Epilogue: Ryan

" W ell, don't you look hot as hell," Sez declares as she looks me up and down.

I snort a laugh and go back to fiddling with my bowtie in the mirror. Why didn't I go with a normal neck tie? "Aren't you supposed to say I'm handsome?"

"You're so far beyond handsome, boss-man," she tells me, striding over and batting my hands away from my neck. The same neck Daddy choked until I came in my damn pants last night.

Apparently, he wanted to keep to the tradition of not having sex the night before the wedding, but choking me to orgasm was somehow not sex? I didn't follow his logic, to be honest. Not that I was complaining at the time. I needed the session last night and he knew it. I guess he was feeling the pre-wedding jitters, too.

Sarah fiddles with my bow, tilting her head left and right as she perfects it. "There. All done." She turns me to face the mirror again and smiles at my reflection. "Hot as hell," she repeats. "Your cowboy Daddy isn't going to know what hit him."

I don't even react to her teasing anymore. She's become my best friend outside of Oscar, and she's just as accepting of my kinks as the kids and the guys on this station. But it doesn't stop her from giving me shit about it.

"He's going to look even hotter," I tell her with certainty.

I've never seen my soon-to-be husband in a suit. Not even in the lead up to our wedding. We went shopping separately, with Jim and Rob accompanying Oscar while Sarah came with me, leaving the clinic in Arthur's (the junior vet I eventually hired) hands for the day.

"You're both going to set the marquee on fire," she declares. "Should've gone for a less flammable setup."

"You're hilarious," I deadpan.

"Have you seen yourselves when you're together?" Sarah makes a show of fanning herself. "I'm telling you, set up an Only Fans. You'll be millionaires within weeks, and you'll get your man all to yourself — no sharing him with that hobby farm just outside Denham anymore."

"We're not making porn for your entertainment," I repeat a sentence I never thought I'd have to say, but which I have actually said more times than I can count over the course of the last eighteen months. "And he likes working at the farmstay place." Even if they're a lot more conservative than Wombat Run is. But it's a day job, he still gets to be out on a farm doing what he loves, and he always comes home to me. "He likes it a lot more than he'd enjoy having sex in front of a camera."

Although…

"I can leave," Trev says as he walks into the cabin and interrupts the naughty places my thoughts were about to travel. Even though he throws his thumb over his shoulder and turns to leave, I don't miss the double take he gives Sarah.

Neither does she.

"Well, hello ," she practically purrs, immediately losing interest in me for my son.

I'm immediately assaulted by visions of having her as my daughter-in-law, and I can't say I'm mad about it. But then I give myself a mental shake because Trev hasn't even said hi to the woman yet and I've just got marriage on the brain.

Because I'm getting married in, like, fifteen minutes.

My throat goes dry.

The last time I did this, I was closer to Oscar's age, and I would do it all over again without changing a thing…but the pain of losing Maddy still lingers on the periphery of my heart and soul, and the thought of me repeating history and causing that pain to Oscar still terrifies me.

But, like he said, with or without a ceremony, we're together until the end. The reality of life is that one of us will probably die before the other (unless there's some sort of horrible accident which takes us both out at the same time, but I don't want to imagine that). Life is unpredictable, and losses are inevitable. But love and the happiness we can share together far outweighs the sadness of whatever ending we have to face. In fact, it would be sadder not to love and enjoy a fulfilling life together.

God, these are depressing thoughts to be having on my wedding day.

"Dad would one hundred percent support this," Trev says as he comes to embrace me, and I lose the battle against my tears because, combined with the thoughts I've just been having, I needed to hear someone else say that. Not just someone, but Trev or Mak. My kids. Maddy's kids. "I know," Trev rubs my back. "It's bitter-sweet. I get it. But Oscar loves you. He worships you. Dad would want that for you. Not a life of loneliness because you're scared to get hurt by loss again."

"Get out of my head," I complain, hugging him even tighter.

"…and into my pants," I hear Sarah mutter under her breath, and it's so unexpected (and simultaneously not ) that I burst into loud laughter.

Trev looks a little shell-shocked. I pat him on the shoulder, squeezing to impart my appreciation and love, and then I shrug. "Good luck with her, by the way."

I'd feel guiltier about foisting my oftentimes inappropriate friend off on my son if I didn't think he could hold his own with her, or that she wouldn't reel herself in if she thought for one second he was actually uncomfortable.

"Hey, so, are we ready to get this show on the road?" Mak asks, joining us. She's dressed like Sarah, in a summery dress that reminds me of the sunset here on the station, in splashes of yellow, orange and pink. She, like Sarah, is wearing ankle-high boots instead of heels, because it makes no sense to wear high heels on this terrain. Her dark hair is piled high on her head, and her makeup is light and natural. "Also, can I lodge a complaint with someone about every man on this station being gay? Like…is that even believable? How is there not one single bi or straight man out here?"

"Jim's bi…" I start, and she raises an eyebrow at me, planting her hands on her hips.

"Papa, he's only got eyes for the short, shy guy."

"Dusty."

"That's the one." She huffs. "So, I'll amend my complaint. Why aren't there any eligible men who like women out here, hmm?"

We leave the cabin and start the short walk down to the paddock where the marquee is set up. It looks idyllic, with the mostly-green field where the sheep live looking particularly lush under the bright blue sky.

"I didn't think you were looking for a relationship," I wonder aloud as we walk.

"A relationship, no. A fun time at a wedding, on the other hand…" she rolls her eyes as Trev gags dramatically.

"Children," I admonish lightly, and Sarah giggles.

"It's so weird hearing you try to be all…" she rolls her wrist, searching for the right word.

"Dominant?" Trev offers with a cheeky smirk. "Daddy-ish?"

Sarah bursts into a renewed peal of giggles and I groan, "Not both of you!"

"You introduced them," Mak tells me, as though I'd had any control over their short meeting only a few minutes ago, "so this is on you."

"You're right. Oscar and I should have eloped. I hear Vegas is fun any time of year."

Mak turns around and smacks my shoulder.

"Trev's right," I declare. "We really ought to do something about this violent streak of yours."

By the time we reach the marquee, my cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing. There's not even a hint of anxiety, and certainly no second-guessing my decision to marry Oscar.

The marquee is large and white, and between Sarah and Rob, the inside has been strung with fairy lights for the reception which will follow the ceremony. There are large floor vases containing sprays of native flowers —bright red Western Australian waratahs, yellow pincushions, orange banksias, billy buttons, wattles and bottle brushes— interspersed with eucalyptus leaves and other sturdy greenery, and the whole set up is just stunning.

However, I miss all of that detail as Oscar comes into view. We decided that neither of us would do a traditional aisle walk. Instead, we would enter the marquee from opposite sides and meet in the middle in front of the small gathering of family and friends. It's just us and the celebrant standing in front of everyone as my kids and Sarah take the seats reserved for them at the front of the room.

I was right: Oscar in a suit is something to behold. It appears to have been tailored to his body, the flawless matte black fabric stretched across his shoulders but tapering in neatly at his trim waist and hips. His tattoos peak out from his collar and over his exposed hands, and it makes me salivate.

His smile makes my already untrustworthy knees weak, but when he reaches out to take my hands in his, it steadies me. The warmth of his skin against mine, his calloused palms dry and his hold firm, grounds me to this moment.

This is my Daddy. My partner. My second chance at a happily ever after.

And I can't wait to get him out of that suit.

* * *

"I can't believe Dusty danced on the table," I laugh, flopping down on the mattress of the honeymoon cabin. It gives me a little thrill to realise that we're actually using it for our honeymoon this time. "Jim's face was priceless. Did you see him trying to coax Dusty back down?"

Oscar chuckles. "Those two will work out that they're head over heels for each other one day." He comes to stand in front of me and extends his hand. "C'mon, darlin'. You're not sleeping in that suit."

The ceremony was beautiful. It was everything we asked for. Short and sweet, telling an abridged version of our story (there was no sense in getting the celebrant to go into the kinkier stuff) before we exchanged vows and rings and kisses. Then we hopped on horses (followed by the photographer in a ute) to have some spectacular wedding photos taken on the property before we headed back to the marquee to join everyone for the reception and party. It went so well, in fact, that Rob is considering advertising the station as a wedding venue now, in addition to the farmstay side of the business. I think it's a great idea. Then again, I'm hopped up on the endorphins from the day.

Even so, I'm also suddenly exhausted, and the idea of having to get up again now that I've sunk into the soft mattress is not at all appealing. "No," I whine. "Come cuddle, Daddy."

"I will. Once we're both out of our suits. C'mon." Oscar smirks. "Or do you want to give me a reason to spank you on our wedding night?"

"Do you need to have a reason?" The exhaustion is replaced by a burst of arousal. What a roller coaster of emotion!

"Get up, baby. Let me undress you. I've been wantin' nothin' but to get my hands on you since you walked into the marquee today." He palms his cock over the fabric of his suit pants. His shirt tails have already been tugged free, and his jacket is draped over one of the dining chairs, while mine is on the other. "I was half-hard for the whole ceremony."

Given that I felt the exact same way when I laid eyes on him, I find the energy to obey. We kiss as we undo each other's shirts and peel them from each other's bodies. Our mouths and tongues trail paths over every inch of freshly revealed skin.

It almost feels like it's our first time, despite our familiarity with each other's bodies now. But this is our first time as husbands, and by some silent agreement, we treat it with reverence.

When we're finally naked and our clothes are strewn around us on the floor, we move to the bed. It feels like Oscar's hands are everywhere, and I can't get enough of him. His touch, his scent, his body heat…everything about him drives me wild.

"I want…" I start, then steel myself for his inevitable protest, "Daddy, I want you to spank me while you fuck me on all fours. My knees can take it," I add. "I promise."

Since the beginning, he's been so careful about anything that might put pressure on my knees or hips, and I appreciate that, but there are times when I want to feel like I'm young again, and not inhibited by my body anymore. This is one of those times.

As expected, Oscar hesitates. "Why don't I spank you over my lap and then fuck you? Or I can bend you over the back of the couch again?"

It's a compromise we've gone with many times, but I miss the feeling of having the man I loved bracketing me over a mattress, of feeling the bed move under me as I'm pounded into from behind.

"Oscar," I pin him with a hard stare, hoping the seriousness of my tone imparts how much this means to me, "this is what I want."

"It's just that the last time you were on your knees, you could barely walk the next day, and not because of any sexy or fun reasons."

That had been the cause of one of our first real arguments. I'd pushed myself too far, had ignored the twinges in my joints, and Oscar had been beside himself that he hadn't realised and that I hadn't communicated properly. I understand why he doesn't want to start our marriage that way.

"I'll tell you if it gets too much this time. Please, Daddy? As my wedding present?"

"Jesus," he scrubs his hand over his face and sighs, "you know I'm powerless when you ask so sweetly. Fine. But," he holds up his index finger, "you tell me at the first sign of any joint pain. Understood?"

I nod and kiss him deeply in thanks, then grab the pillows for extra cushioning under my knees. I get myself into position and look over my shoulder, wiggling my butt in encouragement. "Come get me, Daddy."

He doesn't need to be asked twice.

Before I know it, he's lubed up and is sliding into me, and I put as much of my weight as possible onto my forearms which are braced on the mattress in front of me. Tears blur my vision at how right this feels. It might sound stupid, but it takes me back to my twenties and thirties, when I could fuck in any position I wanted, whenever I wanted. I needed to prove that I could still do this. That I could be everything for Oscar. That I could still be everything for myself.

I jerk forward at the first stinging, open-palmed slap to the flesh of my butt cheek. The sound of the smack is like a loud crack in the otherwise quiet room, accompanied only by our heaving breaths, moans and grunts. When the second one lands, I cry out, "Yes, Daddy, more!"

This is exactly what I wanted. His cock, thick and hard, stretching and filling me while he heats up my cheeks, making them sting even more every time he slams his hips forward. Euphoria builds inside me, from the pleasure and pain and the freedom that I'm feeling at being able to do this at all.

As the pain builds and my cries turn to gasps and sobs, I know I'm getting close to orgasm. I don't want to come. I want this to last for much longer. I want to feel Oscar inside me forever. I want my backside to be so tender that I can't sit for days without remembering tonight. I want—I want—

"Oh, fuck!" I cry out as he delivers another bruising smack to my abused flesh, then drives his cock home, bumping my prostate and making stars explode behind my eyelids. I'm so close, but with my own leaking, straining, aching dick untouched, I don't know if I'll go over the edge.

"I'm gonna come, darlin'," he warns me. "You feel too good around me. You're doin' such a good job, takin' my cock so deep."

At this angle, it does feel like he might be able to reach my tonsils. I shift my weight sideways, resting more on my left side with my face smushed into the mattress so I can slide my right hand underneath my raised hips.

The second I wrap my hand around my dick, I feel instant relief. I jerk myself in time with his next couple of thrusts, and delight in how ragged and raspy his breathing has turned.

Then, all of a sudden, he rears back and delivers three hard, resonating spanks to my stinging cheeks in rapid succession and I howl at both the pain and the orgasm it tears from me, covering my hand and the sheets beneath me with my release.

"Oh fuck," he pants, repeating the curse with the next three thrusts inside me, "oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuuuuck ."

I feel his cock pulsing and filling me up, and I slump all the way forward as he collapses over my back, his cock still twitching and spurting as he rides out the last of his orgasm. When he withdraws, I feel his cum dribbling out of me, and I groan when I feel him take two fingers, scooping up the mess and shoving it back inside me.

"Stay," he says, and the mattress shifts as he climbs off it. It shifts again and the cool, blunt tip of a plug pushes at my hole. "We're gonna keep this inside you for a bit," he says decidedly. "Your first gift from your new husband, darlin'."

My cock twitches valiantly as the plug settles in place, but there's no way it's going to get up again tonight. Still, I grin and allow myself to roll onto my back on the mattress, rescuing the pillows from the wet spot. "Happy wedding day to me," I say cheekily.

Oscar crawls over into the space between me and the edge of the mattress, also avoiding the wet spot in the middle. He kisses me softly, but I part my lips and encourage his tongue to tangle with mine for a long, loving kiss.

It's a kiss that symbolises so much for me. When he found me, I was only just putting myself back together. I was raw from heartbreak and grief, and he quite literally rescued me when I thought I was beyond saving. He taught me things about my kinky side which I hadn't known existed and showed me that my age really is nothing but a number in his eyes. He's my equal and my Daddy. My husband and my best friend.

When he pulls back, he nuzzles his nose against mine and whispers, "Happy wedding day to us ."

With Oscar, I can see a future filled with love and companionship again, and I know he shares my vision.

Against all odds from that fateful night in Brisbane, we have healed each other, and this is only the beginning for us.

The End.