Page 21 of Kylan

Marek put his hand to my cheek. “You’re so good with him. I hope you know how much I love seeing you with him. How you care for him, tend to him, protect him. It makes me very happy, Leon.”

I leaned in and kissed him. “Ditto, my love.”

Marek preened a little, then clapped his hands on his thighs and stood up. “Well, he knows he can call us now. Hopefully he’s reassured and content. Though weshould start dinner to feed him before we put him to bed.”

I followed him into the kitchen. “So, tonight should be more about reassurance and security, yes? No sex, just cuddling, to make sure he knows he’s safe, right? So we’re on the same page when he comes back downstairs.”

Marek chuckled as he took a container from the fridge. “I think so, yes. I think he needs that from us tonight.”

Okay, good.

As long as Marek and I were on the same page, everything would be fine. From the very beginning, we’d always been very open about our needs when we played with a third person.

And we were very open about how excited we were when we first met Kylan, and we had long conversations when we considered inviting him into a more permanent situation.

We both saw something special in him.

We were both attracted to him, but it was more than just sexual fantasies and desires. We both wanted to wrap him up with affection and praise, and we wanted him to thrive.

We both wanted a young man to fawn over, to pamper and spoil. To wear his pretty femboy outfits and moan and whimper while we took turns fucking him.

We wanted a boy who wanted all that as much as we did.

And we found that in Kylan.

But tonight was a good reminder that it wasn’t onlyabout sex. It was never just about sex, and it should never be just about sex.

It was a daddy’s responsibility to meet all the needs of his boy, and that meant emotional needs as well.

And being the emotional support pillars he so clearly needed tonight was a proud moment for me—for me as Marek’s husband, and for the daddy in me. It made me feel worthy.

It validated the part of me that craved to be Kylan’s daddy.

It felt as if we’d cemented something in our relationship tonight, making us stronger, better.

Not just mine and Marek’s, but with Kylan. Ouragreementfelt greater and in a lot of ways clearer.

This was who I was meant to be.

And this was who Marek was meant to be. Both of us, together.

As I was finishing setting the table, carrying the salad bowl, I stopped to give Marek a kiss on the cheek. “I love you,” I murmured.

He paused at the grill to smile at me. “And I am the luckiest man on the planet.”

There was a quiet sigh behind us, and we turned to find Kylan standing there, timid and perhaps even embarrassed. His hair was washed and brushed neatly, his skin looked scrubbed, rosy and fresh. He even wore a bare touch of lip balm, but the pièce de résistance was his pyjamas.

A pretty pink nightie, soft fabric that clung to his body. It barely covered his panties, and he knew—oh, he knew all too well—that it was a favourite of ours.

He was stunning.

And did I say no sex tonight?

I regretted that with a quiet, tortured groan.

Before Kylan could become confused, Marek held his hand out. “Come here, sweet boy. You look radiant.”

Kylan glided toward him, taking his hand. “Thank you, daddy.”

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