Page 22 of Daddy Marc's Gem

“That’s all anyone can ask for.” Marc smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good boy.”

The simple praise sent a warm current through Foster's body, settling in his chest like a physical thing. Dolly let out a contented sigh from her corner as if in agreement, and Foster found himself relaxing deeper into the couch beside Marc.

“Is there anything else on your mind?”

Marc regarded him with an easy expression that was going a long way toward helping Foster relax.

“I, uh, I should probably get the water.”

His mouth said the words, but his brain wasn’t interested in responding. What hereallywanted had nothing to do with drinks.

One corner of Marc’s mouth lifted. “Is that all you have on your mind? Water?”

Foster hesitated, his gaze dropping to where his hands rested in his lap. There was onemajor thing simmering beneath the surface since they left the club. Something he wanted but felt almost childish asking for.

“I...” He licked his lips, gathering courage. “We kissed at the club, but it was so quick. I’ve been thinking about... I mean, I’d like it if you...”

Marc slid closer. “Give you the kind of kiss you really want?”

Foster nodded, his breath catching in his throat. “Yes,” he whispered.

Marc’s hand came up to cup Foster’s cheek, his thumb gently tracing the curve of his bottom lip. The touch was so tender that Foster let his eyes flutter closed.

“Look at me,” Marc murmured, the deep rumble of the words hitting Foster in his core. He reached out, his large hand cradling Foster’s jaw with a gentleness that made his breath catch. “Come here, boy.”

The endearment sent a shiver through Foster’s body as Marc leaned in, his lips brushing against Foster’s with deliberate slowness. This wasn’t the brief, chaste kiss they’d shared at the club. This was intention—this was promise.

Marc’s mouth moved against his with measured restraint, as if testing boundaries. When Foster sighed and leaned into the contact, Marc deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of Foster’s lips until they parted.

The heat that had been building within him blazed into something more urgent as Marc’s tongue slid against his. Foster made a small noise in the back of his throat, his hands finding purchase on Marc’s broad shoulders.

Marc tasted of mint and something uniquely his own, a flavor that Foster wanted to memorize. The gentle pressure of Marc’s hand at the nape of his neck guided him closer, and Foster went willingly, practically climbing into Marc’s lap.

When they finally broke apart, Foster could barely catch his breath, his lips tender and his heart racing. Marc’s eyes had darkened, the brown irises nearly black with desire.

“That’s what I wanted.” Foster could barely push out the words, his voice unsteady.

Marc smiled, running his thumb along Foster's jawline. “Me too.” His voice had deepened even more than usual. “I want you to use a safeword if things get too intense.”

Foster blinked, momentarily thrown off guard. “A safeword? For kissing?”

“For anything we do together,” Marc clarified, his voice gentle but firm. “Red means stop immediately. yellow to slow down. That’s standard. Use them if you ever feel uncomfortable or need to pause.”

The concept seemed strange to Foster. In his limited experience, sex was something that happened, not something that required safety protocols. “I don’t think I’ll need it. I trust you.”

Marc furrowed his brow. “That’s exactly why we need it, sweetheart. Trust means I have a responsibility to you.” He traced his thumb across Foster’s cheekbone. “You're in a vulnerable place right now, and I need to know you have a way to communicate if something doesn’t feel right.”

“But I’m not—”

“I’m your Daddy.” Marc arched his eyebrows. “This is non-negotiable.”

Something about the quiet authority in Marc’s voice sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. “Okay.” Foster nodded. “Red for stop, yellow to slow down.”

Marc grinned. “Very good. I can tell already how proud you’re going to make me.”

Foster’s heart thumped like a kettle drum, the praise filling the spaces inside him that had been hollow for so long. WhenMarc leaned in again, Foster met him halfway, his earlier shyness giving way to a needy hunger.

Their mouths moved together with growing urgency, Marc’s large hands splaying possessively across Foster’s back, guiding him closer until Foster was straddling him on the couch. The position made Foster acutely aware of Marc’s arousal pressing against his own, and he let out a small gasp against Marc’s lips.

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