Page 8 of Daddy Marc's Gem (Club Sensation #2)

Foster wanted to pinch himself. The evening that had begun as a disaster had morphed into the best night ever. A calm had settled within him, a hope for a future that wouldn’t be filled with loneliness and uncertainty.

Marc pulled into his driveway behind him, and to Foster’s surprise, Marc approached the driver’s side of Foster’s sedan, opened the door then helped him out of his vehicle.

Foster ducked his head, a wave of shyness washing over him. “You make me feel so special.”

Marc laced their fingers together. “That’s my intent.” He dropped a kiss on Foster’s lips. “Am I doing a good job?”

Foster laughed. “Expert level.”

Dolly’s howls grabbed Foster’s attention. “Uh-oh. She hears me. I don’t want to wake the neighbors.”

“Come on then.”

Marc tugged on his hand, and they quickly made their way to the small steps leading to the front door. Foster fumbled with his keys, Dolly's plaintive whines growing more insistent from behind the door. Marc's warm presence at his back steadied him, and he rested his hands on Foster’s hips.

“Take your time,” Marc murmured, his breath tickling Foster’s ear. “She’s okay, just excited. And the neighbors can survive another thirty seconds.”

When the lock finally gave way, Dolly erupted from the gap, a whirlwind of black and white fur combined with unbridled enthusiasm. She danced around them, tail whipping through the air like a metronome on overdrive.

“Hey, girl,” Foster cooed, dropping to his knees to receive her exuberant greeting. “I missed you too. Look who I brought with me.” Foster glanced over his shoulder. “It’s our favorite yard sale customer.”

Marc kneeled beside them, his large frame folding with unexpected grace. Dolly immediately divided her attention, offering Marc a series of enthusiastic licks and whimpers. He swallowed hard. Since he hadn’t planned on getting into any relationships right away—or maybe ever—he hadn’t realized how important it was that Dolly approved.

Marc laughed as he rose. “She’s such a sweet girl. I miss having a dog.”

They stepped inside the foyer, and Foster closed up. “When’s the last time you had one?”

Marc’s expression turned wistful. “About two years ago. Had a rescue mutt named Barney. Big golden mix with the gentlest soul.” His voice lowered. “My best guess would be he was twelve when he went. The shelter told me he was around five when I got him.”

“I’m sorry,” He reached out and laid a hand on Marc’s arm.

“It’s the hardest part about having pets. They’re the family we choose, and it makes it harder when they go.” Marc gave a melancholy smile. “I kept telling myself I’d get another dog when the time was right, but...” He shrugged, watching Dolly circle their legs, her nails clicking against the hardwood floor.

They moved into Foster’s cozy living room, a space he liked to think of as intimate and warm yet modest when compared to Marc’s grander residence. While Marc’s two-story Cape featured expansive, open rooms with arched doorways, Foster’s abode was more compact. Despite the differences, both homes shared a notable similarity: a meticulous display of antique accents that spoke to their shared interest.

Foster gestured to the L-shaped, beige velvet sofa. “If you’d like to have a seat, I can grab us something to drink.”

Marc settled onto the couch, his large frame making the furniture seem smaller than it was. “No alcohol for either of us. But water would be great, thanks.”

“Is that because you don’t drink at all, or another reason?” He didn’t want to inadvertently mess up if Marc was in recovery.

“No, I drink on occasion. Just never at the club or if I’m working with a boy, we’re doing a scene and so on.”

Foster twisted his fingers. “Are we working together right now?”

“It depends on how overwhelmed you are. But no alcohol, regardless. It’s best for my boy to have a clear head.” He smiled. “A lot has happened tonight, it’s late. It might be better for you to relax and wind down.”

“You can spend the night if you want.” Foster snapped his jaw shut and fought the urge to run from the room.

Marc’s eyes radiated amusement, yet he didn’t seem to be mocking him. “I can if you’d rather not be alone. Whatever you need from your Daddy is okay.”

“I blurted.” Foster’s cheeks were so hot he thought they might catch fire.

“Yes, sweetheart. It’s completely fine.” He patted the cushion next to him. “Come sit with me for a moment.”

Even though he still had the urge to run and hide, being with his Daddy was the stronger draw. And yeah, he might as well start thinking of Marc in that term, or he was never going to be able to accept his help. With shaky legs, he closed the short distance between them, then sat next to Marc.

Marc. Daddy. Already he was confused.

“What is it, Foster?” Marc regarded him with a questioning gaze. “You seem far away.”

“Huh?” He needed to pay better attention. “Sorry.”

Marc’s eyebrows shot up. “What reason is there for you to be sorry right now?”

“Is this what you mean by working together?”

Marc leaned into him, reaching up to brush some hair back from Foster’s forehead. The fleeting touches were addictive, a sensation he’d never experienced before. No one had ever touched him with such clear affection.

“This, and many other things I hope we explore. Can you tell me why you felt the need to apologize?”

Foster thought back to what he’d said. “I guess because I thought I was being rude by not listening to you carefully enough.”

“I took no offense. What I’d like is for you not to use that word at all for now. Replace it with the phrase ‘I’d like to apologize’ if you truly feel you’ve done something wrong. It’s too easy to drop the word ‘sorry’ when it’s such an ingrained habit.”

Foster glanced at Dolly, who had settled on her bed in the corner, watching the proceedings with sleepy eyes.

“Wow. Yeah, I can see how using a phrase would make me think twice.” He nodded. “I’ll try my best.”

“That’s all anyone can ask for.” Marc smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good boy.”

The simple praise sent a warm current through Foster's body, settling in his chest like a physical thing. Dolly let out a contented sigh from her corner as if in agreement, and Foster found himself relaxing deeper into the couch beside Marc.

“Is there anything else on your mind?”

Marc regarded him with an easy expression that was going a long way toward helping Foster relax.

“I, uh, I should probably get the water.”

His mouth said the words, but his brain wasn’t interested in responding. What he really wanted had nothing to do with drinks.

One corner of Marc’s mouth lifted. “Is that all you have on your mind? Water?”

Foster hesitated, his gaze dropping to where his hands rested in his lap. There was onemajor thing simmering beneath the surface since they left the club. Something he wanted but felt almost childish asking for.

“I...” He licked his lips, gathering courage. “We kissed at the club, but it was so quick. I’ve been thinking about... I mean, I’d like it if you...”

Marc slid closer. “Give you the kind of kiss you really want?”

Foster nodded, his breath catching in his throat. “Yes,” he whispered.

Marc’s hand came up to cup Foster’s cheek, his thumb gently tracing the curve of his bottom lip. The touch was so tender that Foster let his eyes flutter closed.

“Look at me,” Marc murmured, the deep rumble of the words hitting Foster in his core. He reached out, his large hand cradling Foster’s jaw with a gentleness that made his breath catch. “Come here, boy.”

The endearment sent a shiver through Foster’s body as Marc leaned in, his lips brushing against Foster’s with deliberate slowness. This wasn’t the brief, chaste kiss they’d shared at the club. This was intention—this was promise.

Marc’s mouth moved against his with measured restraint, as if testing boundaries. When Foster sighed and leaned into the contact, Marc deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of Foster’s lips until they parted.

The heat that had been building within him blazed into something more urgent as Marc’s tongue slid against his. Foster made a small noise in the back of his throat, his hands finding purchase on Marc’s broad shoulders.

Marc tasted of mint and something uniquely his own, a flavor that Foster wanted to memorize. The gentle pressure of Marc’s hand at the nape of his neck guided him closer, and Foster went willingly, practically climbing into Marc’s lap.

When they finally broke apart, Foster could barely catch his breath, his lips tender and his heart racing. Marc’s eyes had darkened, the brown irises nearly black with desire.

“That’s what I wanted.” Foster could barely push out the words, his voice unsteady.

Marc smiled, running his thumb along Foster's jawline. “Me too.” His voice had deepened even more than usual. “I want you to use a safeword if things get too intense.”

Foster blinked, momentarily thrown off guard. “A safeword? For kissing?”

“For anything we do together,” Marc clarified, his voice gentle but firm. “Red means stop immediately. yellow to slow down. That’s standard. Use them if you ever feel uncomfortable or need to pause.”

The concept seemed strange to Foster. In his limited experience, sex was something that happened, not something that required safety protocols. “I don’t think I’ll need it. I trust you.”

Marc furrowed his brow. “That’s exactly why we need it, sweetheart. Trust means I have a responsibility to you.” He traced his thumb across Foster’s cheekbone. “You're in a vulnerable place right now, and I need to know you have a way to communicate if something doesn’t feel right.”

“But I’m not—”

“I’m your Daddy.” Marc arched his eyebrows. “This is non-negotiable.”

Something about the quiet authority in Marc’s voice sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. “Okay.” Foster nodded. “Red for stop, yellow to slow down.”

Marc grinned. “Very good. I can tell already how proud you’re going to make me.”

Foster’s heart thumped like a kettle drum, the praise filling the spaces inside him that had been hollow for so long. When Marc leaned in again, Foster met him halfway, his earlier shyness giving way to a needy hunger.

Their mouths moved together with growing urgency, Marc’s large hands splaying possessively across Foster’s back, guiding him closer until Foster was straddling him on the couch. The position made Foster acutely aware of Marc’s arousal pressing against his own, and he let out a small gasp against Marc’s lips.

“Still okay?” Marc breathed across his neck as he placed deliberate kisses along the sensitive skin there.

“Yes.” Foster let out another gasp, threading his fingers through Marc’s dark hair. “More than okay.”

Marc hummed against Foster’s throat, the vibration sending a pleasant tremor through his body. His hands—so large and sure—slid beneath Foster’s shirt, calloused fingertips mapping the contours of his spine with deliberate care.

“Can I take this off?” Marc asked, tugging gently at the hem of Foster’s shirt.

Foster nodded, allowing Marc to unbutton his shirt, slowly unveiling his torso. Marc's appreciative gaze roamed over his frame, and he fought the urge to cross his arms over his chest. He never worked out beyond lifting boxes of collectibles or moving furniture around, but his frame remained thin. However, there was nothing critical in Marc’s expression—only desire and something deeper that made Foster’s breath catch in his throat.

“Beautiful.” Marc regarded him with something like reverence, tracing his fingers along his collarbone, down the center of his chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The tender exploration made Foster feel more seen than he had in his entire life.

Foster swallowed hard, not sure how to respond. “You don’t have to say that.”

Marc’s expression shifted slightly, concern mingling with desire. “I never say anything I don’t mean. Especially not to my boy.” He cupped Foster’s face with both hands. “May I touch you more?”

The request, so carefully phrased, made Foster’s heart beat faster. He nodded, words momentarily beyond him as Marc’s hands continued their gentle exploration, skimming across his ribs and down to the exposed skin right above his waistband.

“Use your words, sweetheart.” Marc locked eyes, his gaze intense. “I need to hear you say it.”

Foster’s mouth was filled with dust, but he found his voice. “Please, yes. I need your touch, you hands all over me.”

Marc let out a low groan as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Foster’s collarbone. “With pleasure.”

Every touch felt deliberate, every kiss placed with extraordinary care. But Marc’s attentions quickly built in fervor, and Foster found himself arching into Marc’s touch, a whimper escaping his lips as Marc licked and teased his nipples, the light scrape of Marc’s beard against the sensitive skin igniting nerve endings he hadn’t known existed.

“So responsive,” Marc murmured against his skin. “Such a good boy for Daddy.”

The words sent a jolt of pure heat through Foster’s body. He’d never thought of himself as someone who would respond to such language, but coming from Marc—from his Daddy—it felt right in a way nothing else had before.

Marc slid his hands down to grasp Foster’s hips, steadying him as he continued his exploration. When Marc’s fingers brushed against the front of his slacks, Foster let out an embarrassing moan.

“Mmm… my baby likes that.” Marc scraped his teeth across the side of Foster’s throat. “Should we take this to your bedroom? Dolly seems worried.”

Foster snorted before he could stop himself. He glanced over his shoulder to see Dolly no longer curled up in her bed, snoozing, but sitting up and staring at them.

“Good idea.” Foster chuckled. “She’s not used to much in the way of steam in this house.”

Marc gave a soft laugh. “We can't scandalize the poor girl.” He brushed Foster's hair back from his forehead, the gentle touch at odds with the heat in his eyes. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

He climbed off Marc’s lap, feeling awkward over being bare-chested with a raging hard-on while Marc was still completely clothed. He glanced down then flicked his eyes back up to Marc’s. On the other hand, Marc wasn’t exactly at half-mast either.

His legs were like jelly, but he managed to move forward, clutching onto Marc’s hand as if it were a lifeline, acutely aware of his presence behind him. Dolly followed them to the bedroom doorway, then seemed to decide her supervision was no longer required and trotted back toward her bed in the living room.

The room was simple—a queen-sized bed with a navy duvet, a Deco dresser with an etched mirror, and a nightstand topped with an Arts and Crafts vintage lamp next to a stack of books. Foster suddenly saw it through Marc’s eyes and was struck with a jolt of self-consciousness.

“It’s not much,” he said, fidgeting with the edge of his unbuttoned shirt.

Marc stepped closer, silencing his concerns with a kiss, his large hands cupping Foster’s ass. “It’s perfect. It’s you.”

Marc’s words were so simple yet so affirming. Marc saw him, truly saw him in a way no one else ever had. That’s what he’d been missing. What he’d once thought of as neediness was instead appreciation when viewed through Marc’s eyes.

Marc guided him to sit on the edge of the bed, and he went willingly, his body humming with anticipation. Marc kneeled between his legs, looking up at him with such tenderness that it made his chest ache.

“I want to take care of you tonight.” Marc slid his palms up Foster’s thighs. “Will you let me do that, sweetheart?”

Foster licked his lips, mesmerized by the sight of this strong, confident man kneeling before him. “Yes... Daddy.”

The word fell from his lips naturally, and Marc’s eyes darkened in response. Marc leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his stomach, then worked his way lower while deftly unbuckling Foster’s belt.

“Lift your hips for me,” Marc instructed.

Foster complied, allowing Marc to slide his slacks and boxers down his legs in one smooth motion, before removing his socks and shoes. A burst of heat rushed to his cheeks as he sat exposed and vulnerable. But Marc’s gaze held nothing but hunger.

Foster’s breath hitched as Marc dragged his tongue along his inner thigh. “I’ve been wanting to taste you from the moment we met, when we first locked eyes. You were so flustered, so sweet,” Marc’s voice was rough and throaty. “Now I want to taste all of you.”

Foster was unable to form words as Marc’s warm breath ghosted over his hardened cock. When Marc finally took him into his mouth, Foster cried out, the sensation overpowering. He dug his fingers into the bedspread, his toes curling in an effort to keep from coming too fast.

Marc’s mouth was hot and wet around him, his tongue working mercilessly as he took him deeper. Foster’s head fell back, and a string of incoherent sounds poured from him. With each suck and lick, he fought to keep from losing it. He gazed down at Marc and the sight of him—his Daddy—between his legs, those large hands gripping his thighs, thumbs digging into flesh was almost more than he could bear.

Foster keened, threading his fingers through Marc’s hair. “I can't—I'm going to—”

Marc pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting Foster’s. “Not yet, baby boy. I’m making this last.” Marc abruptly rose. “Scoot all the way back on the bed.”

Foster obeyed, watching transfixed as Marc undressed. His broad chest was dusted with dark hair that tapered down to a trail disappearing beneath his waistband. When he finally stood naked before him, Foster's mouth went dry. Marc's body was the perfect blend of strength and softness - powerful shoulders and arms and solid, muscular thighs. He was a man comfortable in his skin, and the confidence radiated from him like heat.

Foster couldn’t tear his eyes away from Marc’s cock, thick and heavy between his legs. A flutter of nervousness mingled with his desire. He didn’t have much experience bottoming, and Edward hadn’t exactly been a beast in that department. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to take such an impressive dick, and Marc would be disappointed.

“Roll over, sweetheart.” Marc climbed onto the end of the bed, his weight dipping the mattress as he moved toward Foster with deliberate slowness, like a predator savoring the moment before claiming his prey.

“Red!” With dismay, Foster realized he no longer had to worry about coming too fast.

Marc startled, but immediately rose from the bed. “Let me get your clothes, then I’ll get dressed. We can discuss what happened in the living room if it makes you more comfortable.”

Foster’s brain hadn’t quite caught up to what was happening. Why would they be getting dressed? He smacked his forehead. “Wait! Don’t get dressed. I forgot about yellow. I really meant yellow. That’s the slow down one, right?”

He was babbling yet was also desperate to keep from ruining what had been a perfect night so far. He wanted all the sex with Marc, but slowing down was the best way to describe how he felt.

Marc nodded, then sat next to him on the edge of the mattress. He clasped Foster’s hand. “Good job on using your safeword. I’m very proud of you.”

Foster smirked. “Kind of bad timing when we were having so much fun, though.”

“Your feelings are always valid. No matter how much fun we’re having.” Marc winked, wiping away some of Foster’s tension. “Talk to me, baby.”

He folded his hands in his lap. not sure he could make graphic sexual confessions with his dick on display.

“Before I was with Edward, I only dated. Fooled around, but didn’t want to have intercourse until I was in a committed relationship.” He rolled his eyes. “Which brings me to Edward. As it turned out, he wasn’t that interested in full on sex.”

“He was ace?”

Foster shook his head. “No, he said that wasn’t how he identified. He loved getting off, but he mostly wanted hand or blow jobs. Once in a while, he’d want me to bottom, but very rarely.”

“Did he ever want you to top him?”

Talking about something so private had never been easy for him. But other than feeling a bit awkward, telling Marc wasn’t a problem.

“No. Not even close. In general, he didn’t want to touch me there, and he definitely didn’t want me to touch him, either.”

“So no ass play at all? No fingers, tongues, toys? Just penetration once in a while.”

“Uh…” He might be moving past his comfort level after all. At the same time, maybe this was his chance to finally… He swallowed hard. Marc certainly wasn’t hesitant or coy about sex. Why should he hold back?

Marc tucked a stray bit of Foster’s hair behind his ear. “Anything you say is fine. No judgments.”

“None of those things. But that’s only because of him. I would’ve been interested.”

Oh yeah. His cheeks were on fire, but now was the time to be clear when everything was still new. If he’d been honest about what he wanted to try and what his desires were from the beginning, he might never have gotten so deeply involved with Edward.

“What is it that you’re interested in?” Marc smiled as if in reassurance. “Again, no judgments. I have quite an assortment of activities I enjoy, so I doubt I’ll be shocked.”

“Good to know.” Foster cleared his throat. “Um, so for me, it’s what you said, you know, about ass play.”

Marc nodded. “Then it must’ve been frustrating for you not having your needs fulfilled.”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. Marc clearly wasn’t appalled by his revelation.

“That includes bottoming?”

Was an overload of blushing fatal? “Yeah, all of it.”

“Then the reason you used your safeword is that we’re only dating, and you’re waiting for a committed relationship before going that far?”

Foster’s stomach twisted. All he’d managed to do so far was push Marc away when what he truly wanted was to be as close to him as possible.

“But… Aren’t you my Daddy?”

Marc straightened, his lips parting in seeming surprise. “Oh, sweetheart. Come here.” He pulled Foster close, wrapping him in the safety of his arms. “Of course, I’m your Daddy. I don’t view our relationship as casual if that’s what you’re afraid of. Like I said, I take my role as Daddy very seriously. I only meant that we’ve known each other for a short time, and I didn’t want to make assumptions for you.”

Foster let out a relieved sigh. That made sense. “I’m serious about being your boy, too. I only used my safeword because I didn’t want you to be disappointed if we had full-on sex.”

Marc nuzzled him. “Sweet baby. When I finally fuck you, the last thing I’ll be is disappointed. What made you think that?”

Foster averted his gaze. “The monster between your legs. The dick gods have definitely bestowed their blessings upon you.”

Marc barked out a laugh and gave him a squeeze. “First of all, I’ll always be careful with my boy. But you should know I wasn’t planning on fucking you tonight.” Marc jostled him. “I feel your tension. That has nothing to do with you. Believe me, I can’t wait to have that gorgeous ass wrapped around my cock.”

Marc certainly had a way with words. “So…” Foster reached up to drag his palm through the silky curls on Marc’s chest. “When you asked me to roll over, that wasn’t what you were going to do?”

“No, baby.” Marc trailed his fingers down Foster’s arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. “I wanted to taste you, remember?”

“Taste…” Foster widened his eyes. “Oh.”

“Oh yes.” Marc’s hand drifted to Foster’s thigh. “I want to worship you with my mouth, taste every inch of your skin.” His voice lowered to a husky whisper. “Especially that perfect ass of yours.”

Foster's breath caught in his throat. His experience might be limited, but he’d been fantasizing about the exact thing Marc was suggesting. The thought sent a rush of heat through his body, his cock twitching back to life. His earlier anxiety melted away under the heat of that intense gaze.

“So... can we keep going?” Foster scraped his teeth along his bottom lip.

Marc cupped his face, thumb stroking his cheekbone. “Do you want to?”

“Yes.” Foster hated how unsure he sounded.

“Then we need to add another safeword to the list. Saying ‘green’ will verify to me that you’re ready to continue.”

“Okay, sure.” He inhaled a deep breath before letting it out, no longer questioning Marc’s best intentions toward him. “Green.”

Marc wrapped his palm around Foster’s nape, drawing him in for a deep kiss, exploring him with his tongue, making him crazy with need again. He finished the kiss with one last nibble on his lower lip.

“Roll onto your stomach, sweetheart.”

He did as he was told, and Marc climbed onto the bed then parted Foster’s thighs with strong hands. Foster pressed his face into the pillow, his entire body humming with anticipation as Marc settled between his legs. He'd never felt so vulnerable yet so cherished at the same time. Marc’s warm palms slid up the backs of his thighs, thumbs tracing the crease where his legs met his ass.

“Relax for me, baby,” Marc murmured, his breath hot against Foster's skin. “Let Daddy take care of you.”

Foster tried to steady his breathing as Marc gently kneaded his ass, spreading him open. The first touch of Marc’s tongue against his hole sent a jolt through his system. He gasped, clutching at the sheets as Marc licked a slow, deliberate stripe along his crease.

“God, sweetheart, you taste so good.”

Marc groaned, his beard tickling the skin of Foster's inner thighs, sparking his nerves to life. He circled his tongue against Foster's entrance with deliberate pressure, sending waves of pleasure rushing through him. He buried his face deeper into the pillow, muffling the embarrassing sounds threatening to escape his mouth.

"Let me hear you," Marc commanded, his voice husky with desire. “Don’t hide from me.”

Foster turned his head, whimpering as Marc’s tongue breached him. “Daddy,” he pleaded, the word falling from his lips without thought.

“That's it.” His large hands spread him wider. “Let go for me.”

Marc worked him open with his tongue, alternating between teasing licks and deeper thrusts that had Foster rocking back against his face. When Marc slid a finger alongside his tongue, he let out a strangled cry. Marc worked him with expert precision, adding a second finger that skated across his gland, sending sparks shooting up his spine.

Foster panted, his hips moving of their own accord now, seeking more of that delicious pressure. Marc ate him with abandon while finger-fucking him, banging into his gland, and all Foster could do was take it.

Marc removed his tongue, then added a third finger, twisting his hand, stretching his hole until all Foster wanted was Marc’s rock-hard cock, slamming into his ass over and over.

“That’s it.” Marc’s voice was thick with arousal. “Show Daddy how much you like it when I use his baby boy’s ass. That’s mine, my playground.”

Foster was beyond shame, beyond hesitation. He pushed back against Marc's fingers, chasing the building pleasure. His cock dragged against the sheets, creating a delicious friction that had him teetering on the edge.

“Daddy…can’t hold back.”

Marc abruptly removed his fingers then flipped him over, capturing Foster’s aching cock into his mouth. Foster arched off the bed with a cry, the dual sensations of being thoroughly worked open and being swallowed down, plunging him into sensory overload. His body tensed, pleasure coiling tight at the base of his spine.

“I'm going to—” Foster growled as he tangled his fingers in Marc's hair.

Marc hummed around his cock, the vibration sending him careening over the edge. Foster came with a shout, his body convulsing as Marc’s throat closed around him, working him through every pulse until he collapsed back onto the mattress, utterly spent.

When Foster’s breathing finally slowed, and he managed to open his eyes, Marc was hovering above him, lips glistening and a small smile curving his lips.

“You're so beautiful when you come,” Marc murmured, pressing a tender kiss to Foster’s forehead. “How are you doing?”

He had to be kidding. “Wrecked. But in a good way.”

“Can I add more ass play to the list?”

Foster pinched his eyebrows together. “There’s a list?”

“We won’t get into a discussion about contracts and all that tonight. My boy needs his rest. But I’ll need to know your limits and so on.”

Marc gave him a quick kiss then rose from the bed. Now Foster was very confused.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” He clenched his jaw at how demanding he’d sounded. “I mean, it’s your turn.”

Marc sat down again, and he started petting Foster’s sweaty hair back from his face. “Tonight is about you, but I enjoyed every second of it, trust me. And now I have a great idea of where to start with you on our amazing journey together.”

“I don’t want to be selfish.”

Marc chuckled. “I can’t imagine that ever happening. Is it still all right for me to spend the night?”

Foster didn’t want to confess that he’d be devastated if Marc left. “I don’t want you to leave.” He smiled. “This has really been the best night ever, and I wish it would never end.”

“Agreed.” Marc winked. “Are you okay with me invading your kitchen and grabbing us some water?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’ll get it.”

Marc gently pushed him back onto the bed. “No, baby. That’s Daddy’s job.”

Foster swallowed past the lump in his throat. He hoped he never had to know the pain of losing Marc, of losing his Daddy.