Page 21 of Asher's Answer
Chapter Ten – Charlie
Ash in a diaper is easily the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Ever. The fact that he wakes up hard as a rock the morning after I put the first one on him and tells me that he wants me to rub him to orgasm through the padding is hotter than it has any right being.
“You’re not allowed to play with yourself when you wear one of these,” I tell him, but my hand is over the hard bulge of his arousal anyway, and he’s rocking up against it. “Not unless I say it’s okay.”
“Uh huh,” he answers, but I don’t think he’s actually listening to this new rule. “Daddy, it feels so good.”
At least clean up is going to be quick and easy, but I don’t tell him that this is not how he should wet all his diapers. I know that’s a line he’s not ready to cross yet. I’m proud that he was able to voice that he’s serious about trying one day, though. It’s yet another big step forward for him.
“That’s it, baby,” I encourage, watching the rapture on his face. I give him a squeeze through the plastic and cotton and he moans. Ash doesn’t often wake up little, or even little adjacent, so I’m indulging the both of us right now. I’ll rub one out in the shower after this. “Come for me, little lamb.”
After a few more thrusts he does just that, crying out in pleasure before going limp and sated. I watch him, and a few moments later he’s crinkling his nose and squirming. It’s adorable. “Ugh…”
“Need a change?”
He nods, and I walk him back into his room, laying out a towel before getting him to climb up. “We’ll just get you into your big boy clothes after we take care of this, okay?”
“Training pants?”
“Always.” Even under his suits, they’ve become his preference. They keep his little urges content and remind him he has a Daddy who loves him enough to help him get dressed.
I don’t make a big deal of stripping the diaper off or of wiping him down. By the time he’s clean, he’s big and grinning at me. “I could get used to that being our new morning routine,” he says playfully.
“Speak for yourself,” I gesture at the tent in my boxers. “I need to do something about this before I can function.”
Ash sits up, still naked, and scoots down the mattress until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and I’m standing between his spread legs. He grabs at my ass, pulling me closer, then mouths over the top of my erection through the cotton of my shorts. My hands card through his hair, more to steady myself than encourage him.
“How about I take care of Daddy now?”
It’s not an offer I can refuse.
* * *
When we first retrieved Ash’s car from the college parking structure, I’d had every intention of taking it to a mechanic for a proper evaluation. But he didn’t use it for the first few weeks of living with me, and then when he got his job, it was too late. So it comes as no surprise to me when he calls me near the end of my shift one evening to complain that the thing won’t start.
“It’s probably just the battery,” I tell him, even though I honestly know nothing about cars. “But I get off work in half an hour. Can you chill at the office until I can swing by to get you?”
“Yeah,” he sighs heavily. “Stupid car. I wanted to get home early to cook you dinner. Switch things up a bit.”
Awww. My boy’s incredibly thoughtful.
“We can get takeout and crash on the couch,” I reply. “And you can surprise me with your cooking skills another time.”
From the driver’s seat of our patrol car, Max makes kissy faces at me, teasing me like a good partner should. I give him the finger. Then a call comes in on the radio and we’re the closest to it. My heart sinks as I conclude that I’m not getting off work on time after all, and I have to relay the information to Ash.
“It’s fine,” he assures me, but there’s a tension to his voice that I don’t like. “I’ll…I’ll catch the bus home and there’ll be something for you to heat up for dinner.”
We say our goodbyes and then I call Josh, asking him if he can go rescue my boyfriend from his broken-down piece of shit car. When Josh can’t -because he’s also stuck at work- I relent and call Ted, belatedly realizing that I should have just called him to start with.
I can hear the jangle of his keys as he agrees, and he keeps me on the line as he jogs down from the office to their allocated car parks. “Okay, I see him. I’ll take him back to my place and you can pick him up on your way home, whenever that might be.”
“You’re a lifesaver, man,” I thank him, then end the call. Max has an eyebrow raised, but we’ve just pulled up at the address from the call and we need to focus on our jobs.
I’m just relieved to not have to worry about Ash.
* * *
By the time I make it to Ted’s place, I’m exhausted. The call had been a domestic violence dispute that turned devastatingly ugly, and we had to take a billion witness statements, talk to paramedics and, because there was a child involved, alert child services. I’m beyond brittle by the time I ring Ted’s doorbell.
