Page 17 of Rowan's Renewal
“I have morning breath.”
“So do I.”
Rowan’s full lips pull into another one of those shy smiles. “Then, yes, kiss me. Please…Daddy.”
I do not need to be asked twice.
He tilts his head back and I dip forward, brushing my lips over his. I feel his breath hitch at the first touch of my mouth on his, and his fingers dig into the fabric of my t-shirt over my shoulder blades.
I press my lips against his more firmly, delighting in the way he melts in my hold, letting me guide and control the kiss. It’s slow at first. Cautious, exploratory, building. As we get accustomed to the fit of each other’s mouths, to the most comfortable angle of our heads, to the cadence of each other’s breaths, it gets deeper. Our lips part, our tongues tentatively tease at each other, and our hips grind together until he whines and pulls back.
“Sorry,” he looks away, “that can’t feel good.”
I cup his cheek. “What can’t? Because I was feelingverygood just now. Almost too good.” I reach between us to push down on my throbbing cock, and he flinches away when I brush the front of his swollen diaper.
“That can’t,” he mutters.
“Oh, sweetheart.” It’s going to take more than one conversation to convince him that I really am more than okaywith it. Still, the urge to hurt his previous boyfriends is strong. “Let’s get you changed like I promised. Then we can talk about all the fun we’re going to have today.”
“Okay.”
After confirming his traffic light color, I get him to lie back across the mattress like he did last night. I find wipes in his suitcase, along with his daytime diapers —which I affectionately think of as pull-ups— as well as a pair of swim trunk shorts and a t-shirt.
Like before, I talk Rowan through the steps of the change. He’s more tense than he was last night, likely because he’s used the diaper I’m removing, and because he’s no longer on the cusp of sleep.
I kiss the inside of his thigh when I’m done wiping him clean, and I’m pleased to see a smile on his face when I reach for his pull-up.
“Gonna need you to stand up for the rest, baby,” I tell him.
He nods, biting his lip when he sees the outfit I’ve selected. “I don’t usually wear shorts,” he admits after I’ve helped him step into each leg of his incontinence pants and pulled them up until they sat snugly around his waist. “I’m afraid people will notice…”
“Nobody will,” I assure him. “But if you really hate the shorts, we can change to something looser, okay? However,” I smile and wave the shorts at him, “you’ll need these for swimming.”
He blinks, jaw going slack. “Swimming? But…I can’t wear this” —he points at his white, discreetly padded crotch— “in water.”
“No. We’ll take it off and go potty before we go swimming.”
Rowan’s handsome face contorts with anxiety. He doesn’t even question my use of the ‘p’ word. Nibbling his lip, he says, “But…what if I go in the water? Sometimes I can last hours, but other times…”
“Then you pee in the pool or the ocean,” I shrug. “If it’s in the pool, the chemicals will take care of it.” Besides, half the guysin this resort have probably released other fluids in the pool anyway, not that I say that out loud. “In the ocean, the constantly moving tide and the sheer volume of ocean water makes it a non-issue. Plus, where do you think all the fishies and things go to the bathroom, hmm?”
“That’s different,” he argues, but he’s fighting a smile.
“How?”
“…I don’t know, but it is.”
I grin and kneel with the waistband of his shorts stretched out in invitation. “Come on, sweetheart. Now that I’m out of bed, I want breakfast.”
Chapter Nine
We eat breakfast in the resort’s restaurant, and are informed that it is, as the concierge promised yesterday, on the house. Like at dinner, Aaron and I chat easily about our interests —from our mutual preference of pineapple juice over orange juice, to deeper topics like the local charities we both support back home— and I can’t help but think I must be in a coma or something.
Aaron is too perfect.
“So,” he says, wiping the mouth I kissed earlier on his napkin, “the weather looks perfect for some time at the beach today. What do you think?”
The hotel’s restaurant is located on the ground floor of the main building, right at the back. Like the place we ate last night, it has a deck that stretches out, overlooking the sand dunes of the beach and the rolling blue-green ocean beyond. We’re sitting on the deck, the salty breeze ruffling our hair, and I sigh as I take in the pale blue, cloudless sky.
