Page 9 of Rowan’s Renewal (DKAG Summer Shorts #6)

W aking up in the morning, I’m cocooned in warmth.

There are arms and legs wrapped around me like an octopus, with warm skin pressed against mine and soft breaths puffing into my chest. I snuggle into it with a satisfied sigh, breathing in the coconut shampoo on the soft hair tickling my nose.

My cock stirs in my pajama pants, but I close my eyes, staying sleepy and content.

I want to savor the moment.

It’s been a while since Jerry and I last woke up entwined like this. The last time was at least three months ago. We’d already started drifting apart, with him resentful of my shiftwork, and it was at least a month before he told me—

My eyes fly open.

This isn’t Jerry.

Memories from yesterday finally filter into my foggy brain as a burst of heat blooms over the top of my thigh, the already squishy diaper against my skin becoming fuller and momentarily warmer.

I hold Rowan a bit closer as he fusses and groans in his sleep, rubbing his back to hopefully extend his peacefulness.

Last night was unexpected and perfect. I feel a stab of guilt for thinking about Jerry in those first wakeful moments just now, but it was out of habit more than for emotional reasons. With my brain officially back online, I am happy that Rowan is the man in my arms.

We didn’t get to talk about it yesterday, but I hope that this will be more than just a holiday fling.

The fact that we live in the same city back home means that it probably can be, assuming Rowan enjoyed last night as much as I did, and that we can discover more compatibility over the coming days.

“Mmm,” he mumbles adorably, nuzzling his stubbled cheek against my chest. “Morning.”

“Good morning, sweetheart,” I reply quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

He stiffens, his whole body tensing. I shush him as he attempts to pull away, but I don’t hold him against his will as he practically wrenches his hips backwards and rolls into the empty space behind him. His cheeks are bright red, and he grabs for the light blanket, covering his lower body.

“Try not to panic,” I murmur, “you’re safe here. It’s all okay.”

Rowan’s fingers tighten over the blanket clutched over his hips, his knuckles turning white. “I…I need…”

“A change, yeah,” I nod, carefully smoothing my hand over his bicep.

He’s not the sleepy, relaxed, possibly regressed man I helped into the diaper last night, and I don’t want to spook him.

But I’m not going to tiptoe around this, either.

“I can take care of that, sweetheart.” He turns startled, wide eyes at me.

I respond with an easy smile. “You told me last night that you want to try the Daddy thing, right? This is part of that. What’s your traffic light color? ”

He cringes, hips moving under the blanket. I assume his protection is sodden and clammy by now. “Yellow.”

My hand continues to rub at his bicep. “Okay, let’s talk about what you’re feeling. What was last night like for you?”

Licking his lips, Rowan admits, “It was good. Weirdly relaxing.” The tiny smile he wears from his memories fades away and he squirms again. “But I was dry and clean from the shower last night. Now…”

“You’re wet from a deep sleep. That’s normal and expected.”

He scrunches his nose. “But…it’s gross.”

“Says who?”

“What?”

“Who says it’s gross? It’s just pee, Rowan. A quick wipe and you’ll be all fresh again.”

“But…” he flounders, then sighs. “Everyone else has always thought it was gross.”

“Yeah, well, I’m guessing none of your exes were Daddies. For me, this is normal, with or without a medical condition.”

He takes a moment to think about it, his fingers flexing and unflexing on the blanket’s hem. “You really don’t think it’s disgusting and weird?”

The vulnerability in his voice breaks my heart. I want to track down every single man who has made him feel like his condition makes him unlovable and cause them irreparable damage. How dare they hurt this beautiful, sweet man over something so harmless?

“Absolutely not.” Wanting to lighten the mood, I give him a crooked grin and wave a hand over the erection tenting the soft cotton of my sleep pants. “Case in point: I’m more into being your Daddy than I think you understand.”

His gaze drifts down my body and his cheeks flush pink again. “Really?”

“That’s more than just morning wood,” I confirm. “I enjoy all of this, Ro.”

There’s a suspicious sheen of moisture in his eyes as he looks back at my face almost shyly. “I like that nickname,” he says. “Nobody’s ever given me one before. Well, okay, Bianca calls me Dumbass, but that’s not the same.”

I snort and hold my arms open. “C’mere. Come cuddle, then I’ll change you.”

He only hesitates for a moment before he shuffles back across the bed and into my arms. He fits well there, with his head tucked under my chin.

“Is this only for this week?” he asks tentatively, the words slightly muffled against my shoulder.

“Do you want it to be? Because I’ll be honest — Daddy/Boy relationships are more intimate to me.

I usually get serious quickly. And because we live near each other back home, I can see us continuing and dating for real.

But only if you want that. If you don’t, we can have fun this week, you can trial what it’s like to have a Daddy, and we can part ways as friends. ”

“You, um, last night, you…you called yourself my Daddy…” My heart stumbles a little, and I worry that I took things too far, too fast. But then he continues, “I liked the sound of that. I haven’t had someone be mine in a long time.

” He’s silent again for a moment, but I’m loath to push him, so I wait.

Eventually, he starts again, “I…if this week goes well, I’d like to talk about how we can make it work back home, too.

Because I haven’t been as relaxed with anyone as I was last night in…

in ever . I think…I think I need a Daddy. You. You as my Daddy.”

I squeeze him closer, excited by the potential in his words. “So…we call this week a trial run? Like a taster of all the things we can offer each other?”

He nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” Then he squirms and tentatively offers, “But, um, I think I need that change now…Daddy. Please.”

My heart squeezes again at the sweet, cautious trial of the title on his tongue. It sounds good to hear him say it. Right.

“Good boy for asking so nicely,” I tell him, nuzzling his head with my nose until I can pull back to look him in the eye. “Can I kiss you?”

“I have morning breath.”

“So do I.”

Rowan’s full lips pull into another one of those shy smiles. “Then, yes, kiss me. Please…Daddy.”

I do not need to be asked twice.

He tilts his head back and I dip forward, brushing my lips over his. I feel his breath hitch at the first touch of my mouth on his, and his fingers dig into the fabric of my t-shirt over my shoulder blades.

I press my lips against his more firmly, delighting in the way he melts in my hold, letting me guide and control the kiss.

It’s slow at first. Cautious, exploratory, building.

As we get accustomed to the fit of each other’s mouths, to the most comfortable angle of our heads, to the cadence of each other’s breaths, it gets deeper.

Our lips part, our tongues tentatively tease at each other, and our hips grind together until he whines and pulls back.

“Sorry,” he looks away, “that can’t feel good.”

I cup his cheek. “What can’t? Because I was feeling very good just now. Almost too good.” I reach between us to push down on my throbbing cock, and he flinches away when I brush the front of his swollen diaper.

“That can’t,” he mutters.

“Oh, sweetheart.” It’s going to take more than one conversation to convince him that I really am more than okay with it. Still, the urge to hurt his previous boyfriends is strong. “Let’s get you changed like I promised. Then we can talk about all the fun we’re going to have today.”

“Okay.”

After confirming his traffic light color, I get him to lie back across the mattress like he did last night. I find wipes in his suitcase, along with his daytime diapers —which I affectionately think of as pull-ups— as well as a pair of swim trunk shorts and a t-shirt.

Like before, I talk Rowan through the steps of the change. He’s more tense than he was last night, likely because he’s used the diaper I’m removing, and because he’s no longer on the cusp of sleep.

I kiss the inside of his thigh when I’m done wiping him clean, and I’m pleased to see a smile on his face when I reach for his pull-up.

“Gonna need you to stand up for the rest, baby,” I tell him.

He nods, biting his lip when he sees the outfit I’ve selected. “I don’t usually wear shorts,” he admits after I’ve helped him step into each leg of his incontinence pants and pulled them up until they sat snugly around his waist. “I’m afraid people will notice…”

“Nobody will,” I assure him. “But if you really hate the shorts, we can change to something looser, okay? However,” I smile and wave the shorts at him, “you’ll need these for swimming.”

He blinks, jaw going slack. “Swimming? But…I can’t wear this” —he points at his white, discreetly padded crotch— “in water.”

“No. We’ll take it off and go potty before we go swimming.”

Rowan’s handsome face contorts with anxiety. He doesn’t even question my use of the ‘p’ word. Nibbling his lip, he says, “But…what if I go in the water? Sometimes I can last hours, but other times…”

“Then you pee in the pool or the ocean,” I shrug.

“If it’s in the pool, the chemicals will take care of it.

” Besides, half the guys in this resort have probably released other fluids in the pool anyway, not that I say that out loud.

“In the ocean, the constantly moving tide and the sheer volume of ocean water makes it a non-issue. Plus, where do you think all the fishies and things go to the bathroom, hmm?”

“That’s different,” he argues, but he’s fighting a smile.

“How?”

“…I don’t know, but it is.”

I grin and kneel with the waistband of his shorts stretched out in invitation. “Come on, sweetheart. Now that I’m out of bed, I want breakfast.”