Page 38 of Matteo's Mettle
There’s a real give and take between us, and that’s definitely helped to shuttle us along in our relationship.
“You’re right,” I tell Ash in response to his musings. “And I’m okay with that. We’re still taking things step-by-step, even if the steps are coming on quickly.”
Ash clinks our glasses together, his shiny engagement ring glinting with the movement. He winks. “I’ll drink to that.”
* * *
“Daddy?” I squirm when London looks at me from over the top of his book.
It’s finally Saturday and we’re chilling at home; he’s reading while I play with my blocks on the mat in front of the couch. His bosses are still discussing just how flexible they can be with the position they’ve offered him, so we haven’t had to revisit the discussion about his job and what those changes might mean for us. Still, it’s lurking in the back of my brain constantly and, even though I know he loves me, I’ve started to let doubts creep in about his choices. Because he can read me as well as the fantasy novels he enjoys so much, London insisted I let go and get some additional little time in to try and settle my anxieties.
“What’s up, sweetheart?”
I bite my lip, second-guessing the urge that overtook me enough to interrupt his reading. We’ve talked about this before, but I’ve never worked up the courage to ask for it. Something about our exchange earlier in the week, knowing that he loves me, pushed me enough to get his attention, though. And with how deeply little I want to get around him, if I can get the words out, I think it’ll help me.
“Matt?” Daddy prompts, sliding his bookmark in between the pages of his novel and setting the book aside so he can give me his full attention.
I wriggle in place, wondering why it’s so difficult to ask for what I want. I remind myself that he’ll safe word if he’s at all uncomfortable. He loves me. He trusts me. And I trust him. Still, I avert my gaze as I ask, “Can-you-help-me-potty?” all in one breath.
I can hear the sounds of his clothes rustling and the soft footsteps he takes before his bare feet enter my field of vision. Then he crouches down in front of me, tilting my chin up so I have to look him in the eye. He smiles at me and kisses me on the forehead. “I’m proud of you for asking, baby.” Then he stands and offers me his hand. I take it and he helps me to my feet.
“Traffic light?” I ask him, searching those blue eyes for even a hint of discomfort or disgust.
“Green.” He replies without hesitation. “You?”
I love that he still asks me, even though I’m the one who suggested trying this new thing. “Green.”
Guiding me to the bathroom, he leads me to the toilet and helps me pull down the play shorts and training pants he dressed me in earlier. Then he steps in close behind me, pressing his chest against my back, and holds his hand over mine while he helps me aim over the bowl as I pee.
“Good boy,” he praises after giving me a couple of quick shakes, reaching for a couple of squares of toilet paper to give me a brief dab before tucking my cock back into my training pants, resettling my shorts around my hips.
We wash and dry our hands and, after he leads me back into the living room, he tugs me into his lap.
The entire experience was over within a couple of minutes at most, and I’m bewildered to feel like it wasnormal. A complete non-event.
I mean, yeah, having someone else’s hands on me while I peed did feel a bit strange, but I was expecting to feel more embarrassment orsomething. Instead, it just felt exactly like what it was: Daddy helping his boy. Nothing beyond that. Hell, the diapering process is more intimate and confronting than this was.
“You okay, baby?” Daddy asks, nuzzling the back of my neck with his nose.
I snort. “I guess I expected that to feel weirder than it did.” I turn, trying to meet his gaze. “Was it weird for you at all?”
“Nope.” Again, there’s no hesitation in his response. “Did you want it to feel differently?”
I consider the question before I shake my head in the negative. “No. Not really.” I scrunch my nose. “I thought it would be something bigger, y’know? But it was…nice? That’s not the right word. It…” I huff out a breath, frustrated that I can’t quite express what I’m feeling. “I think it’ll help me stay little next time. I mean… if you’re comfortable with it.”
His lips find my temple. “I am,” he assures me, his voice rumbling up his chest. “And if you decide to take it further…if you want to use your diapers…I’m okay with that, too.”
Huh.
“Is that somethingyou’recurious about?”
London pauses for a moment, but I don’t sense any indecision. If anything, the silence is thoughtful. “I suppose I am,” he answers after a few seconds. “I just feel like it’s a pretty big part of the lifestyle; one I haven’t experienced.” He shrugs. “It’s nothing we have to rush into, but it seems like the next step from what we just did, right?” Then he chuckles. “Or, I guess, if you think about it in terms of natural progression in childhood development, we skipped the step entirely.”
I snort at that. “The age regression thing istechnicallygoing backwards, right? So, by that logic, it’s reverse development and it would be the next step.”
“Reverse development,” he repeats with another laugh and a shake of his head. “That’s not a thing.”
“Well, I’m making it a thing.”
