Chapter 5

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JOHN

JOHN WOKE to the delicious sensation of wet heat engulfing his cock. He let out a moan and arched his back, then blindly stretched out his arms until he touched Adam. The boy was sideways on the bed, his arms bracketing John's hips, his soft t-shirt fluttering against John's bare skin with every bob of his head.

"Christ," John muttered as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes so he could get a better look.

Adam drew back, releasing John's cock with an audible pop , then gave him a cheeky grin. "Good morning."

"Morning," John growled back.

"It was so hard," Adam said by way of explanation right before he ran his tongue all the way from John's balls up to the tip. "I couldn't resist."

"I can see that," John replied, his voice still a low, sleepy rumble. Then he gasped as Adam cradled the hard length in his palm before dipping his head down, rubbing his nose along the same path his tongue had taken. Adam repeated the process with his right cheek. Then the left. Adam did it over and over again until John's cock had touched every inch of his face before the boy finally swallowed him to the root. "Holy fuck," John got out between clenched teeth as he arched off the bed again.

Adam bobbed his head fast several times, hitting his gag reflex with each pass so that he made an audible choking sound. He pulled off and sucked in a ragged breath, then dove right back in, hollowing his cheeks and sucking hard on every upstroke, followed by intense flutters of his tongue every time he came back down.

"Baby," John gasped. "Holy fuck. Turn around," he panted, reaching for Adam. "Come sit on D–" He broke off, needing more air to continue speaking, and realized what he'd been about to say.

Shit. That was close . That word would have stopped everything cold for sure. He really needed to work on keeping Daddy locked down, but it felt like it kept getting harder and harder to do so.

"Come sit on my face while you do that," John managed to say before he gasped again.

Adam looked up at him from under his eyelashes and shook his head, all without releasing John's cock from his mouth.

John cursed, taking in Adam's disheveled hair and dark eyes, the blue-grey color almost completely obliterated by his pupils. Adam sucked him deep and moaned, looking for all the world as though he could come just from that. Christ . John had enjoyed a lot of one-night stands in his life, but none of them came close to the pure bliss of this boy. How he'd ever managed to resist the temptation of Adam—that one night, nine years ago, when Adam had snuck into his bed—was completely beyond him. And to think, because of that, he'd been missing out on this in all the years since.

Adam slipped a hand between John's legs and fondled his balls.

"Fuck!" John shouted. His balls drew up tight, and his cock pulsed hard. John heard a moan and forced his eyes open to watch as Adam tightened those full lips around the head of his cock, using a hand to milk every last drop that shot into that exquisite mouth.

Adam swallowed and moaned again before he kissed and licked all over the head of John's cock, stopping before it got too sensitive. He let out a contented sigh and cradled the softening length in his hand. "Did you like that?"

John gave him a lazy grin as he caught his breath, reaching down to run his fingers through Adam's hair. "Yeah. That was amazing." He stretched out his other hand, trying to reach Adam's groin. "Come here," he murmured, but Adam shook his head. "You don't want me to make you come?"

Adam laughed. "I already did." He shifted up, rubbing his cheek on John's chest. "I was having a sex dream. Woke up with my hand between my legs, and for a second, right before I came, I thought it was your hand." He grinned. "So I figured I'd wake you up with an orgasm, too."

John chuckled. "What was in the dream?"

Adam's smile faded, and he tugged on his shirt before wrapping an arm tightly across his chest. "I was naked. Post-op. And you were straddling me, rubbing your cock all over my flat chest."

"Christ," John muttered, feeling his cock twitch at the thought. He put one arm around Adam's waist, and used the other hand to toy with Adam's hair. "If you want help finding a good surgeon–"

"Nope," Adam exclaimed, sitting up and pulling free of John's reach.

"Adam–"

"I need to go to the bathroom, and then I'll make you some breakfast," Adam announced, effectively ending the conversation as he left the bedroom.

John watched him go and let out a sigh. Why did Adam keep avoiding the subject? The only thing he could think of was that, since Adam's dad had died in a routine surgery, Adam was afraid the same would happen to him.

Except John also knew how badly Adam wanted top surgery. It was there in his eyes every time they had to shower separately so that John wouldn't be able to see him completely naked.

Maybe that would be the one good thing about the damned party that day. He could get some advice from some of the other daddies who would be there, especially considering almost all of their boys were trans like Adam. They would understand the unique struggles. Of course, those weren't the only issues.

Until he and Adam had gotten together over Christmas, John had never had any real relationships to speak of, so he had no idea how to navigate things like this. He'd never dated anyone long enough for normal life shit to get in the way.

And that didn't even touch on the added tension of Frank Barnes's death, still hanging over their heads.

John got up, pulled on a pair of lounge pants, and padded out to the kitchen. He poured coffee for both of them, then got out of the way as Adam breezed about the space, making bacon and scrambled eggs. John started to head for the couch when he realized Adam was humming. He watched as Adam flitted from the refrigerator to the stove and back, making soft sounds and occasionally letting a few words slip out instead. John had no idea what song was going through the boy's head, but he needed more.

He set down his coffee and went to the far corner of the living room, where his guitar rested in its case, leaning up against the wall. John pulled out the guitar, then had to catch a notebook that tumbled out from behind it. He carefully lay the guitar on the couch, needing both hands to tuck the notebook into the pocket where it belonged.

But not before pausing there to flip it open to the first page. John ran his fingers down the blank lines, frowning and shaking his head. At the top of the page, he'd written Adam's Song , but that was it. Nine years or more, he'd been trying to write the perfect lyrics, but nothing ever worked. Nothing was ever good enough. Even now that he and Adam were together, his muse still forsook him. The lines he tried to write either didn't capture the depths of his feelings or didn't rhyme well enough to satisfy him.

John snapped the notebook shut, tucked it out of sight, and picked up his guitar. He quickly checked its tune, then padded back to the kitchen and settled himself, leaning back against the wall, before picking a song at random and starting to play.

Adam's humming faded. He tilted his head, listening while he flipped the bacon over in the pan. A smile slowly spread across his face, and he sang.

The gentle sounds of "Teach Your Children" by Crosby, Stills & Nash filled the small house. John lost himself in Adam's voice, his fingers strumming on autopilot as he soaked up every exquisite sound the boy made. Maybe he was biased, but there wasn't a singer in the world who could make John feel the way Adam did. There was simply no comparison. Adam's voice was angelic. The most beautiful and stirring one he'd ever heard, hands down.

Even back when Adam had still been Evelyn, that voice had lived on a pedestal that no other singer could ever hope to match. At least, not in John's eyes. But now, with Adam finally getting to be Adam, and with the way testosterone had affected his vocal range? Christ . There was simply no competition. Adam's voice was the beginning and end of all music as far as John was concerned.

How could he ever hope to do that voice justice with his own words? Nothing he ever wrote would be good enough.

In the brief pause between verses, Adam blurted out, "Sing with me."

John emphatically shook his head. A frown flashed across Adam's face, but the boy didn't miss a beat as he picked up the next verse and kept right on singing. John caught Adam sneaking glances his way as the song progressed, but try as he might, John couldn't join in. He knew his voice was passable, but it was nothing compared to Adam's. Besides, he could barely play his guitar in front of people, and he was a good musician. Singing in front of anyone—even Adam—would have made him feel too embarrassed. He didn't have Adam's carefree presence. The boy would sing for anyone, anytime, anywhere.

But John definitely preferred the quiet solitude of songwriting. Performing for even the smallest audience was the very last thing he ever wanted to do.

He put the guitar away when Adam started filling two plates for them. The eggs were perfectly fluffy and buttery, and the bacon was cooked just the way John liked it. They sat on the couch and ate in companionable silence. As they were finishing, John glanced at the clock and said, "I want to get a few chores done before we go, if that's okay."

"Yeah! Of course," Adam agreed. "That's fine."

"You sure?"

Adam rolled his eyes. "I know you won't relax otherwise," he teased. "Yeah. I'm sure."

"Okay." John stood. "Why don't you do the dishes while I start some laundry?"

Adam jumped up and grabbed their plates. "Yes, sir."

John winced as Adam whirled away. Christ . He loved the way Adam always obeyed him, but that sir hurt. Every time. It didn't help that he heard the lowercase s whenever Adam said it. Other than the first time Adam had used the term, testing it out, it had always come out as a mere word instead of anything remotely resembling a title. Not that Adam didn't respect him. John knew better. But it was like even Adam knew that sir was the wrong word.

But John knew Adam would never use the title he really wanted. Fuck . He ached to hear Adam call him Daddy , but that was never going to happen.

Adam had made that very clear.

John lost himself in his chores, trying to distract himself from things he couldn't have. When he finally stopped to take a break and noticed the time, he realized the party was about to start and that they were going to be late.

"Hey, sorry," he told Adam, who was pulling a load of laundry out of the dryer. "I completely lost track of time."

"It's okay," Adam said, giving him a sweet smile.

John watched him for a moment. Adam hadn't pointed out the time or said a word of complaint about spending the whole morning doing chores. "I can finish that tonight–"

Adam shook his head. "We're almost done." He closed the dryer and hefted the laundry basket up onto his hip as he headed for the bedroom.

John watched him go, then hurried to follow.

They wrapped up the chores, got dressed, and loaded Adam's things into the truck. Since the party was clear on the other side of town, John could easily drop Adam off on his way home afterwards. John paused and ran back inside, snagging a couple of sealed wine bottles from his collection. Beau was always very generous, using his own inventory for the parties he threw, but John felt the need to contribute something.

He chuckled to himself as he pulled on his seatbelt and started the truck.

"What's so funny?" Adam asked.

"Just hearing my mom's voice in my head," John replied. "You know. 'Don't you dare go to a party without bringing something for the host.' "

Adam laughed. "Yeah, that sounds like her. Your mom was cool, though–" Then he let out a gasp and cranked up the radio volume as he sang along to "My Church" by Maren Morris.

John smiled the whole way across town, listening to Adam sing. When they reached Living in Zin Bed-and-Breakfast, his smile faded right into a grimace. The parking lot was full. Fuck . That meant way too many people, and he'd had enough of that for one week.

But Adam practically vibrated in his seat, excitement written all over his features. So John braced himself for Adam's sake, grabbed the wine bottles, and followed his boy inside.

A storm of noise assaulted him the moment they opened the front door. The foyer was empty, but the sitting room to the left—to say nothing of the tasting room beyond that—was crowded with people. Adam burrowed straight into the chaos, hugging and greeting his friends as he went.

John trailed along more slowly, cradling the bottles of wine with his left arm, freeing up his right to shake hands as he encountered each new person. He didn't see Ward anywhere, but there were plenty of other people to greet as he moved through the house. John bypassed people he didn't recognize, keeping his focus zeroed in on those he knew, hoping it would make the crowd feel less intense.

He saw his boss, Everett Scott, and the man's fiancé, Morgan Brewer, who worked with Adam at a coffee shop downtown. Next up was Maverick Jones, one of Beau's partners. Nearby were Beau and Maverick's two boys, Dakota Pratt and Ryder Sorenson. Dakota was chattering away with someone while Ryder huddled closer to the wall, talking to one of his friends, Nicky Parker. Ryder and Nicky worked together at the local warehouse that distributed John's wines across California.

Not far from Nicky were the boy's two daddies, Griffin Mitchell and Laurie Scott. Laurie was Everett's younger brother and was relatively new to the role of daddy , but it suited him. He'd definitely grown into it since he and Griffin had moved into town to be with Nicky.

In the tasting room, John spotted Adam hugging his roommate, Haven Winters. Just behind Haven was his boyfriend, Theo Armstrong, the tasting room manager at Vista Robles and probably the closest thing John had to an actual friend.

And, of course, standing behind the tasting room counter, surveying his domain with a subtle yet proud smile on his face, was Beau Renaud.

Beau spotted him and spread his arms. "John! You made it."

John approached the counter and shook Beau's hand. "Thank you for inviting us." He set down the bottles. "These are for you."

The Frenchman tsk ed. "You did not have to do that, but I do appreciate it. Thank you. May I get you anything to drink?"

John barely hesitated, eyeing Adam a few feet away, then said, "Yes, please." He was going to need it if he were to have any chance of getting through this party.

Beau eyed him studiously for a moment before he asked, "Syrah?"

John blinked. He loved all different wines, but syrah was easily his favorite. He'd never said as much to Beau, yet, somehow, the man knew. "Yes, please."

Beau grinned. "Coming right up–"

"Daddy!" Dakota called, flying straight up to the counter.

Even from a few feet away, John saw Adam violently flinch. The boy quickly recovered and forced on a smile, continuing his conversation with Haven, but John saw the tension in Adam's jaw.

" Un moment , chéri ," Beau murmured to Dakota. "John?"

John jerked his focus away from Adam and looked back at Beau. "Huh?" He spotted the wine glass the man had pushed towards him. "Oh. Thank you." John gave Beau a grateful nod and took a sip, moaning with relief as the wine hit his tongue.

Then he looked back at Adam, eyeing the boy over his glass. They were surrounded by daddies, and it seemed like every use of the word was suddenly louder than everything else in the room. Adam certainly seemed to hear them all.

Christ . John knew Adam wanted to be with his friends, but how could the boy subject himself to this when he knew how much it would dredge up painful memories?

John's heart clenched, feeling helpless to do anything about it.