Page 60 of Viking Ink

“Oh, yeah, I’d —um, forgotten about that. I normally don’t make a big deal or anything.”

I shook my head at Rhys’s words. There was no way in hell I wasn’t making a fuss of my boy on his birthday.

“How’d you know? I haven’t said anything.” He rolled onto his side, then sat up looking for something—my guess was his bears. I was proved right when he crawled to the end of the bed. The sight of his cute, naked behind distracted me until Rhys bopped me with one of his bears—Mr Huff?—yeah, fisherman bear. It was Mr Huff.

I snatched Mr Huff from Rhys’s hands, holding him captive, much to Rhys’s horror. “No bashing Daddy with your bear.” With Mr Huff in one hand, I grabbed Rhys and hauled him into my lap with my other—not a bad bit of multitasking, if you asked me.

Rhys made to grab Mr Huff, but not before I got a kiss out of him. Any chance I got, I was going to kiss this man. I was probably being too much and I needed to calm down, but Rhys just made me feel so damn good.

Rhys pushed back, smiling and grabbing Mr Huff in a slick move before he fixed me with a stern look. “So, how did you know my birthday was coming up?”

“I may have peeked at your birth certificate when we got it.” It was my turn to have flaming cheeks. I wasn’t proud of snooping, but it had been open on the table and I’d looked, my curiosity getting the better of my manners.

Rhys gave a shrug, setting Mr Huff down alongside Mr Ted. “We don’t have to do anything special for it.” He looked down at his lap. “I mean, Grandad was really the only one who made a fuss once Mum passed.”

I twined my fingers with Rhys’s, bringing our joined hands up to my mouth, and kissed his fingers. “I want to make a fuss of you, and I’m pretty sure Mitch will have my arse if I don’t let him do the same. We could have something small, just us and Mitch and Cal. Maybe Doc, if we can get his grumpy arse out for once.”

I watched Rhys’s expression go from uncertainty to the realization that I wanted to do this for him. His eyes lit up, and he smiled. “Can I have cake and junk food? I mean all the sweets, like—like at a kids’ party?’

“I think that sounds like a brilliant idea.” I’d talk to Mitch. My baby brother was a dab hand at making cakes—a skill he’d learned from my dad, of all people.

Rhys beamed at me.

I was looking forward to pulling this off. I was sure Mitch and Cal would come, and Doc, even if I had to threaten the anti-social bastard, although I didn’t think it would come to that. It was for Rhys, and I knew he had a soft spot for my boy.

“Simon?’ There was something in my boy’s tone that grabbed my attention, and he was looking nervously at his lap again.

“Eyes up, baby. Let me see those baby blues.” Rhys tipped his head up looking at me shyly. “What is it you wanted to ask, love?”

“Would it be ok if I was little for today? I know we need to talk, but after, I’d like to just—” He slouched in my arms. “I’m being too much, aren’t I?”

Reaching out I tipped his chin gently up, so he was looking at me.

“Going to have to get it through that pretty skull of yours that you’ll never be too much. Being your Daddy, whether you’re little or big, is what I want. This is why we need to talk, you’re right about that.” I sat up straighter, keeping my hand in his. “I have no problem with you being little, today or any day. Would it help if we had a word or sign if you needed little time? It would also help to know what limits you want from me.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Do you want me to help with stuff even when you’re not little? Do you want there to be a line between Daddy and Simon?”

Rhys sat up straighter, his interest sparking. “Like what?’

Okay, this was easy to answer. “I often like to control my boys’ bedtimes and to make sure they eat properly, even when they’re big. I like for them to call me each day when I don’t see them, to make sure they are doing okay and just to hear about their day. In our case, we’d get to sit down each night and talk about the day, the good stuff and anything that was troubling you.” I smiled, seeing the look of comprehension on Rhys’s face.

“I’d like that. But also, we’re partners, right? I’d like you to be able to tell me if you had a bad day and not hide anything,” he said.

“You’re right. You’re my baby boy and my gorgeous boyfriend. The two in my mind aren’t mutually exclusive. But I understand if you want a defined separation of the two.”

“I don’t know my little side enough to know how much I need or want, but I do like how things are between us now. I love that I know you’ll make sure I get enough rest, or eat when I forget, and I know sometimes I just want to be little and not worry about anything, and other times I’m just Rhys. It’s—it’s confusing,” he said, and I could see this was going to take both of us understanding and listening to the other’s needs.

Rhys, whether he was aware of it, or not, gave small signs when he needed little space. He would pull and complain about how his clothes felt, tugging incessantly at the collar of shirts and cotton t-shirts, and not settle until he was in a pair of my old sweatpants or pjs. There were other subtle signs too—he would wrinkle his nose and scowl at vegetables when skirting the edges of little space. I’d not been able to overtly act on it before but now, as his Daddy, I could.

“Would it help if I told you what I thought?”

Rhys, both teddies now in his arms, visibly relaxed at my words. “Yeah, that would help a lot.”

“Okay, so here’s how I see it—and mind you, this is only from watching you since we met—when you let yourself fall into little space, you do so easily, and like yesterday, you happily handed over all decisions and responsibilities to me and embraced your regression. I’d like to take some of the responsibilities away when you’re at home, so you don’t have to worry about anything when you step inside this flat, and you can just let yourself be what you want.”

Rhys’s brow furrowed as he thought about it. “I like the idea of that, but I’d still like to cook us dinner some nights and do the food shop. Sometimes I want to be the one looking after you.” He straightened his shoulders, jutting his fine-boned chin out. My sweet boy had a spine of steel, and I loved him for it.

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