Cornell had always liked his routines but never more than after his Daddy had established one for him. Rhys was an early riser, so he was usually up before Cornell. He’d been bummed about that at first, but the fact was that Rhys needed less sleep than he did. So no matter what he did, they’d either not go to bed at the same time or not wake up together.
But Cornell did set an alarm—or at least, Daddy had told him to set an alarm. He’d get up, do his business, shower, clean himself, and then he’d present himself. Those few minutes of standing by the bed with his head bowed, his body on display the way his Daddy wanted centered him. It calmed his mind, even as he was eagerly awaiting his Daddy’s arrival. Because those first minutes of their day together were always special.
It might be Christmas morning, but that was no reason to break his routine. Rhys was up already, and Cornell had heard some sounds coming from the room next door, so Brendan and Raf were active as well. Cornell did what he always did, and then he took position by the bed, waiting for Daddy to show up.
His mind still switched from Rhys to Daddy and back. He was both at the same time, and depending on what they were doing or what Cornell was thinking about, he felt one more than the other. After seeing how Raf never called Brendan anything else but Daddy, he’d wondered about it, and after mulling it over for a few days, he’d brought it up to Rhys.
He’d assured Cornell that both were fine. His view was that Brendan and Raf had a different relationship—and he’d certainly had a point there—and that he wouldn’t want Cornell to say it out of habit. Calling him by his name didn’t mean disrespect, because he was both. Rhys and Daddy. His fiancé and his Daddy. His lover and his Dom. It had set Cornell’s heart at peace, and it came naturally now, choosing one of both. He even called him Sir sometimes simply because it felt natural under certain circumstances.
The door opened, and he breathed in, calming himself completely. It closed again, and soft footsteps padded on the plush carpet. Even after all these months, the mix of anticipation and humiliation never failed to arouse him. His cock did what it always did when Rhys was near him. It grew hard. Would there ever be a time when he didn’t want him?
“Mmm, beautiful.”
Daddy’s praise was like a caress over his skin, as real as the soft touch of his fingers, which now stroked his belly, his throat, his back, and his ass. Daddy never rushed through this part, and Cornell never felt more seen and more beautiful.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart. Our first Christmas together… I think that calls for a special celebration, don’t you?”
Oh, he liked the sound of that. Did that mean he actually got to come? That wasn’t usually the case in the morning. Not that he complained because the sexual frustration was satisfying on a level he couldn’t even put into words. The expression “suffering for his Dom’s pleasure” had taken on a whole new meaning since he was with Rhys.
“Since we won’t have much time during the day for escapades, I think we’ll need to make good use of the time we have together now.”
That definitely sounded like he would be allowed to come. He would not object to that.
“What do you think, my boy?”
Rhys lifted Cornell’s face with a finger under his chin. His Daddy’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and Cornell suddenly wasn’t so sure he would like what was about to happen. “Whatever pleases you, Daddy,” he said, and the crazy thing was that he meant it. Rhys could tell him now he wouldn’t be allowed to come for the rest of the week, and he’d take it. If that was what his Daddy wanted, he’d suck it up, bear it for him.
“What pleases me,” Rhys said, and then he took Cornell’s mouth in a bruising kiss, full of lips and teeth and nips to his bottom lip that left it stinging, “is you, sweetheart. Your hot mouth, your tight ass. I want them both this morning, and you’re gonna give it to me, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“You know what else pleases me?”
Cornell figured it was a rhetorical question until he saw Daddy’s eyes narrow when he didn’t reply. “My obedience, Sir.”
“Very good, boy. Good save. Not what I was looking for, but a good answer nonetheless. No, what I wanted to say was that your sounds please me, sweetheart. Your cries and gasps of pain, your grunts and moans of pleasure, and that whimpering, keening sound you make when you can’t decide if it’s pleasure, pain, or both.”
“Yes, Daddy. I’m yours.”
Another rough kiss that left him panting, his lips throbbing. “Oh, I know you are. And I intend to make good use of you this morning, boy. I’m feeling a bit…wild.”
He wouldn’t do a scene, not with Brendan and Raf here. He wouldn’t take it far enough for Cornell to drop into subspace—which came easier and easier to him. But he sure as fuck knew how to make him suffer without ever reaching that stage, and so Cornell mentally braced himself, even as a fat string of precum trailed from his cock.
“The question is whether I feel magnanimous this Christmas morning. Magnanimous enough to allow you to come…”
“It is Christmas morning, Daddy,” Cornell reminded him, though his tone was respectful. He knew better than to fuck with Rhys when he got like this.
Rhys smiled at him, his eyes gleaming. “You’re absolutely right. So we’ll do it like this. If you can manage to come before I do, you get as many orgasms out of this as you want. If you can’t, there will be none for you until tonight.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Cornell agreed instantly. That was a fun challenge. Worst-case scenario? He’d get what he’d already been counting on, which was orgasm delay until later. But if he played this right? He got to come, and wouldn’t that be a sweet way to start the day?
“On your stomach on the bed.”
That was one thing that never changed. Rhys’s care to make sure Cornell was comfortable. Yes, he wanted to inflict pain, but the good kind of pain. The pain that would make Cornell fly high on endorphins, not the kind that would make him unable to walk for days. They’d had some close calls where they’d gotten caught up and had demanded more of his body than had been wise. Rhys had massaged him for hours after, ordered him to take hot baths, iced spots or heated them, whichever he felt was best.
Cornell put a pillow under his hips and made sure his back was aligned the way Rhys had taught him. Only when he was satisfied he was comfortable did he spread his legs. This was something Rhys never hurried him through, waiting patiently until Cornell indicated he was ready. But once he did? All bets were off…and this time was no different.
Rhys kneeled between his legs, fisted his own cock, and drove it straight home as he leaned forward.
“Fuck,” Cornell grunted as Rhys filled him, surging in hard and deep.
He was ready for him, prepped and lubed up like he always was, but it was still an adjustment. His body liked to remind him he wasn’t the twentysomething he’d once been with a zero-minute recovery rate. But if he wanted to come, he’d better think of something else because few things were more of a mood killer than his ailing body.
He moved against Rhys’s thrusts as much as he could, sighing with pleasure when his dick hit him perfectly. God, the man could fuck. So smooth, so deep, so fluid. And so…wait, why was he not talking? He always talked to Cornell, praising him, telling him how dirty he was, what a good cocksucker he was or a cum dump or whatever slightly humiliating shit he’d come up with that day. The man had a talent. Seriously.
But today, he was silent other than the occasional grunt, and it was unnerving. It was hard to get out of his head with nothing to distract him outside of the sensation of Rhys fucking him, which was good, but it was too quiet. Too clinical almost, even if Rhys fucked him perfectly hard and deep.
And then it hit him. This was Rhys’s way of preventing Cornell from coming. This was what his Daddy had come up with to keep him from sinking into the sensation of being fucked. The man really did know him far too well. So he’d have to think of a plan to counter him, something that would occupy his mind. It didn’t take him long before he knew just the thing. Payback.
“God, your cock feels good, Daddy,” he groaned, pushing back hard. Rhys held still for a second, and Cornell squeezed his asshole around him, the way he knew his Daddy loved. “I love how you take me in the mornings, just claim what’s yours. I’m your dirty boy, Daddy. Your hole to fuck. I’m your cum bucket, your dump.”
Rhys stopped his deep strokes again, and for a second, Cornell worried that he’d taken it too far, that he’d drifted into the terrain of bad porn dialogue, but then Rhys let out a growl, and holy shit, that was hot. After that, Rhys battered him, and Cornell talked, babbling and rambling, his brain-to-mouth filter obliterating with every word until his own words made his blood sing, his cock leak, and drowned out everything else.
Rhys sped up, but Cornell felt his balls pull tight, and then he exploded, jerking as he came, only seconds before Rhys did.
“Dammit, you little shit,” Daddy cursed, and it sounded almost as perfect as sweetheart.