Page 59 of Steam

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Willrey Lazer Morrow, you are the biggest fuckup on the face of the planet.

Will stared in horror at the text message exchange on his phone.

>>Hi Mr. Morrow! My name is Daniel and I’ll be your Shipt shopper today! I’m at the store about to begin shopping your order. Please let me know if there’s anything else you need!

>>Thanks, no changes!

And then, not even five minutes later:

>>If you want it, you’ll have to be a better boy for daddy

>>[attachment]

>>Oh my god

>>Oh my god i am so sorry

>>That was NOT meant for you

>>Holy shit

>>Lol no worries, finishing your order now

If there was a sturdy length of rope anywhere to be found in his Bellingham apartment, Will would’ve been desperately Googling a noose tutorial.

This was it. He could never order from the Shipt delivery service again. So much for getting profoundly drunk in his apartment without having to so much as drive anywhere and buy liquor.

It was fun while it lasted, Shipt.

Christ, he was going to actually have to see and speak to this delivery guy—and from the picture on the Shipt shopper profile, he was goddamned adorable. Honestly, this was the worst case scenario.

The only reason Will had even been able to indulge in his admittedly vile and shameful daddy-kink tinged dirty talk was that he’d hooked up online with someone several time zones away for dirty texting. Neither of them wanted anything else out of it, which meant, thank God, he’d never have to actually look someone in the eye who knew his secret.

Except the delivery guy. Because now the Shipt shopper knew a lot about Will.

He couldn’t even pretend like it wasn’t a picture of his own cock because of course his hand tattoos had been visible in the picture.

Awesome. Cool. Killer. I love it when total strangers know about both my pierced cock and my inexplicable fetish. This is a quality Tuesday if there ever was one.

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Pierced Cock Daddy Guy—and of course, Daniel had already come to think of him as this, the nickname eclipsing whatever the customer’s real first name had been—was the last delivery Daniel needed to make that day.

He hadn’t arranged it that way. It was just the order the customers had happened to come in.

Daniel zipped across Bellingham, delivering a case of red wine to a pretty house in a nice neighborhood and a big bottle of vodka to a frat house down the road. That left PCDG and his order.

Daniel pulled up to an apartment building he’d driven past before, just a mile or so away from his own apartment near campus. He sat in his car, tapping through screens on the work phone. PCDG’s order was a case of cold PBR and a handle of Old Grandad whiskey.

What sort of self-loathing son of a bitch do you have to be to shell out the money for liquor delivery for the most bottom-shelf shit out there? Daniel wondered.

He pulled up the text messages from the man yet again. There was no way he could get in trouble with work for just looking at an unsolicited text, right? It wasn’t like they could tell how long he’d had the image open or something.

He slumped down in the car, feeling equal parts perverted and thrilled as he opened the picture for the third or fourth time. It really was a pornstar tier cock, and the whole daddy thing was just icing on the cake, wasn’t it?

The whole thing was fifty kinds of intriguing, from the random kink to the tattooed hand to the piercing. Daniel had never been with someone who was pierced...

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