Chapter 9

Steam curled up from the tomato soup he'd made like tendrils of warmth seeking the coolness of the kitchen. The kitchen table was a homey stage set for two, and the dim lighting above them cast a tender shine over Josiah's features. His boy looked so much better than a week ago. His cheeks were rosy, his skin was glowing, and he'd put on subtle makeup that highlighted his beautiful eyes and pouty lips. As if Brody didn't have trouble enough keeping his hands off him.

They'd fucked every day, sometimes twice, and true to his word, Josiah was able to take Brody a little easier every time. Just the thought of burying himself inside that tight body again made him half-hard. A horny old man, that was what he was… and proud of it.

"It's delicious." Josiah glanced up through fluttering lashes. He was a handful, never really bratty but always pushing boundaries, and Brody loved it.

"Thank you. I'm glad you like it."

Since his arrival, he'd cooked every meal, every day. He liked cooking. It brought him joy and relaxed him. Unlike Josiah, who disliked it with a passion, he'd told Brody. Josiah would rather dedicate himself to his work, which was more art than work as far as Brody was concerned. He'd watched with fascination as Josiah created purses out of nothing, each one delicately decorated with sequins, feathers, special stitches, or roses made out of fabric, all in vibrant colors. Josiah was an artist with all the endearing quirks that came with it.

Brody was content observing Josiah as he ate. The boy seemed to relish every bite. But Brody had more on his mind than dinner, and he took a deep breath, readying himself for the conversation they needed to have.

"So tell me about Chicago," Brody said. "What made you leave Alaska behind?"

Josiah set down his spoon and leaned back in his chair, tracing the rim of his wine glass. "Well, I guess… it was about needing to find my own path, you know? Alaska was beautiful, but it was isolating. Denali was my only friend, and when he got the job at the White House, I debated moving to DC with him. It would've been easy, familiar. But I needed to find my own way, become independent, and so I decided on Chicago."

"Was it what you expected?"

"Hell no. I didn't find independence but loneliness. I thought I could handle being on my own, that I'd thrive, but instead, I ended up feeling like a puzzle piece that didn't fit anywhere."

Hearing Josiah speak about his pain wasn't easy, but Brody forced himself to listen, to ask more questions. They needed to be honest with each other, and that started with communicating and not walking away from the tough conversations. "You said you tried to join a club?"

Josiah nodded. "I did some research, and it came recommended. So I became a probational member or something and tried to find Doms who wanted to play with me."

This was where Brody had a hard time understanding what had gone wrong. "You're so gorgeous, baby boy. I don't understand why they didn't want to play with you."

Josiah's fingers stopped twirling the stem of the glass, and his shoulders hunched as if they carried the weight of the world. "Oh, they did. At first. I knew I was submissive. Denali and I had figured that out together. But when I did scenes, it never felt quite right, like something was missing."

"Describe it to me."

Josiah looked up, his eyes glimmering with emotions—the hope of being understood, the fear of rejection, the courage of vulnerability. It was that very look that stirred something protective within Brody, a desire to be the safe harbor in Josiah's stormy sea.

"I didn't understand it until Denali told me more about his dynamic with Milan and Asher, but I'm a submissive who likes to serve. I don't like pain. Not for the sake of pain, if that makes sense."

"It does." He wasn't a masochist. Easy enough.

"I also don't like humiliation. It makes me feel even worse about myself."

That made total sense. "I can see why that wouldn't be a good fit."

"Then there's bondage. I tried it, and it's boring. I can see the beauty in Shibari because there's an art to it, but as an observer, not as the one being tied up."

"Okay…"

"One Dom invited me to his house to experiment with domestic serving. It made me feel like an unpaid housekeeper. That wasn't his intention, don't get me wrong. He was good about it and wanted to help me find what did it for me. But after that failed too, word got around that I was high maintenance, and the Doms stayed away from me. One Dom even questioned whether I was truly submissive."

His voice broke, and Brody wanted nothing more than to beat up anyone and everyone who had hurt his boy. How had they not been able to see below the surface? How had they missed what was so obvious to him? "You are, baby boy. Let me assure you of that right here, right now. You are absolutely one hundred percent submissive."

"Then why didn't it work out with any of those Doms? Some of them had years of experience."

"That wasn't you, baby boy. That was them. They couldn't see what you needed. I've been around long enough to know the difference between someone who's high maintenance and someone who has specific needs. And you"—he squeezed Josiah's hand—"are not high maintenance. You're just waiting for a man who can meet you where you are."

Josiah swallowed. "How do you know?"

"It's not that hard, baby boy. You need a Dom who's much softer, who takes care of you. You like to serve sexually, and I suspect you like to be used, but you don't connect with any particular kink, and that's fine. What you need is an older Dom, someone who will be your…"

Lightning struck his brain, the solution so clear he couldn't believe he hadn't realized it sooner. How had he missed it? How had everyone else? Hell, he'd even started calling him baby boy. It had been right there in front of him, and he hadn't seen it.

"Brody?" Josiah sounded small. "Is something wrong?"

Was his boy having flashbacks to Brody walking out on him? Brody took Josiah's hand in a firm grip. "I just had an epiphany. A profound one."

"A good one? Can you tell me?"

Should he? Ideally, he would've taken a little more time to think things through, but how could he when Josiah needed him? "Can you come sit on my lap for this, baby boy?"

"But our soup will get cold."

"I'll reheat it. Please. This is a conversation I want to have with you close."

Josiah looked apprehensive, but he slid off his chair and sat on Brody's lap. Brody wrapped his arms around him, breathing in the faint coconut smell of Josiah's hair product.

"What you need, baby boy, is a Daddy," he said softly. "I don't know if you're a boy or maybe a little or a middle, but you're looking for a Daddy."

"Oh…"

Josiah sat frozen after uttering that one word, more a cry of surprise than anything else. But Brody waited patiently, giving his boy the time to sort his head. This had to come as a shock.

"Denali has a friend, Kenn, who has a Daddy," Josiah said. "Kenn and his Daddy live on another floor of Denali's house. Well, it's Milan's house technically, but whatever."

"Have you seen them together?"

"No, he's… They're very private."

"Okay."

"But I know it's a real thing. Daddies and boys, I mean."

"What are you thinking, baby boy? Tell me what's going through your mind."

Josiah played with the hem of Brody's shirt, his head bent, and Brody didn't like that he couldn't see his face. Something was bothering Josiah, but would he be brave enough to voice it?

"A-are you…?" Josiah swallowed. "Is that something that appeals to you?"

It took Brody one second to connect the dots, and everything made sense. He'd omitted one crucially important detail in his explanation. "Baby boy, I already am your Daddy. What we've been doing this past week, the dynamic between us, that's me being your Daddy and you being my special boy."

Josiah slowly raised his head, his eyes wide with shock. "You are?"

"Yes, baby boy. The question isn't if I want to be a Daddy. The question is if you want to be my boy, if you want to continue what we've been doing this week."

Josiah blinked. "I've never felt safer. Or more treasured and seen. You…" He swallowed again. "You cooked for me and cleaned my room and made sure I ate healthy and showered and did my work. You've been…" He bit his lip.

"What is it, baby boy?"

"Are you sure you liked that? Because it's been the best week of my life, but you've had to work hard. I didn't even do my laundry. Like, that's a lot for you."

Brody grinned. "Oh, I'm not saying I'll spoil you like this for the rest of your life, baby boy. You'll need to do chores, and if you don't do them, there will be consequences."

Josiah shifted, his cheeks growing red, and Brody had no trouble deducing where his mind had gone. "Still hoping for that spanking, huh?" he asked with a wide smile.

Josiah nodded.

"We can make that happen, no worries. As punishment or as a reward."

"B-but you don't mind doing all that for me?"

"No. I love it. See, I find it incredibly rewarding to be needed." Brody brushed his thumb over Josiah's knuckles in rhythmic circles, grounding them both. "It gives me purpose, focus. Taking care of you this week has felt like a privilege… one that I hope to have for a long, long time. But before we can take that step, there's something about me you need to know… about why I walked away from you."

Josiah's head dropped to his chest, but Brody tilted his chin back up. "No, baby boy, this isn't about you. This is about me and my past, and I need you to listen to me and swear it stays between us."

Josiah's expression changed. Instead of hurt, it showed concern. "I promise. What's going on?"

Brody took a deep breath. "Ten years ago, I lived and worked in LA as an accountant. The company I worked for had some big clients, and I was hungry for the top, so I worked my ass off to gain my boss's trust. Well, it worked, and I was awarded one of our bigger clients. Within weeks of taking over the account, I discovered something fishy. The books showed creative accounting that was hiding something illegal. Something big. I talked to my boss about it, albeit in covert terms, and he told me to let it go. But I couldn't. I started digging and found out my client was at the top of a massive money laundering scheme, all involving money from drugs and human trafficking. And my boss knew and chose to actively help them do it—in exchange for a hefty fee, of course. A fee I would receive a share of if I participated. But I couldn't."

"Oh my god," Josiah said. "The Victoria case."

Brody wasn't surprised Josiah recognized it. The case had made national headlines for months as the trial dragged on and on, complicated by several witnesses committing perjury, evidence of jury tampering, countless motions from the defendant in an attempt to prevent the inevitable, and all the legal tricks in the book. But in the end, justice had been served. Thanks to Brody's testimony.

"Yes."

"You were the star witness."

"Yes."

"So you're in…?"

"I'm in the Witness Security Program. I changed my name, had plastic surgery done to alter my appearance enough to make me unrecognizable, moved across the country, and have kept my head low ever since. Until you."

He saw the moment it clicked for Josiah. "Milan and Asher. The connection to President Shafer."

Brody nodded. "The biggest rule for anyone in the program is to stay out of the limelight. No interviews, no public careers, nothing that would put my face online. And when you mentioned Denali's connections to the White House, to the president, it scared me. Milan and Asher have been involved in the biggest terrorist case since 9/11. They're practically celebrities, and so are President Shafer and anyone in his inner circle. I can't be connected to them in any way. No one can ever see my face on the news. Ever. Because those guys I helped put away still hold a grudge against me. There's still a contract on my head, and if they discover I'm here… if they were to find you… The idea that I'd put you in danger was too much."

"Protecting me," Josiah murmured more to himself than to Brody, the shock slowly fading from his expression. "You ghosted me because you were protecting me, not because I did something wrong."

"Still, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

"I understand now. But…" Josiah frowned. "What has changed? That connection is still there."

"I'm forty-six, baby boy. I can't be alone for the rest of my life, as Elya, my roommate, pointed out. That's too high a price to pay. I deserve happiness… and so do you."

"I've been so happy this week… Happier than I've ever been."

"I've spent the last ten years hiding from myself, from others," Brody said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But with you, I don't want to hide anymore. You're not just someone I enjoy being around. You're… you're the one I find myself thinking about when I should be focusing on spreadsheets and market trends. You're always on my mind, baby boy. And I've become greedy. I want more with you."

A half laugh, half sob bubbled up, and Josiah reached out, tracing the stubble along Brody's jaw with a tenderness that sent shivers down Brody's spine. "Falling for me, huh?"

"Hard." Brody captured Josiah's hand in his and pressed it to his cheek. "I want more than casual, Josiah. More than the occasional scene or dinner date. I want… whatever this is, this thing growing between us, I want to give it the chance it deserves."

"So do I," Josiah whispered, resting his forehead against Brody's. "So do I."

"Will you be my boy, then? My precious baby boy? Will you let me care for you and give you what you need?"

He held his breath, but Josiah didn't keep him in suspense long. The boy's face lit up like the sun after a thunderstorm. "Yes, I want that. I want that more than anything… Daddy."