I cup his face in my hands and lean down to kiss him. A soft kiss, at first, but Silas opens for me and I chase the taste of coffee and cream in his mouth, our tongues tangling with wet heat.
“Good boy,” I praise him when we surface for air. “We can try anything you want to this weekend. We can use the stoplight system. Green to keep going, yellow to slow down, and red for stop. How’s that?”
Silas nods. “Yeah, that works.”
I kiss him again and when I pull back, still cradling his face in my hands, Silas looks more relaxed than I’ve seen him so far. His eyes are half-closed and his lips slightly parted. “I’ll take care of you, baby boy. All you have to do is what Daddy tells you. Trust Daddy to give you what you need.”
It feels like a vow. A vow that it’s far too soon to be making to this boy, who might have come to me precisely because he trusts me, but who also needs time to mend the heart my son broke.
I mean it, though. For as long as he lets me, I’ll do everything in my power to take care of this boy.
Silas kisses me again. A close-mouthed, chaste kiss. The kind we might exchange if there were witnesses to the vow I just made. “Yes, Daddy. I will,” he promises in return.
Ten
Silas
I feel like we should toast or something after that. It feels kind of major, like I just made a promise bigger than I realized. So, when Logan releases me, I pick up my nearly empty coffee mug and hold it out to him.
“To you, Daddy.”
Logan picks his mug up and clinks the rim against mine. “To you, my baby boy.”
“And to lots of hot, kinky sex this weekend,” I add hopefully.
He shakes his head, but he also smiles at me. “To finishing these dishes first,” he says.
I grab a dishtowel to dry the skillet and Logan returns to the subject of kinky sex. “Is there anything you know you don’t like, Silas? Any hard limits?”
I rub the towel around and around the bottom of the skillet while I’m thinking. I honestly don’t have that much sexual experience. Fumbled gropings and hasty blow jobs in high school. In college, my freshman roommate and I jerked each other off a few times. Then I met Lance and it’s been all hand jobs and blow jobs in the two years we’ve been together. I mentioned something about him tying me up once—as a joke, to cover myself, in case he wasn’t into it, and he laughed along with me and said something like, “yeah right, like that’ll ever happen.”
So, I don’t really know what I like and what I don’t like. I know what I like to watch in porn—bondage, rough sex, spankings. And there’s some stuff that I’m not ready to mention to Logan yet.
There’s also stuff that I skip over when I’m scrolling through the options.
“Bathroom stuff,” I say. “I don’t want to pee on you and I definitely don’t want you to pee on me.”
“No water sports,” Logan says. “Check. What else?”
I think back to some of the kinkier stuff I’ve watched. I usually turn the sound way down, because while I like to watch what the dudes are doing, I don’t always like to listen to what they’re saying.
“I don’t want to be called names,” I say.
“Names?”
The skillet is dry as a bone by now but I keep rubbing the dish towel around the inside of it. “You know, like slut and come bucket and stuff like that.”
“No verbal humiliation,” Logan says. “Okay.”
I set the skillet on the countertop. “Really? I mean, isn’t that part of the whole Daddy/boy thing?” It always is in porn.
“Have I called you anything you don’t like, Silas?”
“No,” I admit. “I already told you I like it when you call me your baby boy.”
“Or sweetheart, right?”
I nod. I like that almost as much.
