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

D inner was going so well. So, naturally, I managed to fuck it up.

Or, rather, my body did. I was so careful, too.

I mean, okay, when I went to the bathroom at the start of dinner, I discovered that I must have wet without realizing it, but it hadn’t been enough to worry about.

Usually, I get enough warning that I need to go that, if I’m at a restaurant, I can make it in time.

It must have been the wine. For some reason, wine goes through me faster than most liquids, and I didn’t get the usual pang from my bladder before I felt the leakage into my jeans.

In the bathroom, I’d hoped I could minimize the impact somehow, but it was too late and too noticeable. I didn’t even have a sweater with me to wrap around my waist to hide my shame.

Stupid tropical climate.

But now Aaron is standing in front of me, far calmer and kinder than any stranger in his position needs to be, and his question hangs between us as he waits for my reply.

Do I trust him? I barely know him.

But he hasn’t freaked out at the fact that you wet your pants like a toddler, the voice in my head argues. He hasn’t run out of the restaurant and left you to deal with this on your own .

I’d almost convinced myself that our dinner felt romantic. Like a date. Knowing that, against all odds, we live in the same city back home made it seem almost like the universe was telling me to move on.

Then…the accident happened.

And Aaron stayed. He came looking for you. He offered you a room to stay in for no good reason.

Licking my lips, I nod. “I trust you.”

His answering smile brings out his dimple, and he nods. “Good boy,” he murmurs, stepping into my personal space. The strange endearment makes my belly feel fizzy, but in a good way. “I’m going to take your jeans off, okay? The main door is locked; it’s just us here.”

My heart immediately begins to beat faster and harder, the shame of the situation slamming back into me, but he seems ready for it.

Splaying his hand over my chest —right over my thumping heart— he shushes me.

“I’ll only need them for a couple of minutes, okay?

You can go sit in the stall, see if your bladder has anything else to give, and by the time you’re done, these will be dry. ”

I can’t explain it, but there’s something in the way he speaks that just calms me right down, and it feels good to hand over the reins and responsibility of dealing with this to someone else.

I know I shouldn’t —it’s my mess to clean up, my problem to resolve— but the relief of being told what to do makes my head feel light.

“Okay,” I answer, allowing him to undo the button and fly, stepping out of each leg at his instruction.

With a bare ass on display, I make my way back into the toilet stall and will my bladder to cooperate. If I empty it again now, I’ll stay dry for the return trip to the hotel.

The sound of the air hand dryer starts up while I think of running water, and I understand immediately what Aaron is doing for me. In my panic, I never would have thought to do the same.

When I’m sure I’ve done all I can to ensure a dry trip back to the resort, I flush the toilet and head over to wash my hands again. Aaron grins and pulls my jeans away from the hand dryer while I reach for paper towels.

“Tada,” he declares, holding them out for me, “all fixed. They might be a bit warm when you put them on, so give it a few seconds.”

I avert my gaze, shyness and renewed embarrassment worming away in my stomach, but I still murmur my thanks as I take my jeans and climb back into them. It’s a relief knowing that I can walk out of here with my head up.

“All good?” Aaron asks, and I nod. He holds out his hand for me to take, and I barely hesitate to do so. “Let’s get going.”

***

The trip back to the resort is practically silent. I can’t bring myself to say anything with a third party in the car, but I know that I won’t want to talk about it when we get back to the room, anyway.

Nevertheless, Aaron’s shoulders are loose and relaxed, and he sits beside me in the back seat of the Uber, reaching out to squeeze my thigh in what I take as a reassuring gesture.

But then he leaves his hand there for the entire trip, a comforting weight, almost allowing me to believe that I’m not alone in dealing with my issues anymore.

But that is a dangerous line of thinking. He’s young. He can —and should— do better than me. He deserves better than me. In fact, most everyone does. I’m too much. Situations like tonight? They’re too much to expect anyone to deal with on a regular basis.

And what if someone else had wanted to use the bathroom while we had it locked? What if they’d thought we were…I don’t know…having sex or something in there? What if they’d called the police, or broken the lock to get in, or—

“Sweetheart, breathe,” Aaron’s voice is low and soothing. He guides me through the rising anxiety by modeling deep breaths in and out for me. His hand never leaves my thigh.

“Can you talk to me about what triggered your panic attack just now?” he asks after we’ve climbed out of the Uber. He gives me time to consider whether I want to as we climb the steps to the foyer and cross the glossy tiled floor.

Cringing, I eventually admit, “I overthink things sometimes. When I’m already stressed, it gets worse, and I start spiraling over all the things that could have gone even more wrong. I know I’m dumb to—”

“Our brains can be dumb sometimes, not us.” Aaron’s interruption is a gentle rebuke.

“We can’t always control the way we think or the thoughts we have, especially when we’re already highly emotional.

” He stops to face me as we wait for the elevator.

“You’re not dumb for having thoughts like that. You know that, right?”

“Alex used to say—”

“I get the feeling your Alex did a number on you, so forgive me, but I am going to put zero stock in anything he…they?...said to you. Ever.”

I snort.

There’s nobody else around us, but I can hear music drifting in faintly from the direction of the hotel bar-slash-nightclub on the other side of the building. Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance tickles my brain. What is the universe trying to tell me now?

“He,” I nod as the elevator opens in front of us.

I wait for Aaron to walk in ahead of me.

“And, yeah, okay…referencing anything he used to say is probably pointless. He was a dick.” Leaning against the cool, mirrored wall, I sigh.

“We were together for a few years. It’s hard to let go of some of the things ingrained in me from that.

Especially when it was my issues that ended us. ”

“Sweetheart,” Aaron’s expression falls, and there’s a hint of horror in his voice, “ no . I doubt that.”

The doors ding open on the fourth floor and we step out as I bristle, “You’ve known me for less than a day.”

“Fine,” he rolls his eyes. “Did you end your relationship? You dumped him? Broke his heart?” Reaching into his pocket as we reach our door, he swipes his card over the reader then twists the door handle, his eyebrows raised expectantly for my answer.

“Well,” I step inside at his gesture, “no, but I know that being with me —a neurotic, incontinent homebody with erectile dysfunction— isn’t exactly winning the boyfriend lottery. We couldn’t do the things he wanted, I was embarrassing, I—”

“Those are his issues, not yours.” Aaron closes the door and strides across to the couch in the main living area, sitting down and patting the spot beside him.

“You didn’t do anything wrong by existing, Rowan.

I’m coming at this as an unbiased outsider with a medical degree: I know men in your position do everything they can to minimize their symptoms and the severity of their conditions, and I am sure you are the same.

If Alex couldn’t handle it, that’s on him. ”

It's funny. In my own head, I know Alex was self-centered and a bit of a prick. But when it comes to talking about it, I always find myself rationalizing the things he said or did. Bianca’s called me out on it a number of times, not that she knows why he always used to be so frustrated with me or embarrassed by me, but hearing Aaron defend me from the pains of my last relationship is validating in a completely unexpected way.

“Yeah…you’re right. I know you are,” I tell him. “I just…I have moments like tonight, and it throws me off-kilter. And it reminds me that I’m better off single. Not that…not that that was a date. And, oh God, I didn’t even get to pay after everything that happened.”

Aaron shakes his head, reaching out to grasp my hand in his. His hands are big and warm. Grounding. He squeezes gently. “It was the best date I’ve been on in a while,” he says. “Whether it was supposed to be or not.”

Wait…what?

The realization that I’m still wearing the same jeans I wet earlier hits me hard and I push to my feet, abruptly ending whatever that was.

Aaron Park is far too good to wind up with me, even for a summer fling.

“I’m going to go shower and change. You, um, you didn’t have to help me tonight, but you did, and I appreciate that. ”

He also stands up, reaching for me. “Rowan…”

“No, I…I feel gross, and I’d better change and…”

“I’m a Daddy,” he blurts.

“I…sorry, what?”

Lifting his hand to run long, elegant fingers through thick black hair, he sighs.

“I’m a Daddy. A kink Daddy. A soft Dom, too, I guess.

I…The reason I originally booked a two-bedroom suite was because my ex and I wanted a nursery away from home.

Somewhere to store his toys and” —he looks meaningfully at me— “change his diapers.”

My heart starts to race. “ What?”

“I’m into age play. ABDL…have you heard of it?”

“In porn, yeah.” I am aware that I still sound bewildered. “But I didn’t…you mean people actually dress up as babies in reality?”

Aaron nods. “It’s not just about the kink, though.

It’s…there’s this whole give and take with trust and vulnerability and a level of intimacy and connection that is really hard to put into words.

It…it doesn’t have to be sexual, but, I mean,” he rubs the back of his neck, shoulders rising as he confesses, “I’m also kind of into watersports, so… ”

“I’m guessing you don’t mean the kind with snorkels or flippers.”

“I’m not against costumes in the bedroom.”

I let out a bark of surprised laughter. Before I know it, I’m sitting down heavily on the couch again.

He follows tentatively. “I just…I wanted to tell you in case…well, in case that was something you hadn’t considered pursuing before.

I’ve met a couple of guys on the scene who got into it to give some empowerment to their conditions. ”

“I don’t have any interest in dressing like or talking like a baby. I’m not kink shaming, but…that’s not for me.”

Aaron doesn’t seem surprised or even disappointed. Instead, he smiles understandingly. “Well, you can be more on the DL scale than the AB, or vice versa. It really comes down to what makes you happy and comfortable. A good Daddy will work with you to find the right balance.”

“A…Daddy.” I repeat the word clumsily. It sets off a strange flutter in my stomach.

Sure, I’ve watched and even read my fair share of Daddy kink, but I’ve never imagined calling someone Daddy before.

“Let me ask you this,” he says, “and I want you to answer honestly. When I helped you in the bathroom tonight —when I took over and told you I was going to fix everything— how did you feel?”

“Relieved,” the word leaves my lips before I can really process my thoughts. I blush. “Safe. Looked after.” Unexpectedly, tears well in my eyes and I blink rapidly to dispel them. He’d called me ‘good boy’ and I had wanted to hear it again. “I…You made me feel like I didn’t have to worry anymore.”

His smile isn’t smug or even knowing. It’s soft and sweet, matching his voice when he reaches for my hand again and says, “Then I did my job as a Daddy right. And, if you’d be okay with it, maybe that’s something we could keep doing together?”

I blink. “You…you want to be my Daddy?”

He nods.

I should say no. I should ask him if he’s out of his mind. I’m a stranger. Not only that, but I’m a stranger who, up until two minutes ago, thought Adult Baby Diaper Loving stuff was just a porn thing.

But the words out of my mouth aren’t any of the above. No. When I open my mouth, only one word comes out.

“Why?”