Page 30 of Viking Ink

“Yeah, we do, but the fact that sometimes I’m little doesn’t mean I’m a kid, Simon. I know what I want and what I don’t. And right now I want you to help me take a nice bath, and to get out of these clothes.” I wrinkled my nose.

“All right, baby bear, then it’s time for you to get in the tub and give me those clothes. I’ll shove them in the wash.” There was that decisive Daddy tone I loved—but oops, I hadn’t thought this through.

Stripping down and being naked. Could I do that?

“Umm, Sy?” I looked up at him from under my lashes. I was certain I was blushing a dozen shades of red.

“Yeah, baby bear?”

“Could you please turn around?” I made a twirling motion with my finger, and thankfully Simon didn’t tease me, though I could see he was tempted. I still felt tremendously self-conscious about my scars and thin build—not that Simon had ever made me feel bad about it. If anything, he made me feel comfortable in my own skin. But getting naked in front of him was one step too much for my brain to handle right now. Besides, my little side was surfacing quickly, and I wasn’t sure how I’d handle being naked in front of Simon without at least the imagined privacy of the sea of bubbles.

“No peeking, Sy,” I admonished, slipping out of my clothes,

“Cross my heart, baby bear. No matter how tempting your little butt is to peek at.”

Simon’s comment made me giggle and blush in equal measure. I stepped into the bath and let out a low groan. The warm water felt heavenly.

“Okay to turn around now?”

“Yep.” I pushed the bubbles around me making a pile against my chest, and then on my face in a bubble imitation of Simon’s beard.

“Okay, baby boy. You relax in the bath for a bit while I go sort out the washing.” Simon must have seen my expression change when I felt a wave of shame and embarrassment at wetting myself and the bed. He knelt next to the tub, his face level with mine, “Rhys, look at me please.” Simon’s gaze was focused on me, and I squirmed uncomfortably in the tub. “Baby boy, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. I want you to just lay back and enjoy the bath, okay—but no falling asleep in the tub.” He bopped the tip of my nose with his finger.

I laughed in surprise and nodded.

The water felt so good, the heat easing away aches I didn’t even know I had. Mr Quack floated past, and I snatched him up then gently guided him through the sudsy storm. He was heroically surfing down a Tsunami of bubbles when Simon walked back in.

“What are you up to?” Simon sat on the bathmat when he got back, and watched me play. He seemed relaxed, and happy to watch me splash about in the bath.

“Mr Quack is hanging ten.” I tipped my head. “Do ducks have toes? Would they hang ten?”

Simon let out a chuckle, leaning forward to lift Mr Quack up. “Well, you know, I can’t tell.”

“Well, he’s just hanging ten then.” I took Mr Quack back and continued skimming him over the bubbles.

“Do you want me to wash you, baby bear?” Simon was looking at me like I was something special, something precious, and it made my insides melt. Did I want him to wash me? There was an intimacy to washing another person, a level of closeness, and I had to admit I hungered for that.

I shyly nodded. “Please, Sy.”

Simon soaped a cloth and started to wash my back and neck, the slow rhythmic movements relaxing me. I held my arms out so he could wash them, and then my chest. He stopped at my stomach, waiting for me to give my permission.

I nodded.

I knew this wasn’t about sex stuff. This was Simon being a caretaker, making me feel warm and clean, washing away the memories of the night terrors and the fear that had gripped me. But it also acted as a catharsis, solidifying what we both knew was building between us. I didn’t even blush—much—when he carefully washed my cock and balls. It felt a little strange, but not in a bad way. I let myself relax into his touch, just enjoying the experience.

I took a peek at Simon. He looked so soft and comfortable in his track pants and soft T-shirt. When he knelt down alongside the tub our faces were nearly at the same height, but I still felt little sitting alongside him. The steam from the bath had caused some of the curls in his bun to go fluffy and slip out of the band that held them, and it made me think again of a soft cuddly lion.

By the time he had washed me top to toe I felt like a gooey mess, and I was sinking into what I now knew was my little headspace. Not too deeply, but enough that all the bad thoughts and worries had been cast aside for a little bit—a breather from the adult worries I had.

“Want me to wash your hair, baby bear?” Simon’s voice broke through my hazy thoughts. Tipping my head to face him, I felt my heart squeeze. This wonderful, handsome man really could be mine—a boyfriend, and a Daddy.

But I was getting ahead of myself. My mind was running through the ways it could go wrong, but Simon brought those thoughts to a halt with a simple smile and a hand to my cheek.

“Did you hear me little one, or were you off in that cute head of yours?”

“Umm, maybe a little bit,” I answered honestly.

“Thought so. Hair wash? I have that nice strawberry shampoo.”

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