hunter set the phone up against his mug and pressed record, then he turned his sights on me and closed the bedroom door.
My heart jumped into my throat.
I fumbled blindly for the dildo and the lube, slicking the shaft and my hand in the process. Hunter crossed the room, sinking down to his knees between my spread thighs. He stared at me, eyes hooded, and stroked his hand up and down the plastic cock until his fingers were slick with lube. Without looking away, Hunter eased me back onto the bed and pushed his fingers into me.
I was a little sore from the plug the night before, even more from the loss of what the night should have been, but Hunter’s fingers inside of me were quick to massage away that loss. He found my prostate with ease, teasing me with a precision that had my dick leaking against my stomach. I don’t know if he was already too primed to wait or if he only took pity on me, but he lowered the dildo between us and replaced his fingers with the plastic cock.
The stretch of the toy was shocking, more unforgiving than the warm stretch of his actual dick, and my hands scrabbled against the sheets, back arching as he buried the toy inside of me. Hunter used his body to move the toy, fucking me with it just like how he’d move if it was his actual dick. I spread my legs, and he growled at the sight.
“Grab your ankles,” he said, voice low. “Hold yourself open.”
I did as I was told, pulling my legs apart so Hunter could see the place he penetrated me. He cursed under his breath, slicking more lube down the shaft of the toy before pushing one of his fingers in alongside the shaft. One and then another, and a third, the fourth pressing against my rim with every thrust of the toy.
“Please,” I whimpered, giving him my throat, my vision blurring around the edges as he stretched me open to take his cock and the toy at the same time.
His hand went still, fingers still hooked into me.
“I wish you could see yourself,” he murmured, the leaking and swollen head of his cock pushing against my hole. “You were meant for this. For me.”
