13. Cameron

After last night's hours-long virtual fuckfest, I was sore but immensely happy. I literally could not keep the smile off my face.

Which had the potential to embarrass me when Tristan showed up with lunch around one.

"Hey, man!" He held up a recognizable white paper bag as he shoved past me and into my living room. Prickles came running and curled around his sneakers, nearly tripping him, so Tris handed me the bag and crouched down to pet my weird-ass cat. "Thought you could use a lunch buddy."

I snorted as I closed the door behind him. "Well, just come in then."

He threw his head back and stood, laughing on his way to the open kitchen. I trailed behind him, grabbing plates as he sat down at my kitchen table. "I know you struggle to feed yourself, so I thought I'd be the best friend ever and bring you lunch."

I snickered as I dug into the bag and plated the paper-wrapped sandwiches. And . . . score! A box of chicken nuggets.

"Ha!" He pointed at me. "I knew you'd be hungry! When was the last time you ate?"

I frowned as I sat across from him, considering it. I'd eaten breakfast, right? "Uh, I may have had a banana for breakfast. No, wait—that was yesterday."

His mouth fell open. "You seriously haven't eaten since yesterday morning?!"

"No!" I unwrapped my chicken sandwich, took a large bite, stifled a moan at how good it tasted, then chewed and swallowed before continuing. "I ate lunch, uh, yesterday."

"Cameron Locke! You definitely need a Daddy to make sure you're eating."

I waved him off as I chewed another large bite. I usually didn't eat so quickly, but this was fucking tasty, and I'd only just now realized I hadn't eaten in the last twenty-four hours. "I'm fine." Then I grinned at him. "Besides, I have a Daddy."

Tris choked on the fry he'd just shoved into his mouth then yelled at me. "Camerson Lockhart! What the hell?! When the fuck did this happen?!"

"Lockhart? Seriously?" I rolled my eyes. He was so dramatic.

I secretly loved it.

"So . . ." I took a breath—where to start? "So this guy who's been emailing me, you know, S.M.C.?"

He nodded as he sucked soda through his straw. "Yes, I remember! Wait—he? So he told you his gender? What does he have to do with this? Did he help you find a Daddy?"

I blushed, though I didn't know why. "No. He emailed me again last night, after I got back from that yoga class. After I saw Sam again." Yeah, my blush deepened. "He asked us to move to a messaging app. The Daddy's Boy app, to be exact."

"Ethan's app?!"

I nodded. Ethan had started the Daddy's Boy app several years ago after seeing a gap in the online dating world for gay kink-lovers such as our group members. We'd actually helped him come up with ideas and test out the app before he launched it. He even gave us each a small stake in the company as a thank you—and it was doing really well so far. I didn't hate having that investment on my books.

"So what happened? Wait—is he your Daddy?!" He was squealing at this point, and I chuckled.

"Calm down, Tris! Yes, he is a Daddy. Or, rather, he said he thought he was a Daddy and wanted to try it out."

"Oh my god, Camster! This is straight out of one of your books!"

I was full-on laughing now. "I know, right? So basically he agreed to try out being a Daddy with me virtually. I—" I cut off when his eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"Virtually? How does that work?"

I scoffed. "This coming from the man who makes all his money getting people off online?"

He snickered and grabbed another fry, dipping it in ketchup. "Okay, can't argue with that. But isn't being a Daddy a more intimate relationship than just getting off?"

I shrugged slightly and stared down at the last few bites of my sandwich, trying to will the blush off my cheeks.

But he saw right through me. He gasped. "Did you guys already have sex?"

I cleared my throat, picking up the last of my sandwich. I held it in front of my mouth and murmured "Define sex" before shoving the rest of it in.

The bastard actually shouted "Woohoo!" and started clapping as he bounced in his seat. "My boy Cammy got some!"

"Shut up," I hissed. "You don't need to tell the whole neighborhood."

He leveled me with a playful glare. "Maybe I do." He wiggled his eyebrows, and I couldn't help but crack up. "But seriously, man, that's amazing to hear. It's been one hell of a drought, right? Like a year?"

"Over a year, actually."

His shit-eating grin had me blushing again. "Way to get back on the horse, man!" Then his eyes narrowed at me. "You've got to give me details."

I stabbed a fry into the ketchup and shoved it into my mouth. "Uh-uh."

"Aww, come on, dude!" he whined. "I told you all about the Behemoth."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Actually, you didn't. How did that go?"

His eyes started sparkling, and I knew I'd hit the redirect jackpot. "Oh, dude, it was fucking epic. That guy I told you about who's been to my streams before? He was telling me all these things to do with it. He was basically ordering me around the whole time, and everyone else was eating it up. I got more tips than I ever had. It was so hot, I came twice. And that massive dick up my ass made me come without even touching my cock."

I snorted and choked on the iced tea I was sipping. Coughing, I pounded at my chest. "Tris, you can't say that stuff while I'm drinking!"

He merely shrugged, the little shit. "Payback's a bitch." But then his face cleared. "Seriously, though, it took me forever to prep for it. Beforehand and during the show. But totally worth it."

I chuckled again as I grabbed some more fries. They were getting cold, so I chewed faster. "I'm happy for you, really."

He grinned at me. "Thanks, I figured you would be. Hey, when are you gonna write a size queen into one of your books? I could give you some firsthand experience to help authenticate the character." He sat up straight in his chair, adjusting an invisible tie.

I laughed harder then deadpanned, "Always glad to have you around, Tris." Despite my tone, my words were sincere.

He chuckled with me as he slurped up the last of his drink. Then he pointed a bony finger right at me. "But don't think you're getting off the hook. Tell me all about last night. Was this Daddy why you were running off to the bathroom every five minutes?"

I glanced at the bare surface of the stainless steel refrigerator on my left so I could avoid his perceptive gaze. "It might've been."

Tristan wiggled in his chair then leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. "I knew it! Do tell."

He wasn't going to let this go. I sighed visibly. "Okay, so he gave me this task."

"A task . . ."

"Yeah." I swallowed once—the fried potatoes were thickening in my throat. "He had me wear a plug all night. I had to go into the bathroom to"—deep breath—"fuck myself with it at regular intervals."

"Holy fucking shit, Cammy! That's ridiculously hot."

"I know, right?"

He nodded emphatically.

"That's why I went home early. I was so fucking turned on from all of it, but he'd told me not to come."

He squealed, clapping his hands again. He really was adorable, despite the bratty displays I'd seen him put on when he was around Daddies, and the right Daddy would snatch him the fuck up very soon. I could feel it.

"So I text him when I got home, asked him if I could come since I'd done what he asked all night. He actually said no!"

"Why?"

"He said it was punishment for when I'd teased him earlier, but I suspect he just wanted a reason to deny me an orgasm."

He rolled his wrist. "Of course, of course."

I laughed. "But I begged, obviously, so . . ." I was having way too much fun dragging this out.

"What?!"

I smirked. "He gave me two options if I wanted to come."

Tris's wide eyes and gaping mouth left no secret as to what was coming out of his mouth next. "You have to tell me right now."

I felt my face heat yet again—a regular occurrence today, it seemed—then divulged the details of the hottest sex of my life. When I finished, Tristan slumped back into his chair then started a slow clap. By the end, he was on his feet as if giving me a standing ovation.

"Shit, Cammy, I have to give you props. That was the hottest damn thing I've ever heard, and I've read your books, so the bar was already fucking high." He stopped clapping, thankfully, and dropped back into his seat. I didn't miss his wince.

"Hey, Tris, you okay?" I reached out my hand, placing it on his.

"Oh, yeah, it's just left over from the other day with Behemoth. I always need several days to recover after I take something that huge."

I tilted my head, appraising him. "So why do you do it?"

He met my gaze. "Are you sore today?"

I gulped. "Well, yeah."

"And do you enjoy feeling that way, knowing why you're sore?"

I smiled, just a little. "Yeah."

He spread his hands wide as if presenting the secrets of the universe. "There you go. Plus, I had the added bonus of interacting with a fan that made it that much better in the moment. Almost like—"

"—he was fucking you?"

Tris nodded his dark-brown head of curls. "Yup, exactly. I take it you felt the same way?"

I crumpled my wrapper and started collecting the trash onto our plates. "Yeah. Of course I wished we were in person so I could feel him touching me, feel him inside me, but that was definitely a close second. Every time I fucked myself with that plug, I felt like he was fucking me himself. I could barely keep myself under control. My brain was starting to scramble I was so hard."

He laughed, standing and scooping up both plates before I could. "Been there." He tilted the garbage into the trash and set the plates in the sink. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter before turning back to me. "So where do you think this is going?"

I squirmed in my seat for a few seconds before realizing I was doing it. I pushed to my feet, matching his stance against the opposite counter, near the stove. "I'm not sure it's going anywhere at this point, but I hope it does. He said he needs seven months of doing this Daddy/boy thing virtually before we meet."

"Seven months?" He raised his eyebrows.

I covered my face with my hands. "I know! It's forever."

"Agreed. Why do you think he's wanting to wait so long? And why the weird number?"

"That's what I thought!" I frowned, considering it. "Maybe he has some life stuff going on right now. That's a thing, right?"

Tris shrugged. "Maybe. Does it feel like a red flag to you? Or do you want to invest seven months in this relationship—as unconventional as it is—to see if it could become something more?"

I swallowed, mulling it over. "I don't know, Tris, he . . . ever since S.M.C. emailed me for the first time, we've had this connection I can't describe. We've shared so much with each other, and after last night, I feel like I can tell him anything. He straight up commanded my body, Tris, before I even heard his voice. Something in me wanted to submit to him, let him do whatever he wanted to me. It was terrifying, but it also felt right. So right."

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized that Sam had done the same thing at yoga yesterday, and a connection started forming, taking root. But I ignored it for now.

Tris sniffed, and I could've sworn I saw his eyes shining. "Cameron, man, I'm so happy to hear that. I really hope this works out for you. You deserve all the good things in life, especially the love of a Daddy who will take care of you and make sure you eat fast food for lunch every once in a while."

Now I was tearing up. I offered a watery chuckle. "So do you, you know. And thanks, man."

Without warning, Tris launched himself into my arms and squeezed me tight. I held him right back, not caring if the hug went longer than what was socially acceptable. I missed human touch, and being held by my best friend was the next best thing to having the man I loved hold me. Or so I imagined. I'd never had that—not really.

My relationship with the first man I thought I'd loved, the man I'd started dating near the beginning of my first and only "real" job in accounting, had lasted as long as it took me to get comfortable with my gender identity and decide to come out as a trans man. When we'd started dating, Vincent and I had appeared like any other straight couple, but over the years, I'd started to feel a certain disconnect.

We'd appeared happy for almost a decade. But then my world shifted, I shifted, as I realized my true identity and told him I was trans.

He'd lost his shit.

He walked out two weeks after I'd come out to him, and I was thankful I still had the job I did to navigate life after the dissolution of a long relationship. But his final words haunted me during those long nights, in the dark, when I still didn't feel quite good enough: "No gay man will ever want to have sex with you when your body looks like this. You'll always be alone." And as much as I hated to give him power over me like that, on those lonely, endless nights—despite the work I'd done and had done to make my outside match my inside more closely—I always feared he was right.

That was probably the moment I realized I couldn't trust men in relationships. If the man who'd said he loved me could turn on me, say such horrible things to me just for embracing who I really was, then maybe no one could be trusted. It hurt more than I wanted to admit, more than I felt I could bear, and despite my half-hearted efforts in the intervening years, I realized now I'd been living under the shadow of his curse. I hadn't been putting myself out there. I hadn't been willing to risk my heart another time. But maybe it was time to take that risk.

My heart rate picked up at the mere thought.

Tristan pulled away, holding me at arm's length by my shoulders. When he saw the expression on my face, probably one of panic, his eyes searched mine. "You okay, babe?"

I nodded, sniffling, willing my heart to slow down. "Yes. Just an unwelcome memory."

"About what?"

I sighed, my shoulders falling. "My ex. And . . ." Dare I voice my fears? Wouldn't that make them real? Or even worse, make them come true?

"What, Cammy?"

I took a breath. "I swore off love and relationships months ago, Tristan. I can't risk my heart one more time. I know this thing with S.M.C. is virtual, but what if this turns into something more? What if I get hurt?" Tears prickled at the back of my eyes.

Tristan took my face in his hands and held my gaze. "Cameron, you need to hear me on this. Are you listening?"

I nodded, not looking away.

"Some men can be trusted."

I gasped, a small inhale that was barely audible, but I couldn't help it. His words floored me.

I shook my head, but he shushed me. "No. Not every man will break your heart and leave it in pieces. There are good ones out there."

My next words were a whisper. "But how do you know which ones?"

Tristan pulled me into another hug before pulling back to catch my gaze again. "No one can know for sure. That's where trust comes in."

Tears blurred my vision as I sniffled. "I don't know how to do that. I don't know that I can."

Tris smiled at me, taking a step back. "Just take things one step at a time. Like you said, your new Daddy is virtual, and with that distance between you, you won't have to risk your heart just yet. But keep putting yourself out there, okay? Embrace being this man's boy, see what comes of it. And if he's the right Daddy for you, maybe you'll find a way to let him in. Maybe you'll figure out he's worth the risk."

I swiped at my wet cheeks, nodding. "I hear you, Tris. Thanks."

He smiled, wiping his thumbs under my eyes to catch the last of the tears. "You'll be okay?"

"Absolutely." I took a couple of deep breaths. "Thank you. For lunch, for being here, for the pep talk, for the hug. I think I needed it more than I realized."

His smile widened, and he placed a hand on my shoulder. "Anytime, dude. I'm always down for hugs and even cuddle piles if the situation calls for it." He shoved his hand in his pocket and retrieved his keys. "Well, I should get going. I have another livestream at four."

I smiled, my racing heart finally calming. "Okay, good luck. Hope it goes well."

He smirked, wiggling those eyebrows again. "Oh, it will. My viewers are in for a treat."

I laughed, and we headed out of the kitchen together.

As we walked through the living room—where Prickles lifted his head to watch us from his spot on the couch like he was a dog or something—Tris sobered. "But seriously, Cameron, I really hope this works out with S.M.C. I'd feel better if he told you his real name, but it sounds like he's letting you in, little by little. Maybe in seven months, he'll be ready to let you in completely. And maybe you can let him in completely by then, too."

I stopped at the front door, holding it open for him. "Hopefully. To both."

"You've got this, man." With a wave, he descended the steps and was peeling out of my gravel driveway in less than a minute.

I puffed out a sigh as I turned back inside. Tris had given me a lot to think about.

What if this Daddy thing with S.M.C. didn't work out? What if he didn't like me enough by the end of seven months to keep me? What if he wanted to end it sooner? Or perhaps even scarier: What if he wanted to meet in person and didn't like what he saw? What if he thought I had the wrong parts just like Vincent said I did? What if he rejected me, too?

Scarier still, what if I couldn't let him in when it counted? What if things got serious between us but I couldn't open my heart? What if I decided he wasn't worth the risk?

I loved physical pain, but emotional pain might break me. And that thought sobered me, made me realize the absolutely worst-case scenario: What if he stole my heart without me even realizing it?

This thing we were doing, this virtual, no-personal-info thing, was the perfect solution. I could try my Daddy on for size, see if we were a good fit before I lost my heart to him. Before he had a chance to stomp all over it.

I wouldn't have to risk anything.