Page 26 of Chance's Choice
But my favorite part? It’s when he goes over, crying out, swearing and calling me Daddy.
His cum spurts into the water, ropes of it drifting in the hazy liquid above my still moving fist, until I’ve pumped him dry and he flinches away, hypersensitive. Then he’s slumping against the end wall of the bath tub, boneless and sated and easily the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Come on, baby,” I urge him gently, getting to my feet and drying my hand on a big, fluffy bath towel, which I then extend out in my arms, gesturing that I’m going to wrap him up in it, “time to get out, get dry, and snuggle with Daddy.”
I had plans for play time -for blocks and cars and stuffies- but his heavy-lidded gaze tells me we need to postpone them. And that’s okay. We’ve got all weekend. Hell, if my heart has anything to say about it, we’ve got forever.
But I’m keeping those thoughts to myself for now.
Chapter Twelve – Kade
Iwake up on Saturday morning cocooned in warmth, with Chance’s heavy arm wrapped over me as he’s spooned up to my back, the hardness of his morning wood pressing into my ass in the most pleasant way. Last night was amazing, but the stress of my work week -combined with two intense orgasms- was enough to knock me out for the count, it seems. I feel a little guilty for that. I know that Chance wanted to explore our dynamic as Daddy and Little, andIwanted to cook him a nice meal. Instead, we went to bed hungry, but sated in other ways.
My mind drifts back to the bath, cataloging the differences between last night’s experience and last Friday’s. Both were significant moments for me, both emotional but in contrasting ways. Last Friday was pure aftercare, all sweet and serious. But last night was playful and sexy and fun in ways I’ve never experienced in little space before. Not that I have a huge amount of experience being little at all.
My previous experience, as I’ve already told Chance, boils down to a bit of scene play when I first started out in the BDSM lifestyle. I gravitated mostly towards punishment scenes even then, with very minimal time spent playing with toys, unless it was to set up a tantrum or otherwise bratty behavior for the scene. But last night Chance let me go nuts playing in the bath, and I lost myself in an imaginary world for a bit.
It was mind blowing.
I completely forgot my adult woes while I played. I forgot about the pressures of my job. I forgot about Chance’s dad and his thinly veiled threats and implications. I forgot about my deadlines and my staffing concerns. Instead, I staged a war where the heroes won and the world was a happier place. The fact that my Daddy joined in and played with me made the whole experience even more enjoyable, too. He shared my excitement. He helped my little imaginary naval guys win against the bad guys on the sub. He had the civilians -in the form of a rubber duck and some fish- celebrate right alongside me.
Not once did he make me feel silly, or like I was wasting his time. If anything, I think he was just as disappointed to put an end to it as I was.
But, oh, the way he washed me so sensually afterwards was worth it.
So fucking worth it.
“Morning, baby,” Chance murmurs behind me, nuzzling the back of my neck as he grinds his hard length into me lazily. “I can’t believe we slept so long. I thought for sure we’d wake up some kind of hungry in the middle of the night.”
I smirk, and roll over so we’re nose to nose, uncaring of morning breath. Chance inhales sharply when I rub my erection into his. We’re both only wearing cotton boxer shorts, the material a thin barrier between us. “I’m definitelysome kindof hungry right now,” I tell him, my voice roughened with need even to my own ears.
His belly chooses that moment to growl, and he chuckles ruefully, the skin above his beard pinking adorably. “Turns out, so am I.”
When my stomach also grumbles, we both dissolve into laughter. I look down at my tummy and then back at Chance, shrugging. “I guess that settles it.”
* * *
Chance insists on cooking me breakfast. He sits me on a stool in front of the short edge of his L shaped kitchen -which is stuck in the 90s, decked out in hues of terracotta and apricot and sky blue- as he gets to work cooking bacon, eggs, and waffles. We chat while he cooks, discussing how we both felt about last night (I think it’s a relief to us both that we agree it was awesome and that our chemistry is fantastic) and he asks me what I’d like to do today.
“Did you wanna go out on a proper date? Or stay here and play the Playstation like the good old days, or try out some more Little time, or…anything else?”
“I want to do it all,” I blurt, unable to choose. Chance turns the bacon sizzling in the pan in front of him and gives me a sideways glance, his eyebrow arched. “Go out on a date as a Little, then come back and play Playstation?” he teases.
I pick an orange up out of the bowl of fruit beside me and toss it at him. He catches it deftly.
“I just meant that it all sounds good. I…” Licking my lips, I take in a deep breath and explain, “Honestly? I just want to spend time with you. In any capacity.”
I just want to get to know him properly all over again. I want to reconcile the young man I knew better than the back of my hand with all the changes that have happened over the last twenty years. I know that we still click, that we’re still effortlessly compatible, but I want to get to know him for who is isnow.Every single part of him.
“Oh, baby,” he exhales, placing the tongs down beside the burner before he walks away from the pan, rounding the bench to pull me in for a hug. “I just wanna spend time with you, too. But I also want to give you a taste of everything you’ve been denying yourself over the years. So, go nuts. Think of all the fun shit you’ve told yourself you don’t deserve -but that your heart secretly desires- and we’ll do it all. Maybe not all in one weekend…”
There’s a playful lilt to the way he trails off and I can’t help smiling. “Okay,” I answer softly, so overcome by the seemingly endless choices. “Um. Well, I…Um.”
Chance snorts. “That was helpful.”
With a balled fist, I lightly punch his bicep. “Shut up. It’s overwhelming.”
Immediately, his mirthful expression morphs into one of concern. “Is that something you’d prefer I do? As Daddy, I mean. Make choices for you?”
