Page 31 of Daddy Marc's Gem

Marc smiled to himself. They were definitely on the right track.

“That’s what community is supposed to feel like.”

“And it’s the cool part.” Foster’s tone was intense. “I’ve never felt like I belonged…” He huffed. “Anywhere, I guess. I think that’s why even though I didn’t choose to move to Boston, it didn’t really matter one way or the other.”

“But you had your grandparent’s antique shop that had been established for decades. The way you described it, there was a large repeat customer base, and it was very successful. In your opinion, did Edward’s job opportunity outweigh your shop's success? Is that why you agreed to move?”

Marc kept his tone neutral, careful not to sound judgmental. He genuinely wanted to understand Foster's thought process. Foster stared out the window, the streetlights flashing by in rhythmic succession that cast a brief spotlight on his melancholy features.

“I suppose I convinced myself it did. Edward kept saying how much more potential he had in Boston, how he’d make so much more money.” His voice grew quieter. “And how his success would be my success too. He even promised to set me up in a new store. But of course, he dumped me before that ever happened.”

Marc pressed his lips together, tempering his anger. “That must’ve been very disappointing for you. And your shop? What happened to that?”

“I sold it to one of our long-time employees who'd always loved it as much as we did.” Foster twisted his fingers in his lap. “I told myself it was just a building, just things. That relationships matter more.”

Marc pulled onto Foster’s street, choosing his next words carefully. “Relationships do matter more. But the right relationships should support your passions, not diminish them.”

He parked in Foster’s driveway, turning off the engine but making no move to exit the vehicle. The silence between them felt weighted with significance.

“You’re right. I’m still figuring it out,” Foster finally said.

Marc reached across the console, taking Foster's hand in his. “You deserve to be valued, sweetheart. I hope you're beginning to see that."

Foster’s eyes, luminous in the ambient glow of the streetlights, met his briefly before darting away. “I'm trying.”

Marc squeezed his hand. “That’s all I ask. Now, shall we go inside? I believe I made some promises earlier that I'm very eager to keep.”

The shift in Foster was immediate—a catch of breath, a flush rising on his pale cheeks. Foster swallowed visibly. “Oh.”

That single syllable, so full of anticipation and nervous energy, sent a surge of possessive desire through Marc. He released Foster’s hand with a final squeeze.

“Let’s go, baby. Daddy’s going to take good care of you.”

The command was gentle but firm, and Marc watched with satisfaction as Foster scrambled to unbuckle his seatbelt. They walked to the door together, Foster fumbling slightly with his keys, his hands trembling with what Marc recognized as a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

Once inside, Dolly came barreling toward them, her body its typical twisting and turning ball of fluff. They both greeted her with affection, Marc kneeling to ruffle her ears while Foster cooed at her. Marc smiled at the way Foster's voice changed when he spoke to his pet—softer, with loving adoration.

Foster turned to him. “I should let her out back for a minute.”

Marc nodded. “Go ahead. I'll wait in the bedroom.”

Foster’s eyes rounded slightly before he ducked his head, a smile playing at his lips as he led Dolly toward the back door.

Marc picked up the overnight bag he’d retrieved from the car and made his way to Foster’s bedroom, removing his jacket and draping it over a chair. He unpacked a few essentials from his bag, including the plug he'd bought made of sleek black silicone with a jeweled base, perfect for the gem he’d discovered when he met Foster.

He placed the toy on the nightstand alongside a bottle of premium lubricant. He'd chosen a modest size, perfect for a beginner, though the thought of eventually working Foster up to something more substantial already had him hard as a diamond.

The sound of nails clicking on hardwood announced Dolly’s return before Foster appeared in the doorway, hesitating at the threshold of his own bedroom. His gaze landed on the items Marc had arranged, and his jaw went slack before he snapped it shut.

“Come here, baby boy.” Marc’s voice was a gentle command.

Foster obeyed, moving to stand before him. Marc cupped his face, thumbs brushing over the soft skin before claiming his mouth with a hungry kiss. Within seconds, they were grinding against each other, clutching at the others’ shirts, their desperate noises filling the room. Marc broke the kiss with a gasp to slow things down.

He took a moment to catch his breath before speaking. “Are you ready to try something new tonight? Remember, you can always use your safeword.”

Foster nodded shakily. “I know. I will if I have to, but I really want this.”

“Good boy,” Marc gave Foster another quick kiss. “Now, undress for me. Slowly.”

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