Chapter 27
Paxton
I woke up before my boy, my mind already going a million miles an hour. How could it not when I was so blissfully happy? Everything I wanted was within reach.
I'd signed with the Belport Blue Jays. I had my pops here with me, and he was thriving. And lastly, but most importantly, I had Grizzly.
It was better than I could have dreamed.
The connection between us, the way he leaned into me and trusted what I said, made me feel invincible.
It kept me from overthinking where I stood with him.
There was no way to second-guess it, not when he looked at me like that—like I was the only person he saw.
I pressed a kiss to his forehead as I climbed from bed as gently as I could.
I tucked him in with the blankets and noticed how his thumb had slipped between his lips.
He sucked at the digit slowly. I looked around for any sign of a pacifier, but it was nowhere to be found.
It was to be expected, given how we had spent our evening the night before.
I'd have to buy more than one to keep on hand. That was my best bet moving forward.
I took a second to get my bearings in his kitchen. We’d come here last night after he took a quick nap. I’d wanted him to stay in my bed, but I could tell the idea of Pops overhearing us was a worry. I didn’t want to push him when changing houses truly didn’t bother me.
There was a slew of cabinets in the cozy kitchen, and not being familiar with the space meant I had to open each and every one to find what I was looking for. As far as kitchens went, things were separated in a logical way, with cups and plates and glassware grouped together.
But then I got to a door where the world came to a screeching halt. Because in there, my boy had absolutely shown a part of himself that I had not yet seen. A part where he was clearly obsessed with bagels.
Yes, bagels.
As in the bread product people liked to smother in butter or cream cheese. Personally, I was a fan of making them into sandwiches, but I didn't have them often. With the amount sitting in Grizzly's cabinet, I had to guess that he had them a lot more than I did.
I quickly counted the bags I could see just from the open doorway, and when I reached fifteen, I knew I'd discovered a secret. It wasn't shameful or anything. Just… who kept fifteen bags of bagels? More than fifteen, actually, since I could see some of the bags had others behind them.
I pulled down the one that appeared to be open and set it on the counter. Then I opened the fridge and grabbed a few other basics I knew I could handle whipping up. The coffee pot came to life when I turned it on, so I went about making myself a cup and preparing extra for when he woke up.
I was in the midst of scrambling eggs when I felt arms wrap around my chest from behind. His chin went to my shoulder, and I turned my head to press a kiss to his temple.
"What are you doing out of bed, sleepyhead?" I called him that because his eyes were still closed, even as he stood behind me.
"Missed you," he grumbled.
He tilted his head down until his mouth was on my shoulder, then he proceeded to suck against my skin like he’d been doing to his thumb the night before.
I knew I would have a hickey there, but damn if I was going to say anything.
It didn't hurt. Plus my boy appeared to be happy.
He was in this dream-like, floaty state still. Who was I to ruin that?
The weight of him on me felt nice too. I'd missed him when I left the bedroom.
Hell, I missed him any time he wasn't around.
I just knew once the season really got going, I would be miserable without him.
We'd have to find other ways to keep in touch.
It would do neither of us any good to keep the other in the dark.
That was a problem for later, though.
I finished off the eggs and turned off the burner. "Come on, baby," I sighed softly as I nudged him gently. His mouth popped off my shoulder, and his face buried in my neck before I could move.
"No," he said.
I chuckled, which shook us both, and he pulled back, his nose wrinkling.
"Owies," he said, his mind obviously in Little mode.
I pressed a kiss to his nose—the only place he could have possibly been hurt with that movement—and then plated up the eggs. I stuck a bagel in the toaster, which wound up being the thing to make his eyes fly open.
He gasped, covering his mouth. "Daddy," he whispered behind his palm.
I smirked, leaning my hip on the counter next to the toaster. I held my arms wide, motioning for him to come forward. He shook his head and backed away.
"Now there's no need for all of that," I told him. "I already found your secret stash, and I'm not judging you one bit. It is excessive to have that many bagels, especially when they expire, though. At least freeze some."
His shock morphed into confusion as his hands drifted down to his sides.
I took in his outfit from head to toe and smiled to myself, noting that they were the pajamas I'd gifted him.
I had plans for another set, but it would take a bit of maneuvering to get those ready.
It wasn't every day I custom-ordered clothing to size.
That made it more complicated than simply pressing an order button online.
I shook my head to get rid of the thought. No need to spoil the surprise.
The toaster popped up before I could move over to comfort him, so I pulled the two pieces out and dropped them on the plate.
"Butter or cream cheese?" I asked, since he had both in the refrigerator.
"One of each," he admitted.
His expression still told me he had no clue what to make of my lack of teasing or judgment.
I knew it would take more time for my boy to understand that I wouldn't find anything he did outlandish.
He was perfect for me in every single possible way imaginable.
There wouldn't be anything he could say that would send me running.
In fact, he was probably going to have to push me away when he needed space.
I finished dressing his bagels and then my own before taking the plates over to the small table he had. I set them down, then pulled our chairs close together.
"Come on, baby," I said, patting the seat beside me. "We need to eat."
He eased into the spot, looking from the plate to me and then back. His gaze turned next to the door I knew held all the bagels. He bit his lip as his hands wrung together.
"You don't think it's weird?" he asked, voice turning slightly smaller.
I took a fork and stabbed at the eggs on his plate, lifting them to his lips.
I shook my head as I answered. "No, I don't. Is it strange that you like to regress, or that I like being your daddy?
Is it strange that you prefer soft things, or the fact that I basically uprooted my life, moved here, and convinced you to take me as a client when I also wanted to get in your pants? "
My boy's jaw dropped.
I chuckled as I tugged him closer. The distance between us was far too great, even though our knees were touching and our bodies aligned. When he curled forward, I met him most of the way, until we were close enough that I could feel his breath ghost against my lips.
"Daddy is only teasing about that last part," I noted.
"But even if I wasn't, the point of my long-winded words is that it's only strange if you declare it so.
We don't care what others think, nor do we let their judgment stop us from enjoying life.
If you want that many bagels in your cabinet, then by all means, do so.
We are just going to have to get creative with all the things we do with them, which I've already outlined. I can come up with more plans."
He giggled, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my lips. I knew it was meant to be quick. But the second he touched me, I lit up with need. The heat that swelled through me could have powered fucking rocket ships with how potent it was.
I released his hands to reach up and cup his face. My palms held him steady as I devoured his mouth, sucking and licking, probing every inch of him. Because how could I not when my boy was there and eager? When he was so pliant in the way that I loved?
I stroked along his beard, which was slightly longer than he usually kept it—no doubt from missing his morning trim—and tugged a bit at the length. He gasped, giving me even more space to taste him.
Getting lost in him meant it took me a minute to pull away. When I did, my boy was panting, eyes wide, pupils blown.
"Daddy," he whimpered, his hands moving to cover his solid length, which was more than obvious now that we'd started kissing.
I tilted my head, glancing from his crotch to mine. "What do you say we take a shower, and I'll take care of both of these for us?"
He was nodding before I even finished the sentence. His trust was intoxicating.
In the bathroom, our shower took longer than necessary. Granted, I wasn't going to leave my boy hanging, and since my desire was equal to his, it gave me plenty of motivation to draw it out.
Besides, everyone knew the best way to start the day was with an orgasm. Or two. Or three, depending on who you are.
My boy managed two, thanks to a few well-placed fingers and my mouth.
Then he was out and dried off, his waist wrapped in a towel that was almost too small for him.
I frowned at it, annoyed that he didn't have anything to properly clothe his thick, luscious body.
I made a mental note to invest in more towels for him, along with the finishing measurements I needed for his pajamas.
With a towel wrapped around my waist, I moved him over towards the sink.
"Daddy?" he asked, his gaze curious.
"Your beard is a little long right now, baby. Do you want me to take care of that for you?"
His mouth dropped open. No sound came out, and I couldn't tell for a moment if it was a positive or negative reaction.
Before I could finish my thought, he nodded quickly and then reached over for the drawer where he kept his clippers.
He handed them over to me and then looked around like he was searching for somewhere to sit down.
I chuckled, then pointed to the countertop. "Hop up there. I'll take care of you."
He eased his body up onto the countertop.
I could tell he was nervous. His anxious energy flitted around us, likely from distrust in the sturdiness of the cabinetry.
Yet another thing I wanted to check on for him.
I didn't want my boy thinking he needed to lose even a pound; not when he was so perfect already.
But his worries were warranted, and I would do my damnedest to make sure every single inch of this house was built for him.
Because in truth, this was where I hoped we would spend our life together.
Sure, I'd bought the place for me and Pops to have, but I didn't intend to live with my father forever.
He could use the space himself to do as he pleased and have all his friends over.
I wanted a life with Grizzly, and that entailed living together. If he would have me, of course.
I pushed the thoughts away and went about carefully trimming his beard until it was about the length I had seen when I first met him.
It wasn't much, but the precision with which I worked made the process a little longer.
I almost regretted doing it post-shower since the hairs went everywhere over the both of us, but we could always step back in to rinse off if need be.
The shower had been more of an excuse to get frisky than anything else.
When I was done, I ran my hands over his beard and his cheeks, which were rosy.
"My precious Grizzly," I murmured.
If he heard the emotion in my tone, my boy didn't comment on it. Instead, he turned to look in the mirror, his eyes going wide once he saw what I'd done.
"How did you—" he motioned to his face.
I shrugged at his reflection in the mirror. "Because I pay attention to you. Because every piece of you is worth observing and noting. And because I've been far too obsessed with you for longer than is acceptable to admit at this point." I paused. "So yeah, this was nothing."
He hummed, turning back to face me. His arms went up like he wanted me to lift him, and his legs kicked out happily.
"Cleaaaannnnn," he sang out.
I chuckled as I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him off the counter until he was standing. Then I dropped our towels and put us right back where we started.
It was the perfect start to what I hoped to be a perfect day.