Page 26 of Bear’s House

He pinched my cheek.

"You're going to be my boy forever, and you are never too old for me to take your temperature however I see fit. Now move along — don't make me say it twice, or I'll have to take it more than once to make sure the reading is accurate."

"Fine, fine, I'm going," I said, defeated.

I pushed my flannel pants down. Daddy's eyes went straight to my underwear and his brow furrowed.

"What is this, Sawyer?"

He was pointing at my boxers. I felt a jolt, because we did in fact have a clear house rule — boys wore diapers, little-boy underwear, or plain white briefs. No boxers, no adult underwear.

"It's because…" I started.

"Do you think you're too grown up to wear what I tell you to wear?" he asked.

"No, Sir," I said, trying very hard to keep a straight face.

"You know what this means," he said. "I'm going to warm your backside once you're better. And take those off and put your white ones on."

"But Sir, I'm basically an adult…"

"Who decides that here?" he said, and I bit the inside of my cheek.

"You do."

"No more arguing. Take them off. Or I can double the punishment — your choice."

I stepped out of them and he took them.

"I'm going to check your drawer," he added. "If you've been buying more unauthorized pairs without my knowledge…"

I gave him my most innocent look. The truth was I had about twenty pairs in there. It had been a long time since he'd done an inspection. I'd bought them ages ago specifically to be bratty about it, and then genuinely forgotten the rule and just kept wearing them normally.

"What if I hand over all my pairs? Does that earn me any forgiveness?"

"It earns you forgiveness," he said. "Not a clean slate. Do you think that’s fair?"

I nodded, attempting to look very repentant.

He wrinkled his nose at me, faintly amused.

"Now — the thermometer."

I knelt on the couch with my back to him. I was already very hard, but he didn't comment on it — which I considered a minor miracle, because one of our favorite games was him making pointed observations about that exact situation while telling me off about something else. He applied lubricant to the tip of the digital thermometer, then worked it in slowly and held it carefully in place. I groaned, eyes closing, completely unable to help myself.

"Daddy," I said, pained.

"Just checking your temperature, Soy," he said, in the voice of someone being entirely reasonable.

He kept one hand steady at my hip while we waited for the thermometer to beep, and I buried my face in my arms.

"Good boy," he said.

A moment later the thermometer beeped. He removed it and checked the display.

"Little bit of a fever. You're staying quiet for the rest of the day." He paused. "You've escaped a spanking — you're the luckiest boy alive."

"Daddy," I said, turning around and making my situation rather obvious, "could you maybe…"