Page 18 of Rowan’s Renewal (DKAG Summer Shorts #6)

O nce again, Rowan has surprised me. Cuddling him while he naps, I can’t help thinking about his unexpected deep regression right now, to the point of being nonverbal.

I know part of that comes from the shock to his system, having gone from a week of twenty-four-seven Daddy care to a week of forced adulting with only texts and phone calls to fill in the void our forced separation left.

But it also shows how deeply he trusts me, and how comfortable he is getting with the idea of our dynamic as Daddy and Boy.

And what a dynamic it is turning out to be! He’s unlike any other Little I’ve played with before. The juxtaposition of the diapers and now the nonverbal regression, coupled with his generally more adolescent headspace is going to keep me on my toes, but in the best ways imaginable.

I assume that, even with him being unable to muster words, he didn’t regress into a toddler kind of headspace.

He’s already expressed his disinterest in other ‘baby’ play —no sippy cups, no stuffies, no blocks or cars or other ‘younger’ toys— and I doubt that will have changed just because he found it difficult to form words.

Obviously, I won’t know for sure until we can talk about it, and about how he feels about these new developments, but I’ve been around enough Littles in my time to have developed a sixth sense when it comes to the things they enjoy in headspace.

Fate really has dropped the perfect man for me right into my lap, hasn’t it?

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I smile when I fish it out, finding a text from Vince.

Vince:

Have fun with your Boy tonight, man.

And that was yet another surprise I discovered this week.

Vince is also a Daddy, and his best friend, Anson, who works as a pediatrician in the same hospital as us, is a Little.

I came across this discovery by complete accident, overhearing a conversation in the ED’s staff change room.

They were talking about visiting The Grove, a local kink club, and had no idea I had just stepped out of the shower.

As soon as Vince teased Anson about behaving lest Anson’s Daddy find out and punish him, I cleared my throat and made myself known, before telling them that I am also in the lifestyle.

Vince had snorted and shaken his head, muttering ‘What are the chances?’, while Anson’s eyes lit up and he pestered me about my relationship status.

That led to me unloading on them about the magical week spent on vacation, and about how much I missed Rowan already.

It was such a relief to find people who understand, and by the end of our ten-minute conversation in the change room, I felt like I suddenly had two close friends in the city.

I tap out my reply to Vince’s text, daring to imagine a time where Rowan might feel comfortable making friends with them, too.

From what I have gathered from conversations over the past week, Anson is a little Little who enjoys ABDL play with his Daddy, and Vince’s boyfriend, Bear, is a lifestyle Little who spends most of his time in a younger headspace, too.

Perhaps finding friends like them might help Rowan to feel less lonely and self-conscious about his medical situation.

Or, at least, it might be nice for him to see other Daddies and their Littles in action.

Me:

It's amazing seeing him again. I’ve missed him.

Vince:

LOL. That’s an understatement. You’ve been a grumpy ass for the past few days, Park.

Me:

I have not.

Vince:

Grumpy for you, I mean. Still nicer than Dr Malone on a good day.

I chuckle to myself, thinking about our cantankerous colleague, who should have retired at least five years ago, and reply.

Me:

That’s not exactly a difficult benchmark.

Vince:

All I’m saying is you probably should have tried to see him at least three days ago. I thought you were going to slap Benji with your clipboard today.

Me:

Benji needs a proper paddling and we both know it.

The orderly in question is the walking, talking textbook definition of ‘brat’ if ever I saw one. Whether he’s in the lifestyle or not makes no difference. And, okay, maybe I have been in a mood if my patience has run so thin that his usually humorous bratting got under my skin today.

Vince:

Is that what you would have told HR?

I chuckle again.

Me:

Yep. They’d probably agree with me.

I think half the hospital would. Don’t get me wrong, Benji is a nice guy, if a bit brazen. But he has a habit of rubbing people the wrong way sometimes.

Vince:

I’m just glad you didn’t let your intrusive thoughts win and that you’ve got your Boy to make it all better.

Bear and I hope we can meet him some day.

Smiling at how close to my own thoughts his are, I tap out one more reply before tossing my phone aside to focus on snuggling with my Boy.

Me:

Me too.

***

“How are you feeling?” I ask as Rowan stirs to wakefulness a couple of hours later. He smiles sheepishly at me.

“Better. I…uh, I wasn’t expecting to, um, meltdown like that. But…I needed it. And you were perfect, Daddy. Thank you.”

I blink before grinning and swooping down for a kiss. I won’t lie: I was prepared for him to be embarrassed or freaking out over regressing so deeply, and not for him to be so cool with it. Not that I’m not glad that he is.

“You’re perfect,” I tell him, not at all concerned by how sappy I sound. “I’m glad that helped. You’re always safe to drop into whatever headspace you need with me, sweetheart.”

Nodding, Rowan yawns, then says, “I didn’t realize how much I’ve come to rely on having you around. Like…having to be in control of my own schedule again, bathroom breaks and changing myself…it’s been draining.”

“Speaking of,” I reach for his crotch out of habit, but pause before I make contact. “Color?”

“Green. And I’m dry.” He sighs and shrugs. “For now, anyway. But…” a coy smile stretches his lips. Any hint of his previous headspace is well and truly gone for now, “why don’t we both get a bit wet?”

***

Minutes later, we step into the shower together. Like at the resort, the shower in my apartment is large enough to fit two adult men comfortably. It’s a very plain, modernist bathroom, all white tiles and chrome accents, but it is comfortable and does exactly what I need it to.

I’ve set the water to warm, but not too hot.

The pressure is perfect as it cascades over my skin and then, as I adjust the showerhead, over Rowan.

I turn in his arms and smooth my hands over his shoulders, then the salt-and-pepper hair covering his pecks and abdomen.

It feels so damn good to be reunited with him, to be kissing under the shower’s spray while we get reacquainted so intimately.

Ro said he wanted to wash off the grittiness of his dried tears, and to clean himself properly after having been so thoroughly wet earlier. I didn’t need to hear the justification: I won’t ever turn down an opportunity to be naked and up close with him.

I’m half-hard already, but I’m not rushing through any of this. I’m letting Rowan set the pace, to see what he feels up to given his emotional catharsis.

We wind up pressed together under the steady spray of water, our lips and tongues sliding together while he slides a thigh between mine and presses me against the cool, tiled wall.

I rut into his hip, moaning at how good it feels to have his larger body pressed so thoroughly against mine. He smiles against my lips.

“I have to pee, Daddy,” he murmurs.

Leaning back, I try to gauge his sense of urgency as I ask, “Are you comfortable going here in the shower? Or would you rather use the potty?”

Rowan’s smile turns coy, and he dips his chin. “Actually,” he says, reaching down between us to grasp himself, “I’ve been doing some reading…”

Arching an eyebrow at him, my heart skips a beat at the third potential option.

He can’t mean…

“What if…” he clears his throat, “what if I peed…on you?”

With blood rushing in my ears —which should be impossible, considering just how quickly my cock just sprang to full mast— I swallow roughly.

He’s smirking a little now, pressing his dick into my belly, likely using the pressure to hold back if the urge to pee has suddenly hit him.

“Really?” my question is breathless.

We discussed my watersports kink a lot last week, but beyond that first unplanned session on the couch, we haven’t explored it further. I assumed it would be something we would need to talk through properly, to plan for, but Rowan is full of surprises tonight and I am living for it.

He nods, rocking his hips into me while water continues to sluice over us. “I need to go , Daddy.”

My eyes flutter shut as I groan, and his wicked chuckle feels like a reward.

“Will you let me mark my territory? Paint you as mine?”

“Jesus,” I hiss, my balls drawing up with just how hot his dirty talk is.

“That’s not my name, Daddy,” he teases.

Opening my eyes, I search his gaze, finding nothing but heat and desire in them.

What the hell happened to my sweet, shy, embarrassed Boy?

“Wh-where is this coming from?” I ask him as I try to get myself under control. “Because it’s fucking sexy, sweetheart, but…very new for you.”

He nods, water-darkened hair falling over his forehead.

“Like I said, I’ve done some reading this week.

Uh, a lot of reading. About the kinky stuff.

” Now there’s a blush creeping up his chest and towards his cheeks.

“And I remembered…y’know… the couch and it…

it sounded really good.” He grinds his hips into me, gasping, “And I really do have to pee.”

“Fuck,” I breathe, “baby, that’s so hot.”

I don’t know if I’m talking about the reading, his interest in trying new things, his sudden instigation of it, or just the confession that he’s desperate to go. All of it, maybe.

“So…you want…?”

I drop to my knees in front of him, his cock at my eye level. He steps back a bit, bracing one hand on the tile above me and gripping his dick with the other.

“Oh, God,” he almost whimpers, looking down at me with even more fire in his expression, “seeing you on your knees for me is… nnnngh. ” The hand on his dick tightens its hold. “How…” he bites his lip. Uncertainty replaces some of the heat in his gaze. “Where do you want me to…?”

“Anywhere,” I answer, stroking my own cock as I stare back up at him. “We’re in the shower, sweetheart, and I have no limits with this.” My gaze is pointed. “None, baby.”

“Oh, fuck,” his eyes close and his Adam’s apple bobs. “D-Daddy…”

“You’ve been such a good boy holding on for me,” I praise him, enjoying the way he shudders happily at the words. “So good for asking for what you want, too.”

A whine escapes him, and his fingers tighten further around his cock. I wonder if it’s painful.

I wonder if he likes that.

“I…I can’t hold it, Daddy…”

“You can let go now, baby,” I soothe, low and seductive. The water isn’t making for great lube as my fist shuttles over my erection, but I couldn’t care less. “Let Daddy see.”

The second he loosens his grip, his bladder releases with an audible hiss. He aims at my chest, and the heat of it —even against the warmth of the shower water— is almost a shock at first. The feeling of his own internal body temperature coating me is almost euphoric.

“Open your eyes,” I demand, “watch how well you’re painting me up, Ro.”

“Oh, fuck ,” he murmurs, looking down as the golden liquid drips down my chest, quickly rinsed away by the shower. With growing confidence, he steps closer as the gush becomes a dribble, still aiming for my skin, as if he wants to see me wear every drop.

The wonder in his expression, coupled with his panting breaths and the sensory aspect of the experience have me on the edge of release, but then he’s dropping to his knees in front of me and reaching for my cock, batting my hand away to take me over the edge himself.

My bossy baby , I think with affection.

“Stand up, Daddy,” he demands, living up to his new nickname in my head. “I want…I want you to mark me up, too. P-paint my face with your cum.”

Oh, God.

I scramble to obey, leaning my weight against the tile while I look down the length of my body, furiously jerking myself now.

A squirt of body wash hastily applied to my palm makes the motion slicker and faster, and I have to force my eyes open to watch his face, dripping from the shower, waiting so expectantly for my load.

“I’m close, baby,” I warn him, and he scoots closer, tilting his chin up and puffing his gorgeous, broad chest out.

“Give it to me, Daddy.”

That’s all it takes. The desire and need in his eyes does me in.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck ,” I all but roar as my orgasm explodes from me, casting splashes of pearly white fluid over his cheeks, lips, chin and nose. There’s even a splodge on his forehead.

My legs feel like jelly as I ride out the last few moments, dribbling onto my fist and the floor of the stall.

Rowan reaches for his face, running his palm through the mess I made, and then takes it to his own cock, stroking over his semi-erection with a satisfied little sigh. My own dick twitches at the sight, but my refractory period isn’t that short.

“ Fuck ,” he breathes, sounding awed as he glances down at his lap, and I think I can understand why. He’s never made a secret of his disappointment or frustration with his ED.

“Baby, stand up,” I urge, “let me suck you.”

He doesn’t need any further encouragement, releasing his hardening cock to allow me to help him to his feet, where we then switch positions and I kneel before him, taking him into my mouth greedily.

I can taste myself on his skin and I moan around him, licking and sucking with fervor. I’m spurred on by his whines and his groans, his fingers tangling in my wet hair.

“A-Aaron,” he chokes out after a short while, “I’m going to come.”

I suck harder, swirling my tongue around his length before I take him to the back of my throat and attempt to swallow around him.

“Oh, shit shit shit, ” he pants out, the fingers in my hair clenching and tugging, making my scalp sting deliciously, “Aaro—oh, fuck— Daddy! ”

In my mouth, his cock hardens damn near to the point of steel before his pulsing release coats the back of my tongue and my throat in short spurts. There’s not a ton of cum, so I swallow it down easily, continuing to suckle on his length as it shrinks away, becoming flaccid again.

He yelps, hypersensitive, and pulls away, leaning against the shower wall with a dazed, glazed look in his eyes.

I push to my feet with a grunt, asking, “You okay, baby?”

He turns his head, water still trickling over his face. He makes no move to brush it or the wet locks of his hair on his forehead away. “I think…I think you just sucked my brain right out of my dick.”

I grin back at him. “Good.”

So far, I would say that reconnecting has been a roaring success.