Page 55 of Soft
My boy sat back fully, his shoulders straightening. "I've read some too. I didn't think of it that way, but I suppose the instinct is the same. The Omegas always wanted someone safe to nest with."
"They did.” Part of me hated that I’d pulled him out of his Little mind with the question. But I was more interested in seeing how he reacted to this new understanding.
"I pway now,” he said next.
Smiling, I waved my hand. “Play away, baby. You’re in charge.”
As Grizzly settled into his caretaking mode, I decided to get my Daddy act together. My boy was working up an appetite and would need to fill his tummy soon enough.
Snacks were a must.
I went over to the small refrigerator to check out the selection. There was enough in there to put together a plate of finger foods: apple slices, small pieces of cheese, a handful of gummy bears.
As I poured juice in a cup with a lid, I contemplated what my odds were as far as bottles went. Would he be open to the idea of me giving him one before bed? Along with that, I was reminded we needed to have a talk about diapers too. There were many different ways to regress. I still had to learn what it meant for my boy.
Grizzly was with the babies when I brought the plate over, sitting cross-legged in front of the nest, Wells in his lap. He watched me approach with a curious look.
My boy had never been truly spoiled. A travesty, really. His responses were so beautiful, I couldn’t imagine not wanting to take care of him all the time.
"Scoot over, baby," I instructed when I was close enough.
He shifted to make room, giving me space to settle beside him. I was close enough that our shoulders were touching.
I set the plate between us, and he reached for an apple slice. My hand landed on his, as I calmly said, "Let me.”
His eyes met mine, though he didn’t argue. Taking the silence as agreement, I picked up an apple slice. When I held it out to him, he opened his mouth, letting me feed him with an ease that undid me a little bit.
It took everything I had not to let my emotions show on my face. The point was him, not me. I could celebrate this moment later.
My boy chewed slowly. He savored each bite no matter what item I gave him. We quietly worked our way through the assortment for a while, just the two of us and the babies.
"Good?" I asked when he shook his head at another bite.
He nodded, slow. “Juice now, Daddy.”
Handing him the cup, I watched him slurp big gulps of the liquid. “Easy, baby. Don’t make yourself sick.”
At my words, he slowed a bit. When he’d had about half, he pulled it down and held it out.
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "I want to ask you something, and I want you to know there's no wrong answer."
Silence followed the outburst. He looked at me with wide eyes, though he didn’t stop me from forging ahead.
"Have you thought about ABDL? Diapers, that kind of thing?"
He remained quiet. I understood it was because he was considering the question. Not because I’d stepped out of line.
"I have," he said, his voice turning big again. "I don't think it's for me. It's not something that feels right. For me specifically. Some people love it. I just don't think I need it."
"That's totally okay, baby. I wanted to ask rather than assume. There's no pressure any direction."
He relaxed slightly. "There's one thing, though."
"Yeah?"
He looked at the plate rather than at me. "I really like the idea of bottles. Can we try?"
“Of course! I was actually considering making you a bottle later before bed while I was putting the food together.”
