He made a surprised sound against my mouth but recovered quickly, his hands coming up to cup my face as he kissed me back with equal intensity.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
“Not that I’m complaining,” he said, his voice rough, “but what was that for?”
“I got another gift this morning, and I missed you when I woke up and you were gone.” I kept my hands fisted in his shirt, not ready to let go.
I couldn’t find the words to explain myself more, so I kissed him again instead.
This time when we pulled apart, his eyes had gone dark, pupils blown wide.
“Tanner,” he said, and there was a warning in his voice. “You need to tell me right now if you want to stop, because if you keep kissing me like that?—”
“I don’t want to stop.” The words came out breathless but certain. “Please, Daddy. I want—I need?—”
He groaned and backed me against the wall, caging me in with his arms. “What do you need, sweet boy? Use your words.”
“You.” It came out almost as a whimper. “I need you to touch me.”
“I am touching you.”
“More.” I squirmed against the wall, my body already responding to just his proximity. “Please.”
His hand came up to cup my jaw, tilting my head so I had to meet his eyes. “We need to talk more before we do this. About what you like, what your limits are?—”
“I don’t care about that right now. I know you won’t hurt me.” I reached down and pressed my palm against the front of his jeans, feeling how hard he already was. “You want this too. I can feel it.”
He hissed out a breath. “That’s not the point. The point is—fuck,Tanner.”
I’d started rubbing him through the denim, watching his face as his control wavered.
“The point is,” he tried again, his voice strained, “that I’m supposed to be taking care of you. Making sure you’re ready for?—”
“I’m ready.” I pressed closer, eliminating any space between us. “I’ve been ready since you first called me ‘bud.’ Since you made me breakfast. Since you held me while I cried. I’m ready, Simon. Please.”
Something in him snapped.
His mouth crashed back onto mine, and this kiss was different—hungrier, more insistent. His tongue swept into my mouth, and I opened for him eagerly, making small sounds that I’d be embarrassed about later.
His hands were everywhere—pulling at my sleep shirt, groping my ass, and angling my head so he could dive deeper into my mouth. Each touch only made me want him more.
“Tell me if anything is too much,” he said against my mouth. “Tell me, and I’ll stop.”
“Don’t stop, Daddy!” I gasped. “Please!”
He kept me trapped against the wall, my body flush against him. One of his thighs slipped between my legs, and I ground down against it instinctively, seeking friction.
“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Take what you need, bud.”
I buried my face in his neck as I moved against him, feeling the firm muscle of his thigh through my jeans. His hands guided my hips, helping me find a rhythm.
“So good,” he murmured. “Such a good boy for me.”
The praise made me moan, made me move faster. I could feel the hard length of him pressed against my hip, and I reached down to palm him through his jeans again.
He groaned, his head falling back. “Fuck, Tanner.”
“Can I?” I asked, fingers finding his zipper. “Please, can I touch you?”
