“I’ll be good,” Mal promised. How could he be anything but? Today, Vincent had given him everything he’d wanted. He wouldn’t ruin his chances.
Theirchances.
The new weight of Mal’s cock swung between his legs as he walked. The metal padlock clicked against his steel restraints. He made his way to the towels and handed the first to Vincent, then used the second on himself. Mal patted off his face, his arms, and his stomach, but when he arrived at his cock, he had to stop and admire himself. Encased in metal, bound to Vincent, his ability to come locked away, he brought as much pleasure to himself as he did to his lover. Their dynamic was far from traditional, but it suited Mal, filling a need that had been long ignored.
Someone to care for, and someone to care for him in turn. A young man who understood that there would always be bad days, but who was ready to give Mal everything he could want regardless.
A family.
That last sentiment lingered in Mal’s mind and made his knees week. He braced himself against the bathroom wall to take some of the pressure off his joints.
Vincent hadn’t only given him partnership—he’d given Mal a family. It still didn’t feel real.
“Two weeks,” Vincent said. He was fully dressed now and looked ready to go. “No touching yourself. No coming. Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore, does it, Daddy?”
Your body doesn’t belong to you, you fucking filthy whore,a single, sneering voice hissed from the dark recesses of his mind. It was a voice that, under most circumstances, Mal would have given in to, but today, emboldened, he muted it.
After years of struggle and self-doubt, he’d found the strength to face who he was in life, and where he was going. He wasn’t a whore, and he hadn’t been for a long, long time. What Baylor had done to him—tricking his impressionable young self into a life of servitude—had been wrong. Lowe’s violation of his body a decade later didn’t change that. It didn’t revert the work Mal had done to reclaim his identity, and it didn’t make him anything less.
He’d been taken advantage of, and he might never get over it, but today, he was strong enough to own the fact that he was more than his history.
Today, he belonged to the future.
“It doesn’t,” Mal replied. Vincent’s hand found its way to his hip, and as Vincent drew him close, they shared a slow, passionate kiss that canceled out the negative thoughts in Mal’s mind. When it broke, he clarified. “It belongs to the baby you put in me first and foremost, then after that, it belongs to you.”
“That’s what I like to hear, Daddy,” Vincent whispered. His hand found Mal’s, and he pressed something flat and metallic into Mal’s hand. “But if that ever changes, if you decide that’s not what you want, I’m leaving this extra with you.” Vincent pulled away, leaving Mal standing on his own. Mal watched, aching, as Vincent made his way to the bathroom door. “I’ll see you tomorrow for your check-up.”
“Don’t go,” Mal begged, but even as he spoke the words, he knew they’d do no good.
Vincent stopped in the doorway. “Just like your body doesn’t belong to you, mine doesn’t belong to me. Nikki’s waiting. I’ve got to go.”
“I understand.” Mal tucked the towel around his waist. The soft terrycloth brushed against the cage, even the smallest movements noticeable now that his cock was trapped. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Vincent smiled. It was the same kind, quiet smile that he’d worn when Mal had first met him—hesitant, yet caring, like all Vincent wanted to do was make others happy, but had been hurt too many times to give his heart freely. Mal understood that look. In time, as they grew together as a couple, he hoped that he’d be able to give Vincent his confidence back, just as Vincent had helped restore his.
“I love you, Mal,” Vincent said from the bathroom door. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Remember what I said.”
“I will,” Mal promised. His fingers folded over what Vincent had given him, exploring it by feel—it was a key. No matter how Vincent owned him, the choice always was, and always would be, with Mal. “I love you, too.”
A lingering look. A smile. Then Vincent was gone.
Mal’s heart went with him.
37
Vincent
“Dad?” Nikki climbed up onto the couch, resting her ankles on Vincent’s thigh. Vincent looked up from his phone. He’d been talking with the Single Dads about what kind of mischief they could get up to for TD’s wedding, but his presence in the conversation wouldn’t be sorely missed. Gwynn and Knot were the most active participants, bouncing ideas off each other, each more diabolical than the last. If the way the conversation was going was any indication, TD’s glitter bomb was about to be upstaged by a glitter avalanche.
Vincent set his phone aside. “What’s up, sweet stuff?”
“When is Mal coming back?” Nikki yawned, then squirmed around so she lay on her side. She was dressed in her pajamas—there were only a handful of minutes left before her bedtime. “I miss him. He’s funny and nice, and he saved me when I was falling.”
“I don’t know,” Vincent admitted. “Tomorrow is going to be a very emotional day for him, so he might not want to come over for a while, depending on how it goes.”
“What’s happening tomorrow?” Nikki asked. Her eyes narrowed with curiosity. “Should I be sad, too?”
“No, you have nothing to be sad about.” Vincent offered her a small, reassuring smile. “Tomorrow, Mal finds out if he’s going to have a baby or not.”
