As Grant ruts inside me, I can't help but feel like this is my destiny. No—fate. The deities that fiddle with the banalities of human life deliberately inserted this lovemaking into my story. They wrote:when Ollie turns eighteen, the man he loves more than life itself will fuck his trauma out of him. He won't die in his rat-ridden cage, surrounded by dirt and detritus, covered in his clients' leftover cum.
No, the gods saw that I'd paid my dues, that I'd suffered more than any human let alone any teenager should ever have to, and rewarded me. They didn't give me a pair of wax wings to break out of my prison like Daedalus made for Icarus who flew too close to the sun. Perhaps they knew I'd fly too close to the sun and burn. Instead, they provided me with enough mental fortitude to break out of the hell the Diavolos trapped me in, to use the resources I had at my disposal to plan my own exit. And they brought Grant to the end of the tunnel of my strife to be there for me.
To comfort me.
Fuck me.
Kiss me.
Hold me close and never let me go.
I whisper a prayer of gratitude to the gods responsible for this fortuitous twist of fate as I spread for Grant, mewling as he bucks into me. Spit flies out of my mouth and soars to the mattress, mixing with the rose petals as I shake and scream. I don't give a fuck if my spit covers every inch of this bed. Let it. Let my fluids smear the sheets on which Grant claims me to leave evidence of this magical night. Let me hang these sheets in my bedroom, cut them into strips, enshrine them in a glass frame, and run my tongue over them every time I'm convinced this is a dream. Because that's what I'll believe this is when Grant takes me out of this room—a dream. A paltry, eighteen-year-old boy's adolescent wet dream. But it's not.
Grant's thrusts, combined with the unforgettable feelings welling up within my heart, show me with one-hundred-percent certainty this is reality. Or if it is a dream, it's the best fucking kind—a dream come true. My reality. Our shared reality. A metaphysical expansion of the senses that only happens when a Daddy makes love to his boy. The first night of many with my Daddy.
"I'm close, Daddy!" Red-hot fire licks my insides as I grind on Grant's cock. "I'm ready to show you my cummies!"
Grant groans as he smashes his fist around my cock, jerking it rabidly. "Let it out, perfect boy. Bust your load on your tummy. Fuck knows Daddy loves when you cream."
I scream as I strain against Grant's cock. Blinding passion cuts into me like a giant fucking scissors rearranging my organs and making me whole as I throw my head back, surrendering to his powerful thrusts, discarding my autonomy and throwing it in the trash. This marks a pivotal point for me—I no longer need to stay in control like I did when I fucked him or used him to take my ass virginity. For the first time ever, I trust a man. He won't use me, manipulate me, or hurt me (or if he does hurt me, he knows I like it.) Grant holds my complete and unadulterated life essence in his hands, and come hell or high water, I know he won't destroy it. Daddy won't let me down.
My orgasm slams into me hot and hard. Shot after shot of hot white cum rockets out of my cock, spurting onto my tummy. It splatters against my nipples, which turns them into stiff peaks, before trickling onto the mattress.
Grant lets out a moan as he scissors into my hole. "I'm coming inside you, boy. Suck my thumb when it happens. I don't give a fuck if you sink your teeth into it for moral support. I want to feel your walls clench around me, throbbing and quivering, getting Daddy hard and slobbery as he shoots his load. Put my thumb in your mouth. Don't let it go for the world."
Grant rams his thumb between my lips. I latch onto it for dear life, sucking it with fervent intensity. I lick the pad of his digit, swishing my tongue back and forth, taking a mental snapshot of the look on his face while I do it. I'll store his expression in a locked chamber of my heart forever.
"Come, Daddy." I angel kiss his thumb. “I need your big load."
Nothing prepares me for the geyser of nut that explodes into me. A primal roar claws out of Grant's lips as he bursts in my ass, shooting a home run straight against my prostate. He ruts in my hole like a rabid wolf, unable to stop for anyone, roaring, possessed by blinding tenacity.
He growls as he snares my lips in a kiss. "Mine. Mine.Mine." He pumps out another shot in my ass, this one shooting straight into my belly. He presses his palm on my tummy so he can feel his cock unleashing. "No one else's. You're giving Daddy babies tonight. Daddy will murder anyone who even looks at you the wrong way again."
I kiss Daddy hot and hard. "Can I help you bury the body?"
Grant heaves me into his arms and slams me against the wall, the exact same spot where he pressed me last time. He thrusts his hand between my legs, clawing at my dick, milking a second orgasm out of me.
"I love you, Ollie." When I come, he brings my load to his lips and swallows it ravenously. My seed is like holy water which he gurgles. "I'm crazy about you."
"I think my psycho brain is rubbing off on you, Daddy."
"Let it." Grant shouts out his lust as he spins me around and rams his dick into my hole yet again. "Let everyone in the fucking world know I'm crazy for my boy. Love my boy. We're the two most psychotic motherfuckers in New York City but we have a love the seraphs envy."
I suck his thumb as he plows into me with so much force I can't breathe. "I love you, Daddy. So much."
There. I said it. The ball's in Grant's court now. He can accept my kind words or discard them.
Grant snatches a lock of my hair between his teeth. He fucks me like only a possessed man can, smacking my ass as he breeds me. His powerful thrusts knock the lava lamp to the floor, making it explode before it leaves us in darkness.
"I love you, too, perfect boy."
"How much, Daddy?"
Grant howls into the darkness. "To the moon and back."
EPILOGUE
OLLIE