Page 6 of Kylan

Our shower was a large walk-in with double detachable showerheads. Lavish and pretentious, maybe, but then again, this whole house was.

So were we.

We were indulgent. We liked the finer things.

Like Kylan.

We showered him, bestowing him with gentle caresses and soft kisses. My god, how he shined.

Compared to when we first met him, first had him. That Kylan had been rigid and scared, unsure of what we might do, or if we might hurt him. He’d been in a permanent state of fight or flight, it seemed. Like a bird brought in from a storm.

Now he was free. Free to be himself, free to be touched and kissed, free to feel safe and cherished.

He radiated contentment the second he walked through our door. The change in him was day and night.

He felt safe here and secure.

No one could hurt him. Or worse . . .

Two nights per week, he was with us, and we wished it was more. But we travelled with work, and we had late nights, early mornings. And some nights we needed to unwind with a few drinks at 180, just the two of us.

But these nights with Kylan had brought us closer, and I wasn’t sure how that was even possible. Leon and I were watertight. Always had been. Never one moment of doubt, never one argument. Since we met all those years ago.

Yet somehow this boy had brought a new element to us, to our relationship, to our home, and to our bed.

A nurturing side, where we could watch each other thrive and grow with kindness and adoration—and smoking hot sex—with another man. Where Kylan was the conduit for mine and Leon’s love for one another.

A much younger man. A twink with a slight build and a big heart. A femboy who needed so much love and attention it took two daddies.

“Here he is,” Leon said. We were standing in our kitchen, wearing our lounge pants and not much else, waiting for Kylan to come downstairs. He was wearing my silk robe, undone of course, small black panties, and soft black dainty slippers.

His hair was still damp, neatly brushed to one side, and a touch of pink lip gloss. He was shower-fresh, his clean skin flushed pink.

“You look beautiful,” I whispered, running my thumb along his jaw. “Beautiful enough to eat.”

Leon chuckled. “We need to feed him first. I thought I’d make you a nice salad with sliced steak. How does that sound?” he asked Kylan.

Leon loved to cook and potter around the kitchen. He spoiled us both.

“It sounds amazing,” Kylan replied softly, sliding his arms around him and giving Leon a cuddle. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Hm,” he said, flustered by the attention, but the hint of his smile gave him away. “Now be a good boy and do some reading while I make us dinner.”

“Need me to help with anything?” I asked him.

Leon leaned over and kissed me. “No, love. Go and sit with him in case he has any questions.”

I took Kylan’s hand and led him to the study. He knew the routine. He knew where his books were and where he was up to.

Was this part of our agreement?

No, not in our contract anyway.

But he’d shown interest and ability, so it was a natural progression. We made it a point of doing this once a week, and Kylan was advancing well.

Kylan went to his seat and opened his first book. He looked so quaint in the robe and slicked down hair, his rosy cheeks and shiny lips. Like a star from the silver screen.

Just gorgeous.

---