Waited So Long Read online

  “No, I had a late lunch. I think I’m going to head home. I leave for a business trip in a few days. There’s a lot to do before I head for the airport.”

  “You’ll give me your number so I can check on you while you’re gone.”

  Even though the demand was clear in his voice, I wanted to say no. Yet, I also wanted to obey. My ex hadn’t bothered checking on me while I was away on business. Maybe every few days I’d called him to say goodnight. Check in to see if everything was good at home, but I’d never felt compelled to contact him because I knew it probably wouldn’t have mattered to him. He wasn’t interested in my company, and I’d comprehended it too late. I realized I was staring at Bern, and he raised his brow as if expecting an answer.

  “That’s not necessary, I’ve been—”

  “I don’t think I asked if it was necessary.”

  I frowned at his tone and how his voice was even deeper, which I felt should be impossible. It was commanding and comforting but not the same tone he’d used with Murray. It was hard and unyielding. An order pure and simple. I didn’t like conflict, so I felt my only option was to agree.

  “Um, okay.”

  “Good boy. You’ll be here for dinner tomorrow night. Six o’clock.”

  All I could do was nod, and then I was saying goodbye as I headed for the door. Bern had changed a lot more than just physically since he’d left. The shy boy I remembered was no more, and I wasn’t sure how to handle the stranger who returned.

  I locked myself in my house and went to take care of emails and study my itinerary. I could retire, but what would I do with myself? At least work kept me busy. It distracted me from the loneliness. I worked because I had nothing left.

  I took a seat at my drafting table as I worked on the new design for my client. His steel monstrosity would clash with everything around the building. It was a showpiece that had no more value than broadcasting his wealth. Once again, my brain went back to wondering if it was time to retire, maybe working for myself, but I felt I was too old to start over. All I felt was doubt and insecurity.

  When I was younger, I’d felt confident and fearless. Every day was ripe with possibility, and now I weighed everything by what was expected of me. I felt as if my life was over with; I wasn’t even fifty and hopelessness weighted me down. When I looked in the mirror, I could only see what I was and not what I could be. That, out of all the recent events, was the hardest reality to accept. I viewed myself through a skewed lens Lawrence had shaped.

  My fantasies were still a cause of shame just as they were for the past thirty years. I’d forbidden myself from demanding what I wanted because what would people think when they knew the real me. The person who existed beneath the façade. The respectable architect in a small suburb who was just a shadow of his former self.

  I was a middle-aged man with silver-streaked hair and a belly, who dreamed of the impossible. I tossed my pencil aside and got up. My mind wasn’t in it, so a shower and early to bed. Tomorrow was a new day.

  2

  Bern

  I made sure Dad was tucked in and settled for the night. He was trying to do too much. I knew he missed me, but I didn’t want him trying to wait on me hand and foot. Dad needed more focus and someone to center him. My mom had been his Domme, and she’d made sure my dad had always felt confident and safe. When I’d gotten older and I realized what their relationship had been, I’d tried to get him to find someone else, but even decades later, my mom was all he’d wanted.

  She’d been almost a decade younger than Dad when they’d met. He said she came up to him in a bar and said he was going to be hers, and that was the start of my parents’ fairy tale. They waited five years before they’d had me. Growing up, I’d always made sure Dad was okay. That he ate, slept, and I made his life orderly so he never felt out of control. He always said I was just like her. My presence was calming. I didn’t know about that. Plenty of people had called me weird growing up.

  One was Devon’s ex. I’d hated that man since I was fifteen and realized he had something I wanted. Lawrence hadn’t treated him right. Inattentive and cold, taking him for granted. My feelings hadn’t changed in the last thirteen years, but he had been married, and I had to respect that even if I loathed it. Three long years, I’d watched and had to standby as Lawrence became emotionally unavailable, not taking care of Devon as he deserved. I’d fucked because I was human and loved sex, but I always waited with hope that Devon would be free one day.

  More than the occasional one-night stand was unacceptable. I’d refused to move on as if he didn’t matter to me. What was I supposed to do? Pretend that the older man had never meant anything to me? That wouldn’t happen. I knew people would think me strange that I put my life on hold for a man who was emotionally and physically unavailable. In my stubbornness, I refused to admit defeat. Lawrence would’ve fucked up sooner or later, and then Devon would be all mine.

  My dad hadn’t truly understood, but he respected my decisions. I never kept anything from my dad—honesty was important to a trusting relationship between anyone. He hadn’t tried to talk me out of it because, as he always said, I was just like Mom. He knew of my feelings for Devon and stayed close to Devon for me. Dad had kept me up-to-date, emailed me as soon as Lawrence asked for the divorce and I’d put in my papers to come home. My years in the service had only kept me from longing for the boy I couldn’t have. Boy. Mine. I wanted to be balls deep as he begged Daddy to fuck him harder. And now it was my time to care for my boy as he deserved.

  I’d started the process when he’d come over for dinner last night. I held on a little longer than necessary when I greeted him with an embrace. Fixing his plate before I made mine. Touching him when I passed by. I’d memorized every time he leaned into my touch or the way his breath caught when I laid my hand on the small of his back. He felt something when I touched him; he just didn’t understand yet what that was.

  I grabbed my phone off my nightstand and scrolled through until I found Devon’s number. I smiled, anticipating his surprise when I followed through with checking on him. For the time being, I knew I had to act with patience and get him used to being mine. The first step was making sure he took care of himself. I stretched out on my bed and connected the call.

  “Hello.”

  Devon’s voice was low and sweet. He was a small man who’d softened with age, and he was just as sexy as I’d remembered. “Hello, Devon. Tell me about your day.”

  “Bern, what are you doing calling me?”

  “I told you I was going to call and check on you. Now, do as I said.”

  “I’ve only been here a few hours. I missed my connecting flight due to a mechanical delay and had to wait for the next one. I’m tired.”

  He sounded exhausted, but he’d looked it when I’d shown up a few days earlier. I hadn’t planned on hugging him. He’d been close, and I wanted him in my arms even for an innocent hug. Touch formed intimacy and comfort, and he felt right in my arms. I’d always been taller than him and bigger than him. Years of lifting weights hadn’t changed that…if anything I was even larger. Working out was required for my job. Yet it was also the way I exhausted myself enough to sleep because thoughts of him kept me awake.

  “Have you eaten yet?”

  “No.”

  “That I can’t allow. I’ll order you room service or call someplace else. What’s your hotel and room number?”

  He stuttered out an answer, and I knew he didn’t understand why he was taking orders from his best friend’s son. He’d get it soon enough. When he came home from his business trip, we’d be spending a lot of time together. I think a first date is way past due.

  “You know what I want you to do?”

  “N-no.”

  “Get in the bath and relax. You had a stressful day, and I’ll order you dinner to be delivered in an hour.”

  “Bern, you really don’t have to. I’ll probably just go to sleep.”

  “No, you need food and rest. If you won’t
take care of yourself, then I have to do it, boy.”

  “I’m not a boy, Bern.”

  Oh, he so was, but he didn’t know what I knew. One day when I was seventeen, I’d finished mowing his lawn and put everything away, and on my way home, I’d stopped outside his bedroom window. I hadn’t been able to see through the curtains, but I would’ve been jealous if I hadn’t known Lawrence was at work. Devon had been inside whimpering. I heard the buzz of a vibrator, and as he came, in his pleasure, he’d gasped Daddy. I’d dreamed of being his Daddy. I didn’t give a fuck if he was older, Daddy/little had nothing to do with age. It was a state of mind, and my boy needed me.

  I’d gone home and jerked off to fucking him into the mattress, so hard that he felt me every time he sat down at work. Imprinting on him until touching his husband would feel like a betrayal to me. A year later, I’d left for college, and I’d missed him. While Dad gave me all the information, I wasn’t there to make Devon feel safe as I’d learned Lawrence wasn’t treating him right. Abuse was damaging, no matter how it was done. Emotional and mental abuse left as much a mark as a physical blow. The scars left behind didn’t fade as easy as a bruise or mend like a properly set bone.

  “Then don’t act like a brat. Listen to me.” I’d almost told him to listen to Daddy. It was too soon. Pushing him before he was ready would cause him to pull away from me. I couldn’t have that. I’d waited years for him to be free and I wasn’t going to do anything to fuck it up.

  “I remember you being a lot sweeter before you left for college.”

  I grinned at the obvious pout in his voice. I was going to have so much fun making the bratty boy mine. And to me it was more than fucking him, Daddy and boy weren’t just for our bedroom. I’d be his Daddy twenty-four-seven. I’d be his safety and comfort. I’d love on him but discipline him when needed. I nearly groaned imagining him laid across my lap as I spanked his ass.

  “Bern? Are you still there?”

  “Yes, sorry. Go take your bath, and I’ll send you dinner.”

  “Thanks. I am hungry but too tired to go out.”

  “Then you do as I say…long hot bath, and then I’ll make sure your belly is full.”

  “Okay.”

  He sounded so shy, and I sensed he was uncomfortable with something. I didn’t like that I was making him insecure. “What’s wrong? I can hear it in your voice.”

  “It’s stupid.”

  “I won’t ever think something you tell me is stupid, especially if it’s something I can fix. So tell me.”

  “It’s nice being taken care of. It’s been rough lately, and long before the divorce. Things weren’t good and…well, it’s just nice to have someone else take over for a few.”

  “Baby boy, there’s nothing stupid about what you said. I’m kinda bossy so get used to it. I’m not the same boy that left for college. You’ll just have to get to know the new me.”

  “You’re still sweet. Murray did an amazing job raising you.”

  I don't know why, but I felt he was trying to put distance between us by mentioning Dad, soon I'd figure out if it was an unconscious maneuver.

  “Yeah, he did. I don’t remember Mom except for the stories he used to tell me. He was all I ever had. I want to thank you for taking care of him while I was gone. I picked up the phone to call or send you an email hundreds of times, but time always seemed to get away from me.” It was partly the truth, I’d done both, and I always disconnected the call or erased the email. The moments always hit me late at night, when I was missing him and alone in my bed. I had to remember that while I’d wanted him almost half my life, he still saw me as Murray’s kid. The always helpful boy next door.

  “He wasn’t all that much trouble. We just had dinner together a lot. His favorite subjects were you and your mom. I always wished I’d been lucky enough to have a love like Murray had for your mom.”

  “You know it’s not that late. Lawrence was an idiot to not know what he had.”

  His chuckle was almost musical. “You’re really good for my ego, but I’m fading fast.”

  “Then go do as I say, and I’ll surprise you.”

  “Thank you, Bern.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  I reluctantly disconnected the call as I grabbed my laptop to search for restaurants in the area. I knew all my boy’s favorites. He’d be shocked to know everything I’d learned about him. How often I’d watched him. At fifteen, I’d focused on him while my peers were fucking and getting high. I studied all the ways to make him happy for when it was finally my chance to own him. Even then, I’d taken every opportunity to touch and hug him, but he never noticed I was doing it. I’d given him gifts. He hadn’t realized that I’d noticed it was something he’d looked at a few minutes longer or that I saw him open his mouth to say he loved it, but shut up when Lawrence hadn’t looked interested or ignored him altogether. It was those little things that I’d tried to take note of because anyone can notice the obvious things. Someone who cares remembers the so-called insignificant details.

  Pressing complete purchase for his dinner and chocolate for dessert because my boy had a weakness for sweets, I finished up and closed my laptop. I got off the bed and headed for my bathroom, stripping as I went. I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I didn’t really study myself often. People either liked what they saw or they didn’t.

  My boy was on my mind, and his voice lingered in my head. I took the time to compare myself to Lawrence. He had spent almost three decades with the bastard. Lawrence was always smooth and polished. Elegant to the extreme.

  I was six-five and nearly two-hundred and sixty pounds of bulky muscle. Where Lawrence was smooth, my chest was covered with a thick mat of auburn hair. I even had patches on my shoulders. I didn’t groom or trim, so the bush at the base of my cock was thick. I was a big hairy man, and while I worked out, it was more about passing the time than an actual compulsion to do so. Lawrence and I were complete opposites. Devon didn’t see me as a man yet, but I wondered what he’d think about me.

  Closing my eyes, I brought up an image of Devon, wrapped my rough hand around my cock and stroked as the long length firmed under my touch. I was a man built to be proportionate, and I pictured my boy’s hole strangling the girth. I growled as I flattened my free hand on the counter. My boy would suck my cock and nibble on the foreskin just like I needed, sucking the loose skin between his lips. I jacked my dick, not satisfied with beating off when my boy’s mouth or ass would be so much better.

  I grunted and growled as my sac started to draw up, preparing to come, and in a matter of minutes, I threw my head back, shooting my load onto the cabinets under the sink. I breathed harshly through my nose as I massaged my length, teasing out every drop until my thighs shook. The release was fleeting because I knew that I wouldn’t be happy until I filled my boy with my cum. Watching the satisfaction on his face as my seed leaked out of his ass.

  Grabbing a dirty towel, I cleaned the cabinet doors and turned to start my shower. Devon would be home soon, but until then, I’d call and check on him, show him that his happiness was all that mattered to me.

  3

  Devon

  I was working in my company's local office, but something was wrong with my brain. My body had developed a mind of its own. I tried to focus on the new changes my client had notated on the last one. Every time he found some fault. Sometimes it was the tiniest detail, or like the previous design, he wanted a window moved an inch. If he wasn't such an asshole, I would probably appreciate his exceptional good looks. But my ex was handsome too, and he'd turned into a massive bastard.

  I used the eraser to take out a line I'd mistakenly made while drifting off. Something I hadn't thought of since my divorce was the fact that I was single. I knew at my age I was way past my prime and not particularly on the hit list. Ageism was rampant among men, straight or gay. When men reached a certain age for some reason, they started looking at something younger with a tighter body. I didn't even know what the hel
l I was going to do.

  I'd been on a handful of dates in my life. I'd hated it. When I'd met Lawrence, we'd seemed to be on the same level. On our second date, we’d discussed that we both wanted to settle down one day. My parents had instilled in me that you waited for the right one—the one you wanted to marry. I felt comfortable in a monogamous relationship. Except I was also jealous of the people who were freer and more open about sex.

  For a minute last night, I'd almost gone down to the hotel bar. A constant buzz of arousal tingled under my skin. I'd awakened that morning reaching for my already hard cock—the remnants of my dream fading before I could capture the details. I felt slightly uncomfortable afterward as if I'd done something wrong.

  Desire was building inside of me causing this jitteriness I'd never had before. Over the last five years, sex had gone from a chore—an itch to scratch—to non-existent. Lawrence hadn't seemed to want to touch me. I'd grown used to feeling as if I were sleeping alone. He hadn't even tried to cuddle with me at night. Those surprise kisses from early in our relationship had disappeared, and he wouldn't even hold my hand in public.

  Yes, I missed the unrestrained need of twenty-something me who'd felt as if I was desired. But more than that, I yearned to be cared for, and with that thought, Bern popped into my head. I'd felt shocked when I’d answered the phone and heard his guttural voice in my ear.

  I knew it was only because he'd known me all his life, and since he was a man now, I could consider him a friend. Yet, there was a forbidden thrill I'd taken in him ordering me to take a bath. Him sending me my favorite foods. My bruised, middle-aged ego took an instant liking to it.

  In ways, it was like all those dreams I'd given up on over the last decade. I learned early to settle for what I could get. I'd believed myself in love with my husband, but that love turned so easily into complacency. Asking for what I wanted in and out of bed had tripped and frozen on the tip of my tongue.