"Honey, I'm sorry, I'm not going to be able to make it to the movie tonight."
"Sam! We've been planning it for weeks. Besides, Finn won't want to go if you don't."
"Maybe you and Rachel would enjoy it more by yourselves anyway." He wasn't sure how he and Finn had gotten talked into going to Les Misérables with their wives in the first place—not that that was why he was bailing.
"The four of us always do something on New Year's Eve Eve."
"I know, honey, and I'm sorry. But I promised the Smythes we'd have their kitchen done before the end of the year, and that's tomorrow and it's not done, so..."
Quinn couldn't really argue with that. Sam's business relied on word of mouth, and he couldn't afford to get a reputation for being unreliable. Sam made more money with his remodeling business than Quinn did at the law firm, so she took his work seriously. She was the one, after all, who cared the most about things like having nice cars and sending Matilda to that expensive preschool.
"Or maybe we should just reschedule the whole thing," Sam suggested. "We're supposed to get a lot of snow tonight. Maybe you shouldn't be out driving in it anyway."
"No, I heard it's not supposed to be that bad after all," Quinn said. "Besides, Rachel would flip if I tried to reschedule New Year's Eve Eve."
"Good point. Well, be careful anyway. And have fun. Hey, can I talk to Tillie?"
Quinn called her to the phone. "Here she is. Love you."
"Love you too, honey."
"Dad?" Matilda asked into the phone.
"Hi Tillie! I have to work super late and I might not see you before you go to bed so I wanted to tell you good-night in advance."
"Wait, I thought Blaine was coming over."
"Yep, he still is." Tina was still sick. It seemed like she'd had mono forever. "In fact you might get to ride with mom to pick him up." Sam was glad that at least he didn't have to pick Blaine up since he'd still be working. Well, glad and secretly disappointed.
"Thank goodness!" Matilda said dramatically. "I was scared to death. Okay, bye."
"Tillie, wait!" Sam said quickly before she hung up. "Don't I get to tell you good night and I love you?"
"Oh. Okay."
"Good night and I love you!"
"Good night and I love you too!"
"Let me talk to your sister."
There was kind of a long wait—Sam might have thought he'd been hung up on, but he could hear Matilda whispering to Willa. Finally he heard Willa's voice say, "Dada!"
"That's right, pumpkin, it's dada! I might not be home until you're asleep so I want to tell you I love you!"
"Love you!"
"Love you!"
"Dada!"
"That's right, it's dada. Love you, pumpkin. Bye bye!"
"Bye bye!"
"Bye bye!"
"Bye bye!"
"Bye bye!"
"Bye, honey." This time it was Quinn, and she actually hung up. Sam walked back into the Smythes' kitchen and got back to work.
XOXOXO
The snow was really bad by the time Sam left the Smythes' a few minutes after ten. It was still falling heavily and now it was blowing too.
He called Quinn to make sure she was okay. She told him that she and Rachel (she didn't mention Finn) had decided not to go out to the theater after all and were drinking wine at Rachel's instead. They weren't on the first bottle, from how it sounded. "Okay, well I'll come over to pick you up."
"It's thirty miles out of your way. Sixty if you count...you know..."
"The round trip?"
Quinn laughed. "That's a funny expression, isn't it? It's not like it's really round."
"It's hilarious," Sam agreed.
"Anyway I'll just sleep over and come home when the roads are cleared tomorrow."
"But...what am I supposed to do with Blaine?" Oh God, he could think of too many ways to answer that, all of them very, very wrong. "I don't want to have to wake the girls up to drive him home."
"Let him sleep over in the guest room. I'm sure his mother would be happier with that, knowing he's safe, than having you drive him home in this weather. I know I wouldn't want the girls out in it either!"
Sam sighed. There was no rational objection he could make. He couldn't tell his wife, "I'm afraid I won't be able to keep myself from fucking the babysitter if I'm alone with him." Besides, he could totally control himself. He'd have to, that's all there was to it. "Okay," he said. "I'll call him so he can let his mom know what's going on."
XOXOXO
It was after eleven when Sam finally got home, even though it was normally only a fifteen to twenty minute drive. He was sore and exhausted, not just from the drive but also from the sixteen-hour work day that had preceded it.
And Matilda was still awake.
She ran out of her bedroom in her dinosaur PJs and jumped on him. Blaine followed her, looking as haggard as Sam felt. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Evans. She heard me on the phone with you and she insisted on waiting up for you. I tried everything to get her to go to sleep."
"It's okay, Blaine." He patted him on the shoulder. Even though they were both exhausted, that tiny, insignificant touch sent an energy jolting through him that...well, he couldn't even describe it. But the look on Blaine's face told him that he had felt something too.
Sam crossed his arms and looked down at his daughter sternly. "Matilda Jean, do you have any idea how late it is?"
"I wanted to tell you good night."
"You already told me good night, and I told you good night."
"I forgot!" She tried her super cute smile on him, but when she saw it wasn't working she said, "I'm sorry."
"Thank you for saying that. I think you need to say it to Blaine, too, for not listening to him."
"I'm sorry, Blaine. Please don't be mad at me."
"It's okay," Blaine said. "I'm not mad."
Sam took off his work boots and hung up his coat, then picked her up. "All right. Let's get you in your bed, young lady. You wanna tell Blaine good night?" She mumbled something into Sam's shoulder that was probably meant to be a good-night. She was asleep before Sam got her under her blankets and kissed her forehead.
When he turned around, Blaine was watching from the doorway. "How did you do that?"
Sam joined him in the hallway and closed the door. "What, get her to fall asleep? She was exhausted."
"But she was exhausted ten minutes ago, and I couldn't get her to. I'm so, so sorry, sir. You've had such a long day already, and you should be able to come home and relax, and—"
"Blaine." Sam touched his shoulder again, and this time his fingers grazed against Blaine's neck. "It's okay. Really. I'm not mad."
Blaine sighed and leaned back against the wall. "You're such a good daddy." He blushed and looked down at the floor.
Sam placed a finger under his chin and tilted his face up. "You're such a good boy," he whispered.
"Mr. Evans..." Blaine's face turned red, and he looked away from Sam but he continued, "there's something I really want to say to you...if you don't mind. I've sort of practiced. Can I?"
"Of course, sweetheart." Sam brushed his finger's through the boy's hair. "Do you want to sit down, or..."
"No! I just really need to say it before I chicken out. You, um. You probably already know that I like you. Like, really like you. And...I think you like me too, in the same way, I mean, at least a little, because...I mean, you kissed me..."
"I'm so sorry."
"No! It was the best thing that ever happened to me, sir. I know that I'm just a kid and you don't want to...I mean, you're a good man, and you don't want to take advantage of me, and...And I know you would never want to coerce me or pressure me into anything. And so I just want you to know that..." Blaine looked around, everywhere except at Sam. "God, this is really hard."
"Blaine..."
"No, please, let me finish. I like you so much, and I only say that because I'm trying really hard not to say I'm in love with you because I know if I say that you'll think I'm just a stupid kid who doesn't even know what love is and maybe you're right, but...I begged Tina to turn you down if you asked her to babysit again. I didn't tell her why, I told her I really needed the money...and I'm rambling now and I'm saying too much and I'm still not managing to say what I need to, which is that...I know you probably don't want to try anything with me...like, sexually, I mean...because...because you think I'm too young and I'm not able to give any kind of meaningful consent...but I looked it up, and the age of consent in Ohio is sixteen, and I'm seventeen...and...and, besides, I want you to, really bad. I want you...so bad...to..."
"Blaine? Sweetheart?"
"Yes, Mr. Evans?" Blaine looked up at him finally.
"You're so beautiful, Blaine, and so sexy." Sam's voice was low and gravelly. "I want to make love to you so badly. Would you like that, sweetheart? Would you like me to make love to you?"
"God, daddy, please." Blaine clapped his hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry, Mr. Evans. I know it's really weird for me to call you that, I don't even know why I want to—"
"It's not that weird." It wasn't like it was what his actual kids called him at least. Matilda called him dad and Willa called him dada. "I actually...really like it."
"Really?" Sam nodded and Blaine went on, "Will you...will you make love to me, daddy? Please?"
And all Sam's promises to himself to control his feelings for Blaine were forgotten.
He lifted him up and, balancing him on his hip, carried him to the guest room. He nuzzled into his neck and kissed under his jaw, and Blaine moaned loudly. "Shh! Please, sweetheart, you have to be quiet." Matilda was a heavy sleeper, but Willa wasn't.
"Sorry, daddy."
Sam laid him gently on the bed and closed the door. "It's okay, baby. Daddy's gonna take good care of you. All right?"
Blaine whimpered in response.
Sam traced his fingers down Blaine's cheeks. "You have to tell me, sweetheart. Tell me if you want daddy to take care of you."
"Yes," Blaine whispered.
"Good." Sam slid his hands under Blaine's shirt and sweater. The boy was trembling. "Just relax, sweetheart." He covered his face in tender kisses. "I promise I'll take good care of you." He gently nudged Blaine's lips open with his own and carefully entered his mouth with his tongue. Blaine's mouth was so sweet, so soft and yielding. He felt Blaine's tongue warm against his, gradually becoming more confident in returning his affection. Soon Blaine was nipping at his lips, pulling him in for more, refusing to let go.
Sam didn't let go either as he worked Blaine's shirt and sweater up. Blaine's chest was so...Well, this daddy-little boy game they were playing was a surprisingly big turn-on, albeit one Sam really didn't want to think about too much. But feeling Blaine's chest—it was more muscular than it looked with a shirt on, and it had hair, a lot more than Sam himself had (though of course he waxed), and—and it was not the chest of a little boy, it was the chest of a man. And Sam, though he had never been attracted to a man before, somehow found that a much bigger turn on than their little game. Or maybe it went hand-in-hand with the game, he didn't know and, again, he didn't want to think about it too much. He just wanted Blaine shirtless, and to have that he did have to separate their mouths finally.
"God, Blaine." His chest looked as hot as it felt; Sam couldn't stop looking and touching. "You're gorgeous. You're so gorgeous, I bet you have no idea..."
"Daddy..."
"Shh. Quiet, baby. Just let me..." He licked Blaine's neck. He wanted so badly to suck, but he couldn't leave any visible marks. He trailed his tongue down Blaine's collar bone, down to one of his nipples. He flicked it with his tongue and Blaine squirmed under him. He bit down—just a little, not enough to hurt—and Blaine arched up and grabbed him by the shoulders.
"Daddy, please..."
"Please what, sweetheart?"
"Please take your shirt off too?"
Sam sat up and pulled his shirt off. Blaine sat up too and gaped at him, open-mouthed. "Blaine?"
"You're so hot, Mr. Evans!" Blaine blurted out. He slowly moved his hand toward Sam's chest; before he reached it he asked, "Can I?"
"You want to touch me?"
Blaine bit his lip and nodded. "So much, daddy. Can I? Please?"
Sam nodded. Blaine's fingers brushed across his chest reverently. It sent shivers through him. Blaine watched his own fingers moving across Sam's chest with something like awe.
Blaine spent several minutes touching every part of his chest with just his fingertips. It felt amazing, but also frustrating because it wasn't progressing to anything else. "Do you wanna sit in my lap, sweetheart?" Blaine looked up at him, surprised, and nodded seriously. Sam lifted him into his lap, so their chests were together and Blaine was straddling him. He didn't yet pull Blaine forward far enough for their dicks to touch.
"Can I kiss your shoulder, daddy?"
"Of course, baby. But don't suck or bite." Marks on him would be even worse than marks on Blaine. Blaine could make up a boyfriend if his parents noticed. Sam would just be screwed if his wife noticed. No, not screwed. Dead.
Blaine kissed his shoulder, his neck, his chest. He was being very careful not to suck or bite, just like Sam told him. "So good," Sam muttered. "Such a good little boy." Blaine whined and scooted his body a little closer while he continued to kiss.
Sam worked a hand into Blaine's curls and held the back of his head. "I've wanted to touch you since the first second I saw you, Blaine. Did you know that?"
"Me too. I mean no..."
"I've wanted to touch your ass. Did you know you have the most beautiful ass I've ever seen?"
"No. I mean, please."
"Please? You want me to please touch your beautiful ass?"
"Yes, daddy. Please."
"Do you always let men touch your ass just because they say it's beautiful?"
Blaine pulled back and looked at him, shocked. "Of course not! I mean, no one's ever said that, but I wouldn't...I never..."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Sam kissed him and stroked his cheek. "I shouldn't have teased you like that. I know what a good boy you are."
"I would never let anyone touch me there but you, daddy," Blaine told him earnestly. "You're the only man I want to do dirty things to me."
"You want me to do dirty things to you? Like touch your ass?"
"Yes! Yes, please."
Sam grabbed his ass hard and pulled him forward on his lap, enough so their dicks did press against each other. Blaine gasped and bit down on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, daddy! I didn't mean to bite!"
"It's okay, sweetheart, I know you couldn't help it." Sam hoped Blaine didn't want him to spank him or anything—that wasn't something he was up for. "What else would you like me to do to you? Touch your cock?"
Blaine whimpered. "Just hearing you say that makes me all..."
"So that's a yes? That's a yes, please?"
"It's a pretty, pretty please." Blaine squirmed in his lap. "It's an 'I think I'm going to die if you don't.' For real, daddy, please. I need you to touch it so bad."
He did need it bad, Sam could tell from the desperate look on his face, but he couldn't help teasing just a little bit more. "Need me to touch what, sweetheart?"
"My...please, daddy! Daddy, please touch my..." He buried his flushed face in Sam's chest and forced himself to say, "My cock, daddy. Please!"
"That's my good boy! I knew you could say it!" Sam laid him on his back and slowly undid his fly. He had exactly as much experience touching someone else's cock as Blaine had—maybe even less, and almost definitely less if imagining doing so counted—and he was almost as terrified. And yet Blaine needed him to be the confident one, and so he made himself act confident. He pulled Blaine's pants and underwear and socks off and hurled them across the room. "My God, Blaine, just look at you. Look at what a pretty cock you have. Look how hard. Is that for me, baby?"
"Yes, daddy, please."
He touched it. He touched Blaine's cock and felt it throb and jump under his fingers. Blaine arched and moaned and threw his head back. Sam wrapped his fingers around it—not tightly—and felt it pulse so violently he was sure Blaine was going to come any second. "Fuck. God, daddy, fuck..."
"Language, baby!"
"I'm sorry, daddy!" Blaine whined. "It's just so good!"
Sam let go and Blaine almost cried. But it was just long enough to lick his palm, and soon he had Blaine's erection in his hand again. "I want you to come, sweetheart." He started to jerk, not too fast, but strong and steady. "Can you come for me, sweetheart? Can you come for your daddy?"
Of course he could. Blaine came almost instantly, his body bowing so that for a few seconds only his heels and the back of his head were touching the mattress. And he was so loud—he was sure to wake Willa up, but it was so unbelievably hot the way he kept yelling, "Please, please, please, daddy, yes, please, daddy, daddy..." that Sam couldn't even think of shushing him. And there was so much come. Sam actually got very little of it on his hand. Most of it shot much farther: onto Blaine's chest, onto the comforter...Sam almost thought he'd have to check the ceiling for stains.
Sam heard Willa start to fuss in her crib. He silently prayed that this would be the one time in a hundred that she would manage to quiet herself quickly and go back to sleep.
Blaine collapsed on the bed, breathing hard. "That was so amazing, sweetheart," Sam told him. "You came so hard, it was so beautiful." He stroked his cheek and pushed the curls off his now-sweaty forehead. "How do you feel, baby?"
"So good, daddy," he panted. "So good. But..."
Blaine was frowning slightly, and that made Sam frown too. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
"I thought you were going to...And I didn't even get to touch you."
Willa screeched. Sam wasn't going to be able to ignore her. He quickly cleaned Blaine up with a spare pillow case and tucked him into the bed. "Wait for me here, sweetheart," he told him, kissing his forehead.
Sam walked into Willa's room. He remembered the little bit of Blaine's come on his hand and, not wanting to get it on his little girl, licked it off. He tried not to think of it as an erotic act at all, and really it wasn't, it was just quicker than going to the bathroom to wash it off.
Willa was standing up in her crib, shaking the railing. Her face was damp with sweat and tears. She held out her arms to be picked up as soon as Sam turned on the little lamp, but a couple seconds later she pulled them back and demanded, "Mama! Dada go way! Want mama!"
Sam picked her up and carried her to the rocking chair. "Mama's not home, pumpkin. How about you tell dada what's wrong?"
"Want mama!" Her sobbing was getting quieter, at least.
"I know you do, Willa. But mama's at Aunt Rachel's." He rocked her and stroked her hair.
"Why?" She rested her head on Sam's shoulder and put her thumb in her mouth.
"Because Aunt Rachel is mama's sister, and they like to hang out together like you and Tillie like to hang out together. You wanna hear a song, pumpkin?"
"Issy Bissy," she mumbled around her thumb.
Sam rocked her and sang "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" several times through. He kept rocking and singing long after Willa was asleep again.
His hard-on had gone away, thank goodness—screaming toddlers were really good at getting rid of those pesky things—and now he was left to contemplate what the fuck he had just done with Blaine and what he was going to do now to make it...well there was no way to make it right, probably, but maybe there was a way to make it less wrong? To prevent it from becoming more wrong, at least?
Okay, what had he actually done? Some kissing and a hand job. Sam and Quinn had done that back in college when they were still virgins. Quinn was the one, in fact, who insisted that hand jobs didn't count as sex. So. It wasn't that bad, really. He just had to not make it worse, which he could definitely do. Or...not do. He wouldn't do anything to make things worse.
He carried Willa back to her crib. He kissed her forehead and whispered, "Thanks for crying, pumpkin. Thanks for stopping me from doing something really, really bad." He settled her in, turned off the lamp, and walked quietly back to the guest room. Hopefully Blaine would be asleep.
Blaine was not asleep.
Blaine was uncovered, lying face down on the bed. As soon as he heard Sam come up he pulled his knees up under him and pushed his ass up in the air. Good lord, it was gorgeous. "Fuck, Blaine, what are you doing?"
"I'm so sorry I woke the baby up."
"It's okay, sweet..." Damn it, he couldn't call him that anymore. "It's okay, Blaine."
"You told me to be quiet and I wasn't."
"It's all right."
"But I was bad. I thought...I thought you might want to spank me."
Oh fuck. He didn't, he really didn't want to spank Blaine. But seeing him offer up his beautiful ass and ask for it brought his hard-on back with a vengeance. Still, he could stay calm. He wasn't a slave to his desires. "I don't," he said, as straight-forwardly and unemotionally as he could manage.
"But you have to. I disobeyed."
"Hey! Are you telling your daddy what to do, young man?" Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit.
Blaine gulped. "No, sir." He straightened his legs and lay flat on his stomach.
"I should hope not. Do little boys tell daddies what to do? Or do daddies tell little boys what to do?"
"Daddies tell little boys."
"That's right. Put your bottom back up the way it was." Blaine quickly complied. "That's right, baby. Such a good boy. So beautiful. There are lots of things I'd like to do to your ass, but spanking it isn't one of them."
"What things, daddy?"
Oh God. "I'd like to touch it. I touched it before but you still had your pants on. Would you like me to touch it again, without your pants on?" What was he doing? This wasn't not making things worse.
"Yes, daddy. Please?"
Sam grabbed him with both hands and squeezed. God, he was so perfect. He couldn't stop himself, he was definitely going to make things worse. He pulled Blaine's cheeks apart to reveal his perfect little puckered hole. He wet his finger in his mouth and used it to trace around the little circle.
"Daddy!" Blaine gasped.
Sam brought his lips to Blaine's ear. "I want to fuck you, Blaine. I want to fuck you more than anything. But I'm not your daddy, now, telling you what to do. I'm asking if you want me to. You can say no. If you're at all unsure, you should say no. Do you understand?"
"I understand, daddy—"
"Uh-uh. Don't call me that right now."
Blaine turned his head and looked Sam in the eye, though he was still essentially face down on the bed with his ass in the air. "I understand, Mr. Evans. I want you—"
"Hold up, there's one more thing. Well, there are a lot of reasons you should say no, and I wouldn't be mad at all...I won't be mad at all if you do..." He wouldn't be mad, but he was hoping so hard that Blaine wouldn't say no. "I don't have any condoms." Quinn was on the pill, so they never used them. He didn't have any lube either—Quinn didn't need it for any of their regular activities, and she hadn't ever wanted to do anal after the two or three times they tried it the first year they were married. But he knew from porn that spit could work too—he'd just have to be very careful and very patient.
"Oh, but I'm a..." Blaine lowered his voice and said, "I'm a virgin. I don't think it would be possible for you to catch anything from me."
Sam smiled at him. God, he was so sweet and innocent. "That's not what I'm worried about, sweetheart. And actually I'm not worried about you catching anything from me; if I were I wouldn't even consider this. I've never been with anyone but Mrs. Evans in my whole life, and I'm...ninety-nine point nine percent certain she hasn't been with anyone but me. But the point is, besides that point one percent chance that I'm wrong, it's not a good idea to have sex with older men without condoms. With any men without condoms."
"You've really never..."
Sam looked down and brushed one of Blaine's curls away from his eyes. "Cheated on my wife before? No."
"But you want to with me?" he whispered.
"Blaine, sweetheart." He started rubbing Blaine's back. "I know it's not fair of me to ask you to make a decision like this. I know I'm the one who should put a stop to this right now—"
"No! Please, don't, Mr. Evans!"
"But I...there's something about you, Blaine...I want you so bad that the only thing that will keep me from making love to you right now is if you don't want it just as bad."
"But I do want it! I'm sure I want it way worse than you, I want it more than anything. I'll...I'll beg, I'll do anything you want. Just...just please, Mr. Evans. Please, please fuck me, sir."
Oh God. If there had been any smidgeon of hope, any smidgeon at all, of Sam being able to stop, it was completely gone now. He palmed his hard cock through his jeans and whispered, "You can call me daddy again. If you want."
"Daddy? Can I see your..." He looked longingly at the bulge in Sam's jeans.
"You wanna see my cock, baby?"
"Please?"
Sam opened his pants and pushed them down to his knees. He slowly reached inside his boxer briefs and pulled his cock out. Blaine went slack-jawed looking at it. "Oh my God. Oh my God, daddy, it's..." He reached for it but stopped a few inches away. "Can I touch it?"
"You can touch it, sweetheart."
Blaine just barely touched him and he thought he would die. It sent a shock through him, an electrical charge, that he actually thought might kill him. But it didn't kill him, it made him feel more alive than ever. "Do you wanna taste it, baby? You don't have to..."
"So much, daddy, please..." Blaine might have begged some more but then his mouth was busy tasting and exploring Sam's dick. He had his fingers and his tongue all over it and he managed somehow to be gentle and intense at the same time. Sam almost couldn't take all that pleasure at once. When Blaine closed his lips around the shaft and gave a tentative suck Sam had to move his head away. "I'm sorry, daddy, was that bad?"
"No, sweetheart, it was too good. I don't want to let you make me come yet."
"I almost made you come?" Blaine asked with a mix of surprise and pride.
"So close, baby. You have no idea." He stripped off the clothes he still had on and knelt behind Blaine, who still had his perfect ass up in the air. "Jesus Christ, Blaine," he whispered, though it was more to himself than to the boy in front of him.
He grabbed Blaine's hips and kissed a spot on his inner thigh. Starting from that spot he licked a broad, steady stripe up, past the crease where thigh met cheek, into the valley of his crack, not stopping until he reached that sweet, tight hole he wanted to get inside so much. He had never rimmed anyone before—meaning he had never rimmed Quinn before, as she'd been his only sex partner until now—and he had never wanted to, but now that he had his face buried in Blaine's ass he was finding it way hotter than he ever would have dreamed.
It didn't taste bad, for one thing. It smelled and tasted like...like Blaine, but more concentrated, and like sex, but also concentrated. And Blaine's skin was warm and soft—soft even on his ass. But the best thing was the way Blaine reacted to his tongue. He moaned, low and guttural, into the pillow—he was trying so hard to be quiet like his daddy had told him to. He pushed his ass back hard against Sam's face. Sam moved his hips forward when it got too much, and Blaine whimpered, "I'm sorry, daddy, I'm trying to hold still, it just feels so good!"
"I know, baby, it's okay. I'm going to lick inside you now, sweetheart. Are you ready?"
"So ready, daddy, please!" Blaine rocked back and forth in anticipation, so much that Sam had to grab his hips again and steady him.
Sam slowly pushed his tongue through Blaine's tight ring of muscle. He felt it relax and give under his touch. He was inside Blaine now, and he almost couldn't comprehend it, it was so hot.
Blaine's knees gave out and he fell forward. Sam fell with him, working his tongue in more insistently. Blaine bit down on the pillow and used it to try to muffle the moans of pleasure he couldn't contain. His hips started jerking and Sam realized he was humping the bed. "Don't come yet, sweetheart. Try not to come until I'm inside you."
"It's so good, daddy," Blaine whined. "I'll try. I'm trying really hard."
"I know, baby. You're doing so good." He held Blaine's hips in place while he continued to lick him open, using lots of spit and adding fingers as soon as he thought he could do so without hurting the boy.
Shortly after Sam added a third finger, the noises Blaine was making changed. It sounded like...it almost sounded like he was crying. Oh God, what had he done? Sam pulled all his fingers out and lay down next to him. "I'm sorry, baby, did I hurt you?"
"No!" Blaine said. He looked at Sam and his face was red and he had hair stuck to his damp forehead. "It's just getting too hard to wait. I need to come, daddy, and I'm trying so hard not to, and I need to feel you in me and not just your fingers and your tongue, and—"
"Okay, baby, okay. You've done so good, baby. I won't make you wait any longer. Just get my cock wet for me so it won't hurt when I fuck you."
"Oh God! Thank you, daddy, thank you!" He enthusiastically took Sam's cock in his mouth, and he would have happily sucked him off if Sam hadn't pulled out quickly.
"Lie on your back, baby, and pull your knees up to your chest." Blaine did what Sam told him, and he just looked so...so wanton like that, so lewd, Sam didn't know how he wasn't constantly fighting off men who wanted to fuck him. But Blaine didn't want other men fucking him. Only Sam.
He spit on his fingers and spread the little bit of extra moisture around Blaine's entrance. He pressed the tip of his cock against Blaine's rim and held it there for a few seconds. "Are you sure you want this, baby? Blaine?"
"Daddy, please! I'll literally go crazy if you don't!"
Sam pushed the head in. Oh God. Oh God, oh God. He had never felt anything so incredible in his life. Blaine was holding perfectly still except that his ass was clenching like crazy and he was breathing hard. "You okay, sweetheart? Does it hurt?"
"Not exactly," Blaine said through gritted teeth.
"Should I stop?"
"No! Please don't stop! I wouldn't care if it did hurt, I don't want you to stop."
"I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart."
"You're not. It doesn't hurt. It's just...it's a lot."
"Okay. Just relax, baby. I won't move until you're ready. We've got plenty of time, and once you can relax this'll feel better."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure, sweetheart." He wasn't sure at all. How would he know? He'd never taken a cock. He had managed to not seriously hurt Quinn those few times, but he hadn't made it mind-blowingly great for her either. Of course he didn't say any of this to Blaine. But what was he supposed to say, since Blaine didn't want him to stop? He said, "Trust me, baby, once you relax it'll feel so good."
"Okay."
"Okay." Sam kissed his neck. He whispered in his ear, "You're so beautiful. Doing so good, baby. Such a good boy for daddy."
Blaine whimpered. "A little more daddy. Please."
"So good. You make daddy so happy. You're so—"
"I meant more of your...I meant you can go in a little farther." Blaine opened his eyes and looked into Sam's. "But I like you talking to me like that too."
"Yeah? You're ready for more of daddy's cock?"
"Please, daddy. You make me so happy too."
Sam wanted to say something sweet back to him, but as he pushed just a teensy bit farther in the only words he could form were, "Oh, fuck, Blaine, Jesus, you feel good." Blaine's eyes were squeezed shut and he was holding his breath. "Okay, breathe, sweetheart. Just relax and breathe. Daddy's got you."
It took forever—it really seemed to take forever—for Sam to get his cock completely buried in Blaine, so deep that his balls slapped against his ass and he couldn't go any farther. But Blaine was so gorgeous taking his cock, so innocent and carnal at the same time, and God, he felt so good, that Sam wasn't about to complain. He held still and watched while Blaine relaxed and steadied his breathing, which didn't take nearly as long as after the first intrusion. "God, Blaine, you're amazing."
"Daddy."
"I wanna start moving now. Are you ready, baby?"
"Uh-huh. I'm ready, please."
Sam pulled partway out and rocked slowly but steadily back into Blaine. Fuck, he felt so good. Blaine wrapped his legs around him and crossed his ankles just above Sam's ass. It wasn't too long before he was lifting his ass up to meet Sam's thrusts and pushing with his heels to bring him in deeper.
Soon he was whining and gasping, biting his own fist from time to time to keep from screaming. "Daddy, please," he said desperately. "Please, I need to come."
Sam barely got his hand around Blaine's dick before his whole body started to shake. "Daddy, daddy, God..." Blaine held the pillow over his face and screamed into it while he fucked forcefully into Sam's fist. Sam really didn't think his ass could be any tighter, but when he was convulsing with orgasm the pressure on Sam's cock was so overwhelming he couldn't have held off his own orgasm no matter how hard he might have tried.
Blaine's walls milked all the come right out of him. Over and over. Every time he'd shot out all the come he thought he could possibly have, Blaine would squeeze his cock again and out would come more. And each release was so overwhelmingly...just overwhelmingly good...His vision actually blurred and he was pretty sure his extremities went numb and he could swear he felt a rush of...of endorphins or dopamine or whatever the "life is swell" chemical was called zipping through his bloodstream and straight into his brain.
He collapsed, panting, onto Blaine, who was panting too and staring at the ceiling with a dazed look on his face. "Okay, baby?"
Blaine lips turned up in a smile, seemingly without his even realizing it. "So good, daddy." He looked into Sam's eyes. "Is it okay if I call you that for just a little while longer?"
"You can call me that until four-thirty a.m., sweetheart." He rolled off Blaine and set the alarm clock next to the bed. "Matilda wakes up early—especially when she's been up late the night before, even though that makes no sense—so at four-thirty I have to go into my own bedroom."
"I wish you didn't," Blaine said.
"I know, baby." Sam pulled him into a close cuddle. "For the next few hours we can pretend I don't."