by Maren Smith
“All good!” I called back. Hopefully he couldn’t hear me doing a little happy dance as I headed back to my desk. After my heart had momentarily stopped when I thought I’d broken his pacifier, I couldn’t help the happiness I felt when I’d discovered it was fine. I’d wiggled with happiness as I sat down, and then laughed at myself. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d wiggled with anything, much less happiness. I was just so glad I was going to be able to give Ryder what he wanted. I loved making my boy happy.
I dropped the screwdriver I’d been using to pry the button from the second pacifier. I’d spent the previous two weeks deciding if Ryder was a little, but that moment was the first time I’d actually thought of him as my boy. Did that make me his Daddy? That was probably the dumbest question I’d ever asked myself. In an attempt to see if Ryder had little tendencies, I’d become a Daddy to him. My life had revolved around him for the last decade, but over the last two weeks, things like getting him to bed at a decent hour, paying even more attention to what he was and wasn’t saying, and making sure he had enough downtime had become second nature to me. Whether we knew it or not, Ryder had become Daddy’s boy. Now, how did I tell Ryder?
Fifteen minutes later, I’d managed to remove the old, broken nipple from Ryder’s pacifier and replace it with the new, bigger one. I was just putting the pacifier back together when Ryder appeared in front of the desk. “What’re you doing?”
I startled slightly, surprised to find him standing so close to me as he studied my hands. “Fixing your pacifier.”
He took a seat in the chair across from my desk and watched me closely. I pressed the pieces firmly until I heard them click into place. Studying the edges, I was proud of myself, aside from the bigger nipple, it was impossible to tell it had gone through major surgery. “Done!” I announced as I handed it back to him.
Ryder’s entire body lit up when he had it back. “Thank you,” he whispered almost reverently. The swell of pride I felt knowing I’d made a difference left me feeling as happy as he looked.
“Any time, Ry.”
Watching my six-foot-two-inch, NFL football playing husband nearly skip out of my office had me stifling a laugh. He was too cute. I leaned back in my chair and debated about whether he’d like some of the cute clothes I’d seen the boys online wearing. I could imagine him in a pair of childish shorts and a short-sleeved shirt as easily as I could the pair of track pants and Under Armor shirt he was wearing. There wasn’t time to think about the other things I could see him with—a sippy cup while playing with toys in the living room, a bottle as he settled down for the night, a blankie to cuddle while we watched TV. Okay, I didn’t need more time to think about it. I’d clearly thought about it enough.
“Ry, babe, we need to get going!” The fact that I instinctively knew Ryder would be in the game room instead of getting dressed made a lot more sense now that I was seeing him through a different lens. He walked out of the game room ten seconds later, grumbling about having to stop playing his game. “You could come to the stadium later if you’d like.”
He shook his head. “No, I’ll get ready to go.”
I smirked as I followed him up the steps, listening to him mutter about how it wasn’t fair the entire time. In our room, I stripped out of the sweats I’d been wearing for most of the day and started sliding on my suit. I rolled my eyes every time I did this because I’d be putting slacks and a polo on when I got to the field, only to change back into the suit after the game to go home. But the look Ryder gave me as I got dressed made wearing the suit worth it. He definitely had a thing for me in a suit, and he’d stopped pouting as I’d walked into our closet and picked out a shirt and tie.
“Come on, babe. Time to get dressed,” I said as I exited the closet. My words cut off suddenly when I caught him staring at me, his pacifier between his lips, his eyes raking over my shirtless torso. He’d lost his sweats while I’d picked out clothes for us and was sitting cross-legged on the bed in just his underwear and a workout shirt.
Why did I find him sitting on the bed with a pacifier in his mouth so sexy? Big green eyes blown wide with desire, stared back at me, and I melted into a puddle of goo. My stomach flipped, my cock hardened, and my heart rate picked up. There was something innocent, sexy, and beautiful about my husband… even with his pacifier. Actually, it was because of it. Confident but relaxed, full of desire but content. That was it. He was happy and at ease a few hours before a game when he’d normally be keyed up and anxious. That pacifier was important to him, and I’d been able to give him that happiness.
I draped our suits over the edge of the bed and went to Ryder’s side, pulling him into a hug and kissing his cheek just beside his pacifier. “You’re beautiful, baby.” His cheeks flushed, but he didn’t let the pacifier go. “Let’s get you dressed.” I tried not to react when I played my words back. Accepting that I’d started to see Ryder as my boy had me saying things I’d never said before. I knew if I reacted or showed surprise, Ryder would laugh me out of the room. Refusing to show my thoughts and keeping my face and eyes soft as though I did this all the time, Ryder couldn’t seem to figure out if he should protest or not.
Finally the pacifier fell from his lips. “Dressed?”
Snuggles were normal. Me making dinner was normal. Ryder playing games was normal. Even me putting my foot down to tell him to go to bed was normal. Me dressing him was not normal, and I couldn’t even pretend that it was. I reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it up gently. I’d made it almost to his arm pits before he tentatively raised his arms and allowed me to pull the shirt the rest of the way off.
I picked up the pacifier and teased it at his lips, not at all surprised when he opened willingly and began to suck. His eyes were filled with questions, but his body was relaxed. We’d never had the need for safewords before, so I would have stopped if he’d so much as told me he could do it himself. Except, he didn’t resist me. Even as I pulled an undershirt over his head, then guided his arms into a white dress shirt and buttoned it up.
There was no way we’d be on time with me dressing Ryder, but ten minutes wasn’t going to make or break our careers, and Ryder seemed content to allow me to dress him. Even my knee seemed to crave the ability to help him because it didn’t pop or strain as I crouched down to feed his legs into his pants. Ryder stood as I did, allowing me to pull his pants over his thighs and his tight bubble butt. He didn’t stop me from tucking in his shirt or fastening the button of his pants and zipping them closed. Instead, Ryder stood there, looking bashful but not uncomfortable while I made sure he was dressed for the game. By the time I had him dressed, I wished I could undress him and take him to bed. My cock was achingly hard, and his was no better, tucked securely in his suit pants.
Placing my hands on either side of his face and wrapping my fingers around the back of his head, I pulled his face downward and kissed his forehead. “Can you get your socks and shoes on, or do you want me to?” I’d chosen my words carefully. I wanted to make sure he knew I was happy to help.
A smile tried to escape from around his pacifier as he shook his head. His words were slurred despite moving the pacifier to the side. “I can do it. Get dressed.”
I rushed about the room getting myself ready and finding my own socks and shoes. Just before we left the room, I pulled Ryder’s pacifier from his lips and set it on the dresser by the door. “It will be here when we get home.”
His cheeks filled with color, but he nodded. “Thanks again for fixing it. I had no idea you could do that.”
I patted his ass. “I only found out I could a few days ago. I’m really glad it worked. I was definitely nervous about doing it. Now, we’d better get to work.”
Chapter Six
Ryder
“Who let me drink so much?” I moaned as Malcolm directed me toward our bedroom.
“Baby, that was all you.”
I pouted but I wasn’t sure why. It felt like it was expected of me, so that’s what I did. “Why d
idn’t you stop me?” Complaining sounded like a good idea. I wasn’t wasted, but I had definitely had more to drink at the bar than I’d intended. Way more than I normally did. It was too easy to get wrapped up in the celebration going on around me at the bar. We were the odds-on favorite to win the Super Bowl after finishing the preseason undefeated and then Jax had come out during the press conference after the game. We were a group of largely twenty-somethings who didn’t normally need a reason to celebrate, but after the night we had reason to celebrate. The bar we’d descended upon had been accommodating, opening an upper deck for our group and allowing us to party uninterrupted. The single guys eventually filtered down to the main bar, but I’d stayed upstairs with Malcolm and the rest of the guys who were attached in one way or another.
Malcolm had stayed close, reminding me to take it easy, and often keeping an arm over my shoulder. I wasn’t a loud or surly drunk; I tended to become giggly and lazy, so I had no problem with my husband keeping me close. What I hadn’t liked was that when it was finally time to leave, Malcolm had needed to hold my hand as we walked down the steps.
“If you remember correctly,” Malcolm began as he pulled me close, “I reminded you to take it easy a number of times.” He kissed my forehead, then my nose, then my mouth, before he took my hand and led me up the steps and into our bedroom. It wasn’t fair that he wasn’t even buzzed and I was just this side of drunk. “Come on, Ry, out of the suit.”
I grumbled while trying to shimmy out of my tailored suit coat. With how uncoordinated my movements were, no one would believe that I’d scored two touchdowns after twenty-five and thirty-five-yard passes respectively. I got my coat down to my elbows before I got tangled in it.
“Ry.” Malcolm couldn’t hide his amusement at my situation. “Ry, baby. Stop. Stop before you hurt yourself. I don’t think anyone would believe me if I tried to tell them that you got hurt taking your coat off.” His smile was warm, and while I’d been struggling to get my coat halfway off, he’d managed to remove his coat and tie and get his shirt unbuttoned.
I huffed and stopped squirming as I watched Malcolm approach me with open arms. “Let’s get this coat off you, then we’ll get you into the bathroom so you can get ready for bed.”
He took my coat in his hand and freed my arms. Feeling particularly goofy thanks to the amount of beer I’d consumed, I smirked at him as he began working the buttons on my shirt open. “You know, you’re not my Daddy. You can’t tell me what to do.”
Even drunk, the heat that flared in Malcolm’s eyes was impossible to miss. “I don’t think you’d mind if I was your Daddy though.”
I was way too drunk to process that sentence. “Huh?”
He finished unbuttoning my shirt and pulled it free of my pants, tossing it toward the laundry basket before he started on my pants. Malcolm didn’t answer until my pants had been removed as well and I was standing in the middle of our room in my underwear and a pair of socks. He swallowed hard as he searched my eyes for something. He reached up and ran his thumb across my cheek while he worried his lip between his teeth, like he wasn’t quite sure what to say. “I think you’d thrive with a Daddy who made decisions for you.”
Yup, too drunk. “Um, that would be a hard no. You’ve met my dad. He nearly set the house on fire last year when he thought melting chocolate in the microwave was a good idea. When the bowl caught fire, he ran through the house to throw it outside instead of running water over it in the sink. His decision-making skills are questionable at best. There’s no way I need his help.”
Malcolm barked out a surprised laugh. “Oh god, no, Ry, not a dad.” He shuddered. “And definitely not your dad. Baby, I think you’d do well with a Daddy.”
I was so confused. “Malcolm, I don’t want another man in my life.” Why would I want someone else when I had the perfect man right in front of me? Besides that would be really hard to explain at events. How would I explain I had a husband and a Daddy?
Now it was Malcom’s turn to look confused. Maybe that thought hadn’t stayed fully in my head. He blinked at me, and his mouth opened and closed a few times. I knew I wasn’t sober, but I didn’t think I was drunk enough to be hearing things. Besides, I didn’t think hallucinations happened with drinking. “Ry, babe. I’m not talking about adding a third to our relationship.”
I threw my hands in the air in frustration then lost my balance. “You’re talking in circles!” I complained as I fell onto the bed.
Malcolm crouched between my legs, resting his forearms on my knees. “Baby, I’m talking about a Daddy Dom. I-I think it would work well for both of us.”
“Who’s a Daddy Dom? You need one? I need one? Who needs a Daddy?”
Malcolm snorted. “Oh, Ry… Maybe I should have waited until you were sober.”
I scratched at my beard. “Maybe you should say what you mean and then I’d understand.”
Malcolm kissed my knuckles. “What do you know about Daddy Doms?” He guided me to the edge of the bed and sat me down so he could remove my socks.
“Dammit, Mal. I’m drunk,” I grumbled as I tried to remember what I’d heard about Daddies in the past. Locker rooms were full of interesting conversations and with subscription TV channels, I’d seen and heard a lot. “They are somewhere on the BDSM spectrum. They are Doms, but not like the tie you up and whip you kind.”
“Well, I guess it would depend on what the boy wanted… but I’m not really talking about Daddies in that sense. I’m thinking of Daddies and their boys.” He hesitated a moment before he added. “Their little boys.”
I stared at him. Maybe he was right. Maybe I shouldn’t be having this conversation with him while I was drunk. In the morning it would be easier to process what he was saying to me. I groped under my pillow for my pacifier when his words hit me. Daddies and their little boys. “Me? Your little boy? You as a Daddy?” My eyes were so wide it was possible they’d fall out.
Malcolm took a seat against the headboard, his shirt open and his rippling muscles on full display. No one should look that good after a day of work and a night of drinking. He patted the spot between his legs and my body reacted instinctively, crawling rather clumsily up the bed and situating myself with my back against his chest. Malcolm’s hand brushed hair off my forehead, then came to rest just below my throat. “Ry, I’ve always loved your snuggles.” He kissed my forehead like it would help reinforce his words, and it did. Malcolm was the best snuggler. Even before we were dating, he used to sit on my bed and let me curl up with him while we watched film.
“I like taking care of you. I love making you happy. I like when I feel like you need me. When you curl up with me. When you let me tuck you in. I enjoy those moments. Over the last few weeks, I’ve been trying to picture you as my boy, and I can see it so clearly. It shocked me at first. But when I fixed your pacifier today, I felt invincible.”
“You really didn’t have to fix it, you know.”
Malcolm held me a little tighter. “I know I didn’t have to, Ry. I wanted to. I enjoyed it. It meant something to you, therefore, it meant something to me.”
Why did he have to make that sound so logical? Part of me thought it would have been easier if he’d been freaked out about it and hadn’t been accepting. Yet he was, and I was feeling all sorts of crazy emotions. Though some of those emotions could have something to do with the amount of alcohol in my system at the moment.
“I like caring for you. Honestly, I think you like being cared for. For the last two weeks, I’ve been trying to figure out if you realize your little tendencies. Now that I know what they are, I see them clear as day.”
Little? I was six foot two and two hundred pounds. I couldn’t be a little. “You want to be, what? My Daddy?”
A deep blush stained Malcolm’s tan skin, and I felt my eyes go wide again. He really did want to be my Daddy. “What if I don’t like it?” Shit. That probably wasn’t the best first thought.
He ran his hands up and down my arms as he thought. “If you r
eally don’t like it, I’m not going to force you. Nothing will change. We’ll still snuggle, and you can still have your pacifier when you go to bed. I’m still going to be an open ear, and here to catch you when your life goes crazy.”
“What if you don’t like it?” Why were these questions coming out of my mouth? I should have been telling him no. I should have been saying that it sounded insane. But Malcolm was right, I liked it when he took charge. At first, it felt strange when he told me to go upstairs to take a nap before we left for the stadium, but by the time we’d get upstairs, I was exhausted. I felt safe when he pulled the blankets up around me and kissed my forehead. As much as I wanted to hate when he’d put my pacifier in my mouth and tell me to sleep, my eyes grew heavy and I was out in minutes.
“I really don’t think that will be a problem.” His answer drew my attention back to him. “I’ve thought about every possible scenario, and I can’t come up with one I wouldn’t enjoy with you.”
Why did he have to be so sweet? I felt sobriety tugging at me, and I couldn’t help but wonder how he saw things going. How would it even work? We were on the road frequently during the season. “My pacifier.”
“What about it?”
“What happens when we go on the road?”
Despite not being able to see his smile from my position, I could hear it in his voice. “It comes with us.”
“I don’t want them to know.”
“They won’t, Ry. We can keep it hidden. Baby, we share a room, remember?”
Oh, right. “So, how do you see this thing going? How will it be different from every day?”
I felt him shrug. “I figured I could take a little more control over your schedule. I found some cute coloring books and a few toys I thought you’d like. And I found some really cute clothes if you’re willing to try them.”
“Clothes?” My voice squeaked worse than it had during puberty.
“Some brightly colored pajamas and play clothes and some cute undies. I was also thinking about a sippy cup for playtime and a bottle for bedtime.”