Page 42 of Matteo's Mettle
Now that we’re midway through the fifth month of London’s trial of his new role, things feel pretty settled. It’s a Friday night and the whole gang is over at our place. We’re at the tail end of a belated birthday get-together for London, who turned twenty-seven last week. We celebrated in private with some mutual masturbation via Facetime on the day, and when he flew back in I gave him his gifts (some new lingerie and a spectacular blowjob) the first night he was home. But tonight, the group convened for dinner, drinks, and playtime.
Right now, Ash, Katie and I are all little, but so is Josh, which is a surprise. More often than not, even on my playdates at Ash’s place, he remains big.
I wonder if work has been stressful for him because I’ve never seen him sink so readily into little space. Even Charlie’s keeping a cautious eye on him, which is telling. But, in little space, Josh is boisterous and happy, so I’m not too worried. I understand how freeing this aspect of the lifestyle can be and, as a cop, he probably deserves to be released from grown-up worries more than most of us.
When I get up from my spot on the rug playing with the new Duplo set Daddy bought me recently, Daddy shoots me a questioning glance. He’s been sitting on the end of the couch next to Charlie, nursing a bottle of beer and chatting about adult stuff that, honestly, I’m more than happy to tune out when I’m little. But, even though he’s engaged in that conversation, his focus never really leaves me. As always, I can’t help but enjoy that sign that he genuinely cares about me.
“Just gotta pee,” I tell him as I move to pass him and head towards the master suite.
His hand reaches out, grabbing mine to stop my movement, and he tugs me down to murmur in my ear, “You’re diapered, babe.”
I blink at him, a little surprised that he’s bringing it up, that we’re havingthatimplied conversation now with all our friends around us. But his voice is pitched low, his words murmured for my privacy. Not that I really need it: this isn’t my first rodeo, and the guys are in the lifestyle, too, after all. After searching his gaze for a minute, I shrug, nod, share a quick, chaste kiss on the lips with him and turn back to resume my seat on the rug.
Sinking deeply back into little space with the others comes easily as I play, forgetting all about my previous need for the bathroom until my bladder insists that it’s urgent. But, little and wanting to go along with Daddy’s unasked request, I continue playing through it until the resulting dampness against my skin has me squirming with discomfort.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Daddy’s voice is warm in my ear. He’s crouching at my side and gives me a huge smile when I turn my head to face him. “Let’s get you changed, okay?”
He helps me to my feet and leads me down the hallway by the hand. In our bedroom, he’s got a towel spread out on the bed, with a fresh diaper, wipes and cream all set out neatly beside it. The fact that he was prepared for this both surprises me and also reassures me that he’s really okay with it. I mean, he must have been, to leap on the chance like he did.
Staying in little space, I don’t ask him his color. I know that if this does make him uncomfortable, he’ll safe word if needed. So I lie back on the towel he’s set out and suck my thumb, watching him with hooded eyes as he tugs down my play shorts and unclasps the onesie beneath. I arch off the mattress so he can push the fabric up my back, then drop back down when he requests it.
It’s a practiced routine at this point, the only difference being that this time the diaper has been put to use. I can’t describe why that makes it feel different, only that it seems a little more intimate somehow, but still just asnormalas anything else we’ve done together.
I take a second to muse over the fact that it never felt this easy with Trent. The few times we did this had felt a little awkward, and the reason why almost eludes me. Almost.
Trust.
Some part of me never quite trusted Trent completely. Like an innate warning system, my brain had always hovered on the edge of being big in situations like this, like I knew I couldn’t just let go and give him everything. It wasn’t that he was a bad person, but he’d been my first Daddy and we’d had to work hard at our relationship. At communicating. At avoiding fights. At maintaining a routine. It felt formulaic with Trent, where with London it feels natural.
I really don’t have to work at any of those things with London. And letting go with him is unbelievably easy. Because I trust him.
I love him and I trust him inherently.
He’s rolled up the wet diaper with efficiency by the time I tune back into his actions and has wiped me clean. His large hands smooth the barrier cream over my skin almost reverently. Then he gets me to lift my hips so the clean diaper can be slid under my ass and he fastens the tabs with practiced ease, making sure it’s all fitting and sitting correctly before getting me dressed again. I sit up, thumb still in my mouth, and watch as he tidies away the supplies and throws the old diaper into the little trash can in the bathroom. I hear the faucet run as he washes his hands and then he returns, coming to sit beside me on the bed, the mattress dipping with the action.
“Thank you for trusting me with that,” Daddy says softly, pulling me in for a sideways hug. “I probably shouldn’t have put you on the spot with everyone here…”
I shake my head, pushing out of my little space to have the necessary conversation. “It’s not like it’s something new or strange to any of them. I mean, Charlie and Ash disappeared for the same reason earlier.” As the words leave my lips, I make the connection. I smirk a little, cocking my head as I turn to observe him. “Is that why you suggested it?”
He nods, a bit pink in the cheeks. “You know I’ve wanted to tick it off our list for a while. And Charlie…” he sighs and looks at the ceiling. “He and I discussed it from a Daddy perspective, y’know? And he has this whole spiel about the vulnerability and trust involved and I…” London clears his throat. “Alright, full disclosure: I got a little jealous that I hadn’t experienced that, I guess.” With a rueful shake of his head, he looks back at me and takes my hand. “Except, in the middle of it, I realized that Ihave. It’s ineverythingwe do together. We’re vulnerable with each other all the time, and we’re constantly proving how deeply we love and trust each other. This was just another way of sharing that, but it’s not the only way. Not that it wasn’t like he said it was.”
Every time I think I couldn’t love him more he says something like this. Something that is far more mature and soothing than a man of twenty-seven has any right to be. I forget that he’s so much younger than me when he’s so perfectly authoritative on one hand and so nurturing on the other.
I don’t know what else to say to him other than: “I love you.”
We share those three words a lot, but it never fails to send a thrill up my spine when he returns them. Brushing his lips over my knuckles, London looks me in the eye and does just that. “I love you too, Matt.”
And, in this moment, life is perfect. In a few months, I’ll be forty-six. A year ago, I could never have imagined feeling this way. I can’t pretend to know what the future holds for us, but I have confidence that, whatever it is, we’re going to face it all together. Me and my hot young Daddy.
Epilogue – London
Matt and I survived the six-month trial of my flexible work arrangements and are celebrating my final bi-weekly return by going out for dinner. If Matt had it his way, we’d get takeout and celebrate in bed, but I want to show my boy off in public. It feels like it’s been too long since I’ve spoiled him.
Plus, I get off on seeing him dressed up a bit. He’s always hot, but in dress pants and a button down, especially paired with a tailored jacket, he never fails to get my engine running. I like to think of these outfits the same way he describes my lingerie: like wrapping paper covering a beautiful gift, and I look forward to being able to peel the clothes off him later in the evening.
Even though he’s not going out in little space, I still took care of all the decisions tonight. That’s my role as his Daddy, and I take a moment to consider just how much I still genuinely enjoy it. From selecting his outfit, to choosing the restaurant, to pre-perusing the menu online so I know which meal to order for him. The fact that he trusts me to make the right decisions for him even now kind of blows my mind.
“Ready to go?” I ask him once I’ve tied the laces of his dress shoes, grinning up from my kneeling position on the floor. He nods and smiles, handsome as ever, and we head out of the house (locking the door behind us) and to my car hand-in-hand.
