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  He was shaking and overpowered, small and helpless against his nephew’s cruelty. He felt dirty and used, driven into this unnatural closeness. The intimate fullness in his ass pulsed through him in waves, forcing him to feel that horrible pleasure.

  Such a dirty old man, M cackled, his laugh harsh. Look at you stuffed with my cock. You want this, don’t you?

  No, I don’t. I don’t want this. But as before, his cries were ignored.

  M started pumping into him, hard and fast. After a few strokes, he found his prostate and nailed it mercilessly. Pleasure coursed through him, shaking him and breaking him open.

  G felt words slipping away. Please, he signed, his own hand a caress on his chest. He didn’t know what he was asking for anymore, his whole world turned upside down.

  M kept pounding away. Taking him. Owning him.

  I need to come, he finally signed.

  M smirked cruelly. It’s all the same to me, Uncle G. Whether you come or not, I’m going to use you until I’m finished with you.

  G could feel his eyes rolling back in his head. There was something about that, something even hotter than orgasm denial, where the potential of his orgasm was simply irrelevant.

  He was there to be used, his pleasure or pain of no concern to his aggressive nephew. If he came now, M might keep fucking his oversensitive body despite his very real cries. If he didn’t come now, M might come first, and he would miss his chance. And either way, M didn’t give a shit.

  Please, he signed again, please. The word became an unending circle, his hand dragging over his own nipples, the only word he could form.

  He watched M helplessly as rapture eclipsed the cruelty on his face. His breath was ragged, and his eyes were glazed in pleasure.

  G was making him feel good, and the pride he felt in that settled into his core.

  He could tell that M was getting close, and G desperately needed to come. The powerful thrusts were too sweet, the ecstasy on M’s face was too beautiful.

  He wanted M’s permission, but he wasn’t going to get it. Or maybe he had already given it. It didn’t matter.

  G reached down to touch his own dick, hoping he wouldn’t be reprimanded.

  M’s eyes sparked in delight. You dirty old man. Getting off on your nephew’s cock.

  G could only nod, tears leaking from his eyes. He was all of that, every horrible thing that M had said.

  He began stroking himself, so close to the breaking point. M leaned forward, straining G’s legs farther, pushing more deeply inside.

  Everything was coming together. The illicit scene, the elation on M’s face, the deep friction inside him, and his own tight hand. He grew closer, closer…

  And then he was falling over the edge. He grabbed M’s shoulders, needing to be closer, needing somewhere to put all this beautiful pleasure and shame and love as it washed over him. Every nerve in his body sang, pulsing with the beat of his orgasm as it went on and on.

  M drew in close, still fucking into him, eyes wide and mouth open as he came also, only seconds behind.

  Marco slowed his strokes, letting them both ride out the lingering waves of euphoria.

  Finally, he collapsed on Greg’s chest and Greg pulled him in tightly. Even though Marco was smaller, he wouldn’t be able to breath after a few more minutes of his full weight. He didn’t care at all.

  Marco’s breath was rapid in his ear, his moans beautiful and satisfying.

  Greg moved just enough to wrap his legs around Marco as well. He didn’t want him to pull out, didn’t want this closeness to end.

  At last, Marco placed a gentle kiss on his jaw.

  Good? Marco asked. Or at least that’s what Greg guessed he said. He felt the side of Marco’s hand move from about where his chin would be, out across his chest.

  He nodded, not wanting to pull away enough to sign.

  You were beautiful, Marco signed, pressing a finger into Greg’s chest and then spreading his fingers across Greg’s face.

  Greg caught his hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing each finger.

  He felt beautiful. Adored and treasured. Seen. Whole.

  And so connected to Marco, who would give him everything that he needed.

  Marco thrust lazily into him a few more times, making both of them shiver. He loved that Marco’s cock was still hard at times like these, that he never had to pull out because biology demanded it. He never got tired of that.

  He realized, all in a rush, that everything in his life was exactly the way that he wanted it. He’d kind of known it for a while now, but this scene had just brought it all together, all at once.

  It was like the two halves of his life, the half with Richard and the half with Marco, had finally snapped back together into a whole.

  He wasn’t the bratty boy he had been. He was an older man, quieter and more reflective. And Marco was the right Dom to give him everything that he needed.

  Today, Marco had found a way to unite the two halves, to give him the rough scenes that he’d been clinging to in memory, but without imposing on his history with Richard.

  He had the sense that this hadn’t been as easy for Marco, and that was what really made it beautiful. That Marco had done all of this for him.

  But there was so much more that they could do together. He was Marco’s older submissive, and having a caring, supportive Dom was much more his speed now. His kinks had evolved, as had his desires in a relationship. His memory and his present could both be perfect, but it was easy to decide which one was more important for his future.

  He formed his hand into the I-love-you shape and pressed it into Marco’s chest, waving it gently back and forth over his heart. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to say it for the first time right after sex, but he was too overwhelmed to hold back.

  He’d been waiting for the right time, and there simply wasn’t one. Or maybe this was it.

  Marco jerked his head up, a quizzical and hopeful look on his face. Greg forgot sometimes that Marco could feel vulnerable, too.

  Greg nodded, then untangled his arms from Marco’s body to sign between them with arms crossed over his chest. I love you.

  Chapter 15 Marco

  Marco was stunned.

  Those three little words were everything that he’d been hoping for, but to see them now… what did that mean?

  He’d known for a while that he was in love with Greg, but he’d always thought of it as an unattainable love, an unequal longing that he could only dream might someday be returned.

  And now, to have Greg declare it just after a scene that he’d only reluctantly pushed himself to create… He’d enjoyed it, because Greg had enjoyed it, but if this was what Greg wanted every day, he wouldn’t be able to keep it up.

  He wanted to confess his love, to shout it from the rooftops. But instead, they were going to need to talk. Dammit.

  He started to pull back, but Greg clung to him, snuggly and floaty in the afterglow, pressing kisses to Marco’s shoulder. God, he didn’t want to interrupt this moment for Greg. This should be aftercare right now.

  But for himself he needed to know. Where he should have felt tender and adoring, instead he was just terrified.

  Hopefully Greg wasn’t expecting him to say it back immediately.

  He forced himself to breathe in, soaking in the familiar smell of Greg’s sweat and shampoo. Then, unable to help himself, he tangled himself in one more kiss, lipping and sucking at Greg’s sweet mouth. If this were their last kiss, he wanted to remember it.

  He slowly pushed himself up, concentrating on keeping a calm smile on his face. He only realized when he was almost sitting up that they were still connected together, Greg still stuffed full of his cock.

  He should pull out, he knew, but another thought occurred to him. He needed Greg to be honest. Unfiltered. Because if Greg lied now, even to please him, they would both be miserable later.

  Instead, he took Greg’s limp dick in his hand, giving it a thorough squeeze. Greg swung his h
ead back and squirmed, trying to get away from his hand. He wasn’t trying very hard, though.

  Macro stroked him again, feeling it on his own body when Greg bucked up, further impaling himself on Marco’s cock, which was still hard inside him.

  Greg’s eyes burned into him, glazed and desperate. Too much!

  Marco gave him a knowing smirk, conveying wordlessly that he knew exactly what he was doing and wasn’t going to stop playing with his oversensitive toy without a safeword.

  Greg trembled and squirmed but didn’t object.

  Thank you for telling me, he started. He wasn’t sure how to have this conversation, but whatever information there was, he needed to get to the root of it.

  It was clear that Greg had no idea what he was talking about, although it had probably been only two minutes since his startling disclosure.

  Marco watched the awareness fill his eyes. His expression was fond at first, then worried. Marco took care of that by thumbing his tip, leaving him too overstimulated to think about either one.

  Tell me why you love me, he commanded, one handed, while keeping the other hand at his task.

  Greg opened his mouth, as if so overloaded that he’d forgotten to sign. Then, words came spilling out. Because you’re wonderful. And I like being with you. And… There was a long pause where Greg clearly couldn’t remember what he was saying. You’re handsome and pretty, and I don’t know why you even chose me.

  Marco hadn’t gone into this fishing for compliments, but they were sweet all the same. He liked that Greg, in all his overwhelmed innocence, appreciated his unique gender blending. Unfortunately, it wasn’t what he needed to know.

  What else?

  Because you… Greg looked like he was remembering something happy now and Marco stilled his hand while he thought. Because you take care of me.

  Marco resumed his stroking. Greg was still soft, his dick smooth with his own cum. He had to bite his lips against the stimulation and Marco couldn’t get enough of that look on his face.

  And taking care of him? God, that was what he wanted to hear. What does that mean?

  Greg looked confused. He’d probably already forgotten the chain of the conversation.

  What does it mean that I take care of you?

  Greg looked at him now as if Marco were confused. As if the question were unfathomable.

  What do I do when I take care of you? he tried again.

  You… everything. You give me everything.

  Aw, fuck. That was… fuck. Marco wanted to throw his whole plan about talking out the window and just devour his boy. He wanted to give him everything. Wanted it with all his soul.

  But he still had to know. And his boy was so beautiful writhing in his hands. So, what does that mean? What do you want in our relationship?

  Greg’s answer was quick this time. Move in with me?

  Marco was so astounded that he stopped stroking. This had to be a dream, some happy bubble of surreality that was only going to burst.

  Greg looked chagrined. I got you a special keyring that I was going to give you on Valentine’s Day. He put on a little pout. But you made me ruin the surprise.

  Oh, God. His sweet boy. Marco wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up this interrogation instead of diving into his arms.

  With a great force of will, he resumed the stroking. Greg would get all his love and all his pain, everything that he needed. And what would I do with you, when we’re living together?

  You would… take care of me.

  Marco gave him a stern look. How?

  You would… give me baths?

  Marco grinned. If this was where Greg started, it was going to be alright. He liked the idea of hearing about Greg’s vision, though, making him say it all.

  What else?

  And… Greg seemed to be having trouble concentrating as Marco swirled his finger around his tip. And dress me!

  Perfect. Marco nodded for him to continue. They could do this.

  Greg managed to focus enough to look a little flirty. You would play with me.

  This was what Marco really wanted to hear. How?

  Greg’s eyes rolled back in his head. He was half hard, now, reveling in the pain and pleasure of overstimulation and no doubt imagining even more.

  Marco slapped his inner thigh and his eyes sprung open.

  What are you thinking about right now?

  When you, when you tied me to the chair, with the clamps and the dildo…

  Predicament bondage. That was good.

  And Shibari… Spankings… if I’m bad. He seemed to feel that he’d given a sufficient answer and hugged himself across his chest, fingers digging into his opposite forearms.

  What else? Marco prompted.

  Greg was moving rhythmically now, fucking himself on Marco’s cock. Marco was starting to lose his train of thought as the motions stimulated his own reviving dick.

  Everything. Whatever you want.

  Damn, he loved hearing that. And he was so close to losing his own focus now… He needed to get things out in the open, though.

  And what about today? CNC?

  Greg looked like he was groaning or yelling out loud.

  You took care of me.

  What does that mean?

  You don’t really like it, but you did it for me. Greg’s eyes were wild, like he was fighting to stay focused. Because you take care of me.

  Wow. Marco hadn’t realized that Greg understood that.

  Do you mind if we don’t do things like that very often?

  Greg shook his head emphatically, making Marco hesitate for a moment to make sure it wasn’t a safeword. No. We don’t ever have to do it again.

  That wasn’t quite the same as saying that he wouldn’t mind it.

  Will you miss it?

  Greg’s eyes fluttered. I… you’re very good at it. He gave a loopy smile. But I won’t miss it. I just need you.

  That was all that Marco needed to hear.

  Can you come right now?

  Greg nodded.

  Marco gave in to everything that he’d been waiting for. He kissed Greg deeply, stroking him, thrusting into him as he chased his own orgasm. Greg was writhing under him, arms squeezing him and nails raking into his back. He hoped that he’d be able to see the scratches tomorrow.

  Greg was so hungry, so needy, so willing to be forced into a second orgasm through that uncomfortable, devastating overstimulation.

  Marco devoured him with his mouth, leaving bite marks along his collar bones, licking at his ears, and then fucking his mouth with his tongue.

  “Come,” he voiced, his hands too full of his darling, aching boy.

  Greg crested moments later, shuddering and trying again to squirm away while also pulling Marco closer.

  Marco thrust his cum-soaked hand into his own boxers, rubbing himself to completion with Greg’s semen. He loved the dirtiness of it, the connection. Greg was his.

  When he finally collapsed onto Greg’s chest, he didn’t think he’d ever move again. He tried to support himself with one arm, but Greg just squeezed him closer until he gave up. Presumably, when Greg wanted to breathe, he would let him know.

  Greg’s hands gently traced his back, a soothing movement that hadn’t happened between them before. He let himself relax into it.

  They breathed together, bodies pressed close, hearts thumping in rhythm and then gradually slowing.

  At last, they disentangled themselves, Greg wincing when he pulled out.

  You claim that you’re not a sadist, he commented wryly, but your actions suggest otherwise.

  Marco smirked. I think good Daddies need to have a little bit of a sadistic streak, don’t you?

  Marco thought that Greg would laugh at that, but instead he froze up.

  Tell me, Marco demanded. You’re mine now. No secrets.

  Greg still looked hesitant.

  I don’t think you want to earn your first spanking right now.

  Greg lit up, but then looked away. Damm
it.

  I don’t want… It doesn’t feel right to call you Daddy.

  Ouch. That hurt more than he was expecting. But, OK, that’s why they were talking. Tell me more about that, he prompted, trying to hide his reactions.

  I just… I know that some people still use that word when the Daddy is younger and the boy is older but… it just doesn’t feel right to me. Like, I’m not a kid. I already have my life figured out in a lot of ways and… It’s not about you. It’s more about… I don’t know if a Daddy is what I need. Is that… is that OK?

  Marco sighed. He’d been too hasty before in thinking that everything was alright. And now he owed Greg the same honesty that he’d demanded.

  I have to be honest and say that hurts me. Being a Daddy is a big part of my identity and how I think about what we do together.

  Greg’s face fell. I didn’t want to hurt you. I can call you that if it’s that important to you. It’s just a word.

  But the thing was, it wasn’t just a word. I don’t think of it that way. I think of it as… a relationship. An agreement. A way of being together.

  Greg looked anguished now. We can’t still have all of that with a different word?

  Could they? Maybe? What would that mean to you? What would our relationship look like?

  Just… still Daddy stuff. Like, you would take care of me, right? And tell me what I needed to do to please you and take care of myself. And, you know, punish me if I messed it up. Is that… is that what you mean?

  Marco felt his pulse leap. The idea of controlling his boy, owning him that way… He had so many fantasies that started with those little texts that Greg had sent him about his to-do lists and polite requests about what to wear. Not to mention the idea of turning him over his knee if he’d been naughty…

  Is that what you want? You already said that you have your life figured out.

  Greg nodded miserably. I could… un-figure it out?

  Marco wanted to laugh, because his boy was so sincere and funny. But the moment was too fragile, and he didn’t want Greg to misinterpret anything. Greg was putting himself on the line.

  No, sweetheart, you’re perfect. And I’m proud of you. We’ll find some things to work on together that don’t take anything away from what you’ve accomplished and who you are.