Chapter Eight: Oscar

T hat was a lot , I think to myself as I lead Ryan back to our parked cars after swinging past the cupboard in the foyer to grab the keys for his cabin for the night. Poor Ryan.

From our first —though limited— meeting, I knew that he had some kind of history, but learning that he's recently widowed makes my heart ache for him. Knowing about it doesn't change my attraction to him, nor does it change my desire to pursue a relationship if he also wants one, but it does make me feel even more protective of him. It also reminds me that I need to be patient with him, because not only is he inexperienced with my brand of kink, he's also grieving.

I might not have lost a partner, but I know that the death of a loved one isn't something you just get over like you would a breakup. Maddy was Ryan's husband, someone he loved until the guy took his last breath. Someone he still loves and probably always will. Someone whose memory I have no intention of replacing. Nor do I have any intention of taking Maddy's place in Ryan's life or his heart.

But I still want a place of my own there, too, one day.

Could I share Ryan with the memory of his husband? Is he ready for me to try? Is it something he even wants right now? Or ever?

Obviously, I have to talk to him about it. I think about what I'll say and how I'll say it during the short drive out to the guest cabin, checking in my mirror that Ryan is following me. Call me an overprotective Daddy if you have to, but with the daylight having dwindled away, the dirt drive can be a bit bumpy and daunting to those new to the property. I'd hate for him to hit a pothole, or for him to end up travelling off course.

When I get to the little timber cottage, I head to the front door and unlock it, flipping on the lights just as Ryan parks his truck beside mine. He climbs out of the cab of his truck and slings a dark-coloured duffel bag over his shoulder.

I raise an eyebrow at that.

"I always travel with a change of clothes," he explains, catching my expression and interpreting it correctly. "Never know what can happen when you're working with animals."

"That's real smart of you," I tell him. "Good boy."

In the yellow light from the cottage's single oyster-shaped ceiling light, he blushes. "It's just logical. After my third experience getting dirt and blood all over me, I decided I always needed a backup plan. People don't like it when their vet turns up looking like he went full American Psycho on his last client."

My laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. "Yeah, I'd probably think twice about lettin' someone covered in blood look after my dog if I had one."

He grins and then gets distracted looking around the cottage. It's all one open-plan space, with timber walls painted white, polished timber floors, a queen-sized bed, a potbelly stove fireplace, a little kitchenette and a tiny table with two golden-hued timber chairs. On the far side of the room from the front door, there's another door which leads to the bathroom: a cozy space with a shower over a claw-footed tub, a vanity and a toilet.

"This is really sweet," Ryan says, smiling softly as he takes it all in. "I can understand why Rob is booked out on weekends and holidays."

Most of the guest cabins here have the same layout, but some are a little bigger and have an additional bedroom to accommodate for families. There's also the honeymoon cabin, too. That one is just like this one, only it has a larger fireplace and a corner spa tub. All-in-all, there are eight guest cottages on site, and Rob has plans to build more over time.

I nod. "It's a working station, but when you drive out tomorrow —follow the gravel road back down to the main house, then from there head on down to the gate— you'll head past what we call the petting zoo: the pens where the pigs are kept, the sheep paddock, and the chicken coop. People really love the sheep for some reason."

"There's a lot going on here," he muses. "No wonder Rob's got so many staff."

"He gets extra hands in at peak times, too. He's a fair boss, and he's got a good schedule goin' for runnin' the place. I really lucked out gettin' a job here."

Ryan's gaze shifts from taking the room in and settles back on me. He cocks his head and, after a moment where I guess he was deliberating whether to ask or not, he says, "Well, you know the bones of my sob story. Did you want to tell me yours? You said something about a lying, cheating ex?"

I cringe, feeling like what I went through pales in comparison to his trauma. When I tell him as much, he huffs and sits on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside him. I sit, because I enjoy his presence too much to turn him down. He smiles softly. "You know that trauma isn't a competition. Your feelings and pain aren't less valid than mine just because there wasn't any death involved. Heartache is heartache, no matter the catalyst for it."

Well, I can't argue with that, can I?

"I'd ask how you got so wise, but knowing even a little of what you've been through makes the question kind of dumb." I lean in and bump his shoulder with mine playfully to lighten the mood. "And you're right. I just feel like admitting just how stupid and trusting I was might shake your trust in me as a Daddy. Assuming you were even interested in—"

"I am," he interrupts me quickly. "Interested in you, I mean. In exploring that whole Daddy Dom/Boy dynamic further." His skin turns pink again and he rubs his palm over his face. "God, I hope that's where you were going with it. Not that I'd say no to a one-night thing, either, but…I'd like more if you do, too."

Oh, this sweet, sweet Boy.

"Honey," I croon, shaking my head as he tries to look away, "I want more than one night with you, too." I'd like all the nights, but I keep that tidbit to myself. I don't think either of us wants to feel like a relationship between us is a rebound. Instead, I finish with, "I know we don't really know each other, but I'd like that to change. And I think, judgin' by that night in Brisbane, there's potential for somethin' special between us."

He's quiet for a moment and I wait patiently, letting the sounds from outside —the cicadas, crickets and the occasional bleat of an animal in the distance— fill the short void. Eventually, Ryan ducks his chin and confesses, "I think so, too."

I want to whoop with joy, but I settle for an easy grin. "Then that's settled. When can I take you on a date, sweet boy?"

I want so badly to be able to officially say that we're dating.

Ryan laughs and flops back onto the mattress, rolling onto his side and propping himself on his elbow as he smirks up at me. "You move fast, huh?" Before I can defend my honour, he adds, "And, anyway, don't think you're getting out of telling me your tragic backstory." The playful twinkle in his eye fades, and he reaches towards me with his free hand. Squeezing my thigh gently, he says, "I'm not going to think less of you."

Snorting, I refute, "You haven't heard what a fool I was yet."

"It sounds like you trusted someone you loved. There's nothing foolish about that."

"You're smooth, you know that?"

"Oscar," his tone is serious. "When we met, you told me your limits were honesty above all else. That needs to go both ways. I'll tell you everything and anything about Maddy and my marriage that you want or need to know, but I expect the same courtesy in return if we're going to make anything between us work."

"You're right, darlin'." I sigh. "I know you are. But…I was a real idiot, y'know? Any heartache I went through is my own damn fault. And, more than that, I'm embarrassed by it all. I'm a Daddy. I'm supposed to have my head on straight. I mean," letting out a bitter laugh, my shoulders slump, "how can I ask a Boy to trust me to make decisions for him if my own track record is shot to hell?"

There's another pause where Ryan considers me for a long moment, then he pushes himself back up and off the mattress and points towards the headboard. "Lie down," he demands, and it's such a surprise to be bossed around by someone I know to be incredibly submissive that I comply.

After crawling into place on the left side of the bed —my usual side— I watch as he follows and takes the right side. Then he opens his arms and I roll willingly into his embrace until he's spooned against my back.

I'm not used to being the little spoon.

This is…nice. Strange, but nice.

"Now," he says, and his generally soft voice rumbles through his chest at my back, "is it easier for you to talk about it if you're not looking at me? Because I met you after whatever hurt you happened, and you were everything I needed that night. You were the perfect Daddy Dom, and I trusted you then and I'll keep on trusting you after tonight."

"But—"

"You know how I'm so sure?" The question is rhetorical because he answers it without my input. "I'm sure because you wouldn't be so worried about being a good Daddy if you weren't already a good Daddy."

Should I have expected anything other than logic from my new Boy? I mean, the man is a vet, for Christ's sake. He's smart as hell, and I love it. When we really get going, I'm sure he's going to keep me on my toes.

"Alright," I concede, grinning as his hold around my waist tightens a little. But, honestly, where do I start? "So, I've been a Daddy Dom for a while now. Ten years or so. I trained at a club in New Orleans and when I say I've seen everythin', darlin', I saw most of it there in those early days."

"Sounds like it would have been a great eye-opener."

"For a kid like me from a tiny little churchgoin' town in Texas, you bet your sweet ass it was." I chuckle. "Of course, the internet opened my eyes long before I went out lookin' to explore my kinks. But that's a whole other story."

He hums. "I am a little jealous that I missed out and had to have my whole sexual and kink awakening the old-school way: sneaking naughty magazines and hiding them under a mattress…or, after I turned eighteen, being shit scared of getting caught going to the adult stores on gay porn and kink nights in their little cinemas."

"I have so many questions," I tease, imagining him as a skittish teenager blushing through his sexual awakening. "But I'll keep 'em to myself for now."

"Good, because I believe you were telling me a story."

"So I was." I snuggle further into his embrace. The warmth of him at my back and wrapped around me is something I can definitely get used to. "Right. So, I knew early on I wanted to be a Daddy Dom, but it wasn't until midway through my training —when I was practicing a sensory play scene with a gorgeous silver fox of a sub— that I realized I had a real thing for older men."

He squeezes me again and nuzzles that gorgeous goatee of his against the back of my neck. "I hadn't noticed," he murmurs playfully as my body reacts and I shiver.

"You're not playing fair, sweet boy. I might need to call you my naughty boy, instead."

"Only if you'll spank me, too, Daddy. Otherwise, that's just mean."

I groan, telling my cock not to get any ideas. "Did you want me to keep telling the story or not?"

"Sorry, Daddy." His apology does nothing to curb my libido. "Continue."

After clearing my throat, I say, "I've had a few long-term Daddy/Boy relationships over the years. Two of the three of them were with older men. All ended amicably. I kind of prided myself on that."

"Honesty and communication."

"Exactly." I smile, but it fades as I reach the point of my wind up. "Anyway, as you can imagine, being gay in the South has its challenges. Add my personal kinks and then my preference for older men to that and I found myself getting lonely after I went back to my parents' ranch in Texas to help 'em through some tough times…not that my pops or mama were particularly appreciative. We love each other, but it works better at a distance, y'know?"

"Mmmhhmm. So you were lonely. I can relate to that."

My sweet Boy.

"I'm hoping we'll help each other not feel that way anymore."

"Me too. Now. Story."

"Don't be bossy, honey. That's my job."

At my back, he huffs and I feel his breath ghost over my skin and ruffle my hair.

"Anyway," I force myself back on topic, fighting the urge to roll in his arms and kiss him senseless. "I was lonely, and I went online and joined a whole heap of Discord chats and Facebook groups and dating apps lookin' to connect with someone. Then I met Richard online and he ticked all my boxes." Ryan's arms tighten around me again, because it's obvious where this is going. "We chatted for months, then Facetimed. I fell head over heels for his accent and his personality and…well, just him . He lived in Brisbane and spun tales about the future we'd have together, and I believed him. So, after my parents and I had another fight about me doin' everythin' in my power to not fit in, I decided it was time to follow my dreams for good. I sold my truck and just about everythin' I owned, got myself a passport, organised my VISA and right to work stuff, got myself a ticket to Brisbane, and I flew my smalltown-USA ass out to Australia to surprise my Boy."

"Oh no."

Snorting bitterly, I nod. "Oh yes. So, I'm jetlagged and buzzing on pure adrenaline when I get to his house —because he'd given me his address when we started sendin' each other gifts— and I don't know which one of us was more horrified when we finally met. Me, him, or his wife and kids."

Shame and embarrassment wash over me as I relive the moment where time had stopped. Guilt, too, because I'm pretty sure my unannounced arrival destroyed his marriage…though I'm not so messed up that I can't see that it's all his own fault for cheating to begin with.

But he wasn't cheating on me. He was cheating with me. And even if I didn't know it, I feel complicit. Dirty. Not good enough for the sweet man holding me against his chest and murmuring condolences in my ear, that's for sure.

"Jesus," Ryan breathes, squeezing me tightly, "I can't imagine what you were feeling. Like having the rug pulled out from under your feet, but even worse because it was by someone you trusted." His tone turns indignant. "What a wanker," he huffs out. "I'm so sorry you went through that."

"It was my own fault. I'm the idiot who made the snap decision to surprise his online boyfriend…"

"You're not an idiot. How were you supposed to know he was lying to you? That he was married? Did he ever tell you?"

"Of course not!" I don't mean to sound quite so defensive as I jump to refute the idea. Taking a breath, I apologise. "Sorry. It's just…I'd never be that person."

"I know," Ryan's tone is still soft and understanding. "Honesty and open communication. That's your thing, Daddy."

For all that I've been blaming myself for the mess with Richard, hearing the conviction in Ryan's voice has my throat tightening as relief sets in.

He doesn't think I'm an idiot.

"It's pretty fitting his name was Richard," he continues to muse as I try to get my emotions back under control. "Dick is a very appropriate nickname for him. The dick." He spits the last two words with venom and snuggles up against me. "I hope karma gets him."

"You believe in karma?" I find that strange. He's a man of science and medicine, for one thing. For another, what kind of terrible things does he think he and Maddy did to deserve the hand they were dealt in life?

I feel him shrug. "I like the sentiment, but I don't actually believe there's a universal power that dishes out consequences to dicks like him or anything."

"I'll admit, I wouldn't hate it if a piano fell on him or somethin'."

Ryan chuckles. "Well, we can just imagine it, hmm?"

This is the moment I give in to the urge to roll over to face him, warmth suffusing me at the playful smile pulling at his lips. I swear his eyes are glinting with it, too.

With his arms still wrapped around me, I feel cared for. Wanted, and not just sexually…though there is a definite bulge brushing against mine, which suggests that he's just as affected by our proximity as I am. It's been a long time since I haven't felt lonely, and I want to revel in how nice it is just to be held.

But I've just told the story of how I ended up living so far from home, and it feels like maybe I need to learn from that whole experience.

Don't go throwin' all your eggs in one basket so quickly again , says the little voice in my head which still sounds irritatingly like my mama.

Then Ryan's expression turns almost shy as he quietly says, "Hi," and that voice vanishes from my thoughts.

"Hi," I smile back at him, my insides buzzing at the way he nibbles at his lip.

"Is this okay?" he eventually asks. "Holding you like this?"

"Darlin', I—" I almost say ‘could die a happy man right now' and only just manage to catch myself. Don't make jokes about death to the widower. "I really like it," I say instead. "Truth be told, it's been an age since anyone last held me like this. It's nice. Especially with you."

Oh, that gorgeous blush of his…

With pink cheeks, he admits, "It's been a long time for me, too. I've missed this."

"Were you the big spoon with Maddy? Wait, shit, sorry. I probably shouldn't be mentioning him while we're gettin' all cosy, should I?"

The startled look in his eyes softens and he shakes his head. "I don't mind. It doesn't make me feel weird or sad or anything." He leans back a little and frowns. "Unless it's weird and uncomfortable for you."

"Nah," I brush his concern off, "I'm the one who brought him up."

"You sure? I can't imagine hearing me talk about my ex is all that appealing for you."

I'm already shaking my head before he's finished talking. "One, he's not just an ex. And I'm adult enough to know that I'm not gonna be competing with a dead man. I want you to tell me about him, if you're comfortable with it. Everythin' and anythin' you want to tell me."

Ryan smiles and nods. "I've met men twice your age who aren't anywhere near as mature as you."

"Yeah, well, I'm a Daddy. It wouldn't work so well if I wasn't."

"Mmm," he agrees, thoughtfully. "But you're a Daddy who likes being the little spoon?"

"Actually…you're the first Boy to hold me that way. I'm usually the big spoon. But…I did like it. With you."

His lips pull into a self-satisfied smile. "Yeah, well, Maddy was usually the big spoon, too. Turns out, I like it both ways." He waggles his eyebrows and my cock twitches in interest.

"Oh, is that so?" I smirk. "I'm all for it if my Boy wants to top every once in a while."

"Fuck," he rasps and seems to instinctively buck his hips forward, once again rocking our clothed cocks against each other. "It's been a long time since I…well, it's been a long time in general, really. But…I could be a born again top."

Smiling at his playful side, I still insist, "Honey, we'll go at your pace. You tell me what you want, and if I can make it happen, I will."

"Can I blow you, Daddy?"

If I don't come in my pants at just the question…

I swallow roughly and nod. My voice is strained as I answer, "I'd love that, darlin'."

He reaches for my belt buckle, then hesitates. "Or," he starts to suggest, his blush slowly deepening in the most adorable way, "Maybe we could…uh…sixty-nine?"

He's so damn sweet, it's going to kill me.

"God, yes!" I tug him in by his belt loops, kissing his lips soundly while I get his jeans unbuckled and unzipped. "You're a smart one, aren't you, sweetheart?"

He moans and nuzzles his cheek against mine when I palm his hard length through the soft cotton of his underwear.

"Daddy," he exhales, sounding needy and desperate, "more. Please."

"More what?"

"Everything."