Page 112 of Born Daddy

“No, not at all. It’s like when you press your thumbnail in me, but more intense.” He nodded. “Green.”

A light of understanding dawned in Rogan’s eyes and he bent to his task again. Ever so slowly, he continued to push in the plug, the bizarre stretch where he shouldn’t be stretching replacing the sting. Rogan was holding Tate’s dick horizontally and they both audibly sighed when the last half inch or so slid easily into place, the tiny ball at the end keeping the metal rod from disappearing inside him. The attached thin chain could now be clipped to the cage.

Rogan had frozen and was staring at Tate as though he were about to explode. Tate couldn’t help it and a small snort escaped his lips before he could stop it.

“You’re okay? Does it hurt? Should I take it back out?”

Rogan was starting to sound like him. Tate leaned up on one elbow and reached for Rogan.

“It’s amazing, Daddy. I love it.”

Rogan’s shoulders dropped and he let out a long groan. “Thank God. I was so afraid I was going to hurt you, or it would be a terrible experience and you’d be traumatized.”

Tate was about to make a joke, but then realized how real his Daddy’s fears were.

“Daddy, look at me. Don’t be afraid if everything isn’t perfect for me all the time. I don’t expect that.” Tate tugged on Rogan’s wrist, urging him closer. “I mean it.”

Rogan locked eyes with him but didn’t respond. He continued to stare at Tate, as if searching for the truth behind his words. At last, he gave a slight nod.

“Okay, sweetheart. Let me finish putting on your cage, clean this up then I’ll come lie in bed with you.”

Tate watched his Daddy in concern, and when he left the room for a moment, Tate sat up and propped the pillows against the headboard. As he adjusted his position and got comfortable, it was also an opportunity to test how it felt with both the butt and penis plug moving around inside him at the same time.

Heaven.

He hoped Rogan wouldn’t be gun shy the next time or never want to do it again. Rogan reappeared from the bathroom then headed to the main area of the suite.

“How about some fresh cocoa? Or do you want soda instead?”

He wanted his Daddy, but he could tell Rogan was working through something in his mind.

“Can I just have a water?”

Rogan gave him a soft smile. “Of course.”

Once Rogan returned to bed, Tate noted he had a bottle of beer in addition to the water. He’d made a point of not having any alcohol earlier, explaining to Tate that he was being very diligent when it came to the protocols he’d been learning from Master Zane. His commentary had been along the lines of, ‘if I’m going to shove foreign objects into your pee hole, I need to have all my wits about me’.

Rogan handed him the water, then set down his beer on the nightstand before climbing into bed. He yanked the blanket and fluffy down comforter up from the bottom of the mattress and pulled it over them. Then he snuggled up to Tate and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, hugging him close.

“There.” Rogan’s sigh was lighter this time. “Much better.”

They reclined in silence for a few minutes, and Tate wondered whether he should add more to what he’d said to Rogan about trying too hard to be perfect for him. But then Rogan spoke up.

“Tate, I realize I’ll make mistakes, I do. Part of it is how much I fucking hate Cam for what he did—hate him. To you, his victims, his mother, Jace, and to everyone he ever poisoned with his existence. I know that inner rage I’m holding onto isn’t healthy, but I need to feel it for now. Need to acknowledge its truth. If, at some point, I find myself allowing it to rule my life, I promise you I’ll get some help dealing with it.” Rogan turned to him. “Okay?”

“Okay. I understand, Daddy.” He squeezed Rogan’s hand. “I’m here for you no matter what.”

Rogan smiled then gave him a soft kiss. “And I’m here for you. Imperfections and all.”

Tate’s heart ached for Rogan. Neither of them would ever be the same because of Cam. But Cam hadn’t won. More healing lay ahead, but so did more love. The hatred Cam had spread would eventually die, his darkness consumed by the light he and Rogan had found in each other.

Tate’s stomach growled. It had been a few hours since they’d had dinner, and they’d walked on the boardwalk for a while after.

“Daddy, can we get another of those crab-stuffed pretzels tomorrow?”

Rogan chuckled. “Sounds to me like you could use one now.”

Tate no longer had trouble eating, and Rogan kept teasing about how jealous he was that Tate could pack away so many calories and never show it.

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