Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Cole
Peyton made an easy transition into their Little space, proving to me how comfortable they were in my home—in my heart.
I helped them undo their pants, sliding them and their underwear off their legs. While they used the bathroom, I ran the water in the tub, making sure to be generous with the bottle of their favorite lavender bubble bath.
They happily let me remove their shirt when prompted, but then I paused.
Their binder was a delicate situation, one that we hadn’t entirely addressed yet.
Sure, they let me touch them during sex, but this was different.
Though, while I was drumming up a delicate way to approach the situation, they raised their arms and—without being asked—muttered, “Green.”
I searched their features for any sign of discomfort.
I didn’t find one, outside of the slight shiver from the cold.
There was only one emotion painted across those sparkling brown eyes: trust. “Okay, then,” I said with a smile.
With some help from them, I peeled off the constricting garment and tossed it aside with the rest of their clothes.
“Ready?”
Peyton nodded, and let me help them into the tub. As they settled into the steaming water, I reached for the secret weapon I had under the sink: bath toys. “You want some of these?”
Peyton nodded emphatically, making grabby hands at the basket. “Thank you, Daddy.”
The toys fell into the water with an aggressive splash, and I pretended to have done it on purpose.
Hearing Peyton call me Daddy during sex was one thing, but hearing them use it in Little space was a connection that I didn’t know I needed.
Trying to hide how much it affected me, I lowered myself to the floor to watch while they played.
The list of things to do before we went home for Christmas was piling up, but all of it faded away as I watched my Little splash around in the bath like they didn’t have a care in the world.
My Little—I liked the sound of that.
I wasn’t even bothered once water began to cover the floor. Peyton looked so happy that I’d let them trash the whole house if they asked. “How did you manage to make a mess so fast?” I asked, returning a toy boat that had crashed over the side—the morbid little shit had called it a shipwreck.
Bright-eyed, they only shrugged, tipping their head back in a silent demand for a kiss. I leaned in, happy to give it to them—only to be drenched by a sudden wave of water.
Unable to be angry about it, I laughed and scrubbed my eyes clear. “Okay, you’re asking for it!”
They yelped as I splashed them back, and a war broke out.
Soon enough, more water covered the floor than what was left in the bathtub.
Breathless, I sat back on my heels. I was soaking wet and exhausted, but that dirty little giggle made it all worth it.
They were sixteen the first time I ever saw them cry, and I’d never forgotten it—it was the day I vowed that I’d do anything to make them happy.
Hearing their laugh and knowing I was the one that caused it was a dream come true.
Peyton sat back in the tub, drawing their legs up and resting their head on their knees. God, they painted a beautiful picture. Beads of water dripped from wet hair, dotting their red-tinted cheeks. Fuck, I was one lucky man.
Before I lost sight of myself, I retrieved a washcloth from beneath the sink. “Time to get you clean, little one.”
Peyton didn’t protest, moving pliantly as I washed them from head to toe. After drying and wrapping the fluffy towel around them, I asked, “Do you want me to get you ready for bed?”
Their only answer was strolling over to my dresser, stealing a t-shirt, and shuffling out the door. Pausing, they tossed a sleepy, but bratty grin over their shoulder.
God, I was fucked.
I followed, finding them waiting patiently by the changing table.
They giggled as I lifted them, warming my heart.
After I dressed them in the T-shirt, they laid across the table while I collected their supplies.
Peyton watched, bleary-eyed as I fastened their diaper on.
I hammed up the attention, kissing along their belly until they squirmed. “Tickles, Daddy!” they squealed.
“Where? Here?” I feathered a light touch right above their piercing, and they wiggled in my grip.
They howled with laughter. “Daddy!”
Hands around their waist and my thumb brushing that piercing, I ceased the torture.
Peyton’s stomach heaved beneath my palm as they fought to catch their breath, and I couldn’t help but pause to appreciate their beauty.
Soft skin beneath my fingertips created such a striking contrast to the rough patches on mine.
Brown eyes shone under the lights, lids growing heavy.
When I noticed their finger in their mouth, my first instinct was to reach for a pacifier, but the image of the rocking chair in the corner of my eye, I got a better idea.
“Are you too tired for a bottle tonight?”
They released their finger with a pop, head thrashing side to side. “No! Milk, please!”
Chuckling, I pressed one last kiss to their belly before covering it with the T-shirt. “Aren’t you going to get cold?”
I helped Peyton off the table and they made a beeline for the rocker. “That’s what Daddies are for.”
Well, I couldn’t argue with that, could I?
I couldn’t ignore how… right everything felt. It was like Peyton and I had been stumbling around, clueless as to what was right in front of us.
I remembered what it felt like when my last relationship ended. All because my ex didn’t respect my wishes to keep regression non-sexual. He had every right to find what he needed in a partner, but that didn’t mean the breakup didn’t suck.
But Peyton… We lined up in every way. I guess we always had.
In the kitchen, I warmed some milk on the stove while I withdrew my secret weapon from the cabinet: sugar free coffee syrup—vanilla, naturally. It was Peyton’s favorite. They’d always had a sweet tooth.
I had a few bottles, but selected one that I knew Peyton would love. Neutrally colored, it was decorated with pastel stars that matched the beads on their favorite bracelet.
That bracelet had been one of the first hints that they’d been a Little. Well, that and the bratty attitude they’d always had—or lack thereof when I opened my mouth. Jesse typically snapped right back at me, but with an arch of my brow and a shift in my tone, Peyton submitted every time.
With that realization, I wondered why I hadn’t seen it before. The desire had always been there, but I never imagined that they’d feel the same way about me.
Shoving the irrational thoughts aside, I returned to the nursery. Peyton was curled up in the rocker, thumb in their mouth and well on their way to sleep. But when I walked into the room, they sat up. “Mine?”
Whether they were talking about me or the bottle, I wasn’t sure, but I settled next to them. “Nope, I made this all for me.”
They glared, but in their hazy, sleepy state, it was far from intimidating.
I pulled Peyton into my lap, positioning a pillow under my arm to keep them comfortable.
Cradled against my shoulder, with their legs thrown over the side of the chair, they happily latched onto the bottle.
I clocked the moment the warm, sweet liquid hit their tongue.
With a hum, they closed their eyes and drank.
I held tight onto the bottle, their hand covering mine.
Sitting there, watching them, my throat tightened and my heart fluttered.
I’d been foolish to think we were ever just friends. Peyton had trusted me with their deepest secrets, had run to me when they needed help. They’d shown me parts of themself that no one else had ever experienced before.
I’d always known that I’d do anything to protect them but now that feeling was amplified. I’d obliterate anything that threatened their happiness with a smile on my face.
Peyton adjusted their position, tightening their grip on my hand, and my chest squeezed.
That must have been what love felt like.