Page 31 of Viking Ink

“Yes, please.” I shimmied forward so Simon could get to the taps, running the water through the handheld shower nozzle. I felt like purring when the warm water trickled over my scalp, and I was pretty sure I did purr when Simon started to massage the shampoo into my hair.

I’d let my hair grow out since leaving home, an act of rebellion against my father. He’d always demanded my hair be cut short close to my scalp, removing any trace of the curls that I had inherited from my mum. For the last six months I’d let it grow, and now it sat just above my collar. My curls were not as wild and unruly as Simon’s, but I liked how they softened my face, and the light blond colour reminded me of my mum.

I told Simon part of this while he washed my hair. I hugged my knees trying not to cry when I spoke of Mum. I still didn’t feel brave enough to tell Simon about my father—well, not the whole sorry story. He hadn’t pressured me for more, and for that I was thankful.

“It was your mum who played guitar, right?” Simon asked as he ran warm water through my hair.

I nodded, smiling. Memories of Mum, while bittersweet, were always my happy place. “Grandad said she sounded like Stevie Nicks when she sang. I can’t really remember, but I know she used to love singing old folk songs. She was really good—could have been professional if she’d been able to.”

Simon started to gently massage the conditioner through my curls, pulling the snarls and tangles out till my hair fell in soft ringlets around my head.

“Well, I think you inherited her talent. I love listening to you play and sing, and I know the traders miss your playing.” He spoke softly as he combed his fingers through my hair.

“I miss my old guitar, but I also know dwelling on it will only make me sad, and Mum wouldn’t have wanted me to be sad. So I was thinking it might be time to get a new one. You said I could pay one off at the store?” I looked up hopefully into Simon’s eyes, unsure if I was seeking his approval or just his opinion.

“Well then, it sounds like a trip to the Music Shed tomorrow. But now, let’s get you out of the tub.”

My legs felt wobbly as I got out of the bath. Simon wrapped me in the fluffy towel and dried me off. It felt freeing to let Simon do this, and to not have to focus on anything except for being looked after. Once I was dried off, he helped me dress into soft pyjamas and clean socks. I clutched the towel around my waist while Simon held my pyjama pants out for me to step in, carefully pulling them up and settling them on my hips. With the same gentle coaxing, he got my T-shirt and socks on.

“Rhys? Do you feel up to talking for a bit?” Simon using my name pulled me from my quasi-little space.

“I’d like that.”

Simon took my hand and led me out to the sitting room where he sat me on the sofa, throwing the patchwork rug over my knees.

“What are we going to talk about, Sy?” I hoped he would sit on the sofa next to me, and not in his recliner. I wanted him close by. I needn’t have worried as he sat down next to me, pulling my socked feet into his lap.

His big hand covered my ankle, his fingers tracing lightly against the exposed skin between my sock and pyjamas. He rested his head on the back of the sofa and smiled softly at me. “I thought we could talk about ourselves. About what you and I want.”

Simon always sounded so confident and assured, but right now he sounded as nervous as I felt. And right now, I felt like I had to be the brave one, to speak first.

“Since I first saw you, I knew I was gone. I know it sounds silly. I barely knew you until a few weeks ago.” I shrugged. “I’ve never even dated anyone. But I knew when I met you that you were the one I wanted.” I laughed self-consciously. “That sounds kind of creepy, right?”

“No, not at all, I get it. When I first saw you, I felt a connection too. But the thing is, Rhys, you must understand what I’m looking for. The relationship I want is not a traditional one. I’m a caretaker by nature.”

“A Daddy,” I whispered and saw Simon smile. “Before I left home, I always thought I was weird and wrong because of what I wanted. I found blogs, but I really didn’t understand until I talked to Mitch.”

Simon let out a soft sigh. “I should have been helping you.”

I shook my head. “It was better this way. Mitch is like me in a way. He got where my head was. He told me you knew, and that you knew a lot about this stuff and kink.” It was strange, admitting what I now knew about myself out loud, but it felt good too. Freeing.

“You can ask me anything, Rhys. You said you looked at blogs. Did they help, or add to the confusion?” Simon’s hand moved from my ankle to take my hand.

“I wanted to ask you, and yeah it was a bit confusing, and I promise I will ask you from now on. But I got the feeling you’d been hurt in the past, and that’s why you didn’t want to get involved with me.”

Simon gave me a bemused look. “Five years ago, I got involved with a sub who used to frequent the same club I did. His name was Liam, and he said he was looking for a Daddy Dom, someone to build a lasting relationship with.” Simon let out a noisy breath. “Only he really wasn’t. He didn’t have a little bone in his body, but I didn’t see it until he’d cleaned out my bank accounts and cheated on me regularly. I was too caught up in the illusion of what I had. I didn’t see the truth.”

It made me angry that anyone could take advantage of someone as caring and generous as Simon, I had a very un-me urge to find this dickhead and punch him in the nose. Simon let out a soft chuckle and held my hand tighter.

“You’ll do no such thing, baby bear. No matter how sweet the thought.”

Drat. I’d gone and spoken out loud again.

“I’ve only just worked out I’m little, so I can promise I’m not faking in any way. And big or little, I only want you.” I really hoped Simon could see how much I cared, and that I’d never hurt him like Liam had. Gah, I hated that name, and him for hurting Simon.

I let out a yawn and scooted nearer to Simon. I wanted to be closer—ideally in his lap—but I suspected if I did that, all clear thoughts might vanish from my head, and we still needed to talk.

“Did you need to sleep?” Simons asked.

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