“Pinkie promise!” I hold up my left hand and he holds his right. We lock pinkies for a second before dropping our hands to his stomach. Our pinkies remain locked.
I don’t remember getting past the opening scene before I’m asleep.
Iwakeupinthe same spot I fell asleep. So much for one of us taking the bed, because I’m currently splayed across Remi’s body, my head resting on his shoulder and facing the framed photo of myself and Paul, my Daddy. My first Daddy.
Remington shifts underneath me and our bodies rut together unintentionally. I pull away, squarely in my big headspace. And adult me knows that that is a line we can’t cross.
“Um, sorry for sleeping on you. We must have both fallen asleep.” I mumble the apology as I untangle myself and stand up. Once again, my bladder is calling for relief and I use it as my escape. Remi seems to still be asleep when I shut the bathroom door.
My cock is hard. Like, more than the typical morning wood hard.
Last night was amazing. There wasn’t even an ounce of sex or any type of tension between us. Remington was just giving me what I needed, some time to let my problems go and express myself in a safe space. But my mind isn’t catching up with the difference that it isn’t Daddy out there waiting for me.
It’s not my Daddy.
I turn the shower on and brush my teeth while I let it warm up. We have a long day ahead and I know I’m going to be bouncing between emotions and headspaces today as we got through all the stuff. So, taking care of certain things now makes the most sense.
I finish brushing my teeth and strip down for a shower. The steam clears my mind, but I waste no time wrapping my hand around my cock. I keep the water on my back and brace one hand against the far wall as I slide my hand up and down my shaft. I’m already leaking, small drops of precum dripping to the shower floor.
I tighten my fist, squeezing on an upstroke, and teasing my slit with a blunt nail. My legs quiver at the sensation. I move my other hand to tug on my balls and the feeling drives me on faster. I’m panting and moaning, sure that if Remington stood right outside the door he’d be able to tell what I was doing now.
I drop my head and watch myself. It’s only been myself and my hand for the past three years. Well, on occasion, the dildo in the bottom drawer of my bedside table. I collect the next beads of precum on my fingers and rub it into my shaft to soften the glide. I run my thumb on the ridge of my head just as I feel the first tingly feelings of my orgasm spread.
“Fuck,” I whisper, drawing out the word with the first spurt of cum against the shower wall. I continue to pump my hand, drawing out the orgasm until I can’t stand it myself. I let my body slump forward to rest my head against the wall to catch my breath. It's over quickly, but much needed. Even with myself, it’d been a while.
A knock on the door fills the room and I jump to attention. I stick my head out of the shower curtain and call out, “Yeah?”.
“I was just going to let you know I’m making breakfast. I have coffee brewing too.”
“Okay, thank you. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“Do you mind if I take a shower after you?” I glance back at the spot where I can still see my own cum dripping down thewall. I’ll have to spend an extra minute making sure I clear all the evidence away. More than I usually would.
“Yeah, that’s fine. I have plenty of towels in here too.”
“Okay,” Remington says on the other side of the door. “Don’t take too long. Breakfast will be ready in about twenty minutes.”
“Thank you, D—”
Whoa. No. No. It’s just my brain messing with me. I was thinking about my Daddy and I just got myself off. I am certainly not thinking about Remington as my Daddy. Maybe having all this Little time is just confusing my brain more than it should. The memory of almost having an accident last night comes to mind too.
I’ll have to talk to Remington about it.
I finish my shower quickly after that, making double sure to use the detachable sprayer to clean the wall. I wrap the towel around my waist and open the door. The house smells amazing, but I can’t place it exactly. It’s sweet. Delicious.
I move to my room and dry off. I don’t know how the day is going to go, so I settle on a pair of black sweats with my favorite hoodie. It’s comfort over style today.
Remington is listening to music and washing dishes when I walk back out. The kitchen sink is set on the outside wall of the house, with a window that looks over the driveway and to the neighbor's house. I have a curtain that usually covers the window for privacy, but Remington has pulled it open this morning to let in sunlight. Same for the living room windows as well; the curtains are tied back enough that the overhead light isn't needed.
“Oh, are those muffins?” I ask, my line of sight zeroing in on the Blueberry goodness that is sitting on the counter. I reachfor one, but without me seeing, Remington has spun around and catches my wrist. His fingers are sudsy and hold my arm from going any closer.
“Sorry, but they just came out. The pan and muffins need to cool down.” Remington drops my hand. “I don’t want you to burn yourself.”
“Oh, sorry. Thank you.” I lean my back against the corner of the open door frame. “You didn’t have to do-”
“I wanted to,” he says quickly. He turns back to what he was washing. There's a silence between us and I can see the tension in Remington's shoulders. “Do you want to talk about last night?”
“What about it?” I ask genuinely. “I thought it went okay?”
