“I’m on a bed.”
He tilts his head. “What?”
“I’m on a bed,” I say, with a shrug and an I-dare-you attitude. “You said there would be a next time, in a bed. I’m in a bed. So fuck me already, if you want. Do your worst. I can take whatever you dish out. I’m a fantastic fuck.”
He blinks, and then huffs out that tiny, almost laugh of his, and gives me one of his stellar subtle smiles, the kind that makes me feel all starry-eyed. “Tommy, when we fuck, it won’t be because of a tantrum, or part of correction. When we fuck, it will just be because we both want to.”
“I want it.” And that’s not a lie; I do fucking want it.
“Sure,” he saunters closer. “So do I. But you’re also on the verge of a meltdown, aren’t you? Burned up all your oxygen already, hm?”
“What the fuck does that even mean?” I snap, sitting up as he gets heart-poundingly closer.
“You’re so cranky and angry this morning,” he purrs, putting one knee on the bed. “And I only fuck sweet boys.”
Shit, that’s so hot. Wait–
“You better not be fuckinganyboys,” I growl, getting to my knees to shove his chest.
“You know I’m not,” he smirks, catching my hands.
“Can’t we just fuck already?” I ask, hating how plaintive I sound, how needy, how scared. “Come on, Young-gi, we don’t have to make it sappy or romantic or whatever. I want your dick, you want to give it to me, let’s just do it. Let’s just get it–”
Over with,I almost say, but bite it back. I scramble off the bed, wanting to feel like I’m on equal footing with him, but I feel vulnerable. I wish I was wearing armor instead of sleep clothes and socks.
“Just–just–just stop acting like I’m worth something to you.”
“Ah,” he nods, slow and infuriating. “I see. So it’s like that, then.”
“No, I mean, I don’t know!” I shout, my sore voice cracking, and I flush with heat that matches the spark in his eyes. “Just–can’t we just–stop taking this so seriously? It’s not real. I’m not real–none of this is real. We’re just playing pretend. We can make it a game and I can call you Daddy, you can make me obey you, I’ll even listen. I just want it to happen already. I want to just…I want to just…ugh.” I scrub my face with both hands, so confused.
I jump when I feel his hands on my shoulders. His hold is gentle but firm as he guides me to turn around. I gulp and put up a little resistance when he walks me to the corner. But,ultimately, I let him put me there. Once I’m staring at the wall, I lean my forehead against it with athunkand let out a long stream of hissed cuss words until I run out of air.
“This shit sucks,” I finally gasp when I take a breath. And I’m not talking about corner time, I’m talking about the fucking roller coaster my emotions put me through every time I let my guard down.
“Which parts of you aren’t real?” he asks me, low and rumbly, sticking close to my back and making me feel hella small. Good small.
“I don’t know…all of them. Anything you think you like. It’s not real. I’m not likeable.”
“You must miss the taste of soap,” he murmurs, tracing his fingers lightly up the sides of my arms, then back down. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’m being serious,” I frown. “I get it, alright? Talk nice about yourself or whatever, but this shit is serious. I’m not–I’m not good. I’m not a good person. Okay?”
“A good person?” he repeats, sounding genuinely confused. “Tommy, you’re my good boy. That has nothing to do with being a good person. What we do to be good to each other, and what is right or wrong, are not necessarily connected.”
I open my mouth but have no words. That’s…psychotic. “Young-gi…”
“You can call me Daddy when you’re in time-out.” His tone is dark, demanding. Not an invitation, or a question.
I swallow hard, suddenly salivating, and my dick twitches with interest.Fuck, I’m a sick bastard.“Daddy,” I manage. “I–that–I can’t be good.”
“You’re good for me all the time.”
“I’m literally such a brat,” I argue.
“For me,” he agrees. “To get my attention. That’s good. We both like that.”
He’s got that oh-so-calm, I’m-so-right, ‘this is corner-time correction’ tone on, and it’s dripping over me like honey. He told me that corner-time is where he’d correct my lies, where he’d set me straight. But, but–
