Page 39 of Spencer's Satisfaction
The spongey mat is protected by a waterproof slipcover decorated in little black cats, which made Tony giggle when he first saw it. Even now, he turns his head and smiles, running an index finger over the image of a cat licking its paw.
“Kitty,” he says, and it’s a relief to see him unwinding some more, especially enough to try and get into a little headspace.
“It is a kitty,” I agree warmly, rummaging in one of the drawers beneath the solid, timber change table and emerging victorious with an adult-sized pacifier, with a bulbous rubber teat and a bright red shield and ring. I connect it to a pacifier saver clip, the ribbon a bright orange and also decorated in black cats.
Tony’s eyes light up when I waggle it in front of him and he reaches towards it with grabby hands. “Please?”
“Good boy,” I praise, handing it over and watching in rapt attention as he pops the teat into his mouth and eases into rhythmic sucking. His shoulders relax almost instantaneously.
Good to know.
I fluff out a thick, white diaper and get him to lift off the mat for me, sliding it under him and positioning the seat under his buttjust so. Knowing that he’s likely to actually use the diaper, I slather a healthy amount of barrier cream over his smooth, buttery soft skin, and Tony lets out a tiny little sigh.
I glance up from my task to catch him watching me with drooping eyes. I’m struck dumb for a second by just how precious this moment is, before I bring the front of the diaper up and hold it in place with one hand while deftly bringing the sticky tabs around one of his hips and then the other.
He gives his extra rounded tushy a little wiggle, smiling around the pacifier in his mouth, and I’m officially a goner for him. This beautiful boy is utter perfection.
“Feels good, huh?” I ask him with a smile of my own, reaching for one of the adorable footed onesies we sat and ordered together a few days ago.
“Uh huh,” he says, then together we work to get him dressed.
I help him down from the table and pull him in for a cuddle. He feels much more relaxed already, which bodes well for our evening plans.
“Come on, angel,” I tell him, taking him by the hand and leading him back down the stairs, “let’s go watch cartoons and snuggle, hmm?”
We stop by the kitchen so I can heat him a bottle, and then I get comfy in the corner of the couch with a cushion on top of the armrest to prop my arm up. Happy with that, I tug Tony down, positioning him so his head is supported in the crook of my left elbow and his padded backside is cradled sideways between my thighs. When I move my right leg, it effectively helps me to rock him from side to side like one would a baby or toddler.
Setting the bottle down by my hip, I snag the remote and navigate to Disney+. A few clicks later, I haveThe Aristocatsplaying and Tony giggles appreciatively.
“Want your bottle?” I ask him, grinning when he blushes and nods.
I hold the bottle to his lips and my grin softens out as he begins to nurse from it.
It’s been a while since I’ve done this. Emma wasn’t into bottles or pacifiers, her little age more akin to a three or four-year-old, but Tony’s obviously drawn to being younger. That tracks with everything I’ve learned about him so far, and I like that he’s so different to my last serious relationship. It’s like everything is new again.
I’m watching him while he watches the movie. He’s boneless in my arms now, eyes drooping as the bottle slowly drains. It’s almost an unconscious action on my part when I start bouncing my right leg from side to side, rocking him into oblivion.
I let the movie continue to play while he sleeps. Frank appears and curls up on my other side around the same time Thomas O’Malley launches into his introductory song. He purrs loudly when I reach down to scritch behind his ears and under his chin.
This moment feels utterly domestic and completely perfect. I close my eyes and decide to just soak it in.
I wake from my unplanned nap to the feeling of Tony squirming in my lap.
“Hey,” I greet him softly, bringing my hand up to brush his dark bangs out of his eyes, “you okay?”
“Gottago.Gotta gobad,” he answers, wriggling his hips for emphasis. He doesn’t soundbig, but he’s closer to it than he was before he fell asleep.
I smile and shrug. “You’re diapered, baby.”
He scrunches his nose, a blush creeping up his neck.
“Did you want to go play with your toys?” Maybe taking him off my lap might make it less of a big deal to him? Not that I mind either way. I just want him to be at ease here.
Tony chews his lower lip, then nods slowly, but he gasps and tenses when I go to move him off my lap. His cheeks turn bright red before he burrows his face into the crook of my neck at the same time as a telling warmth blooms over my thigh.
During our negotiations, Tony reminded me that feeling wet has helped him sink deeper into little space, so we agreed that I wouldn’t immediately offer to change him if it happened. He’ll let me know when he’s uncomfortable, and I trust him to do that. Still, he feels tense in my arms and I can’t have that.
“Are you playing with your toys?” I ask him, as though nothing is different. I glance up at the clock on the archway that leads towards the short hallway. “Daddy has to start making dinner so we don’t starve.”
