Page 21 of A Little Christmas! Johnny
Dexter ruffles my hair and stands up to stretch. I don’t know how long I was actually asleep, but there aren’t any clocks in the room. I dig through the blankets and lean over the edge of the bed to check the floor for my phone to figure out what time it is. I know I had it when I laid down. Sitting up again on the bed,I start looking under the pillows for it when Dexter clears his throat.
When I look over at him, he hands me the device. How did he...
Fuck. It comes back to me in a flash.
I remember now that he asked if he could look through my phone. Shame washes over me at the thought of what he’s seen. Did he go back far enough to see the texts in the archives? Those are the ones I pull up when I need to remind myself that nothing I do will ever be enough for them – that it’s not onmethat they don’t treat me right. Then again, even without those ones that cut the deepest, I’m obviously a coward and pushover.
“Hey,” Dexter croons and kneels next to the bed to meet my eyes. “What’s with the face?”
I shake my head and move to stand, but Dexter gently pushes me back to sit on the bed.
“I think we need to have a talk about some other things first, but then we are going to come back to this phone situation, alright?”
Reluctantly, I nod. Dexter pushes to his feet and then pulls me up with a tug on my hands. First, he pushes me into the bathroom where I hurry through taking care of the necessities and wash my hands. Coming out of the bathroom, he asks if I remembered to brush my teeth this morning, and I have to stop and think about it. My usual routine is to brush them after my morning cocoa – coffee only when forced – because what is the point of brushing your teeth if you’re just going to drink something right after? Plus toothpaste makes cocoa taste horrible. No matter how much they claim it’s peppermint flavor, it does not mix well with cocoa.
Since I am not sure if I brushed my teeth already or not, I go back and do it again. It can’t hurt and honestly I do not want Dexter to deal with any type of morning breath situation I mighthave going on. After emerging again, he leads me to the room that Russ went to bed in last night and pulls me to sit next to him on the bed. I feel kind of weird being in Russel’s room without him knowing, but Dexter has known him far longer and I trust that he knows what lines he can and can’t cross with the man.
“I’m sure you’re curious about this room and why Russel has it,” Dex says, taking my hands in his. “I’ve already discussed it with him and he’s given me permission to tell you about himself and how he fits in to the conversation we need to have.”
Oh shit. I thought they were just friends and neighbors. Is it a friends with benefits arrangement? Or maybe they’re swingers? Or...
“You’re spiraling, Sweets,” Dexter squeezes my hands and knocks his knee against mine. “Like I already told you before, there’s nothing between Russel and I. It’s just that we both are part of a group of people that enjoy age play.”
He pauses for me to take that in, but I have zero clue what the hell that is. After a minute, it’s obvious to him that he’s going to need to explain a bit more because fuck if I know what the hell age play is. It sounds like something they do at those improv classes over at the community college.
“Okay, that was dumb of me,” he laughs. “I spend so much time with the community when I’m not working that I forget not everyone knows what it is. Have you heard of Daddy Kink at least?”
I think I know what that is, but it can’t just be as simple as liking to call someone Daddy during sex, right? He’s putting so much more weight onto it that ithasto mean something else.
“Is there more to it than calling your partner Daddy during sex? Because that’s the only thing that comes to mind.”
“Good Boy,” Dexter smiles at me and that warm fuzzy feeling is back again. “There’s a lot more that can go with it, but that’sa good start. Do you have any feelings one way or another to calling another man Daddy?”
My first reaction is to scoff and fire off the typical macho bullshit that my father had drilled into me when I was younger.
“No man should be called Daddy once their kids are old enough to start school.”
But that doesn’t sit right with me – not when it comes to Dexter. I remember back to the first time I saw him and my brain immediately called him Daddy. It didn’t feel wrong exactly, but it didn’t feel fully sexual either. I mean, of course, I wanted him to tear my clothes off and take me in the backseat of that fucking easter egg, but that’s not where the whole Daddy thing came in. It was how he settled Russel and tucked him into the backseat of his car with the coloring books, giving him all of that attention that made me want someone to do that for me, in a way my family never has.
“Johnny?”
I look up from my hands to meet Dexter’s worried gaze. I might not know what exactly we’re talking about, but I know that it’s really important to him that I answer honestly.
“Part of me rejects calling anyone Daddy because I had it drilled into me as a kid that once you start school, it’s either Dad or Father. The other names and things are for toddlers and babies.”
Dexter swallows hard but doesn’t pull away or interrupt while I gather my thoughts to continue.
“But I don’t really feel like that. It’s a pet name – a term of endearment agreed upon by people in a relationship – so who am I to determine what other people call each other as long as it’s not hurting anyone? It’s like the guys at the shop call me Goose sometimes because Mike gave me that nickname whenhe took me in as an apprentice. Outside of the shop, it’s a silly nickname, but it has meaning to me and Mike and a few others because they know the reason behind it.”
I don’t know if I make sense with what I’m saying. All I know is that the toxic shit from my family doesn’t need to be weighing down the man in front of me. This is obviously important to him, so I will do what I can to understand.
“Alright. Well. Give me a minute to figure out where to start.”
Dexter seems to be struggling on what to say next, so I look around the room that I didn’t really take in fully the night before. The walls are a bright blue with giant decals of Bluey, Thomas the Tank Engine, and (my favorite) Rubble from Paw Patrol. I chose Peanut because of how much I love Rubble. Jess wanted a puppy and I just couldn’t resist. My sister still hates the fact that I adopted a pitbull puppy for her child.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the other members of Paw Patrol, but Rubble makes things and fixes things like I do. It’s his superpower and he uses it to help people.
“So... I think maybe the idea to have the discussion in this room is backfiring on me,” Dexter says with a hint of amusement.
