Page 20 of Spencer's Satisfaction
Almost as if he’s reading my thoughts, Spencer pats the space beside him on my threadbare two-seater couch and says, “We should talk about everything.”
I don’t really want to rehash it all, but I understand that he wants to make sure we’re on the same page. With a little reluctance, I gingerly sit next to him and stare at him pointedly. If he wants to talk, he can lead the conversation.
I startle when he takes my hand in his. His fingers are long and elegant; my Nonna would have called them ‘pianist’s fingers’. Between them and his large, warm palm, my perfectly normal hand seems small and pudgy in comparison.
“I’m going to put all my cards on the table, sweetheart. You know I’m a Daddy, and I know that you’re a bit curious about that. But I’m not sure I’m comfortable pushing you into role play before I know the extent of your actual experience, and what you already know you like and dislike. However,” he continues before I can start telling him what he wants to know, “I also know it’s a tender subject for you, and I don’t think we need to go through everything all at once.”
“But…”
“I think,” he keeps going again, giving my hand a squeeze in recognition of my attempted interruption, “in your case, we should just go with the flow and discuss things as they pop up. I want you to set the pace and tell me if there’s anything you’d like to talk about, or try, or definitely avoid. I also want you to know that you can safe word at any time.” He pauses and gives my hand another little squeeze. “Do you know how safe words work?”
I nod. “The, um, the book I was listening to…” I clear my throat, knowing that it was discussion of that book that led to me running from his house last night. “They use the traffic light system.”
“Yep, and so do I. I mean, it’s not without its flaws, but it’s simple enough to follow.”
I bob my head in agreement. “Everyone understands traffic lights.”
“Exactly. So, if you’re uncomfortable at any time, you can say ‘red light’ and we’ll stop immediately, no questions asked. And the same goes for me. If I say it, we stop.”
I nod again. “Even if we’re not, um, Daddy and little boy, or whatever?”
“At any time, Tony. I take consent seriously across the board.”
I don’t know why this settles me, but a huge weight seems to lift from my shoulders with this final declaration. There’s absolutely nothing in my past that would suggest it should be a trigger, but hearing the gravity in his words still reassures me that I’m safe with him.
“So…can I…” my heart starts beating rapidly, but I force myself to be brave. He said that I was setting the pace, which means that I have to ask for the things I want. “Can I kiss you?”
The thing I really like about Spencer is that he doesn’t try to mask his emotions. I watch as elation and eagerness light up his eyes before a spark of arousal seems to simmer in those gray-blue depths.
“I’d like that very much,” he answers me, bringing his free hand to my waist.
I scoot closer towards him, licking my lips in anticipation. He leans in, but doesn’t close the space between us, standing by his promise to let me lead for now.
I’m not a complete stranger to kissing, even if it’s been a little while since I’ve kissed someone, so I don’t hesitate to press my lips to his. His lips are thinner than mine, but warm and yielding. The sweet, gentle touch of them against mine sends a jolt of happiness through me.
Even though it’s a chaste meeting of mouths, I savor it. I savor the slightly sweet taste of the wine we’d shared at dinner still lingering on his skin. I savor the scent of his cologne, spicy but subtle, and the way his hands are now both on my waist, holding me in place.
I savor the tiny sound of appreciation he makes when I part my lips and dart my tongue out to lick at the seam of his. I savor the way he opens for me, still letting me control what we’re doing, despite tangling our tongues together when I deepen the kiss.
His hands pull me closer against him, like he can’t quite get enough of me, and it’s a sentiment I echo in the way I clutch at his back and shoulder blades with my own hands.
I just want to melt into him. We could spend eternity just like this, and I would be forever happy. As we move our mouths against one another slowly, the happiness begins to turn into something with more heat and urgency. It’s still a very pleasant feeling, but I pull away with reluctance, breathing heavily and trying to will my swelling cock back into submission.
“Wow,” Spencer says, his expression glazed over. He blinks a couple of times and then playfully narrows his eyes my way. “You could have warned me that you’re damn good at that.”
I preen under the praise, but I’m not sure what to say to him.
Thankfully, he seems to realize this and says, “I’d also say any potential concerns about compatibility or chemistry can be dismissed.”
I shift uncomfortably, grimacing at the ache between my legs, constricted by the tight denim I’m wearing, “I’ll say.” Before the moment gets awkward, I blurt, “Can we do that again?”
Spencer chuckles and nods, already reaching for me, pulling me closer. “You don’t need to ask permission to kiss me, sweetheart. Consider it always granted.”
“Okay,” I answer shyly, and then lean forward to fuse our mouths together again.
Unlike before, this kiss starts heated and gets intense much more quickly. I can’t seem to stop my hands from roaming over whatever parts of Spencer’s body I can reach. His shoulders, his biceps, his back, his pecs…Beneath the cotton of his shirt, he feels firm and warm and solid.
Somewhere in the middle of our impassioned kissing, I follow my instinct to climb into his lap, straddling him. He groans into my mouth when I unconsciously move my hips, finding an equally hard bulge in his jeans to mine. I gasp when our clothed cocks rub against each other, and Spencer pulls back, panting, “Too much?”
