Page 84 of Soft
I took a fork and stabbed at the eggs on his plate, lifting them to his lips. I shook my head as I answered. "No, I don't. Is it strange that you like to regress, or that I like being your daddy? Is it strange that you prefer soft things, or the fact that I basically uprooted my life, moved here, and convinced you to take me as a client when I also wanted to get in your pants?"
My boy's jaw dropped.
I chuckled as I tugged him closer. The distance between us was far too great, even though our knees were touching and our bodies aligned. When he curled forward, I met him most of the way, until we were close enough that I could feel his breath ghost against my lips.
"Daddy is only teasing about that last part," I noted. "But even if I wasn't, the point of my long-winded words is that it's only strange if you declare it so. We don't care what others think, nor do we let their judgment stop us from enjoying life. If you want that many bagels in your cabinet, then by all means, do so. We are just going to have to get creative with all the things we do with them, which I've already outlined. I can come up with more plans."
He giggled, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my lips. I knew it was meant to be quick. But the second he touched me, I lit up with need. The heat that swelled through me could have powered fucking rocket ships with how potent it was.
I released his hands to reach up and cup his face. My palms held him steady as I devoured his mouth, sucking and licking, probing every inch of him. Because how could I not when my boy was there and eager? When he was so pliant in the way that I loved?
I stroked along his beard, which was slightly longer than he usually kept it—no doubt from missing his morning trim—and tugged a bit at the length. He gasped, giving me even more space to taste him.
Getting lost in him meant it took me a minute to pull away. When I did, my boy was panting, eyes wide, pupils blown.
"Daddy," he whimpered, his hands moving to cover his solid length, which was more than obvious now that we'd started kissing.
I tilted my head, glancing from his crotch to mine. "What do you say we take a shower, and I'll take care of both of these for us?"
He was nodding before I even finished the sentence. His trust was intoxicating.
In the bathroom, our shower took longer than necessary. Granted, I wasn't going to leave my boy hanging, and since my desire was equal to his, it gave me plenty of motivation to draw it out.
Besides, everyone knew the best way to start the day was with an orgasm. Or two. Or three, depending on who you are.
My boy managed two, thanks to a few well-placed fingers and my mouth. Then he was out and dried off, his waist wrapped in a towel that was almost too small for him. I frowned at it, annoyed that he didn't have anything to properly clothe his thick, luscious body. I made a mental note to invest in more towels for him, along with the finishing measurements I needed for his pajamas.
With a towel wrapped around my waist, I moved him over towards the sink.
"Daddy?" he asked, his gaze curious.
"Your beard is a little long right now, baby. Do you want me to take care of that for you?"
His mouth dropped open. No sound came out, and I couldn't tell for a moment if it was a positive or negative reaction. Before I could finish my thought, he nodded quickly and then reached over for the drawer where he kept his clippers. He handed them over to me and then looked around like he was searching for somewhere to sit down.
I chuckled, then pointed to the countertop. "Hop up there. I'll take care of you."
He eased his body up onto the countertop. I could tell he was nervous. His anxious energy flitted around us, likely from distrust in the sturdiness of the cabinetry. Yet another thing I wanted to check on for him. I didn't want my boy thinking he needed to lose even a pound; not when he was so perfect already.
But his worries were warranted, and I would do my damnedest to make sure every single inch of this house was built for him. Because in truth, this was where I hoped we would spend our life together. Sure, I'd bought the place for me and Pops to have, but I didn't intend to live with my father forever. He could use the space himself to do as he pleased and have all his friends over. I wanted a life with Grizzly, and that entailed living together. If he would have me, of course.
I pushed the thoughts away and went about carefully trimming his beard until it was about the length I had seen when I first met him. It wasn't much, but the precision with which I worked made the process a little longer. I almost regretted doing it post-shower since the hairs went everywhere over the both of us, but we could always step back in to rinse off if need be. The shower had been more of an excuse to get frisky than anything else.
When I was done, I ran my hands over his beard and his cheeks, which were rosy.
"My precious Grizzly," I murmured.
If he heard the emotion in my tone, my boy didn't comment on it. Instead, he turned to look in the mirror, his eyes going wide once he saw what I'd done.
"How did you—" he motioned to his face.
I shrugged at his reflection in the mirror. "Because I pay attention to you. Because every piece of you is worth observingand noting. And because I've been far too obsessed with you for longer than is acceptable to admit at this point." I paused. "So yeah, this was nothing."
He hummed, turning back to face me. His arms went up like he wanted me to lift him, and his legs kicked out happily.
"Cleaaaannnnn," he sang out.
I chuckled as I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him off the counter until he was standing. Then I dropped our towels and put us right back where we started.
