Page 19 of Daddy Marc's Gem

Marc gathered Foster in his arms, rubbing his back as he held him. “Hey, anything you say is all right. I said you could talk about anything, remember?”

“Yeah…” He lifted his head. “Thank you. I blurt. Maybe that should be the third one?”

“Hmm…” Marc narrowed his eyes. “I’m not keen on discouraging your expression. That flies in the face of allowing yourself to say how you feel about something. And since itsounds as though you’re getting overwhelmed, why don’t we make the third one you not putting yourself down? Does that work?”

“Okay.” The tension left Foster’s shoulders. “That sounds doable.” He smirked. “Eventually.”

Marc jostled him. “There’s no time limit, no deadline you need to meet. Only my guidance and your willingness to be a part of the process.”

Foster let out a shaky laugh. “This is intense.”

“It is.” Marc smiled. “But we'll take it one step at a time.” He brushed a strand of hair from Foster’s forehead. “There’s no rush. The journey is as important as the destination.”

Foster nestled closer, his body fitting perfectly against Marc’s frame. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to suddenly change your mind or tell me I’m too much work.”

A pang of sadness filled Marc’s chest. This incredible man had been conditioned to expect disappointment, to believe he wasn’t worth the effort. Every time he thought about it, his anger resurfaced “That's not going to happen,” he said firmly. “When I commit to someone—especially as their Daddy—I’m all in. It’s not something I take lightly.”

Foster shifted, turning more fully toward Marc on the couch. His knee brushed against Marc’s thigh, and he didn't pull away.

Progress.

“Can I ask you something?” Foster’s brow wrinkled.

“Of course.”

“At the club, the man who told the bouncer to throw out the guy hassling me. It seems like you and he are friends. Zane? He’s the club owner?”

Marc drew his eyebrows together. “Master Zane, yes. He’s my closest friend. Does that bother you?”

Foster drew in a sharp breath. “No, not at all. I’m not like that, not like Edward. It’s more that I want to know more about you, how the club and the people there fit into your life.”

Marc grinned. Oh yes. Foster had dipped his toes in and now was ready for his first swim.

“That's a great question.” Marc smiled, thrilled by Foster's genuine interest. “Zane and I go back almost fifteen years. We met at a workshop in New York when I was still figuring out my place in the lifestyle. I’m originally from here, so when I discovered he was a fellow Bostonian, it all clicked.”

Foster’s eyes widened. "Fifteen years? So you've been... doing this for a while, then?”

“In essence. It’s been a growth process for me as well.” Marc chuckled. “I was about your age when I first discovered this part of myself. It was quite the revelation after years of feeling as if something was missing.”

Foster nodded, his expression thoughtful. “And Master Zane, he helped you? Were you always a Daddy?”

“Yes, he helped me and no, I wasn’t always a Daddy.” Marc laughed softly. “I think I was always meant to be one, but I had to discover that for myself. Zane was already established as a Master when we met. He took me under his wing—not as his submissive, but as a friend and mentor.”

“Did you help him start the club?”

Marc shook his head. “No, that was all him. I was in the process of starting up my practice. Like I explained before, my interactions at the club helped me narrow the focus of my practice.”

“What about your family? Do they know about this part of your life?”

“Well…” Marc winced. “In a very generalized sense. My parents aren’t all that religious, but my grandparents on my father’s side are staunch Catholics. They know I’m gay, but theBDSM lifestyle…” He let out a low whistle. “That's something I've kept private. My sister knows a bit more, but not everything.”

Foster nodded, seemingly absorbing this information. “Is it hard? Keeping parts of yourself hidden from them?”

Marc considered the question. “It was, at first. But I've come to see it as compartmentalizing rather than hiding. Some aspects of my life are only for me—and the people I choose to share them with.” He locked eyes with Foster. “Not everyone needs to know everything about us. That’s the beauty of intimacy—having spaces that only belong to us.”

Foster’s expression softened. “I like that.” He hesitated before adding, “And I completely understand. My grandparents were wonderful, but there were definitely parts of myself I kept hidden. They passed away before I could work up the courage to tell them I’m gay.”

Marc placed his hand over Foster's fidgeting fingers, stilling them with gentle pressure. “Do you think they would have accepted you?”

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