Page 53 of Viking Ink

Rhys fiddled with the hem of my t-shirt.

“When I was little, from what my grandad said, Dad wasn’t like he is now. Sure, he was religious, but more go-to-church-Sundays and say-grace-at-the-table. Nothing over the top. Mum wasn’t religious at all. Granddad called her a flower child, said her coming to the farm was like a breath of fresh air. But Dad got more involved with the pastor in the local parish, and they started spending a lot of time talking about the evil in the world and how they needed to help bring people back to a more Christian way.” He stopped and took a breath. “Grandad said Dad had been a policeman in a larger city before he came back home, and he’d seen stuff that upset him. It had messed with his head so they’d posted him back home, thinking the break would help. I was too small to remember, but Grandad said Dad became more fervent in his beliefs that the world was a sinful place, and that the world’s acceptance of homosexuality and deviant behaviour was the root cause of the world’s problems.” He let out a long, shaky breath.

“Your dad’s a copper?” That explained Rhys’s fear of calling the police after his bashing, and his reaction to Constable Grumpy in the surgery.

“Yeah, he’s retiring soon from what Grandad’s emails said. He’s been told he has to retire as there have been complaints—a lot of complaints.”

“That’s why you had a panic attack when Constable Grumpy yelled at you?”

Rhys nodded, then gave a small smile. “Did I tell you he sent me a box of chocolates and a nice card to apologize?”

“No, you didn’t, but I’m glad. I’m sure Doc and Sergeant Duff tore seven shades of hell out of him for his behaviour.”

Rhys laughed. “Oh yeah, they did. I think I need a drink.”

“Give me a minute. Do you want your bears?” I could see this was emotional for Rhys to talk about and I wanted my boy to feel safe and secure. His bears were always a good source of comfort.

I made a quick detour to my room, grabbing Mr Ted and Mr Huff before hurrying back to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. Rhys sat curled up on the sofa, his knees tucked under him.

He looked so young and vulnerable, but I knew how strong he was, how brave. Fuck, I loved him so much. Slipping alongside him, I handed him his bears, and the bright grin I got in return made me feel like the best Daddy in the world. Rhys took the water from me and took a long drink before handing me back the near-empty bottle.

“Are you doing okay? We don’t have to talk about this if it’s too much, love,” I said, concerned. I hadn’t meant for the conversation to get this heavy tonight.

Rhys gave me one of his dazzling smiles. “With you here, I’m perfect. That sounds kind of sappy, I know, but I want to tell you about home, about why I had to leave, and why I’m the way I am.”

“The way you are? Do you mean cute as fuck, perfect and talented?” I asked, earning a gentle poke to my ribs.

“Nice try at deflection, Daddy, but I know my weaknesses. My father’s rampant homophobia and criticism of every seen flaw made me afraid of being myself. The only time I even remotely felt like me was spending time with Grandad, and my father limited how much time I could spend with him at Thumper Downs.”

“Thumper Downs?” Cute name but where was that?

“What Grandad called his place. He had a lot of bunnies. Most farmers saw them as a pest, but Grandad loved them.” Rhys sat up straighter, his fond look replaced with sadness. “My dad did everything in his power to keep me from going there. He controlled who I was friends with at school when he let me go, where I could work, everything. He even stopped me going for my driver’s licence.” Rhys pulled his teddy bears closer. “When I disobeyed him, which happened more often than he liked, he punished me. The older I got, the harder his punishments were. My stepmother encouraged him. She believed in ‘spare the rod, spoil the child.’”

My blood boiled at the thought of Rhys’s father, and I was afraid Rhys had only just touched on the tip of the man’s controlling behaviour. It made me concerned about my own dominant nature. I had to be sure I wasn’t putting Rhys in another situation where he felt like he had no control, no voice.

“Rhys, do I—”

Rhys shot me a stern glare, which was both intimidating and kind of sexy. “Don’t even finish that sentence, Simon Johannsen. You are nothing like my father. I can voice my opinions, I can say stop any time. And you listen to me, encourage me to be myself. You being a stern Daddy when I throw my blocks in a temper tantrum is nothing like what that man did. I know my past, and I know what my father was. You’re not him.”

I couldn’t find the words to express how I felt. Instead, I opened my arms and Rhys crawled into my lap, hugging me tightly.

Tilting his head up he caught my eye, his expression still fierce. “Don’t ever compare yourself to that asshole. What you and I share, what we’re building, is something special—something I’ve dreamed about since I was old enough to know what my dick wanted, okay?”

I dropped my eyes for a moment, still feeling unsure until my boy poked me hard in the forehead.

“Listen to me, Mr Daddy Sir. Trust me to know what’s right for me.”

I chuckled, bending slightly and trying to kiss the scowl off his face. My fierce baby bear. I loved him so much. “What made you finally get away?”

“Grandad brought me a laptop. Most of the time I kept it out at his place for safe keeping, since the sight of it would send my dad off into a rage. But I’d been reading about conversion therapy and how wrong and dangerous it was. I found a lot of facts and articles and I wanted to confront my dad and Father Gordon about it.”.

“Oh, shit,” I groaned out.

“Oh, shit was right. But I wasn’t looking at that when Dad grabbed my laptop.” Rhys’s cheeks flamed, and I got the feeling he would have hidden himself behind his teddies if he could have.

“I was on a littles blog, reading about other littles’ experiences with diaper play.” Rhys did hide behind Mr Ted then.

I gently reached down and cupped his chin, tilting his head to face me. “You know you have nothing to be ashamed of, baby.”

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