Page 28 of Matteo's Mettle
I bristle a little at this conversation. Spencer is the second of Matt’s Daddy friends to raise these concerns directly in front of me. That said, I suppose I prefer them to be open about it than try to railroad him behind my back. At least Ted was kinder about it, though.
“I’m an adult and this dynamic works for us. If he doesn’t mind that I’m twenty years his junior, that’s all that matters to me.” Offering the guy what I hope is an understanding smile, I add, “But I’m glad you guys care about him and aren’t afraid to show it.” Macho posturing drives me a little bit nuts, but none of these guys seem to be the type for it. Not even Josh, even if he does seem a little bit bratty. Or maybe that’s me projecting again.
Spencer stares me down for another moment before he grins and offers me a fist to bump. “You’re gonna fit in just fine,” he decides.
Matt snorts.
* * *
After ordering -and eating- enough pizzas to feed a small army, Matt’s friends start ambling out of his house, each one of them patting me on the back and telling me they’re happy that I’m a part of the group now. It’s not lip service, either. They’ve already added me to their group chat and are treating me as though I’ve been one of them since the start. Ash and Charlie are the last to leave, and the former pulls me in for a hug.
“You’re good for him,” he says quietly, “I’ve never seen him so happy or relaxed.” Stepping out of the quick embrace, he looks to Charlie, reaching to hold the other man’s hand. He swings their clasped hands between them and begs, “Daddy, can we have a playdate soon?”
Charlie and I have already exchanged numbers and we agree readily. Matt nibbles his bottom lip. “Maybe we can invite Kate and Cherie, too?” He asks me. “I know Katie wishes she had more friends like me and Ash.”
My heart swells. My precious, sweet boy. He seems to always be considering others and their needs. “I think that’s a great idea, sweetheart.” I wrap my arm around him and kiss his cheek. “We’ll make it happen.”
Charlie and Ash leave after exchanging final goodbyes and Matt and I are finally left alone. He hasn’t had any time in little space tonight and, even though he was with his friends, the change from routine is showing in the tense set of his shoulders. While he wouldn’t have had supervised little time tonight anyway, I know he would have spent some time coloring or playing with blocks on his own before I called to read him his bedtime story. He sags against me when I direct him to head to the bedroom, forgoing bath time.
I stop by the room I’ve dubbed his ‘Little Room’ and grab a set of pajamas with a teddy bear print, a diaper and the baby powder. His eyes light up when I join him in the master bedroom and he sees the items in my hands.
“You’re the best, Daddy,” he declares, before his face slowly falls and he averts his gaze.
I’m on him in a second, lifting his chin gently. “What’s wrong?”
“I…you’re so good to me, so perfect, and I…I kept you a secret from my friends. Not because I was embarrassed or anything,” the last bit is rushed out, and I know he’s worried that he might have offended me, “but…I was being selfish. I didn’t want to burst our bubble.” His shoulders droop and he looks away, studying the wall. “It hurt Ash’s feelings; I know that much.”
A part of me is elated. Wanting to keep me all to himself is actually a very sweet motive. However, he’s beating himself up right now, feeling guilty about upsetting his friend and also the possibility of offending me, and it hits me that this is one of those moments where I’ve got a choice to make.
When Matt and I first sat down and spoke about rules and limits, the topic of discipline was glossed over. He promised me that he wasn’t a bratty boy, but that he would sometimes appreciate a spanking to get him out of his head. We haven’t tried impact play for fun yet, but I can’t help but think this is the sort of situation he meant during that discussion. Domestic discipline to settle him, not arouse him.
My instincts haven’t let me down yet, so I bite the bullet.
“You’re right,” I tell him softly, but with an edge to my voice that has those beautiful eyes of his flicking straight back to meet mine. “Keeping information from your friends had the potential to hurt a lot of feelings, mine included. It didn’t hurt mine,” I add, reassuring him that we’re okay, “but I can understand why Ash might be upset. And I’m proud of you for knowing that you made the mistake. But I think you need to feel consequences for this. Am I right?”
It takes Matt a moment to understand what I’m asking, and I help his thoughts along by resting my hand over the curve of his ass, patting him gently. The strips of skin visible over his cheekbones turn pink, but he nods. “Yes, Daddy. Please.” He all but exhales the words.
“Good boy,” I praise. While allowing that to sink in, I step towards the edge of the bed and sit down, tossing the things I’d gathered earlier onto the mattress behind me. “Pants down, Matt. Then I want you over my lap.”
He all but scrambles to obey, his slacks and underwear pooling around his ankles in record time. He kicks them off, sending them flying in the direction of the bathroom. Then he drapes himself over my lap and I take a moment to get him positioned so we’re both more comfortable and that he’s not going to put out his back.
I rub the perfect globes of his ass with my open palm. “After this, you’re going to forgive yourself, okay? This is the consequence for your behavior. It’s a clean slate after that. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I’ve never done this before, but I’ve done my research as thoroughly as I can. I’m not planning on going too hard on him, especially when I don’t think he’s done anything wrong. However, I can tell that he needs this and, after a month together without having to discipline him at all, even I feel like it’s a necessity for us to experience this. Hell, maybe he needs it more often than I thought, but he doesn’t know to ask for it.
Should he have to ask for it, though, or is it my job as his Daddy to know when he needs it?
I’m getting too lost in my thoughts.
“Color?” I check.
He doesn’t hesitate, even if his back is ramrod straight. “Green.”
After getting the circulation going beneath his skin, I pull back my hand and land the first slap. The skin meeting skin sounds out with a loudercrackin the room than I’d expected. My palm stings a little with the impact, and I admire the pink outline I’ve left behind on olive skin that’s a few shades lighter than the rest of him. I deliver the next smack to the other cheek, then return to the first for the third.
Matt flinches after the fifth smack, the skin on his ass cheeks now red and tender, but his back is still rigid with tension. My aim is to see him let go, so I rain down a handful more swats until I see his shoulders shake and hear the first of his muted whimpers.
