Page 69 of Viking Ink

“Enjoying that, baby?” I asked, dabbing a soft white dollop of foam on his nose and getting a laugh in return.

“Tickles, but in a good way, like having a face massage.” He wrinkled his nose. “Are face massages a thing? Cause if they are, I want to try one.”

I laughed softly. He was already letting go and slipping further into his space.

“Hold still now, baby. I don’t want you wiggling while I have the blade close to your skin,” I warned as I lifted my razor, checking its edges and making sure it was sharp.

Rhys stilled under my hand, allowing me to move his face. I tipped his chin and brought the razor down for the first pass. With each pass I felt him relax under my touch, his body moving easily as I guided his head. It also seemed to be having another effect on my boy, if the tenting of the towel around his waist was any indicator. I could only imagine how he would react when I shaved the rest of him.

I rinsed the cloth and ran it over his face, wiping away any traces of the shaving soap, the skin silky smooth under my touch. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” I nosed against his smooth cheek and moved down, gently nipping at his jaw.

“Daddy,” Rhys moaned softly, the tent in his towel even more obvious.

“Do you need something, baby?” I teased, dropping my hand to his lap and squeezing him through the towel.

Rhys turned his face to brush his lips against mine in soft butterfly kisses. “I need you, Daddy—always you.”

My tenuous grip on self-control gave in, as it inevitably did where my boy was concerned, and I covered his mouth with mine and kissed him deeply.

Rhys moaned against my lips, wrapping his arms around me. I took advantage and slid my hands under his towelled legs, lifting him up in my arms. I hoisted him up onto the counter.

I broke from assaulting his mouth in order to kiss a trail from his neck to his chest, licking and playing with his pert nipples. Rhys’s cries drove me on as I fumbled with his towel, exposing his erection to me. My own towel had fallen to the floor, and my cock was hard and begging to be buried in my boy’s sweet arse.

“Daddy, daddy...” Rhys’s husky chant drove me on.

Fumbling with the drawer alongside me, I continued to lick and tease his nipple before feasting on the other one, all the while I searched the drawer hoping the lube was still there after our last shower romp. My fingers snagged the pump bottle. I yanked it out and slammed it onto the counter. Rhys’s hand was on it immediately, pumping a generous amount on my fingers as I continued to torment and tease his nipples with my mouth.

“Hold your legs open, baby. Let Daddy see your sweet hole.” Rhys grabbed his thighs, leaning further back on the counter so his heels balanced precariously on the countertop, exposing his perfect little hole to me.

“Fucking beautiful, baby. So needy for Daddy’s cock.”

I brought my lube-slicked fingers to Rhys’s pucker, tracing softly around his rim. His lips parted and a soft whine slipped out.

“Daddy, please. I need you.” He pushed back against the bathroom wall as my finger breached him slowly. I looked down, watching my finger slide in and out of his hole with ease. As eager as I was to plunge straight in, I couldn’t help but tease my baby, rubbing my finger against his prostate just to see his blue eyes go wide and a silent moan catch on his lips. I toyed with him, slowly adding more fingers and stretching him, and all the while sweet whimpers and pleas fell from his lips. He was my drug of choice, and I wouldn’t give him up. It filled me with a possessive pride that only I got to do this to my beautiful boy, only I got to see my sweet, reserved Rhys fall apart under my hands.

Soon my impatience won out, and I slicked up my cock, a driving need to be buried to the hilt inside Rhys overtaking everything else.

“Hold on, baby, Daddy’s going to be rough,” I warned as I pressed the head of my cock to his lube-slicked entrance.

Rhys nodded eagerly, too far gone for words, his hands slipping from his legs to grab at my shoulders. I slid in without giving him any time to adjust, the heat of his body enveloping me, driving me wild, demanding I take.

I lost myself then to my animalistic needs, pounding into his velvet warmth, each brutal thrust driving sweet moans from him that only spurred me on.

The moment Rhys came, I felt his body clamp down on me, and he threw his head back in glorious submission. I bit down gently on Rhys’s shoulder, wanting to stake my claim, feeling more animal than man—truly the Daddy bear Rhys called me.

I came with a muffled moan against Rhys’s sweat-slick skin, my cock thrusting deeper, desperate to claim my boy completely.

I lay against him, panting, trying to gather the strength to move. I was intoxicated by his soft touches along my back and neck.

His soft laugh pulled me back to myself. “I think I might be too sore to sit and play with my blocks tonight.” His fingers danced along the skin of my neck. He didn’t sound upset or angry, more amused.

“Was it too rough, love?” Concerned, I stood up, pulling out of Rhys slowly and watching his face for signs of pain. But there was only a slight wince, followed by a lazy grin.

“Fuck no, Daddy. It was perfect.” He grinned cheekily at my warning growl.

I swore his growing comfort in dropping the F bomb was partly to do with the amount of time he hung around with Mouse.

He spoke with a relaxed drawl as his fingers played with my loose hair. “I wanted out of my head, and you more than delivered. But your boy is now officially tired. I know you wanted to explore bathroom control tonight, but I think we ended up finding another way to get me out of my head.” He gave me another sweet smile, and I could see the edges of tiredness creeping into his eyes.

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