Page 38 of A Stable Daddy

Pressing soft, gentle kisses to the top of his head, I splay my hand over his chest and focus on the thumping of his racing heart as it begins to gradually slow down. Eventually, just when I think he’s slipped from subspace into sleep, he stirs and sniffles against the remnants of his emotional release. The bell tinkles as it drops against the mattress, unnecessary and forgotten.

“Hey darlin’,” I murmur, gently kissing his sweaty hair again, “welcome back. How are you feelin’?”

He snuggles against me and hums. It’s a contented sound. “So much better. I needed that.” He pauses, then quietly adds, “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure and privilege, honey,” I reply seriously. “Thank you for your trust.” Before the moment can get too emotional, I ask, “Was that all good for you? Highlights? Things you’d change?”

I cringe as the awkwardly phrased questions tumble out of me, taking me all the way back to my days in training to be a Dom. But what we just did washugeand I’m a little shaken by how emotional I feel after our session.

“It was perfect,” Ryan answers easily, tilting his head back so we can look at each other. “Highlights were obviously when the dizziness and pleasure kicked in, but I needed the pain, and I knew you had control of the situation. There wasn’t any panic or fear. But next time…” He trails off and nibbles at his abused lower lip.

“Next time?”

“You can go harder. I trust you. I” —he takes a deep breath— “I love you, Oscar.”

And, just like that, the shakiness of my emotional state lifts, leaving me with absolute certainty. “I love you, too, Ryan.”

Chapter Seventeen – Ryan

Oscar didn’t need to say the words for me to know how he feels. I saw it in his eyes during our session, felt it in his determination to give me what I’d asked for as safely as possible, and had it confirmed in his gentle questioning during his aftercare.

I watch in comfortable silence as he climbs out of bed to get a wet washcloth, then lie back as he wipes me clean, giving himself a scrub with the same cloth once he’s satisfied that I’m good. Then he tosses the cloth into the bathroom and pads over to the kitchenette, reaching into the fridge and emerging with two bottles of water. One of them, he sets down on the bedside table. The other, he cracks open and passes to me as he climbs back into bed, snuggling against my side again.

I drink greedily from the plastic bottle, relishing in the condensation that wets my fingers. My body is still heated and sweaty, and I feel like a shower is in order, but I don’t want to break the softness and sweetness of this moment.

After draining half the bottle, I twist the cap back on and drop it unceremoniously on my bedside table, turning over so I can plaster myself to Oscar’s toned, tattooed flesh. I kiss whatever skin I can reach. It’s not because I’m trying to be sexual, but because I can’t resist the sensation of his skin beneath my lips.

His arms, strengthened by his manual work, wrap around me like the sexiest of cocoons. I can feel the steady rhythm ofhis heart beating against my own, and I feel at home in a way I haven’t since Maddy died.

I’m loved. Taken care of. Protected from the world.

“We should probably shower before we fall asleep like this,” Oscar eventually says, and I smile into his shoulder.

“Oh, is showering with me a chore?” I ask playfully, and he swats at my bare backside.

“Stop pretending you’re a brat, honey. We both know you’re not.”

I snort. “Maybe I’m trying something new. I’ve never been a Boy before, either.” I lean back and bat my lashes at him exaggeratedly. “You’ll still love me if I’m bratty, won’t you, Daddy?”

Oscar laughs and groans all at once. “This post-subspace high is adorable,” he declares, but then his expression softens. “But I love every version of you there is, darlin’.”

If I hadn’t already fallen in love with him, that would have done it.

* * *

Staying at the station is everything I needed and then some. Leaving the stress of work and life behind, knowing that Oscar will take care of me in every way I need, was the right choice to make. Even though I agonised over closing the practice, I knew that I wasn’t going to be in the right frame of mind to be treating patients — especially when the patients can’t verbalise their issues.

Knowing that Sarah’s going to send any emergency calls on to the closest vets she can, I’m happy to let my Dom —my Daddy— make every other decision for me.

And he does.

He decides what we’re eating and when. He decides when we’re going to go for a walk down to the petting zoo, and when we’re going to take a nap curled together on top of the bed’s crumpled white quilt. He also decides that I don’t need a spanking or a paddling, and I have to admit that I’m still feeling settled after the intense emotional release from being choked, so I don’t push the issue.

It’s perfect.

It’s all perfect.

I can’t remember the last time I felt like I took a holiday. If I strain my memory, I realise that it was before Maddy died. Afterwards, the year I spent trying to regain my equilibrium felt more like purgatory than anything else, even though I wasn’t working. I’d been grieving and lost and alone.

---