Page 18 of Matteo's Mettle
Digging through the little basket of toys, I locate the two rubber ducks. One is your standard yellow rubber ducky. The other is pink with multi-colored polka dots. His eyes light up as I hand them over, and it’s a joy to watch him dunking them beneath the bubbles, splashing about as he creates a story where the two ducks go adventuring together. When I pick up a toy frog and join in, he blinks back surprised tears that make me angry at all those other men all over again, but I have him giggling within minutes.
“Daddy, it’s a frog, not a dragon,” he declares when I, as the frog, attempt to hold the little yellow duck prisoner in my tower of bubbles.
“This is a magical frog,” I argue, “who can breathe fire.”
Matt laughs and brandishes the other duck, waving him at me. “Then Sir Pinkie is a knight. And he’s gonna beat your dragon frog and rescue Prince Quacker.”
A dramatic fight scene ensues wherein, sure enough, the evil dragon frog is defeated by the pink duck, thereby allowing the prince to ride off into the sunset with the knight.
My shirt is damp, the remnants of dissolving bubbles and splashes of water soaking into my sleeves and chest, but it doesn’t bother me at all. I wear the watermarks with pride, having genuinely enjoyed the imaginative play, and I reflect on that for a moment.
Should I have felt strange playing so childishly with another grown man? Especially one who was a stranger until a few hours ago? None of it felt awkward or forced. It felt natural. Just like it does when I’m playing with Kate when she’s little. I take it as another sign that maybe I really am meant to be a Daddy and I just never realized it.
Speaking of…
“Alright, baby, the water’s cooling down so let’s get you all washed, okay?”
Matt bobs his head, still beaming at me. He’s well and truly in little space now, and I’m thrilled that this is something I’ve been able to give him, considering how hurt and lonely it sounds like he has been. With a generous squirt of the baby wash onto the Elmo loofah, I scrub gently over his muscular, tattooed arms first, then over his strong chest and down his stomach. The water is deep, so I ask him to stand so I can properly wash his lower body.
He’s not hard anymore, but that cock of his is still impressive even like this. All I do is wash him, though, scrubbing the foaming soap over his thighs and calf muscles, then getting him to turn so I can do the backs of his legs and up to his perfect ass. I don’t tease him here, either, as tempted as I am. It’s not the right moment for it. Not this time, anyway. Having him sit back down, I go over the rippling muscles of his back and then rinse him off.
“Time to get out,” I declare, smiling when he makes a sound of complaint. “We’ve gotta get you dry and dressed and, if you’re good, I’ll read you a bedtime story.”
Once again, his eyes turn suspiciously moist, and he blinks rapidly to clear them. “Okay, Daddy.”
I’m fairly certain that telling myself to be rational and take things slowly right now is pointless, because my heart lurches yet again. I can’t quite explain it, but something about this man pulls me in like nobody else I’ve ever met. I want to take away his hurt and make his days brighter. I want to worship him and show him that he’s worthy of affection and attention. I want to be his Daddy for more than just tonight, even if that means letting him in in a way I’ve never allowed anyone else, sharing my own secrets and hang-ups like he’s been brave enough to do with me.
But the strangest thing is that that revelation doesn’t scare me. It should. I should be slapping myself for jumping in so deep, so fast. For not even questioning these urges to explore completely new and insanely intimate experiences with a man I met only a handful of hours ago. And yet I’m at peace with how fast this is going. It feelsright.
He might have only invited me inside with the intention of a single night of fun, but I think we both know this is going to be more than that. Just how much more, though, is yet to be seen.
I towel him dry and then lead him into his bedroom. Nothing about this space even hints that he’s a little. It’s tastefully decorated with a king-sized bed decked out in a navy blue comforter and a couple of gray cushions. The bedside tables are plain and painted black, and I spy a matching chest of drawers through the open door of the walk-in robe.
“What do you like to sleep in, sweetheart?” I ask, already moving towards the walk-in robe as though I do this every night.
I push back the rising hope that we might get to that point sooner rather than later.
“Just loose boxer shorts,” he answers. “Top left-hand drawer.”
I don’t know if the adult choice is his actual preference or if he’s holding back for my benefit, but I don’t push him. I select a pair of satin boxer shorts with an angry-looking cartoon squirrel emblazoned on the front, a pun about not touching his nuts printed on the right thigh. Matt chuckles when I hold them up.
“A gift from Josh,” he explains, sounding fond and exasperated all at once.
“He sounds like a character.”Look at me not outwardly judging the guy for just abandoning his friend at the club on his birthday.Not that I’m complaining about that too much – it led to me being able to hang out with Matt, after all.Hmm, maybe I should thank this Josh guy…
“He is.”
I kneel in front of Matt and he places his hands on my shoulders, stepping into the shorts and allowing me to pull them up, standing back up along the way. Once I’ve made sure the waistband is sitting correctly and untwisted around his hips, I step back and look him over. “They suit you.”
He grins at me. “Yeah, I kinda’ love them.”
I lead him to the bed and gesture for him to get in. “Do you have any storybooks?”
He briefly hesitates before he answers, “In the spare bedroom, three doors down the hallway on the left. There’s a bookshelf…you’ll find ‘em.”
I follow his instructions and find a room that ismuchmore suited to a little. The bed in here is twin-sized, the room itself much smaller than the master suite, and the bedding is super-hero themed. The promised bookshelf is stationed against the far wall, tucked into the corner. Next to it is a small desk with coloring books and crayons spread out across the surface. There are a few stuffed toys propped up against the pillows on the bed, and a wooden toy box at the foot of the bed that I discover contains blocks and a train set.
Having crossed the space to poke around, I look through the selection of books, all for children, and choose one titled ‘Elmo’s Circle of Friends’with a grin. I’m guessing I know his favoriteSesame Streetcharacter for sure, now. I hold the book up for Matt’s inspection when I return to the master bedroom.
