Page 3 of Home For Christmas

“Sorry, Daddy.”

He finished rinsing my hands and studied them. I couldn’t see anything, but I knew better than to say anything. I wanted to enjoy my toys that night, not end up spanked and heading to bed. There were many nights I’d take a spanking over toys, but not after I’d been stuck in big mode for days.

A kiss was placed to my temple. “Good boy. Now let’s go get you ready for bed.”

I bounced a little. “Train PJs?”

“Yes, buddy, train PJs.”

“Yay!” I cheered, and I realized I’d been too loud when my voice echoed off the walls of the bathroom.

Daddy just chuckled as he led me to the bedroom to strip me and get me into my pajamas. Not even ten minutes later, I was waddling toward the living room, diaper taped around my waist and wearing my favorite train pajamas. Heading over to our Christmas tree with a train running around it, I sank down by the control panel. “Can I turn the train on, Daddy?”

“Carefully,” Daddy agreed, watching me closely as I flicked the train on. As I settled back to watch it, Harrison appeared beside me with a snack of crackers and an applesauce packet. He knew Daddy well enough to know not to give me anything sticky, or maybe he just knew that anything he gave me remotely near sticky would end up all over me.

Harrison took a seat across from Daddy on the couch and the two began to chat. They could talk all night, which was fine with me. My train sounded a lot more interesting. We didn’t have to be in Nashville until ten the next morning, and for all I cared they could stay up all night. I found my coloring books—the Christmas-themed ones that had come out with our decorations earlier in the week—and tucked my legs under me, ready to lose myself for the rest of the evening.

I’d colored two pages before my legs started to get sore. I clicked off the train, put my crayons and coloring books away, then headed over to the couch with my sippy cup and curled up between Daddy and Harrison. Daddy’s big arm wrapped around my body and he rubbed my shoulder. “How about a show?”

Mmm, a cartoon sounded nice. “Blankie,” I mumbled as my thumb made its way to my mouth. I didn’t know how I’d left it in our room, but for some reason it hadn’t been with me.

“I’ll get it,” Harrison mentioned as he stood up. “I need another beer anyway.”

With anyone else it would have been awkward to have him enter our bedroom. Even the kids knew to knock and wait for one of us to answer the door. There was too much of my little stuff in there for me to be able to hide it. Before we had kids, I’d had my own room for little things, but now they were relegated to our bedroom and no matter how big it was, they were obvious.

Harrison had seen it all, though. He’d made me bottles at night while we were on tour, he’d seen me diapered, seen me playing with toys, and he’d known about my blanket since we were kids. Harrison might even have known more about my little side than my brother Ty, and that was saying a lot.

Colt adjusted me so I was mostly across his lap and turned on the TV. He’d tolerated my cartoons for years, but since having kids, he’d found a few he liked to watch. I often tried to find ones we both enjoyed when I had time to watch them in the evenings. That evening I pointed at Scooby-Doo as it scrolled across the screen. It was a favorite of Harrison’s and mine, and I knew Colt didn’t mind it.

“Oh, Scooby,” Harrison mentioned as he handed me my blanket. “This is a good one too.”

Everything faded away as I watched the show, and I would’ve sworn we’d just sat down.

“Hey, buddy, you’re falling asleep.” Daddy’s voice came from above me, causing me to drag in a deep breath. Falling asleep, nothing—I’d been dead to the world, and I burrowed deeper into Daddy’s lap, pulling my blanket over my face.

Harrison’s chuckle on the other side of the couch was what finally pulled me out of my fog. “If you don’t get up now, you’re going to be bitching that you’re sore tomorrow.”

I tried to mumble around my thumb that getting old could go to hell, but a big hand came down on my padded backside. “Well, I was going to warn you about your language, but now I think we need to get you changed.”

Pushing myself up to a seated position, I growled at both Harrison and Daddy, though I got the impression I wasn’t very convincing when they both smiled at me. “Go to our room. I’ll make you a bottle.” Daddy turned to Harrison, a smile still on his face. “Once I get this one in bed, I’m going to collapse as well. We’re going to have a crazy few weeks before leaving for Oklahoma.”

Harrison yawned. “It’s late enough. I’m going to go call Greg and Jasper and head to bed. Hell, Jas will end up asleep in a bit anyway. He still gets up at the ass crack of dawn no matter what.”

Jasper was the definition of an early riser, though Harrison and Greg both said he was sleeping in more often now. Of course, sleeping in for Jasper was seven a.m., but that was practically lunchtime for the guy who used to be up before the rooster crowed.

“Go brush your teeth while I make you a bottle,” Daddy coaxed as he pushed me toward the bedroom. Even when our kids were home, this was a normal night for us. Our dynamic had become so natural to both of us that we slipped in and out of our roles without much thought. There would definitely be a day that the kids started asking questions—like why Poppy cut Daddy’s food up or why he tucked Daddy in before eleven every night—I just hoped it wasn’t for many more years.

I gave Harrison a hug, told him I’d see him in the morning, then headed toward the bedroom to brush my teeth like Daddy had told me to. It was hard to believe we’d been doing this for over a decade at this point. Since Hometown had stopped touring two years earlier, though, I couldn’t remember a night I hadn’t been diapered for bed or a twenty-four-hour period where Colt hadn’t been Daddy for at least a little bit of time.

“Come on, buddy, to bed. You’re about to fall asleep standing there.” I had no idea when I’d zoned out, but I’d finished brushing my teeth and had gotten lost in my own head. We were going to have a busy few days ahead of us before Harrison headed back to Oklahoma. Thoughts of the next few days were enough to have the real world pulling at me and my energy zapping from my body just as quickly. Bed sounded nice. Then again, so did a dry diaper.

I followed him into the bedroom and collapsed onto my side of the bed. A thumb rubbed over my creased brow. “You’re really tense.”

I nodded. “Lots on my mind.”

Daddy hummed. “I can understand that. Let’s see what we can do to help that.” In seconds I was lying in just a diaper and my train pajama top, my snug shorts tossed into the basket of clothes along the wall. I’d found my blanket again and pushed my thumb into my mouth, content to let Daddy work.

The tapes pulling from the front of my diaper was loud, but I’d become so accustomed to the sound it hardly registered in my brain. Then a cool wipe ran over my skin, wiping away all traces of wetness on me. A second wipe along my dick was what had really drew my attention to what he was doing, and blood began to head south quickly. “Mmm,” I mumbled around my thumb, my hips rising to meet his touch as my length began to harden.

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