Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Theo
We took our time in the shower. The warm, sticky heat had us turning down the temperature of the water, and the cool spray sluiced over our bodies.
Shea’s neck and ribcage were decorated with tiny red splotches where I’d spent the night nibbling my way across his skin.
In that shower, I would do it again. He’d sigh and tip his head to the side, exposing more skin for me to taste.
I dropped the washcloth, my hands curling around his hips. Shea braced himself on the tile in front of him, widening his legs and arching his ass toward me. He ground against my crotch, drawing a burst of heat between my thighs. “Christ, Shea,” I murmured.
He hummed. “Keep saying my name like that.”
I’d have loved to, but I couldn’t. I was too busy sucking a bruise to his neck, feeling the skin heat beneath my tongue.
I was going to mark this man as mine in every way I could.
My mouth worked his neck, my right hand sliding around his hip and dipping between his legs.
Hot, wet arousal fought the cool temperature of the water raining down on us. “You’re absolutely insatiable, Shea.”
The only response I got was a moan, but I wasn’t complaining. I could match Shea’s libido and then some. My brief stint on testosterone was enough to make me entirely feral. I’d fuck anything consenting, and anyone or anything that prevented me from doing so would face my wrath.
I’d never let Shea feel the frustration of not having an orgasm—ever.
He’d never want for anything; not as long as I was around.
He panted as I stroked his engorged T-dick, feeling it swell with his climax beneath my fingertips.
His hips rocked into my palm, chasing that high.
I could practically feel his pulse thumping under his skin, racing with the building pleasure inside of him.
“Da…” Shea’s head dropped between his shoulders, forehead resting against the cool tile wall.
I pulled off his neck with an audible pop, delighted with the red mark left behind. “I know, little one. Can you come for me?”
He cried out through his release, the sound reverberating off the walls.
I praised him, working him through the waves of pleasure that sent shivers through his body.
He trembled in my arms and collapsed onto my chest when his legs would no longer hold him upright.
“Such a good boy…” I guided him under the spray, cleaning him one more time to rinse away the evidence of what we’d done.
Shea’s breathing came down, and his head rested against my shoulder. I peered down his chest, watching it rise and fall as the suds slid down his body and swirled down the drain. His fingers made their way back to his mouth, his safe space just out of reach.
“Do you want to be Little for a while?” I only received a nod in response, which meant he was regressing to little Little. I wasn’t going to complain. It gave me a reason to take care of him for the day, to not let him out of my sight. “Let’s get you dressed, baby.”
Shea moved pliantly out of the shower and let me dry him off, all the while with those two fingers in his mouth. He didn’t say a word—he didn’t need to. I knew what he needed.
Das always knew.
He giggled when I lifted him onto the changing table and let him lay down.
“Diaper or training pants today?” I asked, holding up the two options for him.
He went with the former, and I spread the antibiotic on his thighs before working the padded material under his butt.
When his skin met the cotton, he let out a sigh, like being diapered brought him a comfort he desperately needed.
I fastened up the tapes, then left the room briefly to grab his T-shirt and jean shorts.
We stayed quiet as I dressed him, neither of us having anything to say.
Shea watched my hands wiggle the denim up his hips and fasten it snug over his diaper.
I focused on the soft rise and fall of his chest, the quiet suckling coming from his fingers in his mouth.
My pace was unhurried, enjoying taking care of my boy.
I’d never had a full time Little before, never performed more than a scene with someone.
Some of them would repeat, but that’s all they were.
The scene would end, or something would happen to bring them out of their regression and we would go our separate ways.
It never bothered me to keep things that way. I could have a bit of fun, and it was never anyone’s fault but I would lose interest after the fun was over. I didn’t have any doubt that they’d have been a great partner, but they weren’t the one I wanted.
That one was right in front of me and with the reminder of where we were, came the crushing realization that our time together was limited—yet again. We only had this week together, and then he’d go back to Tennessee.
“What’s wrong, Da?” Shea garbled around his fingers. For him to speak must have meant that my emotions were written all over my face.
I shook my head and schooled my features, plastering a smile on my face—which wasn’t hard when I looked into those sparkling eyes of his. “Nothing, sweetheart.” Shea read right through my bullshit but thankfully, his regression won out. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
That was when I switched his fingers for a pacifier, which he happily accepted in favor of sliding his hand into mine, hardly letting go so I could dress myself.
The difficulty left me in the same cutoffs and sports bra from the first night and judging by the way Shea’s eyes raked over my body, he approved.
His hand drifted between his legs, squidging the front of his diaper.
Smiling, I snatched his hand away. “Food, little one,” I scolded.
Unwilling to let go of his soother to argue, Shea only expressed his disdain for the idea of food over sex by narrowing his eyes—I could feel his glare burning a hole in my back the entire walk across camp.
Insecurity didn’t strike until we entered the dining hall.
More than one person turned to look as I led Shea through the food line to get his breakfast. Naturally, since I rarely exposed more than my legs With both of Shea’s hands on his tray, I took the opportunity to wrap my arm around my stomach.
This was the first time during camp I’d forgone my binder during the day.
The sports bra compressed some, but not entirely, and it left me feeling exposed.
Sure, I’d dressed femme at the club from time to time but this was different. Not everyone here attended the club.
Not everyone here had ever seen me in such little clothing.
I snapped out of it when Shea turned around, attempting to glare at me but only looking even more adorable with his bright blue pacifier still in his mouth.
His brows were furrowed, and his attention dropped to where I covered myself.
Apparently deciding that he wasn’t going to put up with it, he took my left hand and pried it away, linking his fingers through mine to prevent me from hiding myself again.
His knowledge of gender dysphoria knew my next move before I made it, and he shoved a juice bottle in my right hand to render that one out of commission as well.
“Brat,” I murmured. Shea only peered over his shoulder, the tease and sparkle in his eyes enough for me to not be angry with him.
He was right—I didn’t need to hide myself.
Not here. Playhouse had been a safe place for so many people.
It was nothing if it wasn’t mine as well.
I was the one who put in the “no judgement” rule for this place.
I didn’t have any reason to be self-conscious or insecure with these people.
Shea hauled me across the room and tugged me into a seat across from Tyler, who looked like he’d seen better days—and hadn’t seen a bed last night.
“Shea might be a bit quiet today,” I told him. “He’s feeling smaller than usual.”
“That’s just fine with me,” Tyler replied, paling as if the mere sight of Shea’s breakfast was going to make him sick.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Go ahead, Tyler,” Jordan’s voice said from behind me. “Tell them why you look like death warmed over.”
That brought some color to his face, but not much. He also didn’t speak, leaving Jordan to fill in the blanks. Though as he took the seat next to Tyler, the items he set in front of the boy explained everything: Gatorade, crackers, and a bottle of Tylenol. “Oh, someone’s hanging.”
Tyler groaned and dropped his head to the table.
“That’s what happens when you play Never Have I Ever and then decide to go skinny dipping.”
I choked on my next mouthful of coffee. Shea, oblivious to anything we were talking about, picked at his breakfast with his free hand tightly holding onto mine.
With one hand down, he struggled to pick apart his chocolate croissant, only succeeding in coating his fingers in chocolate.
Instinctively, I took it in my free hand and offered him a bite.
He let out a contented hum and settled into my side.
I raised my brow at Tyler, words on the tip of my tongue but he wasn’t my boy to scold.
“Believe me,” he groaned. “I don’t need any more punishment. This headache is enough.”
“You’ll pray for that headache by the time I’m finished with you,” Jordan snarled, shoving the drink and painkillers in his direction.
“This is exactly why I don’t drink,” Shea murmured, so softly that Jordan and Tyler hadn’t even registered that he spoke.
“You don’t?” I only got a shake of his head in response. “Would it bother you if I did?”
A tender smile, and another shake. “No,” he said softly. “I’ve tried it, and I just don’t like being drunk. I don’t mind if others do it.”
Tyler gagged then, clapping a hand over his mouth and rushing away from the table. Jordan sighed, collected their things from the table, and trudged after him, tossing a knowing look at me over his shoulder. “I think Tyler might be right there with you after this.”
Shea only giggled. I nudged his plate a little closer and offered him another bite from his pastry, which he happily accepted.
He tipped the plate my way in a silent offer, but I shook my head and offered him a strawberry instead.
He did his best to glare, but he was just too damn adorable.
I wasn’t a breakfast person, and the sight of Shea’s food alone churned my stomach; I was just fine with my coffee.
And when I took a sip and grimaced at the bitter, too dark drink, Shea offered me the rest of his milk, then seemed to magically produce a handful of sugar packets and drop them on the table.
I smiled as I doctored up my coffee and Shea returned to his breakfast, one hand possessively on my thigh. He stroked the skin there with his thumb, slipping beneath the hem of my shorts. I let out a heavy breath. How was I supposed to go back to not having him in my life?
How was I supposed to continue dating now that I’d had him? What do you mean I have to teach someone else how I take my coffee? Or why I feel exposed without a binder in the morning but not at night? The simple thought of even attempting to date someone else brought tears to my eyes.
But then a whimper and a squeeze to my thigh caught my attention. Looking over at my boy, I blinked away the water in my eyes. “I’m fine, sweetheart.”
The furrow of his brows told me he didn’t buy it, but he also didn’t argue. I wrapped my hand around Shea’s waist and tugged him close. I needed to figure out how to keep this boy in my life.
I was determined.