Page 93 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

That wasn’t what I meant to achieve—to make him do laundry for me. Things were going from bad to worse, and all because I was too careless to put my lines away. Maybe he was staring but not seeing. That was a possibility, right?

“You know what? I can do it.” I reached to take them back, and he shook his head with a firm no. “I don’t mind.”

“And neither do I. You have a lot to take care of; let me handle this.”

I was pretty sure he was the one with a ton to do. Unlike me, he had to fix the ceiling that was buckling and whatever mess he found between here and there.

“That’s a good boy.” At first, I thought he meant Fred, who was sitting to the side, staying out of the way, but then he winked.

Marco meant me. I was the good boy. I waited for the nerves and embarrassment to hit as he stepped out of the apartment with the towels. He had just called me a good boy after seeing my lines. It could easily have been him mocking me. Only it didn’t feel like it. My entire being was starting to get that squishy warm feeling I got when I made a caregiver proud of me. It didn’t make sense and yet…there it was.

I stood there, mouth agape as he walked out, headed for the laundry room. It would take more than one load to get all of those towels washed, and the poor guy was going to be soaked to the bone from carrying them. I should be finding him a shirt or making him tea or something, but I just stood there. Stood there and watched.

It wasn’t until he came back in that I realized it was time to not only move but to hide my book on the off chance he hadn’t seen it. I mean, he saw it, he all but said he did, but also, did he? If there was any chance he didn’t, I needed to get the glittery-covered book out of there.

I jumped from my spot and toward the notebook, not even pretending to be nonchalant about it.

“I apologize,” Marco said as I slammed the book closed. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I looked to him, confused as to what he was talking about.

“The lines. I didn’t mean to embarrass you—or is it that your daddy or mommy would be mad? I made the assumption you were single, and I should not have.”

He managed to pack so much into that one statement, it took me a bit to unpack it, and when I did, it came out a jumbled mess.

“I don’t have a mommy or daddy. That’s why I was doing the lines. I’m not good enough. They always leave. I try to be a good boy. I really…”

The next thing I knew, Marco’s arms were wrapped around me, the moisture from his shirt soaking through my own. I didn’t care. He was taking care of me. Should he be? Absolutely not. I was not his, and he owed me nothing, yet he was, and I allowed it.

No. I more than allowed it. I soaked it all in. Especially when he said, “Oh, but you are a good boy. Of that I have no doubt. You are a good boy, Riggs, and the mommy or daddy who made you feel like you weren’t—they were the bad one.”

Tears welled in my eyes.

I was a good boy. At least for these few moments—I was good.

Chapter 4

Marco

I couldn’t just leave him there after what had happened between us. I hadn’t deliberately read his lines, but even at a glance, my daddy self knew what he was seeing. And the lines broke my heart. They were so simple, but so real, and all I wanted to do was make him feel better. To build his confidence because that little boy’s pain was right there for me to see.

I had to hold him. He was thirsty for care, and I was there to provide it. Feeling the tension in his muscles ease when I wrapped my arms around him warmed me all the way through. I’d seen Riggs and his pup nearly every day since I moved into the unit across the hall from his. We’d shared greetings and comments on the weather. But not much more than that. And as I left him and went home to change, promising to get his washed-and-dried towels back to him later, I wondered how I had been unaware of his need.

As I told him, I’d assumed he was single. Living across the hall, I’d have probably noticed if he had a significant other of any ilk coming and going. And none had. After a quick shower, I dressed and headed to the basement to shift the towels to the dryer, then started back up. Why had I never suggested we go for coffee or maybe ice cream down the street at the adorable shop that made all their flavors right there, homemade. Or technically shop-made. But good. So good!

Before I had a chance to rethink it, I found my fist raised to knock on Riggs’ door. And then I did.

“Hang on a minute!” His voice was muffled through the door. “I’ll be right there.”

It was more like two or three minutes, while I rethought what I had in mind half a dozen times, but when the door opened to reveal the man I’d been interested in since the first time I saw him, I refused to give up on him or on me.

“Oh, Marco, are the towels already dry?” He looked past me and then focused on my face again.

“No. Not yet, but I wanted to ask you something.” He’d changed his shirt, I noticed, which made sense since my soggy hug hadn’t done the other one any good. But his feet were bare and the hems of his pants were drenched. “But first, why don’t you go ahead and finish changing. ”

“What?” He followed my gaze down, cheeks flushing when he saw what I was looking at. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. We don’t want you to catch cold.” Not that he would in his nice warm apartment, but wet clothes were not optimum for anyone.

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