A couple of the guys from the team are being monitored for muscle strains and other minor injuries, so I get to sit in on their appointments and even help out with some of their treatments, too. The paperwork side of it all is much more boring, but watching the pink tip of Justin’s tongue peeking out from between his lips when he concentrates makes even that part of the whole experience entertaining. However, it’s all still work,andI have to keep my hands to myself.
“But that’s not the same,” I answer blithely. “I don’t get to do all the things I want to with you.”
Justin scoffs. I love the way his nose crinkles adorably when he does. “Like you didn’t blow me in a storage closet just last week.”
“My Boy is my good luck charm,” I shrug. “The orgasms make it easier to focus on the game.”
“My orgasm made it easier for you to focus?” He arches an eyebrow and his lip quirks. “I don’t understand how that works.”
“Who says I didn’t also come, sweetheart?”
“You didnotplay an entire game of hockey while wearing cum-soaked underwear.” Now he squirms, probably thinking about how uncomfortable that would have felt under my hockey gear.
“No, I didn’t. I cleaned up in the bathroom before I made it back to the locker room.” It really would have been too uncomfortable putting my protective cup into a jizz-coated jockstrap. “I think things through, baby, I swear.”
“Uh huh.” He shakes his head, and it’s only now that I notice the dark circles under his eyes. Concern immediately takes over and my amusement —and arousal— vanishes instantly.
“Are you okay?” I ask, reaching to cup his jaw. I smooth my thumb over the dark skin beneath his left eye. “You look tired. Stressed, even.”
He sighs and steps out of my reach, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just had a little argument with Lauren’s parents. It’s nothing.”
Hmm.
I still haven’t met Owen’s grandparents, but I know they have been helping pick Owen up after school and stuff. I can only assume it has been a huge adjustment for Justin, uprooting his entire life so Owen could spend more time with his grandparents. Going from being the sole carer of a kid to practically sharing custody with his former in-laws must be a stressful experience.
“I think maybe you need some Little time,” I eventually reply, letting the thoughts filter through a pros and cons list in my head before voicing the idea out loud. Before he can protest and tell me it would be too weird with Owen in the house, or something to that effect, I add, “After Owen’s in bed, we’ll lock ourselves in your room and try to get you to let go for a bit. Nothing too intense. And, if he wakes up and calls out, I can help him, okay?”
Justin thinks about it for a long moment. The green in his hazel eyes looks more pronounced when he finally awards me with a slow nod. “Okay. I think…I think that would be good.”
***
Over dinner, where Owen happily catches me up on the things he has been doing at school, I consider what kind of activities might help Justin tonight. I’d love to give him a bubble bath, but with only one bathroom in the house, that’s probably something better left for a night when Owen is at his grandparents’ place.
It’s only after Justin slips into Owen’s bedroom to tuck him in for the night that I decide mirroring the experience is the best option. I want tonight to be about relaxation for my Boy; I don’t want him getting all excited and fired up with silly games or invigorating play.
I choose his outfit from the bag stuffed in the back of his closet, and I pull Kelvin out from his hiding place as well. Then I arrange a sippy cup of milk and wait for Justin in his bedroom. I’ve linked my phone to the little speaker he keeps on his nightstand, and I’ve got soothing instrumental music playing in the background. When he finally joins me, Justin pauses inside the doorway.
“Oh,” he murmurs quietly, taking in the scene I’m setting. The lamp on the nightstand is lit and emitting a soft, warm glow. The bedcovers are pulled back, and I have a selection of picture books sitting next to his sippy cup. Kelvin is propped up against his pillow.
“Have you gone potty and brushed your teeth?” I ask, and he bites his lip, shaking his head.
“Would you like Daddy to help you do that?” I ask, hoping that it might help guide him towards his Little headspace. It’s been happening a lot more easily for him the more regression time he gets to indulge in, but with how on edge he seemed tonight, I think it might help to give him a nudge.
He nibbles his lip and blushes. “Yes please, Daddy.”
“Good boy,” I praise, crossing the room to take his hand. “Let’s go.”
We make our way inside the bathroom quietly, and I help him pull down his shorts and underwear, then press up behind him as he stands in front of the toilet. My hand wraps around the back of his and I help him aim into the bowl, then I let him go as he gives himself a couple of shakes, before offering him a few squares of toilet paper. It’s a far cry from the first couple of times, where Little Justin insisted he could potty by himself.
We wash our hands together in a very similar fashion, and he giggles quietly when I rub the soap into a bubbly lather over his hands and then my own. The sound is music to my ears.
Making funny faces in the mirror as we brush our teeth in tandem, it’s almost like watching a switch get flipped in his head as he finally starts to let himself go towards his Little headspace.
“You brushed your teeth very well, sweetheart,” I say after we’ve rinsed and spat and wiped our faces clean and dry. “Daddy’s proud of you.”
His cheeks still turn a little bit pink at the praise, but he smiles widely. “Thank you, Daddy. You did a good job, too.”
Oh, my heart.
