20. Sam

My breath caught in my lungs. How could I get so lucky that this perfect man wanted me? Me! The imperfect FTM Daddy who barely felt like he knew what he was doing on a good day.

But by some miracle, he did. Cameron was here. I was in Cameron's home, sitting on his bed, his creamy ass spread out below me, begging me to redden it. To make both of our dreams come true.

When his ass wiggled below me, calling my attention back to his perfection, I pushed all thoughts out of my head and focused solely on the rounded curves of his perky butt. Rubbing them again to heat them up—the way I'd seen in too many porn scenes to count—I breathed out a thank you to the universe that this incredible man trusted me with this.

Then I raised my hand again.

I alternated swats on one cheek then the other, spreading them across his perfect butt until it was red and swollen. He moaned the entire time, only crying out when I hit the same spot repeatedly. I recreated the sound on the other side, loving his pleas both for more and for me to stop.

I was new at this, but I still remembered to check in. "Color, boy?"

At some point, he'd started sobbing. Maybe around swat number twenty-five, but I'd lost count, and that was awhile back. Goddamn, he could take a lot of pain. My hand might give out before he did.

"Green, Daddy."

Oh fuck, how had I survived thirty-eight years in this world without hearing this man call me Daddy? It was fucking everything.

At his okay, my sole focus became the man beneath me, at the way his cheeks bounced and jiggled under my palm. I kept spanking him until my own palm burned then started lightening the swats—I wanted to help him let go, not hurt him for real.

After the final five smacks, so light they were really just taps, I rolled him off my lap and onto his side, lying down beside him. Cupping his face in my hands awkwardly, given our position, I used my thumbs to wipe the tears from his cheeks, kissing the last of them away. He was still crying, and I could taste his submission in his tears. The beautiful, perfect submission of my boy.

Finally.

I pulled him into my chest, holding him close. "You okay, sweet boy?"

I heard the smile in his voice through his quieting tears. "Yes, Daddy, thank you. I was flying there for a little while. I think I hit subspace."

"Shit, really?" I pulled away just enough so I could see him, scrubbing my hand along my jaw. It was a new habit I'd taken to recently since I was loving my newly grown stubble. "I didn't hurt you?"

He grinned. "Only in the best way."

I exhaled. "Good. But I still think I should rub some gel on it before we go to sleep."

He nodded, his eyes red and a little unfocused.

I leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead before pulling back with a genuine smile. "Daddy's here now, sweet boy, and he's going to take care of you."

His eyes cleared, softening, and I could almost see love in them. He might not be ready to confess it to me just yet, but he would be soon, I was certain of it. "Thank you, Daddy." He smirked mischievously. "Now, if you're up for it, I say we keep going. Because I totally came from that spanking, and I suspect I have a few more in me."

I hugged him closer again, our hips colliding. I had little more than a cloth packer in the pouch of my briefs, but I still loved the way I felt up against him. A wave of bliss washed over me, and I relished the warm feeling for a second, a smile stretching across my face.

"What?"

I should've known he'd pick up on my mood—he probably felt my grin against his cheek. Even just knowing him from his writing, I could tell he was observant enough to catch those subtle clues. "Just a bit of euphoria."

He pulled back slightly to see my face. "Oh?"

I nodded. "I love feeling my bulge up against you."

He smiled. "Ah. I was noticing that, too. Pretty awesome, right?"

I smiled back, my entire soul relaxing. It felt so good to have someone else get it. "Incredible. I know this is all still so new to me, but every time something like this happens, I'm even more sure I made the right choice to transition, come out, be myself."

Cameron leaned in and kissed me once on the lips. "I know what you mean."

When he pulled away too soon, I surged forward to press my lips to his again. I felt him smile then open for me. We were moaning and writhing in seconds.

He shifted away first. "So . . . wanna get naked?"

Fear lanced through my chest, and panic must've shown on my face, because he kept talking.

"Truly no pressure, Sam. But I'd like to share this with you if you're comfortable."

I forced air into my lungs, swallowing hard. "Are you sure? I've not been with anyone for a long time. Definitely not since transitioning. And even then . . ." I hesitated. Was now really the time to go there?

He moved closer to me, locking his eyes on mine. "Even then what?"

I took a breath and let it out slowly. "I'm not a virgin, Cameron, but I'm close. Sex has always been weird for me. Difficult. I never knew where I fit, because I never fit into traditional gender roles. Obviously." He chuckled, as I'd hoped he would. "I never made the connection to dysphoria, but now it makes a lot of sense. Basically, I'm a top without the parts to actually do it."

Cameron sat up with a slight wince, pulling me with him. Then he put his hand on my shoulder. "There are so many ways to top, Sam. And if you'd like, we can explore them together."

I smiled, tears welling in my eyes. "I'd like that, Cameron. That sounds perfect."

"Awesome." He grinned. "Because you're fucking hot, and I'd like for us both to get off tonight. Possibly multiple times. You good with that?"

"So goddamn good."

"Great. Now, if you're okay with it, I'd like to take your clothes off."

A sharp jolt shot through my chest. "All of them?"

He smiled, his eyes kind. "Yes, but only if you're comfortable with that."

I struggled to hold his gaze as I whispered, "I haven't had top surgery yet."

He nodded once, his expression full of understanding. "I suspected that. Would it feel dysphoric to take your binder off?"

I nearly swooned at his tenderness, but I made sure to consider his question carefully. I wanted him to see every inch of me, even if it didn't line up with who I was on the inside. I knew he'd accept every part of me regardless.

But I just couldn't.

"God, I want that so much, Cameron. But I don't think I'm ready."

His smile was wide and bright and made me feel like I hadn't disappointed him in the slightest. "No worries, Sam. Can I still take off your shirt?"

I absolutely loved that he was taking his time with me, asking me for permission every step of the way, making this feel important. Because it was. I hadn't been with anyone in years, so that was momentous in and of itself, but I'd also never even taken off my shirt in front of anyone since my last long-term relationship, and that was five years ago. And a hot mess.

This was huge, and I was sharing it with him. With Cameron. My Cameron.

He reached for the hem of my glittery top, inching it up slowly. I sucked in a breath as my black binder underneath was revealed. He pulled the shirt over my head, then his hands went to the bottom of my mid-length binder, his fingertips lightly brushing my flat stomach, as his eyes found mine. "You sure this is okay?"

I sucked in a breath then nodded, never breaking his gaze.

He nodded back, inhaling as he traced the edge of the half-length binder at my torso. I wished I could take it all off, bare myself to him, but my stomach tumbled at the thought of Cameron seeing me like that. Imperfect. Incomplete. Not myself.

"You okay?"

I choked back tears as I nodded. "Yes, I'm good. I want this with you. Even if I can't . . ." I let my voice trail off.

He lifted his hand to hold my chin, his face serious. "Sam, listen to me. You are perfect. This is perfect. I don't have any expectations around what this should look like. Tonight, we're just us. Whatever that looks like is perfect."

My breath caught as he held my gaze, and we just stared into each other's eyes for a moment, his words hanging in the air between us. How could he possibly know all the right things to say? I knew he'd been through a transition himself, so of course he'd understand, but his gentleness, his tenderness in this moment was destroying me and putting me back together at the same time.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat as his fingertips trailed over my bare shoulders, down the inside of my right arm then my left. I watched him closely as he tracked his movements, his eyes trained on where his fingers grazed my naked skin.

My eyes blinked back to his at the same time his found mine. "Sam," he breathed. "You're beautiful."

I squeezed my eyes shut for just a second before finding his blue ones again, darkened with lust but still visible in the light of the moon coming in the window. I whispered an enraptured "Yes" as I felt the tips of his fingers lightly stroke over my ribs again.

His words were soft, almost reverent. "Your skin feels so good, Sam. Fuck, you're incredible."

My eyes fluttered shut at the feel of his hands on me as they gently traced over the binder, headed toward my collarbone. Though I couldn't feel much through the restrictive material, it was still a foreign feeling having someone touch me there after so long. I relished it. "God, Cameron . . ." I shook my head as I imagined a slight brush to my nipples when he passed over them, and my dick perked up. "That feels amazing."

Cameron gently guided me to my back then resumed trailing his fingers over the top of my chest, back over the binder, across my torso, an infuriating, teasing brush over my nipples through the fabric. He caressed my collarbone, my shoulders, my neck.

Then he leaned down, and my breath caught.

Following the invisible path his fingers had explored, his lips retraced each step, pressing the softest of kisses against my sensitized skin. Then his tongue reached out to lick a stripe across the heated skin of my torso. I jolted—having someone pay my body attention like this was liberating. Cameron's tongue was life-changing, and I couldn't wait to feel it elsewhere.

He moved up my left arm, kissing and licking as he went, worshipping my body, then turned his focus to my collarbone and neck. I hummed quietly in my throat, not quite believing that I was actually here, in his dark bedroom, with the man I'd lusted after from afar. With the man I'd spent many nights with online. With the man I finally, finally, had in bed with me in person.

He kissed up my jaw, his lips scraping against my stubble. I shuddered. His gentle touches were undoing me. How could I stay whole after this? After knowing he could make me feel this way? After being worshipped like a god among men?

When his lips found mine, lust shot through me, and I couldn't wait anymore. I fucking devoured his mouth, claiming it for my own. My tongue explored, taking, never giving up an inch of ground. I had to have him, own him, make him mine.

I leaned back against the pillow, staring into his eyes as I found his hands and guided them to my waist. "Take them off."

The lust that flashed through his eyes had me growling. I hadn't given him enough time to do anything, really, but still, he wasn't moving fast enough. "Now, boy."

Shaky fingers undid the button on my leather pants, and like I had with his, he fought to pull them down my legs. But this time, we weren't giggling. By the time he tossed my pants on the floor, we were breathing so heavily I worried we both might hyperventilate. My binder was starting to feel too tight, too restrictive. I needed it off, but I didn't know how I could stand it. I didn't know how I could bare myself to him and withstand his rejection. I couldn't handle that.

"Cameron," I eked out, my voice breaking, and he gingerly sat back on his heels and gazed at me, his eyes hazy.

"Yes, Sam? Are you okay?"

My heart squeezed at how he still checked in with me, still made me feel like I wasn't an imperfect mess of a man whose outside didn't match his inside. And the way he was looking at me now, his eyes full of understanding and compassion . . . I'd never felt so adored or vulnerable in that moment.

I almost called it off. It was almost too much.

But this was Cameron, my boy, and I wanted to open up to him. I wanted to be myself, show myself to him. All the parts I kept hidden from everyone else.

Eyes trained on his, I sat up and reached for the hem of my binder.

"Sam, you don't have to—"

"I know." I slowly tugged the hem upward with both hands, revealing more skin, inch by inch. "I want to." Then I pulled the binder over my head and tossed it aside.

His eyes held mine, and I stared right back, locked onto his gaze. Holding onto it like the lifeline it was.

This moment, the moment I'd shown Cameron the most vulnerable parts of me, would be etched in my mind forever. I sensed I'd barely remember my squeezing chest and rolling stomach—instead, the lust and adoration I saw in Cameron's eyes would stay with me always, the look that told me this was right, this was us, this was our imperfect perfection. And it was beautiful.

I glanced pointedly down at my tight black boxer briefs before looking at his, still around his thighs. "Can we lose these?"

His eyes fell closed for a split second before he found my heated gaze again. "Oh, hell yes."

He hopped off the bed, reaching for his underwear and pulling them off the rest of the way. I gasped at the sight of all of him bared to me—he was fucking beautiful. "Oh god, Cameron. You look . . . you're perfect."

I reached out to him, and he stepped closer to the bed to kneel on it with one leg and grasp my hand with the other. He pulled me up to sitting then tugged me to the edge of the bed, coaxing me to stand in front of him, mirroring our position from earlier, only opposite. He winced again when he sat down, and I supposed even the soft comforter on his bed was scratching against his raw flesh. I was happier about that than I probably should've been. I was a sadistic bastard sometimes.

He glanced up at me as he tucked his fingers into the waistband of my boxers. I held my breath, staving off the fear that threatened to choke me. I'd never been good enough for anyone to want to have sex with me, the real me. I'd never been wanted enough for anyone to take their time with me, make me feel good, make me come. I'd never—

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing those thoughts out of my head. This was Cameron, and he desired me.

I hadn't realized he'd stopped moving until my eyes found his again. "You okay, Sam?"

I swallowed once, choking down the unpleasant feelings those thoughts had elicited. Then I nodded. "I'm okay, Cameron. This is all just so new to me."

His brow furrowed, and his hands fluttered as if he were about to move them. "Do you want to stop?"

I rested my hands over his, holding them in place. "God, no, please don't stop. I want this, Cameron. It's just a lifetime of . . ." I took a breath. ". . . of never being good enough for anyone, never being wanted enough to do this."

His eyes welled with tears on my behalf, which had me fighting them as well. He leaned in slowly, kissing my bare stomach, the goodie trail I was so proud of, then over to each hip bone. When he was done, he pulled back and gazed up at me. "Sam, I want you so badly. Please trust me on this: There's no one in this world I'd rather be here with."

I nodded, a tear falling. I brushed it away, hoping he'd missed it, knowing he hadn't. "Thank you, Cameron." I lifted my hands off his. "Please, keep going."

He sucked in a breath so subtly I would've missed it had I not been staring at him. Then he started tugging my shorts down.

Inch by inch, slowly and reverently, Cameron bared me to him. I'd never been embarrassed of what I had below the belt, though of course I wished I had something else. But this deep layer of intimacy—of being with someone who personally knew what I was going through, could empathize with what I was feeling—while being scary as hell, was fulfilling every longing I had ever had.

"Sam," he breathed after I'd stepped out of my boxers. I glanced down at him, and he was gazing almost lovingly—how could he have so much love in his gaze already?—at my body. Maybe I should've thought it odd that a gay man was staring at me like that, like my still too-feminine body was good enough, but Cameron made me feel like no one ever had before.

Wanted. Utterly and completely. Just as I was.

I bent at the waist and planted a kiss on his lips, letting it deepen slightly before pulling away. I had to remind him who was in charge here, of course, through my actions. Because my next words didn't exactly scream Dom. "I'm going to need you to lead a little bit here, at least at first, okay? I am embarrassingly inexperienced at all of this. I just want to make you feel good."

Cameron held my face in his hands and pulled me in for another kiss before grinning at me. "And I want to make you feel good. Sounds like we're in a good place already."

I chuckled, and his eyes lit up like he loved the sound. "So . . . what first?"