9. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Morrie
S tepping off the bus into the quiet, brightly lit suburban area felt like I was entering into a different world entirely. Lining the sidewalk were homes well prepared for the season with lights, inflatable Christmas decorations and wreaths hung on doors. Even the snow appeared crisper and cleaner here than it did where I lived. Every yard was blanketed with pure snowy white, not a hint of mud or grime marring the surface of it where it lay covering the grass. It was almost surreal, like a cookie cutter Christmas movie setting coming to life in front of me as I walked along the sidewalk.
I glanced down at my phone when I reached the end of the block, confirming that I needed to turn left. Scott had given me his address when I’d declined his invitation to come pick me up for our afternoon and the closest bus stop to his home was a couple of blocks away. Hitching the backpack I carried up on my shoulders, I made the correct turn, following the little GPS arrow on my phone’s navigation app until I came face to face with the home bearing the number I’d been given.
1398 Chessington Lane was a far larger home than I expected, even though I knew that in this area of the city, the houses far overshadowed the places I’d grown up in. Scott’s house was a mix of brick and stucco, the dark reds and grays making it look a little bit foreboding from where I stood on the sidewalk. With a deep breath, I walked up the driveway and made my way to the dark blue front door, wondering who on earth would paint a door that shade of blue. It seemed to both go really well with the shades of red on the house and clash terribly at the same time. It struck me that my thoughts about his house spoke a lot about how I felt about Scott himself, if I was being honest. Everything about what he was saying and doing felt right and comfortable, yet it clashed with my expectations. Scott was as much of a mishmash of competing ideas as the outside of his house was, both friendly and terrifying at the same time.
I raised my hand to knock on the door but before I could do that, it opened, revealing a smiling Scott to me.
“Hello, Morrie. I’m glad you found the place okay.”
I bit back a nervous laugh. “It was easy. The bus stop is pretty close.”
Scott nodded and took a step back, gesturing for me to come in and I stepped into the brightly lit entryway of his home. Glancing around, I could see nothing but wooden floors and white everything. The front door opened into a small foyer, but beyond that sat an open concept kitchen with stainless steel appliances, white granite countertops and white cupboards. The kitchen met up with the living room area over a small half wall divider and the living room was also painted a brilliant, clean white. At least the massive sectional that sat in the living room across from a red brick fireplace wasn’t white as well because that would have been far too much of that color for me to handle. Instead it was a darkened brown leather, with dark orange throw pillows. I wasn’t sure I liked that shade of orange myself, but it was so nice to see something other than crisp, clean white.
“Can I take your coat?” Scott asked from beside me as I stared around what I could see of his home.
I nodded and dropped my backpack to the tile then shrugged my jacket off, handing it to Scott. Kicking my shoes off, I abandoned them in the entryway and made a move to go see what the living room felt like to stand in but a small noise from behind me caught my attention. I turned to see Scott standing there, offering a meaningful glance between me and my shoes.
“Uh, sorry,” I mumbled, turning around and bending down to line my shoes up nicely by the door.
“Good boy,” Scott responded and my body warmed a little bit at the comment. “Thank you. We need to be neat and tidy here, okay?”
I nodded, wincing a bit at the implication. I was well aware that my apartment looked like a bomb had gone off, but I also knew that there was comfort in the mess and clutter. It said free to me, though I could only imagine it said “dirty and gross” to Scott.
“I see you aren’t wearing your comfy clothes.”
I stared at him hard. There was no way I was stepping onto a city bus wearing pajamas and carrying a shark stuffy. I preferred not being the centre of attention and I really enjoyed not having my ass kicked in by some tough guy making the choice to take his frustrations out on the dude wearing little kid clothes in public. I had worn another one of my plain, black t-shirts and a comfy pair of jeans, but my backpack held Mr. Starkey and my ocean pajamas. I picked up the bag off the floor and unzipped it, holding it up so Scott could see inside.
“Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you where you can change, if you’re still interested in that?” I hesitated, clutching the backpack between my hands tightly as nerves exploded inside me. Scott must have noticed my discomfort, because his eyes softened even more as he looked at me and he offered a gentle smile my way. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay too. I’d like you to try though.”
Try. Yeah, I could try. That was the point of the day anyway. Scott was going to give me a Christmas and I could at least give what he offered a try. When it ended horribly, as I believed it still would, it wouldn’t be because of my lack of effort. I nodded, gripping the bag against my chest and followed Scott down a hallway to the right. He stopped in front of a room that held a small bed covered in a pale yellow quilt and a single dresser. “This is one of the spare rooms. I had always thought of it as a play room of sorts, though I haven’t decorated it just yet. Waiting for the right boy to come along first.”
I hated this room. It reminded me of all of the perfect houses I'd been shuffled through when I'd been a child with their perfect foster carers with perfect smiles who used perfect belts to hit and perfect hands to spank. I shuddered where I stood, growing a bit nauseous as I recalled the crack of leather over my skin and the lessons learned in those moments about perfect rooms like this one.
Growing up, I had had exactly one foster home that I had loved more than any other place I’d ended up after the plane crash took my dad away. The house had been tidy enough, but looked lived in, and the family that owned the home were genuinely warm and friendly. It was the first time in my life that I hadn’t felt like I was walking on eggshells but they were only a temporary home for me, as they all were. I remembered the day I’d packed my things into my single garbage bag and the way the foster mom had stood in the doorway with a smile on her face that was trying hard to hide the tears I’d heard her crying earlier. I liked to think she had liked me as much as I had liked her.
“It’s never easy,” she’d said, gently reaching out to give me a hug I’d wanted because her hugs had felt real. I’d told her I didn’t want to go, but we both knew that she didn’t make the rules and there were other kids who needed her temporary roof while they waited for a more long term placement. I was shuffled off to a more perfect home, with a beautiful yard and a family that smiled as they squeezed my shoulders too tight and lied about how happy they were to have me living with them.
“What’s that face for?” Scott asked.
“I hate this room,” I blurted, before slapping a hand across my mouth and looking at him, wide-eyed.
He chuckled softly and made his way over to sit on the bed. “What about it offends you?”
“It’s so clean and boring. I just don’t like it.”
“Well, maybe someday, if things keep going good between us, we’ll decorate it up the way you like. How about that?”
“Maybe.” Though I wasn’t sure he’d appreciate my style of decoration which was loosely based on throwing stuff around and stacking things in piles. Organized chaos, like my own apartment. “I’m sorry I said I hated it.”
“Don’t be,” Scott responded, giving me an actual smile. “I like that you told me something that’s on your mind. You hold a lot back and keep a lot of secrets to yourself and while that’s alright, I also want to know you.”
“Oh,” I responded, not sure what else to say. Silence lingered between us as I looked around the room. I could see how someone might call it a nice room I supposed, though my initial feelings lingered.
“I don’t want to overwhelm you,” Scott said, breaking into my train of thought. “But I did get you something.”
“You did?”
He smiled. “I was picking up ornaments and some other things for us, saw it and thought of you. It reminded me of the picture you were coloring at the club when we met. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, I know you said you don’t wear these, but I thought you’d look adorable in it and it’s really soft and warm.” He crossed the room and pulled open the dresser, taking out a bundle of brown fabric. Holding it out to me, he took a step back and gave me a hopeful smile.
I put my backpack down and unfolded the fabric, heart leaping as I felt the softness against my hands. It was a onesie, but not like the ones I’d seen Perry wear from time to time at the club. This one was a reindeer from top to bottom, more like a costume with a soft brown tummy and a little tail on the butt. On the hood were two plush antlers that stuck out of the top and I couldn’t top the smile that crept over my face slowly. “For me?”
“If you want.”
“I could be a reindeer,” I whispered, staring at the onesie.
“The cutest reindeer in the world, Morrie.”
Throwing caution to the wind, I nodded, first at the soft onesie, then at Scott whose face lit up. I hadn’t worn a onesie like this before, the ones I’d seen Perry wear were printed with things like little sailboats and duckies and that wasn’t my style at all, but this one? This reindeer one? I needed to wear it.
There was only one problem. Scott would probably want to dress me and I wasn’t sure I could let that happen. It felt almost too intimate but I knew that’s what he probably expected of me and I swallowed hard, looking between him and the reindeer onesie. Could I let him?
“Do you want me to help you change?” he asked, gently and softly like he’d read my mind.
“I don’t know.”
“How about we try and if it’s too uncomfortable, I’ll leave,” he suggested.
I reached up and pulled on the hairs on my chin, another one of my nervous things I did when I wasn’t sure about something. I had been dressed before by the man who’d tried to be my Daddy, but that had taken some time for me to allow. I just needed time to breathe and be a tortoise. Scott made a small noise under his breath and I looked up at him.
“No pulling your beard,” he admonished softly. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I need to be a tortoise,” I blurted out, cheeks heating a bit.
“That’s a great word to use.”
I cocked my head to the side, not understanding what he meant. I’d just blurted that out because it was the first thing that came to me, but Scott smiled. “How about this? Tortoise says everything is good. Hare tells me that it’s too much for you and we need to stop. Like a safeword. Can we use those words?”
Frankly, that was brilliant and whatever nerves were threatening to bubble inside me were soothed a bit by that offer. “That works for me.”
“Good. So then, helping you change. Is that hare or tortoise?”
“Tortoise,” I whispered, feeling the need to push myself a little bit. Here, in Scott’s house, holding pajamas he’d bought me with the promise that he’d leave if I wanted him to, I could try like he’d asked me to. The other Daddy never really asked, and somehow, that made all the difference.
“Brave boy,” he murmured. “Such a brave, smart boy.”
Warmth flooded my body and my heart did weird little kick in my chest as he got closer. I wasn’t about to jump on his lap and cuddle, but this I could give to him.
“How about you take these clothes off by yourself and I’ll help with the new clothes?”
I nodded, dropping the onesie and making quick work of pulling my jeans and shirt off, leaving them in a pile at my feet. Scott chuckled softly at how fast I moved, but I figured the sooner we got this over with the better. He kneeled and picked up the onesie from the floor, sorting it out and getting it ready for me to step into.
“Hands on my shoulders, okay? I don’t want you to fall.”
“You’re gonna get a face full of crotch,” I blurted, without thinking. It was true though. Scott was about to come face to face with my dick where it rested soft behind the front of my plain black boxer briefs.
“I won’t touch you there when you’re little if you don’t want that,” he said, turning his eyes up to me. “Some boys like special touches or rubbies, and some don’t.”
“I don’t, please.” That much I knew for certain. I was out of my element entirely, but I didn’t want to mix sex in with my play.
“Brave boy, thank you for telling me that.”
I closed my eyes and let those words wash over me. Brave boy. Smart boy. I could really get used to that. Opening my eyes I saw that it was time to be even more brave than Scott had thought I’d been before. Reaching out my hands, I carefully placed them on his shoulders, bracing myself against him as I lifted my legs and one by one, stepped into the onesie. Scott smiled up at me once my legs were in, then carefully pulled the soft fabric up, letting me put my own arms into the arm holes.
“Brave, brave boy,” he murmured as he did the zipper up, enfolding me in the warmth and comfort of the reindeer onesie. I grinned at him, proud that I’d let him help me and a bit surprised that it hadn’t felt terrible after all. My brain wasn’t screaming at me to make it stop, at least.
“Now what?”
“Now we decorate for Christmas,” Scott said, standing up from the floor. “You ready?”
“Yeah,” I responded, nodding my head as I pulled the hood of the onesie up. I reached up with my hands and grabbed the antlers, a small thrill trickling through me.