Chapter Nine

He whined. Dios help me, he whined , a petulant little sound that hit both my cock and heart at once. And when he shook his head crossly, making his hair dance about his shoulders, I almost came in my trousers.

"Wyatt," I said sternly – mock sternly at most, for I was unable to muster anything but fondness for the gorgeous man seated in my arms. "You've been working all morning on an empty stomach."

He twisted to look up at me, that grin of his turning wickedly filthy. "Won't be empty if you-"

I stuffed an almond between his lips. The look of surprise was endearingly hilarious, and then it softened into a frown that was as pretend as my chastisement of him.

He chewed diligently on the tiny nut and I delighted in watching every flicker of his tongue and bob of his throat.

When he finished I had another ready, and I continued to feed him small mouthfuls of food. It became increasingly difficult to keep my hands off him with the cute noises he made as he ate, and how much of his tongue swiped across my fingers when he took each morsel from me.

By the Blessed Five, I was in trouble with this one. Wyatt was so damn perfect, even before he'd rocked my world by calling me daddy , and now that he had? If I had to let him go after this, I was pretty sure I'd die.

"Just a little more," I said when the boy began to flag, having stolen some odd mouthfuls of food myself while he took his sweet time munching down on the hunk of bread I'd handed to him. It was a point he'd been making wordlessly and deliberately, I knew, for the food he took directly into his mouth from my fingers was consumed much more quickly, and I made a mental note that he enjoyed me feeding him just as much as I did.

Daddy?

Could I really indulge that part of myself?

It wasn't the first time I'd been referred to as such. Ren and the guards I worked with frequently joked about my caretaking side and how I fussed over my charges' sleeping and eating when I knew they weren't getting enough of either.

But with Wyatt, it was...so Blessed different, and not just because he'd used the title without mockery. It was the way he looked at me, adoring and trusting. It was how he was curled into my arms, letting me take charge and ensure he was cared for when he clearly wasn't handling it himself.

Skipping breakfast. Shit.

And it was the way he felt against me, blazing hot and burning a similar fire through my veins wherever we touched, which was somehow everywhere despite his small size.

"Are you full, little one?"

Wyatt nodded, trailing a hand down my shirt and twisting his fingers in the laces. "Yes, daddy. Thank you."

"Anytime," I breathed into his hair, loving the earthy scent of him. And then, worried he might be too full but unable to stop myself, I turned him on my lap so I could take two solid handfuls of that glorious ass that had been tempting me the entire meal.

Wyatt sucked in a delighted breath, the sleepy contentedness that had been drawing across his face as I cradled and fed him instantly sluicing away.

"Is this what you want?" I asked. My doubts swirled heavy and suffocating once more. "I'm much older than you."

He crinkled his nose, and I leaned in to kiss it. "I'm a year older than King Renato," he told me. "And we all know what you two get up to."

I squeezed one of his cheeks in warning, and he batted pale eyelashes at me, smirking.

"Used to get up to," I reminded him. "His Majesty is now happily married."

"Good," Wyatt said with a grin.

Speaking of Ren...

"I'm also a royal guard," I said quietly. "My duty must always come before my own needs. My own...desires."

"Don't worry, I won't get between you and our king," he murmured back at me, and then ran his tongue across his teeth in an enticing flicker of wet, pink promise. "Unless you want me to?"

I pressed my mouth to his to kiss away his cheekiness, revelling in how he went limp against me.

"I want you all for myself, Wyatt," I said.

"That's what I want too, daddy. Will you kiss me again?"

How could I refuse such a perfect boy?

We were both breathless by the time we pulled apart, our chests heaving. His cheeks were flushed, and his cock was hard and glistening where it strained upright between us.

"And you don't..." I found it hard to voice the last of my concerns, despite it being so easily uttered in my head. "You don't find me too...big? Because I'd never hurt you, I promise, but I know my size can be intimid-"

"I love how big you are," breathed Wyatt. "I love how you can lift me without effort. I love how you can fit your hands around my waist. I love how you can tuck me under your arm while we walk."

"I haven't done any of those things," I pointed out, bemused and yet turned on by his words.

Because I sure want to.

"Oh," he said without pause. "Must have been a dream. A very good dream, if you get me?"

"Are you angling for my cock again, sweet boy?" I asked, drifting my fingers closer to his opening. He gave a little squeak of interest, squirming on my lap as if to hurry me along. But I was the one taking care of him, and I was in no Blessed hurry at all.

"Yes." The light in Wyatt's eyes was intoxicating. "I can't wait to feel your huge cock inside me, filling me up, daddy." Small fingers dragged across the bulge in my trousers, emphasising his point. The filth he was spouting, combined with all those daddys , was severely testing what I thought had been a considerable supply of patience. "Don't you want that too?"

"Fuck yes," I hummed against his mouth.

Fuck patience too. I was having my boy, and I was having him now.

"Did you bring oil?"

Wyatt groaned, long and frustrated, and then dropped his forehead down onto my chest.

"No," he admitted, although the word was unnecessary in the face of such visible disappointment. "Sorry, I didn't think to-"

"Shush," I murmured, stroking his hair again. I was already addicted to how it felt, and damn him, maybe Luis had been onto something about how it looked wrapped around my fingers. "Daddy's got you."

He nodded obediently, falling quiet, and I reached into the basket again to find what I'd spotted earlier. Crude, certainly, but if the alternative was not getting to sink inside that pert ass of his, the one I could still picture with its winking hole as he bared himself to me on the blanket, I'd take the half-melted stick of butter anytime.

"Lay over my lap," I instructed, trailing a hand over his warm skin. Perhaps we'd move into the shade soon before he burned: while they weren't as susceptible as northerners, Lukians didn't have our same levels of resistance to the sun. "Let me take care of you and this cute little hole of yours."

Wyatt was sprawled across my legs before I'd finished speaking, legs obligingly spread and his hands reaching behind him to hold his cheeks apart.

"Like this, daddy?"

Cheeky little shit. He knew perfectly well that this was all I wanted and more.

"Such a good boy," I murmured instead, running a hand down his spine and feeling him shiver beneath my touch. "Hold still while I prepare you."

Wyatt happily murmured in the affirmative, and I reached out to coat my finger in the butter and bring it to his entrance.

Not daring to breathe, I slid my finger inside and stroked against his silky walls.

"Does that hurt?" I asked, and then jolted, flinching at my own words.

The boy said something, but I could no longer hear him. I was falling, falling, falling .

Does that hurt?

*