“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, Daddy. It’s very good. Thank you.”
Over and over, I feed Mallory. We’re quiet as she eats. I touch her cheeks and her thighs. Sometimes I play with her hair a little bit. Overall, it’s a very intimate and personal experience. It’s something I never would have thought about back in my vanilla days, but now?
Now I think feeding your partner is one of the most intimate things you can do. It requires a certain amount of trust you don’t necessarily need when you’re just sleeping with someone.
“You’re sweet,” I tell her. She’s quiet, and I find myself wanting to talk. It’s not to fill the silence. I’m perfectly fine with silence, but I want to tell her stories.
I want to keep her company, and I want her to feel comfortable, and I want to share my heart with her a little bit.
As Mallory eats, I find myself talking about my childhood, and my favorite memories of Matthew, and how I felt after he died.
And I find myself talking about her.
“I always felt like a creep,” I say. “Going after my best friend’s baby sister,” I shake my head. “Maybe that’s why I like ageplay so much. I always felt like you were too young for me. Even though you’re only two years younger than me, I always thought it was my responsible to keep you safe and to protect you. In reality, I know that was Matthew’s job.”
She’s quiet, but I know she’s listening as I talk.
I offer her a sip of water, and Mallory takes it, swallowing quietly. When she pulls back, I set the glass down and use a cloth napkin to dab at her face. I fucking love this. Part of me still hates how much I love it. The world tells me that the things I like are fucked up and wrong, and sometimes, it’s really hard for me not to buy into that.
But right now, when it’s just the two of us here, I feel the magic.
I feel the power.
I feel everything that I’ve been wanting to feel for so very long. I know that I wouldn’t feel this way with anyone but her.
“I know that big brothers aren’t supposed to control their little sisters,” I tell her. “And I don’t think Matthew ever wanted to control you. Sometimes he got too bossy. The two of us used to fight about that, you know?”
“I didn’t know,” she whispers.
“Oh yeah. He hated that you started to date. It was really hard on him. He may have played it cool, but you’d be amiss to think he didn’t talk to anyone who looked twice at you.”
“Maybe that’s why I didn’t date very much.”
“Maybe,” I agree. “But I think you just always had high standards for yourself. You always had incredible values.”
“I don’t know if that’s true.”
“Well, a lot of people aren’t picky about their partners. You’ve never gone for someone just because you were bored, or because you felt like you needed to, or because you felt like you couldn’t do any better.”
“Maybe that’s true,” Mallory admits. “But I also didn’t exactly get asked out a lot.”
“You weren’t ugly. You weren’t unlikable.”
“No, but I often felt like I was,” she shrugs.
I reach for her chin and tilt it up to me.
“I will never tell you how to feel,” I say. “But you have never been unlikable in any way, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispers.
I kiss her, showing her exactly how I feel about all of this, and then I pull away and just smile at her.
“What do you say we get ready for the club?”