Page 3 of Kylan (The Wylde Street Boys #3)

THREE

KYLAN

When I’d first agreed to the contract terms and conditions with Leon and Marek, I assumed it would be for sex and role playing only.

And for the first few sessions, it was.

And it was fucking amazing.

But with the introduction of the NDA and legal jargon, I’d asked questions. And, apparently, I’d asked the right questions because Leon and Marek were impressed. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, they were incorporating quiet reading time into my time with them.

It didn’t cut into our sex and role playing. It just got factored in. We’d usually have round one as soon as I arrived, then take a break to shower, eat, and sit around their study or lounge room with a book before round two began.

They were both property lawyers and incredibly smart, so they loved being able to sit on their chesterfield sofas, reading legal and finance journals like real daddies while their princess lay on the floor in his robe, on his tummy with his legs kicking.

It was fun at first, all part of the role playing. Until I started actually reading and understanding their textbooks. They encouraged me to read their old law textbooks, and I’d annotate and diarise, make notes and write essays.

I wouldn’t say I enjoyed the reading part of my time with them more than the sex, because that’d be a lie. But I really did enjoy it. I looked forward to it, even.

The fact they were impressed with my work made me so freaking happy. The rush of pride and fulfilment was almost the same high as when they praised me for being a good boy while they took turns fucking me.

Almost.

That high would never be beaten.

My god, I loved it.

I loved wearing silk and satin. I loved how it felt on my skin. I loved wearing small heeled slippers with an open robe. I felt like a Playboy bunny. Sexy, desirable, wanted.

Plus, it drove Leon and Marek crazy, to the point of distraction. To the point of insanity. Until they couldn’t stand it anymore and would bend me over the nearest piece of furniture. Or on the floor, or on the stairs, or in their car.

Wherever the need arose.

I couldn’t get enough of them either.

It was a mutual need.

And I appreciated them each equally. I didn’t favour one over the other. They were both on par, both different in their own ways, and I needed them both.

I could watch Benji with Nolan for the sweetness and Fitch with Dominic for the sensual heat, but with Leon and Marek, I got both.

I wished I could tell Benji and Fitch about them. About what we did, the glorious fucking and the reading.

But I would never jeopardise the NDA. I would never give them reason to end it.

Which is why I almost died when they brought up the NDA and me knowing Nolan and Dominic. Panic had ripped through me, squeezing my heart to the point of physical pain.

I might have realised something then.

Something I’d witnessed recently with both Benji and Fitch... how they felt about Nolan and Dominic. How they’d both been so panicked at the idea of ending things with them, because they were in love.

It felt far too familiar.

Did I love Leon and Marek?

I loved what they did to me, what they did for me. But I wasn’t sure I was capable of love.

Or worthy.

And I highly doubted they’d reciprocate it.

They were in love with each other. They told each other often and it made my heart pang with jealousy and want.

I had no doubt that they loved their time with me, they loved fucking me, they loved the feminine-boy body I gave them. I was their toy thing, their object to adore and use as they saw fit.

They loved all those things.

But could they ever love me?

Could anyone?

Fitch knocked on my door, startling me, and poked his head in. “Hey.”

I was glad for the distraction before I could spiral any further. “Hey, wassup?”

“I finished filming my first solo,” he said, cringing. “Jesus. Will this get easier? Please tell me it’ll get easier.”

I smiled at him. “I’m sure it will.”

One corner of his mouth pulled down with uncertainty. “So, do I edit it? I did a quick check to make sure my face is kept out of it.”

We had the lighting and the angles all worked out. We knew where we could lie, kneel, and sit on the bed while keeping our faces out of it.

“I can take a look if you want,” I said.

I had no qualms in seeing them do their thing. We were all sex workers, and I’d seen them both work before. I’d seen their junk. Hell, I’d seen it all.

I had no issue with them watching my videos either.

I was used to being watched while I got railed. Both Leon and Marek took any inhibitions I had and whittled them down to nothing.

Fitch laughed. “If you wanna jerk off to my videos, you can pay to subscribe.”

I snorted. “Fuck off.”

His smile faded away with a sigh. “Well, I guess if we’re gonna do this and make a fuckton of money, we need to get used to seeing each other’s videos, right?”

I shrugged. “It will help keep us familiar too, so we know not to double up and get repetitive. We should keep a list.”

“A list of what?”

“What we do, what clothes we wear, what toys we use, how long each video is.” I shrugged again. “That way we can see which are our most popular videos and see at a glance why it worked and maybe why some don’t.”

He studied me for a second. “You’re good at this. You know that, right?”

I grinned at him. “I’m good at a lot of things.”

“I bet you are,” he murmured, nudging me with his elbow. “Taking two daddies at once. You know, that’s something I’ve never done.”

“What? Had a threesome?”

“Well, threesome, sure. But never a DP.”

I frowned at him, unsure of just how much I could divulge. Surely saying what I had and hadn’t done during sex without mentioning any names or details wasn’t in breach of anything...

“Neither have I,” I said.

His gaze shot to mine, excitement lighting up his whole face. “Oh my god, is that an actual detail?” Then he stopped. “Wait. What do you mean you’ve never had a DP? You have two daddies. Do you mean to tell me you’ve been their boy toy for months and you’ve never had both their dicks in you at the same time? ”

I didn’t need to answer that because I technically already had.

Fitch deflated. “I don’t know if I’m sad or disappointed.”

I snorted. “The fact you feel anything about my sex life is both sad and disappointing.”

He shoved me. “Oh, shut up. You never give details. Ever. So this little snippet of news is a big deal for me.”

I sighed and pressed Play on Fitch’s video.

The opening shot was of the bed and Fitch stepping into view. He wore small underwear... no, not just underwear, but dinosaur underwear and a crop top that barely covered his nipples.

“Dinosaurs? Really?”

He nodded as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Stegosauruses. Dom bought them for me.”

I smiled at that.

“I don’t know if I would enjoy a DP,” he volunteered. “I’d only want it if it was Dominic anyway, so unless he has a clone, it’s a moot point. Not that I could fit two of Dominic’s dicks in me anyway. One is big enough. And it’s never gonna happen with someone else, so...”

I watched on-screen as he knelt on the bed, side view to the camera, and rested on his haunches. No face visible, no details. The angle looked good. He then took his prostate wand and slicked it up with lube.

“Daddy likes it when I’m ready for him,” on-screen Fitch said.

“So when you’re with your two daddies,” beside-me Fitch said. “They don’t fuck you at the same time? ”

“You could get a silicone mould of his dick,” I suggested. “Then you’d technically have two of his dicks to fuck you.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “That’s a good idea. Still not sold on the DP, but if I could keep it here and use it on the nights I don’t see him...” He grinned. “That’s a great idea, Ky. I’m gonna ask him.”

I snorted. Because of course he would.

On-screen Fitch raised up on his knees a little, moved his underwear to one side and slipped the lubed-up wand into his arse. “Oh, daddy,” he murmured on-screen.

“Is that too much?” he asked beside me.

“People are gonna love this,” I admitted.

We watched as he rocked up and down a little, working the wand all the way in. The skin on his thighs had goosebumps, his hands caressed his tummy, his nipples.

“They take turns,” I admitted, answering his earlier question. I made sure not to look at him, keeping my eyes on the screen. “They don’t fuck me at the same time. Maybe one will hold me, wrap me up in their arms so I can’t move while the other one fucks me. Then they take turns.”

I could feel Fitch staring at me. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

Hell yes, it was.

“Or they’ll spit-roast me,” I added.

“Oh fuck, yes,” Fitch whispered. “Tell me everything.”

I smiled. “I can’t.”

He sighed quietly and we watched the screen. On- screen Fitch picked up the small remote pad and pressed it on. A quiet buzz was drowned out by his yelp as he rose to his knees. We could see the wand protruding from his arse that way, as his hips jerked forward. His erection barely contained in those small, boy underwear.

“Okay, so Dom helped me practice with the wand,” he said. “But damn. What have I been missing all this time? Needless to say, he ordered one to keep at his place.”

I chuckled, but this surprised me. I looked at him then. “You’ve never used them before?”

“Never,” he said. “You have?”

“All the time.” I shrugged. “Mostly vibrating butt plugs. And one of them keeps the controls.”

He threw his head back and groaned. “Fuck yes. Now we’re talking.”

I shook my head, having already said too much. “You cannot repeat anything I tell you.”

He mimicked locking his lips and throwing away the key. “But I’m storing it away in my spank bank.”

I shoved him again. “You’re such a whore.”

“I know,” he said. “I fucking love it.”

We went back to watching on-screen Fitch. His thighs were trembling now, his hips jerking forward, the head of his cock peeking out of his briefs with every thrust, slick with precome.

“Oh daddy, please stop,” on-screen Fitch cried out. “It’s too much. I can’t take it, please stop.”

But then his hands gripped his thighs, fingers clawing at the skin, and he screamed as he came. Come shot from his cock, the camera catching every spurt.

His hands shook, his thighs trembled, and his arse quivered as he turned the wand off. He gasped and moaned, and then, like the absolute little whore he was, he ran his hand through his come, painting it on his abs, and through his ragged breaths, he spoke in a soft, boy voice. “Oh, daddy, I made a mess.”

I snorted out a laugh and nudged him with my elbow. “You’re a filthy little fucker.”

He laughed without shame. “Dom loves it when I say that. I swear to god, he goes crazy. You should totally use that line when your daddies make you come; see how they react. You can thank me later.”

I shook my head at him, pretending that I’d do no such thing, but in reality, I just might...

On-screen Fitch stood up off the bed and turned the camera off. “So whaddya think? Good, bad. Can we use it?”

I turned to look at him then. “That was perfect. They’re gonna love you. If you can do something like that every time, you’ll be raking in the money.”

He grinned at me. “Can I show it to Dom? Like a preview, test-viewing type thing?”

“For his pleasure? Or his approval?” I didn’t know why I said that, and I regretted it the second it was out of my mouth.

“Both,” he replied quietly. “I want his approval. In everything.” He studied me for a second. “Are you telling me you don’t strive for your daddies’ approval? You want to make them proud of you, right?”

I let out a sigh and answered with a nod. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound like it did. Of course I want them to approve...” I sighed again, more in frustration this time.

I’d always loved the fact I was gagged by the NDA. I could keep all the details to myself, a gift just for me, not to be shared with anyone else.

I shared my body with strangers for money. I shared enough.

My time with Leon and Marek had always been just mine.

But now I’d divulged a few small nondescript things to Fitch... I wanted to tell him more.

I wanted to tell Fitch how happy I was. How happy they made me. I wanted to tell him about my studies, how they encouraged me to be better, to want better of myself and for myself.

I wanted to tell him how much I loved them both, and how it killed me that they were so in love without me. How they were the best thing to happen to me in years, how they encouraged me to dress up and feel pretty. How I wanted them to keep me forever.

But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t say any of that.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Show Dom. Let me know what he thinks, but I’m pretty sure we both know he’s gonna love it. ”

Fitch winced. “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked questions. I didn’t mean to ruin your mood.”

I tried to smile for him. “Nah, it’s all good. I can’t talk about them. I shouldn’t have said anything...” I clapped his shoulder. “Your video was great. The lighting was good, the angle and side view was a good idea.”

He seemed mollified at least. “You want a copy to jerk off to?”

I rolled my eyes and smiled genuinely this time. “Uh, no, I’m good thanks. It was hot, though. The boy underwear might get requested a lot though. You might need to buy some more.”

His eyes lit up. “I wonder if I can sell the pairs with my jizz on them?”

“Jesus Christ.” Then I thought about it. “Probably, and for a lot of money.”

He pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna search that up.”

My god.

“When are you doing your first video?” he asked, still thumbing his phone screen.

“Probably tonight,” I replied. “I guess.”

I wasn’t sure how this was our life now, but it sure beat working the street.

“Oh, Benji said he’ll come over tomorrow,” Fitch said. He looked up at me and smiled. “Said he’s gonna try and do two videos in one day. Ambitious or horny, I dunno.”

“Both,” I allowed.

He chuckled. “He was gonna try doing a jerk-off scene in the bathroom at Nolan’s place, just on his phone. Kinda hard when he’s not here to do them all the time.” He shrugged. “Dunno what the lighting situation is like in Nolan’s bathroom though.”

“Maybe we can edit the lighting,” I suggested. “It’s a good idea to have some different locations. Certainly couldn’t hurt. As long as there’s nothing identifiable anywhere to give Nolan or his house away.”

Fitch’s smile brightened. “I love that this is our life now.”

“Don’t miss working the street?”

“You mean, do I miss random grotty strangers with dick cheese? Uh, that’d be a very hard no.”

I made a face. “Ew.”

He shrugged. “Well, we gotta get this channel up and running asap or I will be back working the street with random grotty strangers?—”

I put my hand up. “Please don’t say dick cheese again. Like, ever.”

He laughed and headed toward his room. “Okay, I need to call Dom about the likelihood of selling my jizz-crusty underwear. And maybe do a solo jerk-off scene. Who woulda thought watching my own porn videos would be so fucking hot.”

His room door closed, and I stood there, wondering how, as Fitch had said, this was my life now. After all the shit I’d been through, all the terrible things, and now I had friends like Fitch who could talk so openly about sex and life, I was living authentically, and despite everything, I was happy. I had begun opening up to Fitch and Benji more lately, because I loved them like brothers and best friends. I needed them, their support, and their unconditional love for me.

When we’d agreed to do the online sex channel, I made the decision to be my authentic self. It wasn’t just for kink ratings or because there was a market for it. I’d done it for me.

I’d ordered new butt plugs and some cute little frilly skirts and lacey knickers. I expected Fitch and Benji to make a fuss. But they’d both seen them and they’d not even cared. Actually, Fitch had picked up the skirt and, meeting my eyes, he’d said, “Well this is hot as fuck.”

No judgement. No jokes, no sneers. No negativity. Only acceptance.

Fifteen-year-old me would have never dreamed living this life right now was possible.

I needed to remind myself of that more often.

I turned the screen off and smiled, then set about prepping for my first video.

It was easier than I thought it would be. Actually, it was no different to what I did at Leon and Marek’s house; I was clean, moisturised, lubed up. I painted my nails hot pink. I chose the prettiest pink frilly mini skirt that didn’t even reach the tops of my thighs. My panties were white lace with matching suspenders and stockings.

I didn’t normally do the stockings but I loved how they felt, and I decided I should take these to Leon and Marek’s on the weekend. I’m sure they’d like them on me...

I decided to start with a front-on angle, then move into the side angle Fitch had used. We’d worked out where on the bed to kneel, sit, or lie, depending on where the camera was situated.

I began with my back to the camera, and I slowly knelt on the bed, giving the camera a view of my arse and thighs, the suspenders, stockings, the skirt, the butt plug.

I ran my hands up the backs of my thighs and gave my arse a squeeze, then rattled the butt plug. I moaned and settled into kneeling in the front-facing position. It gave the viewer a great shot of the suspenders on my thighs and if I lifted the skirt just right, when I was skimming my hand over myself, my cock and balls dipped down below the hem of my skirt.

“I need to make sure I’m ready for my daddy,” I murmured. “He doesn’t like to wait.”

Then I picked up the seven-inch pink silicone dildo and drizzled it with lube. I began stroking it as I would a cock, smearing the slickness, giving it a good pump, and moaning as I did.

“Daddy’s so big,” I said, my pitch high and breathy. Then I knelt up and, lifting my skirt a little, began rubbing the dildo against my own dick. “Daddy’s so much bigger than me.”

My cock was confined by the panties, though they barely concealed me at all. I let the head of my cock slip out and began to frot with the dildo.

It felt so fucking good. I felt awkward speaking to no one, speaking for the viewers. Fitch had made it look so easy. He was a natural, talking and whimpering like he did. He made it sound as if Dominic was in the room with him...

And that gave me an idea.

Pretend Leon and Marek were here. Pretend as if they were doing this to me, or if I was doing this for them, at least.

So that’s what I did.

I tried to be mindful of the camera, of the angles, but I closed my eyes and imagined Leon and Marek were with me. My hands were Marek’s, the dildo was Leon, my whispers and moans were for them.

I could hear them in my head. Things they’d said to me, the way they murmured that I was such a good boy, the way they held me, reassured me, made me feel safe and loved.

“Yes, daddy,” I cried out as the dildo was fully seated inside me. I rocked back and forth, feeling every inch, just how Leon loved it. Marek’s arms would wrap around me, their soft kisses on my head, on my neck... “You make me feel so good.”

I was lost to it after that.

Imagining it was them. Wishing it was.

I felt their absence when it was over, a hollow satisfaction when I opened my eyes and remembered that I was alone.

I’d made myself come to visions of them. It was intense and felt far too real.

Just like their absence .

God, I needed them. I needed their strength and comfort. I needed the way they replaced my troubles with a heady bubble of adoration and need.

But I wasn’t due to see them for two more nights.

Two nights may as well have been forever.

I cleaned myself up, the bed and all the toys I’d used, and changed into some shorts and a T-shirt before watching my video to see if it was usable.

All while pretending my heart didn’t ache, that I wasn’t missing Leon and Marek like crazy.

A quiet knock at my door made me realise I’d zoned out, the video almost finished, and I couldn’t remember watching any of it.

Fitch stuck his head in. “Hey. How’d you go?”

“Oh,” I said, sitting up, trying to shake off this heavy funk. “Kinda tuned out. Is it awkward to watch your own stuff?”

He came in, concern in his eyes, and sat on the end of my bed. “Everything okay?”

I sighed, mad at myself for letting my emotions show. “Yeah. I just... I dunno...”

He sat patiently, not saying a thing—which was not something Fitch usually did—while he waited for me to continue.

“I wasn’t kinda feeling it,” I said. “So I kinda pretended I wasn’t alone...” I swallowed hard. “That I was with... them.”

“Your daddies?”

I nodded. “It made it so much easier. It was hot, even. I was caught up in make believing it was them... ”

Goddammit.

“And?” he prompted when I didn’t keep talking.

“And when I opened my eyes, they weren’t there.”

Fitch frowned and let out a long sigh. “Oh man.”

I buried my face in my hands. “Stupid, huh? So fucking stupid.”

“Ky,” Fitch said. Then he gently pulled one of my hands away. “It’s not stupid.”

“I know better than to get attached. I know it’s not real. I know what I am to them,” I whispered. “And it is stupid to let myself think otherwise because hope is a dangerous fucking thing.”

His whole face was sad, and Fitch was rarely sad. I hated that I’d been the one to make him that way.

“Sorry,” I whispered. “Just ignore me. It’ll pass. I’m just in a funk or something. I don’t even know.”

“You’re allowed to miss them when you’re not with them,” he murmured. “You’re allowed to miss how they make you feel. That high, that rush, the feeling of being safe and protected. You’re allowed to miss that.”

Jesus Christ.

“In my head,” I admitted, “they were here. Then when I realised they weren’t...”

I sighed.

“Call them,” he said. “If you can’t see them, then talk to them. Surely that’s allowed.”

“Allowed?”

“Yeah, in your contract.”

I’d forgotten I’d told him about that . . .

“Is being their boy only for times you’re with them? Because that sounds like it’s just for their benefit, not yours.”

I tried not to get defensive because what Fitch was saying came from a good place, and it was kinda true.

“There are no rules about stuff like that. It’s more about confidentiality.”

“Then call them. Tell them you need to hear your daddies’ voices before bed tonight. They’ll love that shit.”

I snorted at the ridiculousness. “Maybe.”

Fitch nodded sagely. “We have to understand how the daddy mind works. They might not need us all the time, but a boy always needs a daddy, and if you tell them that—if you pout and be all sad and look up at them through your lashes with sad puppy eyes—they will give in, one hundred percent of the time.”

I laughed at that. “Manipulation 101 classes by Professor Fitch.”

He grinned at me. “Is it manipulation though? Or all part of the game we play?”

I thought about that for a second. “I don’t even know if I’m playing a game here.”

“Okay, so wrong word choice by me. Is it manipulation? Or all part of the role we play?”

That was better . . . somewhat.

He patted my leg. “Call them. Message them. Whatever. Just contact them. Are they even in town?”

“I think so.”

I hadn’t heard anything to the contrary but that was also part of the issue. They had no reason to tell me shit unless it affected our planned days together .

Before I could dive headfirst into that spiral, Fitch nodded to the camera. “Can I see your video? Or are you still working on it?”

I looked at the screen, the image of me wearing the pink skirt, sitting on a dildo frozen, right where I’d paused it.

“I, uh, I haven’t watched it yet,” I said. “I don’t even remember filming the end of it, I was so caught up in my own head. Once I watch it through and make sure I don’t say any names or anything, then you’ll be the first to watch it, okay?”

“Deal. And if it’s really hot, it’s going straight to the spank bank.”

I snorted. “You’re such a whore.”

He preened. “Thanks.” Then he nodded to the screen again. “That skirt is fucking hot, just so you know. If you want to wear that around the apartment because you like it, then fucking wear it.”

I felt my face heat and my heart felt a rush of warmth too. “Thanks,” I whispered. “I do like it.”

“Then wear it! Those short little tiered skirts are too cute to be hidden away. And your arse and thighs? Ky, baby, you need to flaunt that shit.”

I was embarrassed, while my chest ached with warmth and acceptance. “Thank you.” My nose burned and I had to blink back tears.

Fitch grabbed my hand. “Oh my god, don’t you dare cry. If you cry, then I will cry and I probably won’t be able to stop, and we’ll be two sobbing, snotty queers for hours and you’ll make my face all puffy.”

I snorted back a teary laugh. His grip on my hand never lessened and, dear god, I needed it. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional today.”

He gasped. “Are you pregnant? Should I get you some ice cream?”

I rolled my eyes. “I dunno, can arse-babies be a thing?”

Fitch laughed and patted his belly. “Not sure, but I will keep taking Dom’s loads, for the sake of science.”

“Yeah. Science.”

We were both quiet for a second and I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Maybe I needed to offload some of this weight, this burden I’d carried for so long. “I always liked wearing skirts,” I whispered. “Playing dress-up when I was three years old, I had to wear the Cinderella dress. I’d sleep in it and my parents just thought it was a toddler thing. I idolised my older sister so...”

I sighed heavily and Fitch waited patiently, still holding my hand.

“But as I got older, those dresses didn’t fit me anymore, but god, I wanted them to. I love the feel of it. It makes me feel... pretty.” I made a face. “My parents always called my sister pretty and they fussed over her. Their perfect golden child, and I wanted that. I would take her skirts out of the laundry hamper and wear them with nothing else. I’d keep the bathroom door locked and I’d pretend to be pretty like her. God, I just love how it feels. It makes me feel...”

I was going to say pretty again but stopped myself .

“Empowered?” Fitch supplied.

My gaze shot to his. “Yes.”

Holy shit. He understood?

“Yes. Empowered, and a bit naughty and a lot pretty, and I don’t know why...” I sighed out a laugh. “I don’t want to be a girl. I’m not a girl. I never felt I was female. I never wished I was. It’s not like that. It’s just femboy stuff.”

“You like wearing skirts.”

I nodded. “And painting my nails, and sometimes I’ll wear some make-up to feel extra special. And my daddies love it. It makes them wild. I’ll wear pretty skirts and they make such a fuss. They call me princess and they’re so gentle and kind...”

I wasn’t supposed to be saying this shit.

“Please tell me they rail you so fucking thoroughly while you’re wearing a skirt,” Fitch said, squeezing my hand. “Like, that is seriously the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

I laughed, embarrassed and relieved and yet, still my chest ached...

“Oh my god, they do,” Fitch mumbled. “What did you say before? One holds you while the other fucks you? While you’re wearing a skirt?”

I mimicked locking my lips with a key and throwing it away.

“That’s a yes. Jesus, Ky. That’s going straight into my spank bank.”

“Gross. ”

“I’m one hundred percent going to tell Dom to buy me a cheerleading skirt to go with my football crop top.”

“You are such a whore.”

He seemed genuinely pleased, pulled out his phone, and shot Dom a quick text. I didn’t need to read the screen to know he was putting in the request. He hit Send and did a little butt wiggle on my bed, and his phone rang a second later. He squealed as he answered.

I could hear Dom’s deep rumble of a voice, and whatever he said made Fitch laugh. He stood up and turned to me. “One second, daddy,” he said into the phone before pressing it to his chest. Then he bent down and kissed my forehead. “Love you, Ky. Thank you for telling me.”

His words burned something in me, making the ache in my chest worse.

“You need to call them,” Fitch whispered. “Now, Ky. Call them now.”

He left my room, his phone back to his ear, and I was left alone with his instruction and deep sense of longing.

I took my phone, found Marek’s number, my thumb hovering over the Call button.

I’d never done this before. I’d never initiated contact or even called them for anything other than things like locations or pick-up times.

But I’d never felt like this, either.

Not since I was lost and alone, barely nineteen, and homeless.

Fuck the ache in my chest was burning now.

I needed them, and what Fitch said was right. I should be able to call them when I needed them, not just when they wanted me.

I opted for Marek first because he was the soft-hearted one, the tender one, caring and gentle.

My god, I needed him.

I hit Call, my heart hammering, fully expecting it to go through to voicemail. But even hearing his voice would make me feel better...

But the call answered and it wasn’t Marek’s voice I heard. It was Leon.

“Kylan,” he said. His big gruff voice felt like his warm arms wrapping around me, and it pulled a soft sob out of my lungs, and I burst into tears.

“Daddy.”