I’ve always imagined settling down with a Boy who trusts me to look after them, and I can’t think of anything else that says ‘I need you’ quite as much as that request. It sends a thrill of love and excitement through me, just like it did the first time he raised the topic all those months ago.
“God yes,” I tell him, holding him close. “For the record, I want everything with you. Whateveryou want to try, I’m game.”
“Really?”
The answer to that question is even easier. Justin tried out a whole new kink when he realized it was something I was into. Back then, I told him it didn’t matter if we indulged or not, and that still rings true. I’m glad that he enjoys the age play, that he is happy to call me Daddy and to sink into a Little headspace. But if he wanted to stop tomorrow, I would still love him and want to be with him.
I might have thought I was completely fucked (or, as Mandy joked, completely pucked) when I first realized how serious I was about him, but now the thought only makes me feel stable in a way I’ve never felt before.
“Really,” I insist, repeating, “I love you. Nothing will ever change that.”
***
I felt bad for the guys when our team was knocked out of the playoffs. We didn’t even get close to the finals. Our performance in the Independence Tournament had us sitting on the middle of the ladder, no thanks in part to me having to sit out a few games following my health scare, and the rest of the season played out just as poorly. It just wasn’t our year, and that sucks for the other seniors who had big plans to make this their moment of glory.
Zach, especially, worked his ass off to make it to the pros and I was hoping we could get him there. His playing was awesome, though, so maybe his stats will still get him there, even if our team itself hasn’t performed as well as a whole.
I try not to feel too guilty about my part in that. For the whole year, I had one foot out the door —off the ice? — and my team deserved better. Even before I met Justin, I waslosing my passion for playing the game. It was a means to an end for me: play hockey, keep scholarship, graduate college. I don’t think I was ever going to aim for the big leagues, or even the minor ones.
At the beginning of the year, I was convinced that I could balance everything. It took a lot of work, particularly once I agreed to be a stepdad as well as a Daddy, but I wouldn’t have life any other way now.
Andnowis so damn perfect. I’ve graduated and, in a surprise to only me (apparently), Coach offered me a job with the trainers and physical therapists. Not working directly with Justin, which kind of sucks a little, but close enough that we see each other at work daily. And at home. In his house, which is nowourhouse.
But the best thing? Mason and I eventually pitched his idea about hosting skating lessons and peewee hockey practice to Coach and to the college, and they loved it! So not only am I working with athletes, I’ve also got a part-time job working with cute kids, teaching them everything from how to skate to how to check someone into the boards (safely).
Owen was one of the first kids to sign up for both the lessons and the hockey team, which we’ve named the Peewee Penguins. Brian signed up with him, and so did a bunch of other kids from their school. They're the cutest thing ever on skates, and I couldn't be prouder that my (not legal, but close enough) stepson is among them.
A year ago, I could never have imagined that I would have this. A career. A serious boyfriend. A kid who considers me his second dad. I was happy being single and carefree, but that version of me had no idea how much better life was going to get.
“Mmm, Daddy,” Justin rolls over and snuggles his face against my shoulder, “why are you awake?”
It’s the weekend and Owen is staying at my sister’s. We don’t have to pick him up until after lunch. I smile.
“Just thinking about how awesome everything is.”
“Hmmph,” he grumbles, kicking at the light sheet which is tangled around our ankles. “It’s hot already.”
Summertime in Arizona is still not his friend.
I chuckle. “Well, we could go cool down in a shower?” I suggest, rubbing my hand over his naked back. “Or maybe we could get a bit sweatier first?”
I feel his dick twitch against my thigh, and I know before he answers that he’s definitely happy with this new idea.
As our mouths come together, morning breath be damned, I can’t help but think once again that this is exactly the way life is supposed to be. I am so lucky that I happened to be in Ma’s diner the day he and Owen walked in and changed my life forever.
I was never completely pucked at all.
Epilogue
Irelaxonthesofa, sighing at the way the air conditioning hits my body and cools me off. The Arizona heat is no joke in the summer. I can only handle twenty minutes at a time before I feel like I need to guzzle a gallon of water. Owen, for what it’s worth, is having a blast in this heat. I think his skin is finally acclimating to the blaring sun because, despite his red hair, he has a constant golden tan, whereas I still just burn.
I’m not facing the sliding door, but I can hear the celebrations continuing. Gabe and I decided to host a going away party for Marshall, who of course is the last to arrive now. Izzy was the first to show up, to help decorate for their friend (and I use the word friend loosely, because I have a feeling one or both of them are harboring somefeelings). Then it was some of the hockey team, including Zach and Vincent. Mason showed up a few minutes after them.
Owen pulled Mason through the house the moment he arrived, and they’ve been playing since. Mason is a great guy. He works hard with Gabe coaching the peewee hockey team, on top of keeping up with his training for next season and getting a head start on his studies for his classes. I don’t know how he’s got the time for all of it, but he doesn’t let anything fall through the cracks.
“You okay?” Gabe asks, startling me. With the laughter and other noises coming from outside, I didn’t hear him. He stands behind the couch and massages my shoulders. It’s relaxing, and I rest my head against the back of the couch with my eyes closed. It’s only lunch time on a Saturday and I’m ready for bedtime.
“I’m great,” I say after a second. “Hot. Sweaty. Tired.”
