More Than a Contract (mxm)

Part 1.2: "Isn't That Your Harem Over There?"

The Sugar Daddy event is on a boat, a fancy-pants yacht, which I am never going to set foot on again. Probably. The guy who checks our tickets gives us a once-over and smirks, seemingly satisfied. He welcomes us.

Sam is happy as a clam, comfortable in these strange waters, unlike me.

He propels me inward, deeper into the event, as we pass by all kinds of men, who check us out hungrily. The Sugar Daddies and Sugar Babies are everywhere, sometimes in two, sometimes in three, and sometimes there's a group. It seems like everyone is happy, comfortable, and well, horny.

Jesus.

"Sam, are you sure that–"

"Stop," Sam says, leaning against the small bar and facing me. "I won't let you sign any contracts or fall out into the water."

"Oh the relief," I mutter. "So contracts, huh? Like on Fifty Shades of Grey? Are there whips and chains I should worry about, too?"

"Mhmm," he hums, ordering two cosmos. "You just sign your name under the basic time span of the agreement. Usually, like, three months to start? But you know, most Daddies want to sample the product first." He winks.

"Aren't you still with Mason?" I ask, sipping on my Cosmo and trying to avoid anyone's eyes. I can feel people's eyes crawling on me. Shit.

"Yes, but we're open, babe. I can sign with another Daddy, as long as he's open-minded, and trust me, most of them are."

"So you can be with five Daddies and each of them can be with ten babies?" I ask, trying to understand the madness. "That's a load of math."

He shrugs. "Unless they're possessive, but usually, that's not the case. The goal here is to have fun, no strings."

"Okay." I sigh. Whatever, I'll never understand this. "I guess my high school teacher Mrs. Humphrey was right when she said we'd need math in the real world."

Sam snorts. "Dork. Ooooh," he adds, his face transforming into a mask of lust. "Don't look now, but it's the sexiest Daddy alive. Everyone wants him."

I turn and look.

The man is surrounded by babies, so he's not hard up for choices or anything. He's tall, has wide shoulders, he's solid really, and he's in his late thirties or maybe even forties. He has dark hair, dark stubble, and he's stylish, well-dressed, well off. He appears stern, like he's holding everyone at a distance, even though he's conversing with them. Just my type, unfortunately.

I sigh. Yeah, right, like that's going to happen.

He probably has a whole harem.

I drink my Cosmo and hope to god Sam will come to my rescue later. Speaking of Sam, he's already engaged in conversation with some silver fox, who can easily be fifty years old, but still looks fit and hot. The fox touches Sam's arm, and they laugh.

I turn around, looking for a place to hide, but there's nothing, and in seconds, I am cornered by an older man with humor in his eyes and hair so blond it's almost white, but not because he's in his sixties or anything. His skin is very white, too. He's wearing a tight red shirt and sips his drink slowly, sensually, eyeing me, like I'm his next meal.

Gross.

"Uhh, hi."

"Hello, little one. Can I get you another?" He gestures to the Cosmo.

"Sure." What else can I say?

He calls the waiter and gets me another Cosmo in seconds. I'm impressed, but also worried because I have no idea what I'm doing. The guy doesn't seem perturbed, he's probably done this a million times already.