“I’m so glad to hear that. A sweet, cute boy like you deserves a wonderful Daddy.”

  Ford had found exactly the right tone to make Raf feel comfortable, and the tightness flew from his face.

  “I’ve been a good boy,” he told Santa, his honesty so endearing Brendan felt his heart melt.

  “That’s good, little Raf. Because you know naughty boys don’t get presents. So Daddy hasn’t had to spank you?”

  Raf grinned, that wonderful, mischievous grin that Brendan loved so much. “I like being spanked.”

  Santa laughed heartily. “So you are a little naughty, aren’t you? Trying to get your Daddy to spank you. Should I ask your Daddy if he thinks you’ve been good?”

  Raf nodded. “I already asked him. He said I’d been a good boy. Well, at first he said I’d been naughty, but he was teasing me. That wasn’t very nice because I thought he was serious, and I was really sad for a moment.”

  That got another laugh out of Santa, who was now winking at Brendan. “So you’re saying your Daddy has been bad? Should Santa spank him?”

  Raf’s eyes grew big as he turned toward Brendan as if he couldn’t believe Santa had really said that. “No! You can’t spank my Daddy! He’s…he’s my Daddy. Daddies don’t get spanked.”

  Brendan had trouble keeping a straight face. He and Ford both knew damn well Daddies could get spanked. In fact, Ford appreciated a good spanking if Brendan remembered correctly. Almost as much as he’d appreciated Brendan’s fat cock in his ass. The man was a total size whore—not that Brendan would ever tell Raf that. He had no secrets from his boy, and Raf knew he’d played with other boys and Doms before, but that didn’t mean he had to know all the details.

  “That’s too bad because I would’ve loved to spank someone.”

  Raf’s hands went on his hips. “Well, you can’t spank me because I’ve been good, and even if I’d been naughty, my Daddy would spank me.”

  Ford must’ve been as enamored with that answer as Brendan because he pulled Raf close and kissed his cheek. “That’s the perfect answer, little Raf. Now, do you want a picture with Santa?”

  Raf nodded. “Is it okay if I have my binkie in my mouth?” he asked politely.

  “That’s fine, buddy. Do you like your binkie?”

  Another quick nod. “My head gets really busy, and my binkie helps me calm down. My blankie too. See? Daddy Brendan got this for me. It’s a fidget blankie so my hands have something to play with.”

  He held it up, and Santa studied it carefully. “That’s wonderful, Raf. It sounds like your Daddy loves you very much.”

  “He does. And I love him more than anything or anyone. Maybe as much as my best friend, Rhys, but that’s different. Rhys doesn’t spank me, though maybe he should have, I don’t know. But we’ve been friends forever, and he’s always been really nice to me. But it’s different with Rhys because…” He frowned, and Brendan could see him think it through. “Rhys and I are friends. He’s not my Daddy. He’s a Daddy too, but to Cornell, not to me.”

  Santa pressed his lips together for a second or two, and Brendan could only imagine how much effort it took Ford not to laugh at that honest statement about Rhys, his mentee.

  “You’re a lucky boy, little Raf, to have a friend like that… But Rhys is equally lucky to have a friend like you. Don’t ever forget that. Now, come sit on my lap, sweet boy, and we’ll take some pictures.”

  He gestured at the photographer—another Dom who always volunteered for this—and Raf climbed onto Santa’s lap without a second’s hesitation. The smile he gave the photographer was so broad it almost brought tears to Brendan’s eyes.

  “Should we take one with Daddy in it as well?” Santa asked.

  “He can sit on your other knee,” Raf said, and Brendan about choked on his breath.

  “He sure can,” Santa said, and that’s how Brendan found himself on Santa’s lap, his sweet boy right next to him, loving every single moment of it.

  9

  “Daddy, we have a bit of a problem,” Cornell said, holding up his iPad for Rhys to see. “They’re predicting a big snowstorm.”

  Rhys frowned as he looked at the weather map. “Holy crap, sixteen inches? That’s insane.”

  Cornell nodded. “Yeah, but it’s not just that. It’s expected to hit Christmas Eve, so people are advised to stay inside after six PM.”

  Anxiety roared up inside him at the idea of having to drive through a snowstorm. He’d never liked it, but after losing Jonas, the thought alone was terrifying.

  Rhys leaned back, meeting Cornell’s eyes. “That means either we’d have to cancel the dinner with my mother, or we’d be stuck at her place. We’re not driving through that, sweetheart. No way.”

  Cornell breathed out in relief. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  “Come here,” Rhys said, and Cornell put the iPad to the side and curled up against Rhys. Rhys held him close, and his heartbeat beat a steady rhythm in Cornell’s ear, calming him. “Sweetheart, I would never take that risk. I wouldn’t have done it before, but especially after what you went through, I would never put you through that.”

  “It’s terrifying,” Cornell whispered, his throat raw. “I think I’d have a full-blown panic attack.”

  “And no one would fault you for that. But I also don’t want to spend a few days stuck at my mom’s.”

  Cornell agreed wholeheartedly with that. The relationship between them and Cassie had improved—the therapist Cassie had found had encouraged her to start adopting a different perspective—but the peace was fragile. Being forced together like that would not be conducive.

  Still, he didn’t want to make Rhys feel like he had no choice. “She’d be disappointed if we canceled.”

  Rhys shrugged. “She’ll have to get over it. It’s not like we don’t want to come, but I’m not risking our safety that way. If she can’t understand that, that’s on her.”

  Cornell snuggled closer to Rhys, who laced his fingers through Cornell’s hair and stroked his head. It made him feel so safe, so loved. The flannel Christmas-themed pajamas he’d ordered for his Daddy were soft and warm against his cheek—and they matched his own. They were red, with little snowflakes and snowmen on them, and he loved them. Cheesy? Hell yes. But he didn’t care. He’d take cheesy any day if it made him feel like this.

  “What about Brendan and Rhys?” he asked after a while.

  “I’ll call Brendan. They’ll have the same problem, and even though Brendan is close with his parents, I doubt he wants to spend three days with them. From what I understand, their house is pretty small.”

  “You want to invite them here,” Cornell said, understanding where Rhys was going.

  “Yeah. We have the space, and since Brendan is off from work anyway, it would be fun to spend a few days together. If you’re okay with that?”

  “Absolutely. I like Brendan, and it’s hard not to love Raf.” Cornell’s heart warmed as he thought of the adorable boy who did everything with all his heart.

  “I bought great presents for him,” Rhys said. “He’s gonna go nuts when he sees them. And if they’re staying here, we could play with them together.”

  Cornell turned his head, meeting Rhys’s eyes. “If I didn’t love you so much already, that would seal the deal. You are so good with him. I can’t think of many men who would be comfortable playing with toys with another guy like that.”

  Rhys shrugged, but his smile showed how pleased he was with Cornell’s praise. “He’s special, you know? He’s Raf. Like you said, it’s impossible not to love him. I wish I had recognized earlier what he needed because I might’ve been able to provide it to him.”

  Cornell could easily picture it, Rhys as a Daddy to little Raf. “You would have…but then you and I’d never have happened, and he’d never have gone on his quest to find his missing connection. I think there was a reason why it worked out this way.”

  Rhys caressed his cheeks. “Well said, sweetheart.”

  Cornell smiled at him. “It’s such an old-fashioned term of endearment you have for me. Sweetheart. It sounds like a fifties movie.” Rhys opened his mouth, and Cornell lifted a finger in warning. “Skip the age jokes, dude.”

  Rhys grinned. “I call you sweetheart, and you call me dude? Something’s not right here.” He traced Cornell’s mouth with his index finger as his face grew serious. “I called you sweetheart in my head long before we ever got together. It was how I thought of you, what I felt for you. Everything else sounded too easy, too cheap, too common. You were special to me, so I wanted to call you something special.”

  Cornell closed his eyes for a second or two as a wave of emotions rolled through him. “I sometimes forget how long you had your eye on me,” he said, opening them again. “I didn’t see you like that, so I always feel like I’m behind the curve.”

  Rhys’s smile was sweet. “There was a reason why it worked out this way,” he quoted Cornell’s words from before. “You weren’t ready for me yet, and I don’t think I was ready for you either.”

  Cornell raised an eyebrow. “Am I that much work?”

  “No, my perfect boy, but you deserved a Daddy who was able to give you what you needed…and I wasn’t there yet.”

  “Gah, you say the sweetest things…” Cornell said with a happy sigh.

  Rhys slid sideways, then repositioned himself with a few careful moves so they were pressed face-to-face on the couch. “So do you. You may think sweetheart is special, but you don’t know how I feel every time you call me Daddy. There’s nothing like it. It makes me feel like I can do anything.”

  Anytime now, Cornell’s heart would actually melt in his chest. He crawled even closer in Rhys’s arms. His Rhys. His Daddy. His everything. “I wanna marry you,” he whispered.

  Rhys’s eyes met his. “Are you ready, sweetheart? Because you can take as much time as you need. I will never put pressure on you.”

  Rhys had proposed to him, months ago. And Cornell had said yes…but he’d also said not yet. He hadn’t been ready, his heart still too raw, too vulnerable after losing Jonas. He knew Rhys loved him. He’d never doubted that, but it had been hard for him to see past the near future, past next week, next month. The idea of a lifetime together had felt daunting, a risk he hadn’t been ready to take. And Rhys had understood. He’d never shown even a little bit of anger or disappointment.

  “Thank you for being so patient with me,” he said softly.

  Rhys kissed his forehead. “That’s not something you should thank me for. I would not only be a bad Daddy if I pushed you on this but also a bad person. I’ve waited for you a long time, sweetheart. I can wait as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

  He was right. If Rhys had shown anything in the months they’d been together, it was how devoted he was to Cornell. “I guess that deep down, I figured you’d grow tired of me, that you’d realize the reality of being with someone so much older…someone so needy and broken.”

  “I know. But I happen to love needy boys…especially this one.” Rhys’s voice was so warm and kind, yet with that underlying dominance that it made clear he wasn’t joking. “But maybe the reason you weren’t ready yet was that you were also scared you’d grow tired of me? That I couldn’t give you what you needed, since I am so much younger?”

  Cornell’s eyes widened. He’d never looked at it like that. “You thought I’d grow tired of you?”

  “You’ve played with so many men, with so many Doms. You have this experience that I can never catch up on. What if what I offer isn’t enough? What if one day, you decide you only needed a Daddy to get through this horrific period in your life and now you want something else? Someone else?”

  The gasp that flew from Cornell’s lips originated in his soul. Rhys showed this insecure side of him so rarely that it stabbed Cornell like a knife when he did. “No! I would never. You’re…you’re everything I want, that I need. You’re perfect for me, and I love the way you take care of me.”

  “So are you,” Rhys said softly. “What we have is real and lasting. I know there’s a big age gap between us, and as much as I like to joke about it, I’m not denying it affects us. But I love you, and it’s not despite your age but partly because of your age. I’ve wanted you since I was sixteen, and here we are, seven years later, and my love for you is still growing stronger every day. Have faith in us, sweetheart.”

  “Are you really scared sometimes I’ll leave you, or were you just saying that to make a point?” Cornell asked.

  “A little of both. Of course I have those doubts and insecurities sometimes. That’s only human. But all I need to do is stop listening to my fears and start listening to my heart, to my soul because it’s telling me the truth. You belong with me…and I belong with you.”

  All the doubts that had lingered in Cornell’s head, in his heart for so long vanished. Rhys’s words connected with him on a level he’d never experienced before. “I love you, Daddy…and I’d marry you today if I could.”

  10

  “How disappointed were your parents?” Rhys asked Brendan, who was lounging on the couch, Raf nestled against him.

  Rhys loved seeing the goofy, happy look on his best friend’s face, perfectly content in his Daddy’s arms as he sucked on his binkie. And god, he looked cute in the red onesie with the little reindeer on them, his diapered butt clearly visible. Rhys had never seen him this at peace with himself and with everything around him. He was barely fidgeting, and his body showed no restlessness, just peace and contentment. What a change with before he’d met Brendan. Rhys counted his lucky stars they had met in that club.

  “A little, but they understood. My mom didn’t want us driving out there in that weather, so she agreed it was the right call to cancel with them and come straight here instead and stay for the weekend.”

  “We’re happy to have you for a few days,” Rhys said, and he meant every word.

  The fire was crackling, radiating a wonderful warmth throughout the living room. In the corner, the tree he and Cornell had decorated stood blinking and shining, and Rhys had to admit it gave a cozy, warm feeling. It smelled delicious too, that pine aroma that hinted of forest.

  It was mixed in with the Christmas-scented candles Cornell had bought. When Rhys had asked what the hell Christmas was supposed to smell like, Cornell had looked at him like he was a heathen. Apparently, the correct answer was cinnamon, sandalwood, and woodsmoke, with a hint of vanilla and more pine. Well, now, he knew.

  They’d hung stockings on the mantel above the fireplace. Brendan has brought his and Raf’s, and Rhys loved seeing those four together. In the background, Christmas music was playing, Bing Crosby still dreaming of a white Christmas so many decades later. That, too, was Cornell’s doing. His boy seemed to have gone all out for Christmas. Hell, he’d even baked Christmas cookies, and after a few failed attempts earlier this week, the last batch had come out perfect.

  Granted, the decorations were a little clumsy, but it turned out that even Rhys with his excellent motor skills and hand-eye coordination sucked at icing and decorating. Oh, well, he could live with that. They still tasted great, even if Raf had snickered when he’d seen them and asked what the fuck they had attempted to do. That had earned him the promise of punishment later on because Brendan did not take kindly to Raf swearing like that.

  Outside, the snow was already coming down hard. The latest predictions indicated at least seventeen inches, and Rhys had prepared the backup generator in case they lost power. His father had taken no chances there and had set up a separate system that could switch the electrical panel from normal to the backup generator. It wouldn’t power all groups, but his dad had neatly marked the critical ones, like the heating, the stove, the fridge, and the living room. They had enough gas to run it for a few days.

  “We thought we’d watch some classic Christmas movies tonight,” Rhys said.

  “Though Daddy and I disagree on what constitutes a classic Christmas movie,” Cornell said dryly.

  “Dude, Die Hard is not a Christmas movie. Help me out here, Brendan.”

  Brendan shrugged. “Sorry, man. I gotta disagree with you. It ain’t Christmas until I see Hans Gruber fall off Nakatomi Plaza.”

  Rhys threw his hands up. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

  “Says the guy who quotes from Disney movies,” Cornell fired back. “And there’s more than a little irony in the fact that your favorite Christmas classic is a movie that was made before you were even born. I mean, A Christmas Story is older than Die Hard!”

  “I don’t care how old it is. I love It’s A Wonderful Life as well, and that was made before you were born. It’s the lack of Christmas spirit I object to. Die Hard is entertaining for sure, but how is killing off people and throwing a bad guy off a skyscraper Christmassy?”

  “Because it takes place at a Christmas party?” Brendan said calmly. “And there’s a happy end with a Christmassy feel? It even has Christmas music.”

  Raf had stayed silent all that time, a little smile on his lips visible behind his binkie. Rhys knew Raf loved Die Hard, so this was an argument he was never going to win. “Okay, I’ll surrender. We can watch Die Hard.”

  “Die Harder is also distinctly Christmassy,” Brendan said, laughing.

  Rhys rolled his eyes. “You’re all uncultured barbarians.”

  “What was that about a lack of Christmas spirit again?” Cornell teased.

  Rhys put a hand on his neck and tightened it. “Do we need to have a little conversation about crossing lines, boy?”

  “No, Daddy,” Cornell said meekly, but his eyes danced with laughter.

  “We have some fun things planned for tomorrow as well,” Rhys said, desperate to change topics before his own words would be used against him even more, and that made Raf perk up.

  He plopped his binkie out of his mouth. “Like what? Is it something I will like?”

  Rhys nodded. “You’ll love it, buddy. But you’ll have to wait till tomorrow because some of what we’ll need is in the presents.”

 

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