Page 28 of Rowan's Renewal
“Mmm,” he practically purrs as he spoons my side, seemingly unbothered by the mess on my belly or inside him, “you can wake me up for that anytime, Ro.”
I snort. “It’s practically a once-in-a-blue-moon event, so…maybe in another six months?” I’m exaggerating, but it really does feel that way sometimes. My body is unpredictable, and in moments like this it is hard not to resent my circumstances, but when Aaron just presses more kisses to my skin and tells me there’s no pressure, the bitterness fades away, and I melt back into enjoying the afterglow again.
***
We spend the last day of our vacations exploring other parts of the Sunshine Coast, having Googled together over the course of the week. Our morning is spent in a place called Montville, out in the hinterland.
Much like Noosa, the tourist strip is a street filled with boutique stores —everything from fudge confectioners to clothing and souvenirs— and restaurants and cafes. It has a quaint vibe, like it is trying to feel as though it has simultaneously stepped back in time and is also meeting the demand for things to be sleek and modern. The buildings clash in terms of architectural design, some cottages and some all glass and white surfaces, but it is pretty and surrounded by lush greenery and, on one side of the street, epic views of the coastline peeking through behind leafy trees.
We spend a couple of hours meandering through the boutique stores and taking photos of the view. It’s not quite as hot up here as down on the beachfront, but it’s still warm and humid. Daddy makes sure that I stay hydrated, and my momentary freakout about the potential ramifications —about not finding abathroom, or of wetting myself in such a crowded environment— is snuffed the second he takes my hand and squeezes it.
He doesn’t even need to say anything to remind me that I’m not alone and that nobody else will know if I have an accident. My panic recedes as if by magic, and his confidence and acceptance seems to melt into me as if by osmosis.
“Good boy,” he praises lowly, at a volume only meant for my ears. The words make me feel effervescent inside, much like they did the first time he said them. I don’t think my body’s response to them will ever change.
“Where to next?” I ask him after we’ve explored most of the street. My t-shirt is clinging to my skin, and I’d honestly like to do something in air-conditioning, or go back to the resort for one last dip in the pool.
Thankfully, Daddy seems to be on the same wavelength. “I think we should go back to the resort. I’ve booked a sunset cruise along the river for tonight, so why don’t we chill this afternoon so we’re refreshed for our last night here?”
It sounds perfect, but I can’t help the pang of melancholy that strikes deep in my solar plexus at the words ‘our last night here’.
This whole vacation has been something out of a dream. I’m still not convinced that I’m not comatose in a hospital somewhere, allowing my imagination to build a fantasy future to cope with whatever trauma landed me there.
I know things will be different when we’re back home. I’ll be back to my lonely apartment, for one thing. No more waking up snuggled against Aaron’s warm body, strangely looking forward to him changing me out of my wet nighttime diaper, his gentle touch and sweet reverence something I have already become addicted to. No; instead, I’ll wake up most mornings cold, damp and alone. Sad and resentful of my condition.
Our time together will need to be scheduled, too. Around my long workdays and his rotating shift work. Not to mention ourindividual social lives. I mean, sure, I really only ever hang out with Bianca, but I know Aaron has friends of his own, too. We won’t be in our own special bubble anymore, and I can’t help but worry that he won’t enjoy me as much when things are more difficult. Especially when there are apparently kinky clubs and community centers filled with people who are probably a much better fit for him than me.
And that’s the crux of my real worry: right now, I’m convenient. But back home, he could find a Boy —a Little— that meets all of his kinky needs, not just the diaper play. Because I still haven’t allowed myself to sink into any kind of regression around him. The idea of dressing or sounding like a baby or toddler just isn’t for me, even if some part of me is tempted to give in and see where those floaty, youthful urges take me.
Aaron said I might be more Middle than Little, which I’ve Googled this week, too. But that left me feeling more confused than ever, because Middles aren’t usually associated with diaper play and…well. I just don’t think I fit anywhere, not even in his kinky community.
Even so, I’m selfish, and I don’t want to lose him. Not after such a magical week together. Not after the way he’s been able to make me feel normal for the first time in my adult life. Like a partner and not a burden.
“Baby, where did you go?” Aaron guides me to a park bench in a small leisure area dominated by shady trees. He sits me down and lifts my chin, gently forcing me to meet his worried gaze. “Are you okay?”
“It’s the end of vacation blues, I think,” I tell him half the truth, not sure how to express my fears that I won’t be enough for him once we’re back home. “This trip has been amazing” —I take a deep breath— “because of you.”
Understanding seems to dawn on him. “Sweetheart…”
“I would probably have spent the week hiding in my resort room,” I continue on with a shake of my head, “if you hadn’t made me feel like all this is okay.” I wave my hand over my lower body, then sigh. “I’ve been on a jet ski, and a kayak, and I swam in the ocean. I petted kangaroos and koalas at the zoo. I even went on a hike to that waterfall, even though I knew there werenobathrooms for that…and I never would have done any of it without knowing you were there to help me if my body failed me.”
“It doesn’t fail you, Ro. It just works differently to other peoples’ bodies.”
I shrug, not bothering to tell him that he’s the first man to ever think that way about my incontinence. He knows he is. “That’s just it,” I say instead, “you’ve made me feel…I don’t know…betterin my own skin. Safer in public. And now…”
“Now we’re going home, and I can’t be there all the time.”
“I’m forty-one,” the words are bitter and full of self-deprecation. “I shouldn’t need another man to hold my hand twenty-four-seven.”
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting or needing support, Ro. In my fantasies, there’s nothing I want more than to be your Daddy full-time. To not have to worry about work and just…be together. Like we have been this week.”
“Even though I don’t do the age play stuff?” The insecure question tumbles from my lips before my filter can contain it, and I cringe.
He’s quiet for a moment, his dark eyes assessing me before he says, “You’re still worried that you’re not enough for me. That our dynamic is lacking.”
I shrug again, looking away. Sunlight filters through the trees above us, making pretty gold patterns on the dark green grass at our feet. A light breeze makes the patterns dance.
“Honey, you might not realize it, but you do regress with me. You’re doing it now.”
