“Well, I haven’t really done anything like that with a boyfriend. The Daddy thing. But I want to.”
His confession did nothing to bring down my worry. “But you would be safe?”
“You mean like PrEP and condoms and things like that? I don’t have hookups, usually, so it’s not a big worry fo—”
“No, that’s not what I mean. You’re talking about kinks.” I was getting loud and tried to rein myself in. “The guys you date don’t tend to be the best all the time. The thought of any of them being in charge of you is terrifying. Especially if they’re using restraints.” My cock tingled.ThisI could imagine? Z with his arms tied over his head, spread out with that dildo in his ass. He’d looked so good coming.Fuck.I wanted to move him away from me but worried he would misinterpret me setting him aside right now. I sat through the rush of pleasure, breathing slowly.
He let out a shocked squeak. “Uh. Oh. I mean….” He laughed, and his cheeks went a sweet pink. “That’s something to think about.”
Jealousy smashed through me. “That dick, Serge. You wouldn’t let someone that uh….” I shook my head. “I guess you were telling him about the belly, so you would have let him do the rest of it with you.”
His smile quickly warped into an irritated frown I rarely caused. “I don’t date people I don’t feel I can trust. I’m not stupid.” He glared.
“It worries me. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
He didn’t say anything but leaned his head on my shoulder, and I gave him another tight squeeze. He felt good in my arms. I’d known that since forever. My cock wasn’t taking the hint that it shouldn’t be getting hard for Z, and that wasn’t entirely new, though I usually changed positions before it would be noticeable. I cut a glance at him. His eyes were closed. There was a furrow between his brows. He really was beautiful. Last night I kept thinking about him. Everything about him—except his tendency to leave those goddamned candles burning and make huge messes while working on projects—I found endearing.
Can I date him?
A slither of fear twisted through me, in part because I’d have to reconsider basically everything about myself, but mostly terror at fucking something up. Yes, I could imagine myself kissing him. His thighs, anytime I could see them, had always been a fascination. His ass was perky and toned. His hips curved out just enough that I noticed. My cock surged when I really let myself think about sinking into his body or between his lips—which I normally actively avoided.
Yes, I could probably do those things.
But I couldn’t stand the thought of not having him around anymore, being another one of those guys he cried over—then never spoke to again. Besides, I could never bring myself to do any kinky things that would cause him pain. I sighed.
“Are you okay with what I told you?” Z whispered. “And what you saw last night?”
“Of course, you’re my best bud, Zayden. Are… are guys who are Daddies usually older, like that Wayne guy?” That question seemed safe enough.
“Sometimes,” he murmured, but I could hear a warning tone, like he was gearing up to yell at me for something he thought I should already know, and I had no idea what. The last time I’d heard him sound like that, he’d gone at me for two hours because I’d asked him why he would want to take me with him to Pride. I’d thought the parade was only for gay guys. I’d never regretted saying one sentence so much in my whole life.
Well, that was that, then, because I couldn’t change my age. Serge hadn’t been much older than Zayden, but maybe Nicky knew what he was doing. I kissed Z’s forehead and sadness sank its fangs into me. I’d only been seriously considering what it might mean to date Z for less than twenty-four hours, but this went well beyond dating. I had no experience with guys. The kinky stuff worried me. I was really not cut out to yell at people—except Z’s shitty exes.
“The whole belly thing? You’re pretty in it, Z. So, don’t stop looking for a guy until you find one who says that you look good that way.”
He let out a watery little chuckle and nodded without lifting his head. “Are we okay?”
“Yes. Thank you for talking to me and explaining everything.” I pressed my cheek to the top of his head. “And the kiss was sweet. It’s the nicest kiss anyone has ever given me.” I laughed, and sadness pinged around in my chest, even though I was still holding him. “Please don’t apologize for being yourself. Being loving. I was lucky to get it.”
Z sat up, and all at once we were too close again, the same way we had been earlier, and my chest squeezed. He drifted in, and I dipped my gaze to his mouth. “We shouldn’t,” I said, voice husky. “I don’t think I can be the man you need.”
“I know you’re straight.” His lips firmed into a thin line. “I’m aware.”
“Is the Daddy kink why you’re going out with an older man?” I asked, jealousy burning through me. I hadn’t meant to ask, but I had to have an answer, even if he yelled at me.
He laughed. “No, he’s just someone Nicky knows and thinks is a great guy. It wasn’t on purpose. I don’t think Nicky told him what I’m into anyway.” He frowned. “But Nicky thinks we would work. I think our age difference is part of it because Wayne likes dating younger guys, but it’s not a must for me.”
Confusion had my brain spinning faster, but I let my questions go. What Z was into was probably so unusual he’d take what he could get, but I hated that idea. Fuck, if Z was going to have a weird kink, he deserved to have someone who knew all about it in order to make him happy. I drew in a deep breath and didn’t want to let him go.
“You’re going to give him a chance, then?”
He stiffened in my arms and nodded once. “Yeah. I have his number. Nicky gave it to me today. I’ll probably meet him sometime this week. Unless I have some reason not to go.”
“Work shouldn’t be that bad.”
He snuggled down again until I couldn’t look at his face, and I wrapped my arms around him, absorbing all the Z love I could before he met this Wayne guy and started sinking a ton of his free time into someone else. I was such a fucker. I sort of loved the short stretches in between guys, and it sucked that there was already another one around the corner.
“How long have you been watching a show for eight-year-olds?”
