“Sex,” he whispered, burying his face in his hands. “I mean, obviously I know about sex, but…”
He waved a hand over his body. “Not like this.”
“Are you saying you don’t want to do anything sexual when you’re little or are you just nervous
about it?” I asked, needing him to understand there was a distinction between the two. “If it’s a hard
limit, I will respect that. If it’s something you’re unsure of, we’ll work through it together.”
“It feels wrong.” He groaned into his hands, muttering to himself. “Why does shit have to be so
hard?”
I pinched the sensitive flesh of his inner thigh. Good boys did not curse. His eyes shot open and he
glared at me.
“Son of a—”
I blinked slowly a few times, waiting to see if he needed an explanation.
He didn’t.
“Sorry, I just… That hurt,” he protested.
“It was meant to,” I informed him as I soothed the faint mark. “When you’re big Corey, you’re
allowed to say whatever you want, but when we have Daddy and boy time, you will watch your
language.”
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” I ruffled his hair, allowing my hand to fall to his chest. Corey’s back arched off the
couch seeking my touch. “How about, for now, I take sex off the table when you’re little. This is
supposed to be an escape for you, a way for you to relax. Stressing you out is the last thing I want to
do.”
“But what if…” He paused, worrying his bottom lip again. His gaze drifted to my hand resting just
beneath his belly button. I twisted my wrist, allowing the edge of my pinkie finger to brush against his
dick. His hips arched off the cushion. “This shouldn’t make me hard.”
“Says who?” Yes, I was pushing him a little, but I was also paying close attention. “The only
people we need to appease is us. Unless you explicitly tell me otherwise, being your Daddy will be
something reserved for the times and places you feel safe. Once we walk out that door tonight, you’re
Corey and I’m William. We’re just two guys getting to know one another.”
Corey slumped back, letting out a deep breath. It was obvious we had a lot of details to sort out.
“Get up,” I instructed him. He obeyed, watching me as I slid to the end of the couch. I held out my
