Page 13 of Ted's Temerity
Silence descends between us, broken only by the sounds of meal cooking in front of me. This is not how I want the date to go. I want to prove that we can maintain effortless conversation, not back each other into awkward silences.
“Anyway,” I forge on when the strange moment has stretched on a little too long for comfort, “the boy scout thing. I’ve always been a little, uh, anally retentive.”
My turn of phrase has the desired effect and Zephyr snickers. “Have you now?”
“Yeah. I like things neat and tidy. I’m methodical. I don’t love surprises.”
With a wooden spoon in my hand, I turn to catch the widening of his eyes. “But…you’re a Daddy,” he argues with confusion. “Aren’t littles the antithesis of neat and tidy? Or amIthe odd one out?”
“Some activities can get messy, sure,” I tilt my head in recognition of his argument, “Finger painting, blocks strewn across the room, toy cars scattered…but that’s only momentary. In my house, toys are cleaned up and packed away neatly after play. It’s a rule.” I pin him with a pointed smirk, waggling the spoon in his direction. “The overarching arrangement of Daddy/little role play is structured. Most littles thrive on routine as much as I do. And, as Daddy, I get to set those rules and routines. I get to manage the variables as much as anyone possibly can.”
“Ah,” he leans across the counter now, propping his pretty face up in his palms with his elbows braced on the marble. There’s an almost feline grace in the stretch of his long back. He’s breathtaking. “And that’s why mybossiness, as you so kindly put it, eats at you, huh? Don’t like being challenged?”
“On the contrary,” I face the stove behind me again, giving the simmering meat, veggies and sauce another stir, gauging that it’ll only need another minute or two before I can toss in the noodles and then serve it up, “I’m a lawyer because I love a challenge, too.”
“So…what does that mean in terms of us, then?” He’s so direct and I love it.
“Well,” I toss the noodles in early. Fuck it. It won’t make much difference. “I’d say that you speak to both sides of me. The lawyer and the Daddy.” Now I turn back and smile at him warmly. “And I like that very much.”
It’s gratifying to watch his own smile blossom across his features, like he feels similarly to me.
But I remind myself that I promised not to rush him, so I carefully add, “I know the concept of an exclusive, long-term thing is new to you, so I won’t push. I want tonight to be about showing you how things could be. But there’s no pressure, okay? We’ll take this all at your pace.”
Zephyr’s smile morphs into one of gratitude and he nods. “I appreciate that, Ted.”
Then I serve up our meal and we move to the dining table, turning the conversation to lighter, happier topics.
* * *
“That was delicious,” Zephyr declares, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his belly in an adorably childish sort of way. I like to think that he’s loosening up, allowing his little side to come out and play.
“I can’t take all the credit,” I confess, pushing back my chair and collecting our empty bowls. “This was London’s recipe. Matt raves about it, and London insisted it was quick and easy to make.”
“Well, then, you did a good job of following the recipe, anyway.” He smiles lazily up at me, his eyes hooded with post-meal sleepiness. It’s insanely adorable. I can’t prevent myself from bending to kiss the tip of his ski-dip nose. “Mmm,” he says, then tilts his head back and puckers his lips for a proper kiss.
Oh, this boy. This beautiful, perfect boy.
I press my lips to his chastely, savoring the brief connection before straightening up and taking our dishes into the kitchen. I pop them into the dishwasher and then pull the chocolate mousse I’d prepared earlier from the fridge.
Zephyr’s eyes widen when I set his bowl in front of him. “You’re trying to make me explode,” he complains. “I wish I’d known there was dessert before I ate so many noodles.”
Grinning, I lift a spoonful to my mouth. “I promise, if you can’t finish it, you can take a doggy bag home with you.”
He pokes his tongue out at me before diving in, and I love that he’s starting to get comfortable enough to be cheeky in this way. It’s more innocent than his earlier teasing. More childlike and pure.
The moan he releases when the chocolate hits his tongue, though, is anything but.
My cock takes interest at the sound immediately.
“Oh,” he stretches the sound out, closing his eyes and sucking the spoon until his cheeks hollow, “Ted. This is incredible.”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was turning dessert into sex on purpose.
He goes for another spoonful. It gets the same treatment, his pink tongue wrapping around the utensil as he makes inappropriate noises and licks it clean. Then he does it again.
I drop my spoon into my bowl with a clatter and splat.
Zephyr looks up, startled.
