Page 23 of Rowan's Renewal
"Do you mind me using the word potty? Would you prefer 'bathroom'? It's just that last night you seemed to sink into some kind of headspace and, I won't lie, it's a habit for me. But if it makes you uncomfortable—"
"Daddy, it's fine. Who am I to stop you from using a word that makes you happy?" Rowan seems remarkably composed and calm, given the situation. I was expecting him to panic about it. To be more upset, especially when we accidentally found ourselves like this without proper negotiation. He looks down between us again and scrunches his nose. "And Iamfighting some kind of headspace right now, I think. Like...having an accident makes me feel really" —he rolls his neck— "young and vulnerable, I guess? Small? Needy? I don't know. A bit of all of it. I'm not used to letting other people see me that way. Or like this." He waves his hand over his crotch. "But you really doenjoy all of this. I mean, you...youcame. I...I've never...This is supposed to feel shameful. I'm not supposed to enjoy it."
My face pulls into a scowl before I can control my reaction, and he laughs wetly, shaking his head again before he presses his forehead to mine.
"I know you disagree with me. It's just going to take some time for me to work through twenty years of different experiences to this one." He sighs, then pulls back again, cringing, "But, um, could we go clean up now?"
Smiling warmly, I nod and lean forward to kiss his lips softly and sweetly. "Of course, sweetheart. Want to shower with Daddy?"
Chapter Eleven
Despite fighting the strange, floaty feeling in my head, and the urge to hand over control to what feels like a younger, more helpless version of myself, I allow myself to think of Aaron as Daddy as he helps me off his lap and into the bathroom. He undresses me with the same kind of gentle reverence as when he diapered me, tossing my soiled pants and underwear into a pile in the corner of the bathroom, then lobbing my shirt on top.
His clothes follow more hastily, and I realize that this is the first time I'm seeing him naked. He's just as gorgeous out of his clothes as in them. With a smooth, hairless chest (completely different to my furry one), a lean abdomen, and surprisingly muscular thighs considering the rest of his build, he's perfection. Even his cock looks perfect, nestled in a thatch of trimmed dark pubic hair currently matted with the evidence of how much he enjoyed...well, thethingthat happened on the couch.
Jesus, I...I peed on him. And he liked it.
And Ilikedthat he liked it.
I want to do it all again.
Twenty-odd years of experience tells me that I should be disgusted by those particular inclinations. But a couple of minutes on the couch with Aaron says otherwise.
He came.
He came hard. Calling my name.
After I urinated all over his lap.
And he wasn't ashamed of that. He wasn't embarrassed that we were sitting in a puddle of my pee, and he really didn't seem at all bothered by me knowing how much he enjoyed the whole thing. And, for a brief moment, I felt good. Proud, even.
Ihad done that.Imade him come in his underwear.Me.
But those feelings conflict with everything any of my exes have ever said about my lack of bladder control.
It feels selfish to have liked that so much. Selfish and weird and wrong.
Dirty.
"Do you want to talk about it now, or after the shower?" Aaron asks, taking my hand and squeezing it. "Because your thoughts are written all over your face, Ro. Which is why I am sorry we didn't get to plan that. That you didn't get much of a choice about if you really wanted to do that or not. About if you were ready."
"I liked it," I blurt, feeling my cheeks burn with the confession. "I didn't expect to like it. And everything I've ever thought about my condition and...and my accidents..."
"I know, sweetheart. It's confronting. But," he squeezes my hand, waiting until I meet his gaze before he smiles, "there's nothing wrong with enjoying yourself. It was consensual. You know I liked it." He sweeps a hand over his crotch, his smile turning crooked. "And it was private. Nobody else ever needs to know what we do together if you don't want them to. The only people who need to be okay with any of it are us. Just you and me."
His words calm my inner turmoil. He's right. My shame and embarrassment comes from what other people have thought and have said. Other people who have hurt me and left me. Their thoughts and opinions stopped mattering years ago, so why should I be concerned about any of that now? Especially when, for the first time I can recall, my issues don't feel like a roadblock. If anything, they feel like something Aaron and I can turn into positives between us.
It was one thing to know, hypothetically, that Aaron wouldn't freak out if one of my nightmare scenarios played out in real time. But to see his acceptance —hisenjoyment— in action? It’s too good to be true.
I am actually glad that we didn’t plan it. That I got to see his genuine reaction to something happening in the moment. That none of it felt rehearsed or premeditated or negotiated.
Aaron’s hand is warm and solid in mine, anchoring me to the here and now.
Am I okay with what we did? What we’ll continue doing? The diapers and the golden showers and whatever else we try?
My heart thumps wildly with nervous anticipation.
I am.
