Page 13 of Rowan’s Renewal (DKAG Summer Shorts #6)
A fter spending two more days together, exploring the resort and the Sunshine Coast together, it really does feel like Rowan and I have been together forever.
After that first —mildly accidental— foray into watersports, something seems to have clicked for him.
Diaper changes are green lit without hesitation or embarrassment, the Daddy title falling from his lips readily when we are alone.
He asks me to make decisions for him, from choosing his outfits and his meals to deciding our itineraries for the day, and the genuine joy that radiates from him as we wander down the beach or through the resort hand-in-hand seems incongruous with the anxious, defeated Rowan I met only a few days ago.
It was obvious to me that he was touch-starved, so I’ve made a point to always reach out to him in some capacity whenever the opportunity allows.
I hold his hand, or place mine on the base of his spine, or sling an arm around him wherever we go.
He huddles close when we’re in public, and prefers to sit in my lap when we’re in private.
In bed, he complains if we’re not spooned together, relying on the air conditioning to get rid of the sticky Australian summer heat from our skin.
We talk through every new experience —whether it be kink-related or not— and I’m constantly wondering how anyone could have let him go, because he is one of the sweetest men I’ve ever met.
I know that I’m seeing Vacation Rowan right now, though, just like he’s seeing Vacation Aaron. We’re relaxed, neither of us encumbered by the stresses and pressures of our lives back home.
Will things change when we do go home? Most likely.
We will need to work out a schedule around my shiftwork.
We will need to see how he feels about the Daddy/Boy dynamic sliding into his real life; whether he can be a Boy in between his job as the Editor In Charge of a magazine.
Whether he’s still comfortable letting go and letting me change him when we’re back in the city where he’s used to being so independent.
At this point, though, I am completely smitten.
If we get home and being a Boy while managing his day-to-day life is too hard for Rowan, that’s okay with me.
I’m falling for him as a man and partner, not just for how compatible he is for my kinkier side.
Like I told him at the start: it’s all about balance and making sure he’s happy. That’s what will make me happy, too.
But wow is it weird to feel so intensely about him so soon.
Not just because of the kink, but because he is everything I’ve wanted in a partner.
Intelligent, kind, communicative, sweet…
he ticks all of those boxes and then some.
We like the same foods, happily watch the same kind of TV shows, and even though he was adamant that he was a homebody, Rowan has been just as interested in exploring during this vacation as I am.
We seem compatible in so many ways, and I am becoming increasingly invested in seeing him discover himself, too.
And that’s what he’s doing. Now that he’s not as afraid of having to hide his condition, or of having to compensate for it, he’s living life outside of the confines of the nearest bathroom. His confidence in himself seems to be growing by the minute, and it fills me with pride.
“Daddy,” he murmurs, checking over his shoulders to make sure we’re alone on our beach walk, “can we go back to the room?”
The sand between my toes is gritty and clinging to me, seeing as we are walking barefoot along the hard packed sand where the waves are drifting in over our skin, having broken a handful of feet away and carried forward with the momentum of the tide.
The water slowly leeches back to whence it came, only to repeat the process again and again, with a dull roaring sound with every rush and crash of a wave.
I find it relaxing in the blazing heat of the afternoon, living for the sea breezes accompanying the waves.
“Sure, baby. Getting too hot?”
Rowan’s skin is a mild pink color, even though we have been applying sunscreen religiously. Sweat rolls down his temples and gathers at the roots of his salt and pepper streaked hair. He bites his lip and nods.
“And I need a change.”
He’s gotten so good about asking when he needs help, about not squirming away in embarrassment when his body does what it is wont to do. The lack of shame now seems miles apart from the panicked man in that restaurant bathroom stall.
It’s mindboggling to think that it has only been three days, but I’m not na?ve enough to believe it will always be this easy for him. Returning to his real life is going to be a challenge.
I squeeze his hand and smile. “Good boy,” I praise, delighting in the way he fights a pleased, coy little smile, “thank you for telling me.”
We turn on the spot and meander back over the sand, discussing dinner plans along the way. Proving that he’s in tune with my own thought process, Rowan eventually asks, “Do you think it will feel this easy when we’re back home?”
“Probably not,” I answer honestly. “Not with having to work around our jobs. But,” I hasten to add, “I think our dynamic is pretty solid.”
“Me too,” he admits, then scrunches his nose.
“I’m kind of used to not panicking about” —a vague gesture encompasses his crotch area— “y’know.
Even just knowing that you’ll help get me all cleaned up and…
well, I won’t have that once I’m back in the office.
It will be back to setting myself alarms and watching my fluid intake and making sure I have spare clothing on hand. ”
The words are accompanied by a sigh, and the echoes of the exhaustion and resignation that were etched into him the day we met.
“I know, sweetheart, and I’m sorry. But when we’re both off work, we’ll have this .” I squeeze his hand, referencing our relationship. “And we’ll make sure we get into a routine that works for us.”
“Except…well, you’re talking like you want to spend every waking moment of your free time outside of work with me,” Rowan looks out over the rolling ocean, his gaze going distant. “That doesn’t seem healthy. Or fair. You’ve got a social life, too, I’m sure.”
“Not much of one at the moment,” I admit.
“I haven’t lived in the city long. I only transferred a couple of months ago and I’ve mostly been working.
There’s a community center I was planning on checking out, though.
It caters to people in the BDSM lifestyle, and I was thinking I might go to one of their social events to make some likeminded friends, you know?
” I give his hand another squeeze as we turn to head up the sloping dunes towards the resort, our feet slipping in the soft sand as we work our legs to get up the gentle hill.
“If you were comfortable joining me, maybe we could make some friends in the lifestyle together. Eventually, I mean. I know this is all still new to you.”
He's quiet as he processes, panting against the physical activity of trudging through the sand, but once we’ve reached the path that leads back to the resort, he says, “People like us? Like…” in the periphery of my vision, his Adam’s apple bobs, “like me?”
“People exploring ABDL?” I confirm and he nods.
“Yeah, exactly. And other people in the age play and BDSM community, and people who have kinks or are in relationships which aren’t considered ‘standard’ by society.
” I wait a moment before repeating, “But it’s not something you need to decide right now.
Maybe we can talk about it in a few months’ time?
And if you’d prefer to keep our dynamic purely private, that’s okay, too. ”
He nods again. “I’ll think about it.”
“There’s no rush to make any of these decisions, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”
And I’m not. He’s too precious to let go of.
Maybe one day he will believe that of himself, too.