Page 13 of His for Hanukkah

Another harsh slap sending bright agony through the other side of his ass. He cried out again, not even trying to contain himself. “Again.”

“I’ll come to you.”

“That’s right, boy. And why are you going to come to me?”

“Because you’ll…” He couldn’t make himself say it.

Tate landed five bruising smacks, covering his ass and thighs. Heat flared through him, but he wasn’t hard anymore. Just needy and miserable and wanting so hard that it hurt worse than the pain in his body.

“Say it, boy.”

“Because you’ll take care of me.”

“That’s right. You will come to me,” he punctuated each slap with a word, “Because. I. Will. Take. Care. Of. You.”

Adam’s screams blended together until they were one, endless wail, and then they were racking, shaking sobs.

His ass hurt, and he was broken and exposed and tormented with this vision of something he would only get for eight nights.

And then Tate was snuggling him up into his arms, whispering words of comfort and care. Adam cried even harder.

Because this time he knew it was a scene and this time he knew how good it could be if Tate were his Daddy all the time.

“That’s right, Little Star. I’ve got you.”

He wanted to be miserable, but Tate’s strong arms felt too good. His words were too sweet. He wanted to be Tate’s little star all the time.

Maybe that was the problem, though. He was always trying to plan ahead, and he was being greedy. Tate had already told him what this was going to be. He’d made the plan and told Adam about it. This was his Hanukkah present, and he would accept it for what it was.

Whatever came of it, however much it hurt later, this wouldn’t just be Tate’s gift to him, it would be his gift to himself. For the next eight days, he would come to Tate for his needs, and he would let Tate take care of him.

He would soak up every drop of Tate’s affection and luxuriate in it. He would believe every word that Tate said, for as long as he was willing to say it. And when it was over, he would cherish the memory.

He pushed his nose harder into Tate’s pecs, as if he could soak up all of the Dom’s affection even faster that way. His ass on fire, he bawled, open-mouthed, and let everything go.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Give it all to me.”

Yes, that was exactly what he would do. His sobs slowly quieted, and he just rested in Tate’s arms. He felt lighter, somehow. Free.

“Feeling better, little one?”

Adam nodded, enjoying the feeling of Tate’s soft pajama shirt against his cheek. Maybe, when this was all over, he could ask to keep one of Tate’s shirts. They were so perfectly soft from too many washings, and wearing Tate’s clothes made him feel enveloped and safe.

“I like wearing your PJs.”

Tate chuckled. He always seemed to be laughing just a little bit around Adam, but it was always that warm sort of laugh that invited Adam to join in instead of pushing him out. It was almost like Adam’s weird little non sequiturs made Tate happy.

“I like seeing you wear them.”

They both rested quietly for a minute.

“As much as I’d love to have you wearing my PJs all the time, or better yet walking around naked, I think we better pick up some of your clothes tomorrow.”

Adam pouted. He didn’t mean to, but he just wasn’t capable of filtering himself anymore.

Tate kissed his own finger, and then pressed it to Adam’s lips, making him instantly aware that they hadn’t even kissed yet. Well, Tate had placed dozens of kisses on his forehead and hair, but they hadn’t had a real kiss.

This was even sweeter, though. Like a promise. Like a Daddy taking care of his boy.