Page 24 of Chance's Choice
“Green.” His response is swift and sure. I relax a bit more, once again not having realized how badly I needed that reassurance.
“Good boy. If any of this is too overwhelming, safe word out, okay?”
He rolls sparkling blue eyes at me, but it’s a playful gesture that reminds me of his teenaged self. “I will, Daddy, I promise.” His grip tightens on my hand, and he’s back to sounding big when he says, “I trust you. Trust me to know what I need, too.”
“Fair point,” I concede, tilting my head. “Heard.”
“Good. ‘Cause I wanna be little now.” The declaration is accompanied by a cheeky grin and, just like that, I know things are going to be better than I’d hoped.
By the time he’s in the bath, surrounded by bubbles, any lingering doubts about Kade struggling with finally giving in to his desires is well and truly gone. He’s crafted himself a long, trailing bubble beard, and a bubble hat, and I jokingly call him Santa, which earns more giggles than the playful teasing honestly deserves.
I pick up my little tub of bath toys and hold it out to him from where I’m kneeling beside the tub. “Want to pick some toys?” Usually, I’d set a limit of three, but this is his first time truly playing in a bath, and I’m happy to spoil him.
His eyes widen and he pokes through the tub with greedy enthusiasm, cheering when he plucks out a little blue and white boat and a gray submarine, completely ignoring the bright yellow ducks and the neon-colored fish.
“Look, Daddy,” he beams, brandishing his selections, “a boat! An’ a submarine!Pssshhhh!” The sub is sent crashing into the water, sending up a spray of bubbles and liquid on impact. The boat lands on the surface and bobbles from side to side in the resulting waves. “The sub’s an enemy,” he explains, propelling the item in question beneath the whitewash of bubbles, “an’ the boat don’t know it’s there.”
“Oh no!” I play along, widening my eyes. “What’s gonna happen?”
For the next fifteen minutes or so, he zooms the two watercraft through the warm waters of his bath, telling a story of their epic battle, including talk of radar systems, radio calls, and the sub’s periscope in action. Naturally, the heroes on the boat win, the bad guys on the enemy sub are taken into custody and the sub is claimed by the winning forces. I’m notquitesure that’s how things work in the real world, but I’m not arguing with his imagination.
Somewhere along the lines, the ducks and a couple of plastic army men I’d forgotten even existed made their way out of the toy tub to take part in the unfolding story, and I fish them out of the water, my arms to my elbows now dripping wet, making them cheer and celebrate alongside the boat.
Kade’s eyes are clear and bright, and his gorgeous smile is wide, and once again my heart seizes with emotion that my brain knows is far too early to feel.
I stare at him for probably a moment too long before I clear my throat and give the toys in my hand a quick shake to rid them of lingering bubbles and moisture, before tossing them back in the plastic tub on the floor beside me.
“Toys away now. It’s time to wash up and get ready to get out, baby, Water’s getting cool, and your cute little fingers -and probably toes- are getting all pruney.” To illustrate my point, I grab one of his hands and gnaw gently on the tips of his index and middle finger, making growly ‘nom nom nom’ sounds while he squeals and lets out a peal of laughter.
The cuteness overload is too much and simultaneously nowhere near enough. Those three little words hover at the back of my mind again and it’s all I can do to stamp down on them.
Too soon. I should not feel this way after a week. Especially when we haven’t evenseeneach other over the week.
The splash and crash of the boat and sub being launched out of the bath and into the tub beside me bring me back to my thoughts. Even though it now seems like I have more water on my jeans and shirt than what remains in the tub, I smile at Kade. “Good boy,” I praise, delighting in the way he visibly brightens and preens every time I say the words. “Daddy likes it when you follow his instructions.”
I know Kade. I know that at some point, when he’s more comfortable, he will push my boundaries and be a bit of a brat, and I’m honestly looking forward to that (for all that I tease Josh about his bratty predilections). But, for now, I’m loving this sweet side of him. I’m loving how easily he’s embraced the fun of being a Little. I’m loving his adorable smile and his imaginative play. I’m loving that he’s comfortable letting me join him in his games.
I’ve been in relationships with Littles before, but there’s honestly something extra special about sharing this with Kade. Maybe it’s because of our shared past, or because I used to love him (and, yeah, I’m teetering on the edge of that same feeling again), or because he’s really giving it his all without reservations. Whatever it is, I want to savor these moments. Draw them out. Make them last.
Taking up the washcloth, I use the bodywash I grabbed earlier, squirting a dollop onto the cloth and then lathering it into the creamy expanse of Kade’s back. He’s lean and smooth, but there’s firm muscle hidden behind his shoulders and down his flank, and I wonder if he’s a bit of a gym rat in his spare time, too. He relaxes into the motion of my actions, his body practically melting into the cooling bath water.
Neither of us speak while I do this, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
I’d love to know what he’s thinking. Whether he’s enjoyed his bath as much as I have.
I lean forward to reach down deep into the opaque bathwater; the bubbles having dissolved into a thin white foam on the water’s surface. My strokes with the cloth are gentle but purposeful as I caress the curve of his perfect ass, dipping into his crack, teasing his hole with the fabric. Kade makes a small sound at the back of his throat -a cut off moan, barely a whimper- as he rocks his hips backwards, seeking more of my touch.
The water laps at the lip of the tub, but I couldn’t give a shit if it spills over onto the tiles. It’s just water. It’ll dry, or I’ll mop it up later.
I bring the cloth back out of the water to rinse the lather from his shoulders and back, smirking to myself when he huffs with impatience. Satisfied that his back is clean, I apply another dollop of bodywash to the cloth and move it to his front, trying to keep my pace just as steady and methodical as it was when I cleaned his back. But my swipes over his firm pecs are bolder, broader, quicker. I can feel his beautiful blue eyes burning holes into me as I work, but I keep my eyes on his chest, knowing that once I look at him, I’ll lunge for his perfect, pouty lips.
This time, I wash off his soapy chest before taking the cloth beneath the water, rubbing it over his outstretched legs and then up over his lower abdomen and belly. I’ve deliberately skipped his cock for the same reason that I won’t meet his eyes. I’m trying to extend our mutual enjoyment. I want this to be special, not rushed.
Kade’s patience runs out first. “Daddy,” he grumbles, planting his hands on the base of the tub as he arches his back, lifting his hips towards me in a clear indication of what he wants from me.
Still, I play dumb, pulling the washcloth and my hand out of the water and sitting back on my heels, crossing my wrists over the porcelain edge of the bath. I cock my head and aim for my best befuddled expression, trying not to smile at the affronted, pouty look on his face. “What, baby?”
Sticking his lower lip out dramatically, he rocks his hips some more, the force of the action causing a few little waves of water to crest over the edge of the tub and land with small splats on the tiles. He’s oblivious to that, though. “You missed a spot,” he sulks.
