Page 12 of Asher's Answer
I tap his left calf muscle, encouraging him to lift the leg to get his new pjs on next. These are loose cotton pants covered in paw prints. The matching shirt has a puppy on it. He steadies himself on my shoulders as I help him step into them.
When he’s fully dressed, he’s adorable and I tell him so.
“Thank you.” He bites the corner of his lip, and my cock surges back to life again.
“We, uh, we haven’t discussed sleeping arrangements,” I tell him, adding, “but there’s no expectation for you to sleep in my bed. Not now…and not ever if you’re not comfortable with it.”
“I mean, you’ve already jerked me off today,” he teases, and the reminder of my lapse in control does nothing to ease my erection, “but…maybe for tonight, can I stay in here? Just to get my thoughts together?”
I never want him to feel uncomfortable or coerced in any way. This all has to be his choice. “Of course, sweetheart. But I’m going to leave my door open a crack, and if you need me at all during the night, call out or come get me, okay?”
Ash’s expression turns soft and a little grateful. “I’d like that. Thanks, Charlie.”
This beautiful boy is going to be the death of me.
Chapter Seven – Asher
Iwasn’t lying when I told Charlie that I liked his very Daddy-esque suggestion of keeping his door open. When I’m anxious, I’m prone to nightmares, so it’s soothing to know that there’s someone -a Daddy, my brain singsongs helpfully- there just in case.
I’m trying to ignore just how easily I’m accepting this entire change of circumstances. What are the chances that the perfect man for me is a) single and b) willing to move me into his home without ever having met me before? But there’s absolutely no pressure coming from him to do anything that I’m not comfortable with, and he seems to genuinely want to look after me.Me. It’s mind-boggling. Nobody has ever cared like this before. Like,ever.
That said, I’ve read enough about the Daddy mindset that I know it’s not all that strange. He probably sees a little struggling and, because he’s obviously a good man (the cop thing gives that away, not to mention how kind and caring he has been), he’s driven to help. Besides that, there’s a mutual attraction between us -if the impromptu hand job earlier is any indication- which doesn’t hurt.
For the first time in a long time, I allow myself to feel a flicker of hope that maybe I will have a chance to explore all the interests I thought I’d have to keep secret forever. This both thrills and terrifies me.
Charlie asks me my traffic light color when he goes to sit on the bed beside me. He’s selected a kid’s book from the bookshelf under the window and, even though it’s late, he wants to read me to sleep.
“Green,” I tell him without hesitation, ignoring the butterflies in my belly when he smiles widely.
It should feel strange to snuggle up next to this man I’ve known for all of a few hours, but there’s somethingrightabout it. Maybe it’s just the relief of having a roof over my head, of having a full tummy and no fear of being caught breaking rules. Whatever it is, there is nothing daunting about being tucked against his solid chest with one of those muscular arms wrapped around my shoulders, holding me in place. His large palm is smoothing down my side in a rhythmic up and down motion and he’s readingThe Poky Little Puppyin a perfect Daddy voice, all low and lulling. I drift off into dreamland far sooner than I want to.
However, I wake up in the middle of the night with my heart pounding and a small cry of terror on my lips. The nightmare is already fading, but the fear has well and truly set in. It takes me a minute to get my bearings. There’s a strip of light filtering in through the half-open doorway and, as my brain engages, I remember the day’s events all over again.
I’m not quite big, but I’m not little either. I’m hovering in this strange mental space where Iwantto crawl out of bed and take Charlie up on his offer, but the adult in me thinks it’ll be too much of an imposition. I don’t need him regretting taking me in like the pathetic street urchin I’ve become. Clutching at my blankie, I fiddle with the fraying corner while I mull over my options and try to talk myself down from the nightmare-induced panic.
“Ash?” Charlie’s voice is gravelly with sleep and the strip of light from the living area widens as he opens my door fully. “Can I come in?”
I open my mouth to tell him I’ll be fine, but the word “Please” tumbles out instead. I sound meek and vulnerable even to my own ears.
He steps inside the room, backlit from the living room light, and my breath catches. He’s wearing the soft T-shirt from earlier over a pair of low-slung flannel pajama pants. His hair -which is cut in one of those ‘more on top’ styles- is all mussed from sleep, the longer strands sticking up at odd angles. He radiates raw masculinity beneath the sweet softness of his concerned Daddy expression. My stomach does somersaults as he steps closer.
“Bad dream?” his voice is schooled into what I’m coming to recognize as his usual low, soothing tone. It makes me want to leap from the bed and throw myself into his arms.
Picking at the fraying edges of my blankie, I nod.
“Scoot over,” he urges softly and I comply without a second’s thought.
A voice at the back of my head tells me I’m already getting too attached, that it’s dangerous to rely on him for comfort so readily, but I do my best to ignore it as Charlie climbs onto the bed beside me. He extends his arm and I cuddle up beside him without hesitation, not ignorant of the way he sighs happily.
Something about that sound silences my doubts. He genuinely wants this, too. If we both want the same things, why should I fight it?
With his arm wrapped around me again, Charlie uses that hand to card through my hair and I lean into the touch, savoring it. “Wanna talk about it?” he asks gently.
“I can’t remember the dream,” I explain, my eyes already getting heavy again under his gentle ministrations. “I don’t usually. Just the feeling.”
His hand keeps moving, his large, thick fingers massaging my scalp. “Do you have nightmares a lot?”
“Mmhmm,” I answer. “It’s worse when I’m stressed.” The last few nights have been full of interrupted sleep. It’s probably part of why I finally broke when I was faced with the cops. With Josh.
