Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

Micah

I've won the fucking lottery.

No, literally.

Someone go open the door, the guy with the big check has to be here.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought my sweet boy would be so inexperienced. And while it shouldn't be a turn on, I can admit the Neanderthal part of my brain that still wants to drag him home and keep him with me forever really loves the fact.

"Lay on your back for me. You're looking a little woozy there," I tell him once he gives me full consent to make him feel good.

Now I have to prove I know what I'm talking about.

It only takes me a second to pull the blanket back, and it's then I see the issue.

Fucking hell.

My sweet boy has to be aching.

His cock is swollen, the length hard and peeking out of his underwear. It didn't look like this when I undressed him, so I'm guessing it was sometime between then and me climbing into bed that his desire ramped up.

Could it have been when I stripped down? Was he turned on by my body?

That would be ideal.

Internally, I cross my fingers since I don't want to interrupt the moment to interrogate him further. He's been brave enough admitting something that clearly troubles him.

Part of me suspects it's not shame that's truly had him hesitant, but fear. Fear of the unknown. Confusion over his body's reaction to a stimulant.

"I'm going to take these off now," I tell him as I reach for the band of his underwear. "You'll need to lift your hips for me to get them down."

He nods, then does just as I said. My mouth waters at the way his length swings around once it's released. He's more endowed than any man I've ever been with. For a moment, I wonder if I'll be able to handle him the way he deserves.

Then I pause, remembering he's trusting me as his Daddy, and dammit, I'm going to give my boy the best fucking night of his life.

I watch as heavy breaths make his chest rise and fall rapidly. He's turned on, that much is obvious.

Now I need to show him what comes next.

Wrapping my hand around his wayward length, I rise onto my knees and spit. My boy jolts, then whines as the liquid trails over my hand and down his cock.

"Gotta get you nice and wet, sweet boy."

My accent has thickened, the words sounding more heady than I ever thought possible. His pupils dilate further as I start to stroke him.

With each movement, I keep my focus on his face, careful to take in every detail. I want to know just what he likes, what he craves. It's not enough to listen, since he's always pretty quiet.

Or at least, he usually is.

It's ironic that a hand job would have him a whimpering, panting mess. Not that I mind.

He's a masterpiece.

His body is sculpted to perfection, which makes this experience all the more enjoyable for me. I get to observe the muscles he's worked hard to build contract as pleasure radiates through him.

Pulling back, I reach down to play with his balls. He jumps, then sighs the more I squeeze and tug.

"Does it feel good so far?" I ask softly.

My boy is slipping into a state where his mind and mouth aren't going to be able to answer me. He's already started babbling nonsensical words.

"Good, Daddy. So good."

I grin, happy to give him what he deserves. Now it's time to take it up a notch.

Leaning over, I grip him steadily and swirl my tongue around his crown.

There's a gasp, then his hips rock up, desperately searching for more. A glance his way shows wide eyes, an open mouth, and need. It's a magnificent combination.

Instead of explaining anything further, I let go of him long enough to crawl between his legs. Luckily, I'm small enough to fit.

Gripping his length again, I keep my eyes on his as I allow my mouth to hollow out. I slide down as far as I can go without gagging, then suck.

My boy's eyes roll back in his head as waves of pleasure overtake him. He's lost to it.

I pull back, then push down a little further. This time, I use my hand to move down the rest of his length.

He wails loudly, his hips thrusting again as I suck and lick and tease him. With the hand not stroking him, I reach down to cup his balls.

His loud groan is all the warning I get before he comes. Well, that and his balls drawing up and out of my hands.

Not one to shortchange an experience, I swallow every drop he gives me. It seems to go on forever, which is unsurprising given how long he's gone without properly coming.

I keep him in my mouth even after he's done, his flavor and scent providing too much comfort for me to even consider moving. It's only when my body demands attention that I rise up and yank myself free.

Hovering over him, I stroke myself hard and fast.

His eyes take in the movement with something close to fascination. I can't take my eyes off him, even though he's no longer paying attention to me. Or rather, not my face.

"Daddy," he whispers reverently as his hand reaches out in my direction like he wants to touch me too.

That's all it takes. I erupt, painting his deep brown skin white with my release. He lays there watching until I'm done, then he finishes reaching out to touch me. I keep my grip on my length, unsure what he's wanting.

When he uses his fingertip to swirl up the last of my cum and bring it to his mouth, I feel my length growing hard in my grasp all over again.

Fuck me.

Maybe my boy isn't as sweet as I always thought.

"Do you like the taste of Daddy's cum?"

He doesn't answer with words. Instead, he gathers the mess I made on his stomach and chest, then laps at his fingers as if it's the most delicious treat he's ever tasted.

I growl as I dive forward. Our lips connect, and I taste myself on his tongue. He moans and arches back, our naked bodies rubbing together with every move.

My cock is achingly hard again. I want to paint him some more.

Or should I let him taste straight from the source? Let him see how far down his throat I can fit?

I'm not as thick or long as he is, so he should have no trouble deep throating me with a bit of practice. Immediately, I envision him kneeling before me, mouth open and eager. With our height difference, I'll need to be pushed up on something. Something like a countertop.

And now I'm picturing him in my kitchen, his big body submitting to the pleasure I can bring him.

Pulling away from the kiss, I press our foreheads together. "Daddy's hard again, sweet boy. What have you done to me?"

"I don't know." He rubs his nose against mine. "But I feel it too. I… I want more."

While I'd love nothing more than to grant his wish, we've already leaped far ahead in the plan I had for us. Given his earlier hesitations, I don't want to push too far, since he's likely riding on endorphins right now.

Being cum drunk is totally a thing.

And I bet my boy is deep in it.

"Not tonight. You need to rest. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and I want you rested enough to enjoy the day."

I also need to ensure he's not too tired for the surprises I have lined up for him. Sure, the train was the biggest part of this, but it's not the only one. I had more than enough time to properly prepare to spoil my boy.

As if to prove my point that he needs more rest, he yawns wide. I chuckle, then tug the blanket up.

"Big spoon or little spoon, sweet boy?"

He eyes me at the question, his gaze unsure. Eventually he whispers, "Little."

I smile wide so he knows I'm pleased by his choice too. He rolls to face the wall, giving me his back. I move into position as I tug the blanket all the way around us.

With my arm over his side, I wrap around him as best I can. There's not one piece of me that isn't touching him in some way.

"Sleep," I tell him softly.

His soft snores fill the cabin a few seconds later. I bask in the trust he's allowed me even as I bemoan the ache in my cock.

It will all be worth it in the long run.

The next morning, I worry myself over the next part of the surprise I have in store for him. After the comments I made yesterday, I fear he'll consider the present a level of dishonesty. Or worse, he'll think I'm pressuring him when that's not the case at all.

It's the furthest thing from the truth. If he told me to get off at the next stop, I'd leave without question.

"Daddy?"

I turn my head to find him watching me. At some point in the middle of the night, we wound up switching positions, with me on my back and my boy tucked into my side.

"Morning, sweet boy. How did you sleep?"

He smiles shyly. "Really, really good."

There's something different this morning. He's still my boy, but there's… more to him.

It takes me a minute to realize he's showing me more of his Little side. Before, he still held part of himself back to be the adult version of himself.

Grinning, I stroke his back and tell him, "I have a surprise for you this morning. It's not something you have to do or anything. This is a gift that you can use whenever and however you want."

His eyes watch me closely, likely looking for clues as to what I mean. I can feel his adult side creeping back up, so I slip out of the bed quickly to grab the gift.

"No overthinking. I want you just how you are."

Rather than answer me, he takes the bag and pulls out the tissue paper. When the gift comes into view, his eyes widen.

He pulls out the footie pajamas with slow movements, as if he's afraid this isn't real.

Oh, sweet boy. It's all very real. I promise to keep proving it to you.

"These are for me?" His fingers move over the train pattern I had custom made for him.

"They are," I reply. "I was worried you wouldn't like them after you saw Ean's yesterday."

His eyes snap up to mine. "I love them. They're so soft, Daddy. Can I wear it now?"

I fight to not show my shock at his eager tone. "Sure, sweet boy. You can wear them whenever you want. Let Daddy help you get ready."

He climbs from the bed, then bounces on his toes with his legs crossed. His cock bounces around with the move, which is very distracting. Even so, I recognize the dance that means a full bladder.

"Go potty and shower first, then we'll get dressed."

My boy flies into the tiny bathroom stall as I climb from bed and slip on some underwear. He's back quicker than I thought possible, his whole body still wet.

I chuckle as I grab a towel to dry him off. How can I even get on to him for something so adorable? He's going to be spoiled rotten at this rate.

Good, my inner voice tells me.

"Underwear, then your outfit," I demand.

He grabs his bag and shoves it at me. I get him all sorted, careful to not make anything sexual since I want him in this state for as long as possible.

As I pull the zipper up, I take in how adorable my boy truly is. The trains were perfect for his hobby, and the color of the outfit contrasts with his skin so beautifully.

"Daddy, present," he demands once he's secured.

I frown, unsure what he means. At least until he reaches into the luggage area to grab a small bag I hadn't seen.

Inside, I find a shirt with Daddy across the front in swirling font. There are also a ton of Christmas items covering it — from elves to Santa hats to snowflakes.

"Can I wear it this morning?" I ask him.

He smiles big, then nods quickly. "Daddy clean. Then eat."

"Anything for you, sweet boy."

And I do mean anything.