Page 8 of Rowan’s Renewal (DKAG Summer Shorts #6)

T he hot water is cleansing and seeps into my muscles, easing the tension that’s been building in my shoulders and back since I got on the flight here. Tears gather in the corners of my eyes even as the relief sweeps over me.

I always get emotional when I’m tired.

And I am beyond tired right now. It’s been a long couple of days with very little sleep, and today was an emotional rollercoaster of epic proportions.

I can’t believe I told a complete stranger how messed up I am.

I can’t believe he’s into it.

I’m not sure how to feel about the revelation that Aaron is not only not turned off by my incontinence, but that he’s actually more interested in me because of it.

I would never judge anyone for their kinks, but I wasn’t expecting a straight-laced doctor to be into diapers and watersports, or to be so open and upfront about it.

The honesty and lack of shame is intriguing, though. Refreshing.

After a lifetime of feeling flawed and broken, of hiding this part of me I literally can’t control, hearing such an openly positive perspective on it has my stomach flipping and fluttering with anticipation and hope.

That feels more dangerous than his kindness.

I can’t afford to get attached to the idea of someone liking this part of me. Not just tolerating it but liking it. If Alex was able to destroy my confidence, imagine what letting go of someone who professes to like my issues might do to me.

But I can’t help remembering how amazing it felt to be taken care of in that restaurant bathroom. When he took control of the situation. When he made everything better.

Imagine having that all the time.

My throat tightens and the tears slide down my cheeks, mingling with the shower’s spray.

I shouldn’t let myself want it. It’s easier being alone. It’s easier to not risk another loss and more pain.

But Bianca was right. I am lonely.

Aaron’s offering an end to that loneliness.

He’s a gorgeous man. Intelligent, kind, generous…he’s well and truly out of my league.

Except there’s a voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like my best friend telling me that I should look at the way things have come together.

The entire comedy of errors which saw me sharing a suite with this stranger.

Learning that we live in the same city back home.

Then, to top that off, learning that my biggest flaws —the things that make me undatable to most men— play right into his kinks.

If I did believe in signs from the universe, these would all be neon, flashing ones.

I’m going to regret it forever if I don’t give it a chance, aren’t I?

***

“You can do this,” I tell myself as I hover outside Aaron’s bedroom door.

I’m wearing nothing but a towel, and I’m feeling equal parts excited and nervous.

At worst case, if this turns out to be a mistake, I can just book myself a hotel room somewhere else and get an Uber there, and call this entire vacation a mistake, like I originally thought it would be.

I take a deep breath and stare at the painted white door. “Just…knock.”

My hand trembles as I raise it, but before I can lose my nerve, I rap my knuckles quickly and softly.

My heart races in the seconds that follow, and I’m already considering fleeing to my bedroom when the door swings open. Aaron’s gaze travels over my towel-clad form before resting on my face.

“What’s up?” he asks lightly, and I struggle to find the words to express exactly what I want.

“I was…I mean, are you… Can you…” It’s all a jumble in my head, embarrassment creeping up my spine and crawling over my cheeks.

I swallow, forcing myself to breathe and to use my words.

“I thought about it,” I tell him, gripping the towel around my waist with clammy hands, “and…I want to try it. If you still want to, I mean. All of it. I liked being looked after and, yeah, it might be weird to have another grown man put me in a diaper, but…I’m so tired, Aaron.

I’m tired, and lonely, and what you said sounded really nice. ”

“Oh, sweetheart, come here,” he pulls me in for a hug, my warm, damp skin pressed up against his thin cotton t-shirt.

The steady thumping of his heart against mine is more soothing than I could ever have imagined it would be. He rubs his hand over my back, making soft shushing sounds, and I just melt into him.

“Are you sure you want to start tonight?” he asks, his voice a pleasant murmur against my ear.

I nod. “Please. I…It’s been so long since anyone touched me…

since…since someone wasn’t revolted by me and…

” I pause to swallow against the lump in my throat, blinking back more traitorous tears.

“I Googled a bit when I got out of the shower, and it sounds doable. Good, even. Being cherished by someone. Being someone’s priority.

I haven’t had that in a long time. And…if it’s only going to be for this week… ”

“Let’s sit and talk about that, okay?” he suggests, but it sounds more like he has already decided for me, and the rush of relief I feel from that small act alone tells me that I’m making the right decision here.

“I just need to get dressed first. Or at least into my, uh…” Heat flares in my cheeks. I’m not used to talking about my ‘special’ underwear with anyone, let alone people who have known me for less than a day.

“Do you wear different protection at night?” he asks calmly, while the embarrassment simmers inside me. “It would make sense if you do. If you have an overactive bladder and manage to sleep deeply, wearing extra absorbent incontinence padding is the smarter choice.”

He says it with understanding and even a touch of warmth, which eases some of the tightness in my chest. I nod.

“I actually wear a proper diaper at night,” the admission would usually make me cringe, but it’s already easier with him.

Maybe because I know that he plays with them for fun?

Or because he’s a doctor and this is something he comes across professionally?

I don’t know, but it’s nice not to feel quite so anxious about it.

“The incontinence underwear wasn’t enough.

When this all happened, my doctor at the time recommended stuffers as well for extra absorbency and it’s… awkward, but it works.”

“I’m glad that you’ve found something to make things easier, though. Changing sheets constantly isn’t fun. Especially on your own, I’m sure.”

Better than having your bedmate tell you how disgusting and useless you are.

I swallow back the words and nod again.

Aaron guides me into my room and sits me down on the edge of the bed.

“Are you okay with me helping with this? I usually rely on the traffic light system with my partners: green for all clear, yellow to pause and discuss hesitancy or any concerns, and red for stop completely. Does that work for you?”

“Yeah,” I lick my lips, with the situation suddenly feeling very real. As he hovers over my suitcase, which is on its side on the carpet in the corner, my heart hammers. “And, um, green light. I’m okay with this.”

“Just red light if you change your mind, sweetheart, okay?”

He lifts the top lid of my suitcase and zeros in on the packages I reserve for night use only. Grabbing a diaper and a stuffer, he also pulls out a pair of thin pajama pants and a t-shirt for me, too.

“Do you use a barrier cream?” he asks as he sets it all down in a neat pile at my hip.

I know my face is on fire, but I force myself to answer. “Yeah. It’s in my toiletries bag. I left it in the bathroom. Sorry, I’ll go—”

“Stay put, sweetheart. Daddy’s got it.”

A thrill of something undefinable shoots through me at his words and I do as he says, sitting quietly as he disappears and returns in less than thirty seconds.

“Okay, lay back for me.”

I do as he says, closing my eyes against the intense wave of anticipation and embarrassment that hits me.

But my towel remains in place, even as I feel the gentle brush of his fingers at the knot above my hips.

“Traffic light?” he prompts softly.

It takes me a moment to find my voice. “Green.”

The towel is pried open, my body exposed as I recline on the hotel bed. The cool air from the AC is almost like a shock to my sensitive system, but Aaron smooths a warm palm over my left thigh. “Shh,” he soothes, “you’re doing so well, Ro. You’re being a good boy. Thank you for trusting me.”

The praise and sweet words go straight to my head, bringing back the light, floaty feeling from earlier. I relax into his touch as he continues to rub over my thighs, and when I hear him fluff out the diaper, I lift my hips without needing to be told.

“That’s it,” I can hear a smile in his voice, but it sounds encouraging instead of mocking, “good job. You can drop back down now.” I do, and I can feel the familiar padding, emphasized by the additional stuffer, under my ass.

“I’m going to put the cream on now, baby.

Remember your safe words. I’ll stop if you want me to. ”

“Mmmhmm,” I agree, though I have no intention of telling him to stop. Not with how gentle he’s being. How reverent.

Nobody has ever touched me like this. Like I’m precious.

And that is exactly how it feels as the thick white cream is applied to my skin.

Aaron’s touch isn’t hesitant, but it doesn’t feel clinical or rushed, either.

It feels like every stroke over my skin is filled with care, like he wants me to know that he understands how important this is to me, and like the whole activity of diapering me is something we should enjoy, rather than just something I have to do.

I almost whine when he stops, but I feel him wiping his hand on the towel before the front of the diaper is held snugly over my sadly flaccid dick.

I wish it would spring to life more often, that it would show Aaron just how much I really did enjoy his attention just now.

But it’s just as defective as my bladder and only works on its own schedule.

By the time he’s taped down both sides, I feel more secure in my nighttime protection than I have in decades.

I jolt at the soft press of lips to the inside of my left thigh.

“All done,” Aaron says, with a discernible rasp to his voice that was not there earlier.

I feel boneless right now, like I’ve melded with the mattress, and it’s an effort to force my eyes open. But, when I do, I’m rewarded with a sweet smile.

“You did really well, sweetheart,” he tells me. “How do you feel?”

My head feels soupy, probably from the exhaustion of the day finally taking over, but I make myself answer. “Good,” I manage. “Nice. Sleepy.”

He chuckles. “Well, you’re not dressed for bed yet, Ro. We still have to get your jammies on.”

Jammies.

For all that I said I’m not interested in baby talk or dressing like one, I kind of like these childlike words. They make me feel a bit giggly and bubbly inside, and bring out a more youthful side of me, too.

“Mm’kay,” I tell him. “You gonna help?”

If he’s surprised by my lapse into simplified vocabulary, he doesn’t show it. “Of course, sweetheart. C’mon, sit up.”

I grumble as he pulls me back up into a seated position, and fuss as he wrestles me into the t-shirt. Then he steps back and I can’t read the expression on his face, but it makes my stomach flip.

“You look fucking adorable right now,” he tells me. “How would you feel being left in just your tee and diaper for now?”

I shrug. It’s comfortable enough.

He snorts.

“Where’s your headspace, sweetheart?” he asks when I don’t answer verbally. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re regressing a bit.”

“Mm’tired,” I complain in a whine that, yeah, sounds very young. If I wasn’t quite so tired, I would probably fight to regain my composure. But the pull of snuggling up in my dry, soft outfit and sleeping off the jetlag is too tempting.

“I see,” he sounds amused and even fond. “We’ll talk about how we both see this thing between us playing out tomorrow, then.”

“Good idea,” I scramble the reply together. “Can we just cuddle now?”

“Sure, sweetheart. Just let me go hang your towel back up in the bathroom.”

This time I do whine in disappointment, but I sigh happily when he returns and climbs onto the bed with me. We spoon together, with him as the big spoon at my back, and the floaty sensation in my head gets more intense.

It’s almost like euphoria, and it’s a bit sad to realize that I’m so starved for touch and affection that a simple cuddle is making my head spin.

“I’m really proud of you for asking for my help tonight,” he says as my eyes get heavier.

“Mmm,” is the only reply I can manage.

“You’re a sweet Boy, Ro. Thank you for giving me a chance to be your Daddy.”

As I allow sleep to take me, the words play over in my head on repeat.

My Daddy.

It’s not something I ever thought I wanted, but I can’t deny that I’m really starting to like the sound of that.

My Daddy.

Mine.