Page 28 of Bear’s House

“Sit,” he told me, pointing at the closed toilet lid. I sat. My body ached everywhere. Daddy knelt in front of me, hands on my knees, and I looked at the top of his head, at the neat dark hair and the clean part on the left.

“You’ve had a rough week,” he said, and I nodded because my throat felt tight and I didn’t trust myself to speak. “And you’ve been carrying it by yourself. I don’t like that, Sawyer. Not one bit.”

“I know,” I said.

“I mean it. When you’re in trouble, you come to me. When you’re sick, you come to me. When you’re anxious, or stressed, or just having a bad day—” His hands moved from my knees up my thighs, thumbs pressing into the muscle. “—you come to me. That’s what I’m here for.”

“I’ll do better,” I said.

“You will.” He smiled. Not the wolf smile, not the one he used when he was about to punish me, but the one that was just for moments like this. “Clothes off, boy. Let’s get you in the water.”

I stood and pulled my shirt over my head. My hands went to the waistband of my white briefs — the ones he’d made me change into, the ones that actually fit the house rules — and I hesitated, because I was still hard and it was impossible to hide, and he saw me hesitate and laughed low in his throat.

“What did I tell you about sick boys?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“That you’d help,” I said.

“Exactly. Now stop stalling.”

I pushed my underwear down and stepped out of them. Daddy’s eyes tracked the movement, lingering on me, and I felt the heat in my face that had nothing to do with the steam. He reached for me. One hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling me forward, and the other found my hip and guided me toward the tub. I stepped in. The warm water made my skin prickle pleasantly, and I sank into it with a sound, my body going slack almost instantly, my shoulders dropping, my head tilting back against the curved porcelain edge.

“There you go,” Daddy said with pride in his voice. He rolled up his sleeves and sat on the stool beside the tub, one hand already reaching for the bottle of shampoo. “Lean forward.”

I did. His fingers worked into my hair, strong and careful, massaging my scalp in slow circles that made my eyes want to close. The shampoo smelled like cedar, and I breathed it in and let myself go limp under his hands, the way I only ever did for him.

“You’ve got the most stubborn hair,” he murmured, working a tangle loose with his thumbnail. “Always fighting me. Just like its owner.”

“I’m not stubborn,” I said, without opening my eyes.

“You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. And that’s saying something, considering I live with JJ.”

I laughed, and his fingers moved from my scalp down to the back of my neck, finding the knot of tension I’d been carrying since Monday and pressing into it with the exact right amount of pressure. I groaned.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Language.”

“Sorry, Daddy.”

He kept working. His thumbs traced the line of my spine between my shoulder blades, then outward along the muscles of my upper back, finding every sore spot. The water lapped at my chest. Bubbles clung to my skin, popping softly whenever I moved.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

“Good,” I said. “Really good.”

I opened my eyes. He was watching me, his expression serious, and I felt the familiar twist of guilt and gratitude that came with being known that well. His hands moved lower. Down my back, over the curve of my ass, and I shifted in the water, my cock hardening further against my thigh. He didn’t comment on it, but I felt his fingers pause for half a second, a little hitch in the rhythm that told me he’d noticed.

“Turn around,” he said. “Face me.”

I turned, water sloshing over the edge of the tub, and settled with my back against the far side, my knees drawn up. Daddy’s eyes were dark and steady on mine.

“You’ve been a very good boy today,” he said. His voice had dropped, the way it did when we shifted from caretaking into something else. “Taking your medicine. Resting. Being honest with me. I’m proud of you, Soy. Still feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m good, Daddy.”

“Good.”

His hand found my knee under the water. Traced up my thigh, slow, and I held my breath. When his fingers wrapped around my cock, I let the breath out in a long, shaking exhale, my head tipping back against the tub’s edge, my eyes closing.