by Kimyō Tabibito (奇妙 旅人)
illustrated by MisterLoki
I always found it disappointing, on a Sunday morning, to roll over to the empty spot Keith had left behind. I should have been somewhat used to it; he had a disgusting habit of getting up at early hours to run when sleeping was a better option.
I wrapped my arms around his pillow instead of moping about it and must have fallen back asleep. The next thing I was consciously aware of was the smell of coffee and the faint clink of plates, which was weird, because I was sure I hadn’t fallen asleep in the kitchen. Forcing my eyes open I looked over to see Keith on his knees beside the bed, breakfast laid out on the night stand.
“Mmpmerf?” came my ever so elegant attempt at saying good morning. Thank god that Keith did not expect brilliance out of my mouth before my first cup of coffee. I pushed myself up and reached for the cup, taking a sip and sighing. It was perfect: hot, dark, and sweet enough to set pretty much anyone else’s teeth on edge. Keith stayed kneeling beside the bed and I woke up enough to smile at him over the rim of my cup. Without saying a word, I dropped one hand over the edge of the bed and he inched forward, nuzzling into my palm.
He looked so goddamn pretty on his knees, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and the leather collar around his throat. My hand slipped from his hair and hooked into the collar, stroking the skin of his throat, making him sigh and tilt his head.
Until Keith and I got together, there had been a voice in the back of my head telling me that I was a sick fuck. It had shown up when I was a teenager, wanking off over comic book heros in bondage. It had gotten louder when I’d discovered bondage porn and BDSM. Oh god, and the internet. For a while the voice screamed. It wouldn’t accept when I started to play with all those dirty little things that really turned me on, like another man on his hands and knees kissing the toes of my boots and begging me to make him cry. Finding the community of others like me shut it up some. At least, hearing their own stories about their own voices. But, it wasn’t until I had Keith, there, on his knees, lips pressed to the leather as he begged for it that I truly gave in to myself. The voice was quiet at last.
Sometimes, I don’t know what I’d done to make this amazing man let me break him apart into little pieces and trust me to piece him together. Whatever it was, I was fucking lucky to have him in my life.
“Breakfast in bed?” I asked as I finished the coffee. Keith took the mug from me and set it aside. I hooked my fingers into the O ring of his collar, pulling him onto the bed. I could watch him on his knees for hours but I wanted him beside me now. He rose in a fluid movement and slid into bed, resting his head in my lap.
“I thought I should make our Sunday special, sir,” he said, nuzzling into my hip. He looked so content. My heart skipped a fucking beat like I was a teenager again.
I combed my fingers through Keith’s hair. “I love you,” I said, and then, because I’m me and I can’t ever keep my fucking mouth shut, “so goddamn fucking much.”
Keith laughed and turned his head and pressed a kiss to the bare skin of my hip. “And I love you.”
“Even though I swear at inappropriate times?” I teased, curling my fingers and gripping, adjusting the angle of his head so I could look him in the eyes. Keith moved on his own, knowing it would just make me pull tighter, and let out a happy little whimper.
“Even though you have the vocabulary of a drunken frat boy,” he said, a playful smirk tugging up the corners of his lips.
“Oh, I see. The Sunday Special includes you being a brat?” Not just pointing out the obvious, but an invitation for my boy. I knew I wanted to play, and Keith had shown up beside the bed on his knees this morning, which was a pretty damn good indication that he was ready for a little scene. More like a big one.
Keith shifted upright and straddled my lap, leaning in to kiss my jaw, rubbing his cheek against the stubble. He shook his head. “I don’t want to be bratty this morning.”
“No?” I cocked my head to the side.
“I want…” He hesitated, which wasn’t normal; he had a talent for expressing his needs that I envy. “I want to do what we talked about last month. You know.” He blushed hotly and his eyes darted away from mine.
It was about that time, seeing him go all coy and squirm on my lap that, the coffee kicked and it finally dawned on me just what day it was.
The voice chose right then to rear its ugly head and my heart caught in my throat. My hands weren’t so steady as I reached out and cupped his cheek in my hand, brushing my fingers over the line of his jaw. I met Keith’s eyes and saw that same fear reflected. So he had the voice too, screaming at him right then. Even with the almost two-decade difference between our ages. Even with twice the amount of experience he had over me in the BDSM scene.
None of this made any damn difference when it came to asking.
“Don’t be scared.” The words popped out, no thought on my part. I spoke softly, afraid I would startle him: “You’re a good boy,” and my hand trailed down his throat to trace his collarbone, “aren’t you?” Keith shivered and looked away, still all shy for me as he nodded his response. “Say it,” I coaxed, petting my way across his chest.
“I’m a good boy,” he breathed, the flush down his throat now. Keith peered at me from the corner of his eyes and licked his lips. “I’m your good boy,” he repeated, a little more confident.
“Tell me what you need from me this morning.” I didn’t make him answer right away, giving him the few moments he seemed to need. He shifted on my lap, but I held him steady. I didn’t blame him. We’d danced around this dynamic, both a little gun shy until right then. Guess I was cheating now, making Keith be the one to say it out loud. I’m not going to lie, the struggle playing across his features was fucking arousing.
“I want to feel small, not in control. I want you to take charge, to… to…” He fumbled between words and twisted his hands.
My breath caught in my throat as I tried to let him get it out on his own.
“Punish me, love me.” Keith let out a little whine of frustration and I laid a hand over his lips. He glanced up at me; god, he looked so fucking scared. I couldn’t let him keep trying to talk it out like that. Yeah, we played games, but that didn’t make this any less serious.
All playfulness from earlier was forgotten as I drew him close. “You’ve been under so much stress,” I said, my tone careful as I moved my fingers over his lips. “Deadlines, grant proposals, working toward your tenure.”
Keith opened his mouth to speak up, but I just covered it again. “You missed a deadline this last week.”
He let out a little sound somewhere between a hiss and a whimper, but he nodded.
“And I know you’re beating yourself up about it.”
I dropped my hand from his lips in favor of giving him a tender kiss. He shook against my mouth. I didn’t realize just how stressed he’d been, but I knew how to help him unwind now. “I’ll help you, sweet boy. I may not understand what you’re writing about, but I’ve got you. I love you, even if you do miss deadlines or think you are worthless. You are not, not at all.”
He let out a choked, little sob. “Please, Daddy.” He stretched against my chest, fingers curling in the hairs. I couldn’t breathe. I’m pretty sure my heart didn’t just skip a beat, but it stopped for a moment. This felt so fucking right. At that moment I wasn’t going to let any voice tell me or Keith that we were sick fucks. He was my perfect boy and I wasn’t going to let him be ashamed for needing me like this, this jumble of comfort, power, and sex.
“Please what, sweetheart?” I asked, my voice sounding calmer than I felt.
“Punish me?” he asked, so tentative, but his voice didn’t halt that time around. “For messing up.”
“You’re allowed to make mistakes, Keith,” I said as I uncurled him from my chest and laid him out over my lap. “But you haven’t been taking very good care of yourself, and I will do this as a reminder. When you ache while sitting at your desk tomorrow, you’ll remember to get up once in a while, and breathe.”
He nodded and drew in a shaky breath.
“Good. Another,” I coaxed, wanting him to settle some before I started. “Keith, love, what are your words?”
“Nyx to stop, pax to slow,” he said after a few more shaky inhalations.
“Good, good,” I said; my words didn’t matter as much as the tone, wanting him to relax. I pulled his boxers off and he shifted on my lap, posing himself ass-up. “I love you,” I said as my hand fell heavy against the curve of his backside. Keith jumped, the tension he was holding making him start at the slap.
“I-I love you, too,” he whispered after. “I, I love you too, Daddy.” The blush had sunk in nape to shoulders by then. I was thankful his face was buried in the bed, so he couldn’t see the goofy little smile that touched my lips.
I gathered myself and focused in on Keith. I didn’t start out gentle, but I knew my boy and what he could take. Keith lay still under the first few strokes, letting out little whimpers, gasps, and moans. I sought out all those tender little places, like where his thigh met his ass. He held himself tight across my lap, tension still etched into the planes of his shoulders and down his spine. I built up, blows coming harder, so that his body moved with the force of each stroke and his skin was pink and hot under my hand.
Where there had been clear outlines of my first few strikes, there was now just red, marks blending together. I watched as the tension broke, when he gave himself over to the pain and sensation; he let himself collapse against my lap. When Keith turned his head to the side, I saw that he was crying, the tears tracking over his cheeks.
I did not stop.
I trusted Keith to use his words and I trusted myself with him. He needed this right now. And god, my boy was so pretty when he cried for me. I shuddered and my body started to respond, cock twitching to attention.
Keith’s skin felt electric under my hand as I worked it against his ass and down this thighs, over and over, feeling the sharp sting of the blows echo in my palm. When his sounds started to turn from crying to moans, and his writhing shifted to a slow grind, I started to ease away, rubbing the hot skin with a feather-light touch instead of striking. I let him squirm and gasp for a few moments and then rested a heavy hand on his lower back.
“Still,” I said, and my throat felt like I’d been the one crying, the word coming out tight. “Breathe in deep for me.”
It took a few tries. Keith panted as he struggled to bring it back under control. When I was satisfied with his attempts I drew him up and cradled him against my chest
“My smart, driven, lovely boy; I’ve got you, I’ve always got you,” I told him as I used my thumbs to brush the last of his tears from his face. He kept his eyes closed. His lashes were wet and spiked with tears, his face blotchy from crying. Maybe it wasn’t pretty to someone else, but to me, right now, he was goddamn glorious.
Yeah, fuck everyone who told us we should be ashamed for wanting this. Fuck everyone who said Keith always had to be strong and composed, and wasn’t allowed to want to break down and cry. Fuck the people who couldn’t see how beautiful this could be: this overwhelming trust Keith offered me, showing me this emotion he couldn’t show anyone else, this vulnerability he offered.
I leaned over Keith and peppered his face with soft kisses, covering his damp cheeks, the arch of his brow, each eyelid, before my lips took his.
Keith arched into me, liquid and needy in response. “Love,” he panted, his voice fuzzy. “Need,” he whispered, too far under to put words to his desire. “Please, Daddy,” he begged, clutching at my shoulders.
I could feel his cock harden as he moved, his body slid closer. I reacted in kind, stretching us out on the bed; his prick pressed against mine as we shifted and I wrapped rough hands around the both of us. Keith whined at the first slow pull and bucked against me as I stroked us.
“More.” Keith dug his fingers into my shoulders. “Want you,” he gasped, rolling his hips just a little faster, trying to get more friction.
“Greedy boy.” I smiled as I bit his lower lip and tugged.
“Needy boy,” he said in a lazy correction, when I’d pulled away from kissing him. I pinched the head of his cock between my fingers, just hard enough to get his attention. “Greedy, too,” he agreed after that. “Always greedy for you.” His eyes were still wet and so big as he looked up at me, pleading.
“Yes,” I laughed as I rolled him underneath me, and he spread his legs without being asked, drawing them up at the knees. I slid between them and pressed kisses to his thighs. Dragged my lips along his cock just to hear him gasp. His hips twitched upward and I smiled, taking my sweet time. I licked once at the flared head, pressing a wet kiss to the crown, and listened to him moan. Fingers digging into his hips, I held him down, sweeping my tongue against his cock, flicking over his slit and then down the length of his shaft.
Keith’s fingers curled into the sheets and I watched as he bit at his lower lip. He shuddered, trying not to thrust up and try for more, struggling against the restriction. He wanted everything, and he wanted it now. I sympathized. I needed more just as much as he did.
I knocked my empty and forgotten coffee mug into the floor as I fumbled for the pump bottle of lube, focused on getting my fingers slick, getting them inside of Keith. One, two, I eased them inside of him, finding just the right spot as I rubbed to make him jerk and cry out in pleasure. I rushed, feeling frantic. The electricity from before crackled over the surface of our skin and I chased the sensation
Three. I curled hard and pressed, rubbing with increasing impatience.
“That, oh, fuck there, more” he gasped, canting his hips upward. I obliged, making him cry out again, his words lapsing into incoherence. All but two, at least. “Daddy, please,” Keith panted, and it slayed me.
Lube. I remembered more lube, slicking a hand over my cock as I nudged against Keith, my hands holding him open as I thrust forward. He felt like he was on fire, but he opened for me, ready for it. “Baby, fuck, I love you,” I panted — or at least something that was supposed to sound like a declaration of love as I rolled my hips, burying myself in him.
Keith keened in response and wrapped his legs around me as I leaned over him and started to thrust, somewhat erratic. I was as greedy for him as I accused him of being. There was no tenderness in this. This was pure emotion and need as I snapped my hips forward, his cries pushing me higher. My hand found his cock, jerking him as off in rough motions.
“Please!” His voice seemed loud, piercing the air around us as he begged, “Soon, please.”
I think I let out a possessive growl as he pleaded with me. My hands dug into his skin, blunt nails biting, “Say it,” I demanded.
And my boy knew what I wanted, his legs locked tight around me and arched off the bed. “Daddy, please,” he repeated, his voice cracking at the last syllable. I nodded, my ability to speak momentarily lost, but it was enough for Keith. His body shook hard as his orgasm hit him, and I felt the hot spill of his come over my hand as he tensed around my prick. I didn’t last much longer after that. I filled him, coming hard and fast.
After, when I could see again, I braced myself over him, panting as the world settled around the both of us. His legs fell from my waist and I lowered myself to lie beside him. Both of us were a mess, sweaty and sticky and wet, but I didn’t fucking care when he nestled into my side, fingers curled against my chest.
“I love you,” Keith whispered, “so goddamn fucking much.”
“Brat.” I smiled and moved so that Keith could stretch out across my chest, warm and still.
“Mm.” He shook his head and leaned in for a kiss. “Honest,” he told me, his voice all soft and purring as he stroked me, playing with the little whorls of hair as if I were an overgrown puppy. I smiled and let him.
He told me once that when he was coming out of a scene that he feels like he’s water, still and deep, but he could so easily spill everywhere.
I held him tight. For a little while longer I contained him.
Soon, there would be a lot to talk about — limits to negotiate, desires to discuss — but for now we were sated and content, if a bit of a mess. “Come on, love. Let’s go shower and go out for Father’s Day brunch,” I said with a little smile toward the now-cold and unappealing plate of breakfast.
Keith looked up at me, chin resting on the center of my chest. “Happy Father’s Day, sir,” he said, and then paused, another blush creeping over his features, “Daddy.”
AN: Dedicated in memory of Steph, who always told me I could do this.
A MASSIVE thank you: to my lovely beta readers, who helped me beat this fic into shape! Also to my girlfriend, who inspired me to create realistic daddy play fiction (and who is the best girl a Daddy can have). And last but not at all least, for MisterLoki’s art! He’s been an amazing support and friend through this process.