Page 13

"Dude, are you going to be able to concentrate on your classes?" Izzy teases me the night before our Senior year of college is set to officially begin. He tilts his chin towards my phone, where I'm texting with Justin. "Or is the new boyfriend going to be a distraction?"

"Shut up," I reply lazily, eyes on my screen. "I've dated, studied, and practiced for the team before. I know how to balance stuff— shit ." I backspace on my screen where I have typed the word 'balance' in the middle of my sentence.

Izzy snorts. "Uh huh."

After sending my message, I look over to where he's sprawled on the couch and I roll my eyes. "You wanna find someone else to dom, man? Because I've got my life under control."

And I do, honestly. Dating Justin, however new our relationship is, has settled the itch under my skin.

We kind of just click, with an underlying compatibility that honestly kind of surprises me.

I know we're in different places in our lives, that even though our age gap is small, it's enough that he's working full time and has a kid while I'm still a college student.

Still, even though we are at fundamentally different places in life, I feel like Justin gets me.

On top of that, he certainly seems to enjoy dipping his toes into the Daddy/Boy dynamic, too.

I can't help feeling like I've lucked out in meeting him.

We just have to keep it relatively low-key, what with my studies and his kid needing to take priority and all.

A real relationship, but nothing too intense. Having fun together, or whatever.

"Except you never really dated anyone did you? Like, you had a couple of flings with some of the guys from Kik, but this" —Israel waves his hand over my phone— "level of attachment is new for you."

"I didn't know you'd switched majors to psych," I taunt him, ignoring the fact that he's not exactly wrong.

Before now, I've played with the Boys at the club, even taken a few on some dates (and playdates), but they've never felt like actual relationships.

I've never been invested. I never allowed myself to be invested.

I had too much going on between my large family, my studies, hockey, and my social life.

Adding in a real relationship seemed like too much work.

Until now.

I don't know what it is about Justin that makes me want to put in the effort, but there's something . I felt it from the moment we met — that lightning bolt to my soul which demanded that I give him the time and attention he deserves.

I'll admit it: that is definitely part of the something, the fact that he deserves to be someone's priority.

For a guy who is only in his late twenties, he's been through a lot.

Is still going through a lot. Yes, that speaks to my savior complex, as Iz calls it, but I wanted to help him even before I knew his story.

So, no; Israel isn't wrong. But that doesn't mean I can't balance everything. I can have a real relationship on top of everything else. I just need to make sure Justin and I are on the same page. Dating, but taking our time.

"I'm just saying, man," Izzy holds his hands up in surrender, but he has a cocky little grin on his face which speaks volumes on its own, "something's gotta give at some point. This year isn't exactly going to be a walk in the park for us."

“All the more reason to extend my support system, then." I smirk right back at him.

Surprisingly, my roommate considers my rebuttal with a serious nod. "Yeah, okay, I'll give you that. Plus, sex on tap will also keep you from getting all... grrr ."

"Grrr?" I repeat, trying not to laugh at him.

"You get all wound up and you're hell to deal with, and you know it."

I toss a cushion at him as I laugh, "You know, every time you say that, I think it's pretty rich coming from you. When's the last time you got laid?"

"None of your damn business is when."

"Which means too long ago," I shrug, ducking as the cushion hurtles my way again. It hits the wall behind me with a muted thump . " And your whole personality is basically the grumpy bear stereotype on crack. Ergo, you need to get some."

Izzy gapes at me for a long moment. "Did you just say 'ergo'?"

"That's what you're taking from my epic argument?"

He snorts, and I cheer internally at cracking his cranky facade. "You're an idiot."

"Seriously, though," I tell him after I've finished chuckling, "you should get out there and let off some steam. Channel that Daddy Dom energy you've got going on because trying to dominate me isn't working. "

"Ugh, I don't have the patience for brats like you."

"Then find a sweet, pliant sub." My thoughts flit briefly to Marshall, but I am not going to be dumb enough to stir up our group of friends if my suspicions aren't one-hundred-percent on the money. "All I'm saying is maybe you've finally hit your abstinence limit, too."

He grumbles under his breath, but the fact that he doesn't completely dismiss my observations is a surprise. I'm half a breath away from calling him on it when my phone alerts me to a new message. It's from Justin.

Justin

Are you alone?

My lips curl upwards and I push myself out of the armchair I've been lazing in. "Well," I tell my roommate distractedly as I type out my reply, "I'm about to take care of my lack of abstinence right now."

"Dude, come on," he protests as I press send.

Me:

I'm about to be. Heading into my bedroom now, baby. Is there something you need?

Justin's bubbling ellipses appear and disappear as I watch. Shutting my bedroom door, I cross the small space to my twin bed and settle myself against the headboard.

After a few more seconds without a reply, I decide to take charge and I call him via FaceTime. His cute face fills my screen almost immediately, and I drink in the sight of him, even though I saw him only yesterday .

"Hey, sweetheart," I practically croon, watching the already-present blush darken his pale cheeks. "Talk to me. Tell me how I can help."

"It's silly," Justin’s teeth sink into his plump lower lip. "So much is happening tomorrow, and I need to get to sleep early, but I..."

"Can't make your brain stop whirring?"

His hazel-green eyes widen, and he seems almost dazed as he looks at the camera. "Exactly! So, um, I... gah , it's so dumb."

"Nothing is dumb if it actually helps, baby." I cock my head. "Did you try to take the edge off? Rub one out to make yourself sleepy?"

His pink tongue sneaks out to wet his gnawed-on lip. The sight of it takes me from half-mast to almost fully hard with zero effort, but I don't give in to the temptation to reach down and ease the sudden ache just yet.

"I..." he starts, then swallows. "I thought..."

Realization dawns on me. "Oh, would you like Daddy to help?"

We've fooled around a bit since we started dating, but it has obviously been limited by his schedule with Owen, and around my family commitments, too. So I am very on board with this idea, if it's the path he'd like to go down.

"Please?" he asks plaintively.

How can I deny this sweet Boy anything?

"Just double checking that you're in bed? Door closed?" He nods, chewing on his lower lip again. "Good. Now, put the phone on your nightstand, okay? Prop it up and shuffle back so I can see all of you — yes, that's it. Perfect. I'm gonna do the same."

Setting my phone on my desk, I make sure to angle it so the camera can see most of my bed, but so I can still see the screen.

Then, after snatching the lube from my drawer on my way back, I stretch out on top of my sheets and palm my cock over my boxer shorts.

Justin moans, but he doesn’t reach for his own dick.

“Good boy for waiting without being told to,” I practically purr, and he nods, flashing me a bashful smile.

From this distance and the small size of the screen, I can’t see nearly enough detail of his features, but that’s okay.

This is just a teaser for what we can do together.

Besides, it’s not about me — it’s about helping him.

I know he’s starting his new job tomorrow, and it’s Owen’s first day at school.

I’m surprised he’s not more frazzled. But if helping him orgasm means that he will get the rush of sleepy neurochemicals, it’s a cross I’m happy to bear.

“Pull down your pjs, sweetheart, I wanna see you.”

He does as he’s told and his cock practically springs free. Even lying on his side, it strains towards the soft curve of his stomach, seemingly unaffected by gravity.

“Do you want to touch yourself, baby?” I ask him, absently rubbing over my own aching erection.

Biting his lip some more, he nods, and I’m pretty sure he’s blushing.

“I need words, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” he practically whimpers. “Yes, Daddy. Please.”

Oh, God, he’s perfect.

Releasing my own dick, I pop the cap on the bottle of lube, drizzling some into my palm. “Stroke yourself for me.”

He also seems to prefer using lube to jerk off, because he produces a bottle from just outside the camera’s view, pouring a bit into his own hand before recapping it and tossing it aside.

Then his hand is on his cock, and he shuts his eyes as he starts to stroke.

I mirror his actions, imagining his hand stroking me instead .

I wish I was there with him or that I at least had a bigger screen to take the show in properly. To see his long lashes fluttering on his cheeks, to hear his breathing shift into gentle pants, to see the mattress wobble with the increasing thrusts of his hips…

“Imagine that’s my hand, baby,” I instruct, my voice deeper and slightly raspier with lust. “Do you feel me slowly stroking you? Squeezing a little bit at the base and running my thumb over your slit when I get to the head?”

His lips part. I watch his chest rise and fall a little more rapidly as he nods and recreates my promised actions with his hand. “F-feels good, Daddy.”

Hearing him call me Daddy, especially during sex, is everything . I have to tighten my hold on the base of my cock to fend off the near-orgasm his sweet, sexy words try to pull from me.

“Mmm,” I hum, knowing that I’d be pressing kisses to his neck and sucking hickeys into the skin if I was there with him, “do you feel me picking up the pace? Jerking you faster, twisting my wrist and rubbing the head of your perfect, leaking cock on every upstroke?”

“D-Daddy…” Even through the small screen, I can see his hips thrusting forward, picking up speed to match the faster shuttling of his fist.

In my own bed, I speed up my stroking, too. “That’s it, baby. Show me what feels good. Come for me. Let Daddy watch you fall apart.”

“Oh, ohhhh ,” he whimpers, then bites down on his lip. It’s a shame that he’s silencing himself, but I understand that he has a sleeping kid sharing a wall with his room.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t care less if Izzy hears me rubbing one out. It might encourage him to finally get his shit together and get laid .

“That’s it, baby. Daddy’s watching. You’re being so good.”

“Oh, fuck, Daddy!” he whisper-shouts, arching his back as his cock erupts, coating his hand and the sheets with spurts of cum. “ Nnngh. ”

“Yes, baby, just like that.” Watching him takes me to the edge and it only takes a couple more short, sharp jerks of my fist before I follow him over the precipice with a loudly groaned “Fuck” of my own.

Once I catch my breath and my brain re-engages, I reach for my nearby supply of wet wipes and tissues, cleaning up my mess.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” I say, glancing up at my phone again with a soft, sappy smile. “That was…” Trailing off, I realize that he’s half-asleep already, a wad of tissues discarded to the side of his mattress. My heart gives a funny little flip at the sight. “Sleep, Justin. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Mmm,” he agrees, but I don’t think he actually heard me. “Night, Daddy. Lo—” the word is cut off with a huge yawn, but my heart is hammering, even though he doesn’t finish it, ending with a sleepy “ Hmmm ” instead.

Heart in my throat, I can’t deny that maybe Izzy had a point after all. I’ve never had a serious relationship before, and this one is suddenly feeling very serious when I was only just thinking how slowly we should try to take things.

But that’s still not a bad thing, is it?

As long as I can maintain a balance between school, my relationship, my family, and hockey, it’s all going to be okay.

After all, that’s all my life revolves around.

If I stick to that, I can’t imagine any other curveballs will be thrown my way…

or whatever the equivalent hockey metaphor is.

(Shut up, I think I broke my brain when I came.)