Page 86 of Born Daddy

Chapter Twenty-Four

Tate stretched, his naked frame sliding across the cool, smooth sheets. Rogan had left for work a few hours earlier, and Tate had fallen back to sleep. He missed his Daddy during the day, missed the frequent touches. Even if they were only in passing, he couldn’t get enough of the contact paired with affectionate glances and soft smiles.

And the love. So much love between them he sometimes wondered if he could stand the magnitude of his feelings. His previous existence had begun in the cold then ended in a bitter, agonizing darkness with the discovery of Cam’s evil. Now, the bright emotions and days filled with joy were a sharp contrast to what Tate had once believed was his fate. But the grim hold Cam once possessed over him had been stripped away.

Many years of healing still lay ahead—he wasn’t deluded enough to believe there wouldn’t be irksome surprises down the road—but he was certain of one thing. Rogan was his future. Everything else was merely an issue to be resolved with his Daddy as his guide.

Tate rolled onto his side and clutched Rogan’s pillow to his body, hugging it as if Rogan were still there to keep him warm. His Daddy had woken him softly with sweet kisses along his neck and jawline, until he’d taken his mouth in a languid, toe-curling kiss. Rogan’s hands had roamed Tate’s body, waking him from sleep with skilled fingers and a talented tongue.

After Rogan sucked him off, Tate had returned the favor. Rogan had kissed him drunk again, then wrapped him up in the blanket and told him to go back to sleep. Tate had wanted to stay awake, to send Daddy off with a smile and an ‘I love you’ on his lips. Instead, he’d drifted off again, his only memory the words he’d hoped to say to Rogan being whispered in his ear before the bedroom door had softly closed.

Tate had been living with Rogan for over two months and the summer was drawing to a close. While they’d experienced an initial learning curve in how to cohabitate as a couple, in addition to being Daddy and boy, those weeks had flown by.

Much to Tate’s delight, Rogan’s eagerness to try out new kinks that Cam never had the patience for kept them plenty busy. Certain aspects such as cages, spankings and—when Cam was really in the zone—giving him a bath or massage, had been a consistent presence within their dynamic. But if Cam had to put a lot of effort into something that wasn’t his idea? Forget it. Even the check-ins with Master Zane—and now Rogan—had been perfunctory. On occasion, they’d be overlooked completely, with Tate checking in with a voicemail that was never responded to.

Of course, Tate would be eager when Cam took on the Daddy role. He hungered for a Daddy’s attention, was thrilled to be the chosen one who could give his distracted Daddy whatever it was he craved. However, what Tate desired was only taken into consideration when Cam was in the mood. Tate had begun to wonder why Cam hadn’t simply chosen to be a Master instead of bothering with being a Daddy.

Tate involuntarily shuddered. Cam must’ve presented himself as a Master when he’d lured the subs he killed. None of the victims had identified as boys or ever been in Daddy/boy relationships. Tate had always wondered if being a Daddy’s boy was the only thing that had saved him from a cruel death at the hands of his lover.

Tate banished the unsettling thoughts then pushed himself up from the mattress, swinging his legs over the side. Time to get on with his day. He’d take his shower and make himself a breakfast of sliced fruit, coffee and an egg—a promise to Daddy that he’d eat some protein in the morning—then he’d get ready for the noontime call with Rogan.

Tate licked his lips, on the honor system that he wouldn’t touch himself until Daddy called. They were trying out something different and the consistent throbbing in Tate’s cock was an excellent indicator of how excited he was about giving it a go. The fact that Rogan was also allowing them a lot of leeway for exploration thrilled Tate. Part of the plan was to give Rogan a chance to figure out his Daddy role, with the rest of it giving Tate a chance to discover more about his own kink.

The morning seemed to go on forever as he went through the motions of doing what a good boy does. Household chores didn’t bother him, he liked staying busy. But once the simple tasks of making the bed and doing the dishes were complete, all he had left was completing the assignment he needed to discuss with Daddy during their call.

Tate plopped on the couch after placing his second cup of coffee on the side table. He opened the journal Rogan had bought for him and tapped his favorite purple gel pen against the blank page. The lined white paper stared up at him, as empty as Tate’s head.

Name one thing I wanted to be when I grew up.

He doubted Rogan would appreciate the comment ‘out of the foster care system’, despite that being the truth. No, his Daddy had explained that while he didn’t mind if Tate spent the rest of his life at home, that Rogan could provide for them both without the extra paycheck, he didn’t want him to be stifled either. Since every man, Cam most definitely, had required he stay at home as their boy and do nothing else, he’d never considered having a career. A job to get by, sure, but not something intentional.

Some of the childish fantasies that had flitted through his mind as a kid were along the lines of big cat veterinarian or member of a boy band. Those hadn’t been serious considerations then, and they were completely ridiculous now.

He’d also discovered that pulling up memories from when he was a kid, even if they were harmless, meant he’d sometimes have to drag a few unpleasant ones to the surface as well. The veterinarian idea had come about after he’d been traumatized by the house cat at one of the foster homes getting hit by a car. A school field trip to the zoo got mixed in around the same time, which then somehow got translated to wanting to be a vet for big cats.

Tate had already made it through half his cup of coffee, but not one word had been written down. The alarm on his cell went off, the signal it was time to call Rogan. Despite knowing, believing with all his heart, that Rogan wouldn’t be mad that he hadn’t finished his assignment, his heart still pounded with anxiety.

“Hey, sweetheart. Right on time.”

“Hi, Daddy.” Tate clutched the phone with both hands, his legs curled under him as he leaned against the arm of the sofa. “I didn’t write anything down,” he blurted.

Tate almost asked Rogan if he was mad but managed to hold back. He was able to stop himself from doing that the last several times the compulsion had arose, so he knew that somewhere deep inside he was beginning to believe Rogan’s reassurances.

“Was that because you didn’t have time, or didn’t want to? Or that you couldn’t think of anything to write?”

“The last one. I really, really tried. All I kept remembering were dumb things I wanted to be, like, a hot pop star, but nothing I’d realistically be now.” Tate rolled his eyes at himself. “I think I was meant to be a boy and that’s it.”

“Maybe, but I bet there’s a lot more you’d be interested in pursuing. Even if you are the best boy ever.”

Tate grinned at the somewhat goofy compliment, because he knew Rogan meant it. As far as his Daddy was concerned, Tate was the only boy in the world. After having to share his other Daddies in the past, whether knowingly or unknowingly, being Rogan’s one and only was amazing.

“You’re the best Daddy ever.”

Tate would rather discuss how awesome they both were than dredge up old memories. Or, try and come up with something that made him more complex and fascinating.

“Then I suppose we’re the perfect pair, hmm?”

Tate laughed. So much of his life was filled with laughter now.

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