I inclined my head.
“That’s what my Daddy needs,” he said. “He needs a partner. Someone who will share his pillow, someone who will be his rock sometimes, ’cause Daddies get tired too.”
I withdrew my hand from his stomach and cupped his cheek, and I pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’re a sweet, selfless, smart young man, Camden.”
Of course he got stuck on the single word that bothered him, and he scowled at me. “I’m a boy.”
I did my best to suppress my amusement. “A sweet, selfless, smart little boy.”
“That’s much better.” He smiled happily and cuddled up against me. “You smell like sunscreen.”
“Imagine that,” I chuckled. “You know, you’re a little too good at turning me on to the point where I almost attack, and then distracting me with something you say that just makes me wanna hug the crap outta you.”
He burst out in a giggle fit that made my heart fucking soar. That sound—I couldn’t describe what it did to me, only that breaths came easier and it was impossible not to smile at him.
“Daddy says I have that effect,” he laughed. “That’s the good thing about active safewords. It’s always playtime, but it’s also always okay to say red.”
I was curious about that. After reaching behind me, I took a sip of my coffee before I dove into the next topic. “So the safewords aren’t reserved for special times. It’s just a replacement word for no.”
He nodded. “Eggsackly. I dated someone who introduced me to BDSM before I met Daddy, and that guy wasn’t good for me. He turned my safeword into something monumental, and it made me hesitate to use it. So when Daddy and I started exploring with kink, he helped me break that habit by, um, what’s the word… Like, he made it easier for me to say it?”
“He destigmatized it for you,” I supplied.
“Yes. That. Safewords are suppost’a be easy to say,” he said. “Before, with that other guy, I felt guilty when I wanted to say red because he’d made it such a big deal.”
That was interesting to me. I’d read about safewords before, and I’d gotten the impression they were a big deal. But I liked the way Camden and August used them. The levity was still there, using a safeword still meant business, but they’d removed the bad associations that could come with it. The word didn’t have to be linked to near-panic or fear. It could just mean a very firm no in a relationship where words like no and stop otherwise meant please fucking continue.
“I like learning about your lifestyle.” I poked his belly. “And thanks for reminding this horny bastard that you’re always up for grabs.”
He snickered. “I worried you weren’t gonna take the hint.”
I grinned and dipped down to blow a raspberry against his cheek.
“Eeep!” He tried to bat me away.
Unfortunately for him, since he was clearly in a playin’ mood, I had one more question.
“But you’re not always up for grabs, are you? You have your nonsexual moments too.”
He huffed a little. “Yeah, good luck with that, Sir. I don’t understand myself all the time, and I don’t know how Daddy manages to read me so well.” He scratched his nose and squinted. “I mean, he asks sometimes. And he says I have some tells that let him know I’ve regressed deeper.”
“What kind of tells?”
A faint blush bled across his cheeks that instantly had my attention.
“When I’m really little, I like to nurse from his thing,” he admitted and buried his face against my neck. I swallowed hard. “He can be watching a game in the TV room, and I’ll come in and ask if I can nurse and get Daddy’s special milk. Then he’ll know.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
That didn’t sound nonsexual to me. At all.
“You call that nonsexual?” I had to clear my throat. Not to mention adjust my cock that was waking up.
“It is to me,” he chuckled. “It’s just comforting—a way to connect with Daddy and spend time with him. Which frustrates him, cuz I just lie there with my head in his lap and suckle. So he gets horny but can’t, you know, thrust. And sometimes, I stop wanting it before he comes.”
Yeah, I could feel the frustration seeping into me, and it hadn’t even happened to me.
“I’ll also ask him to cut up my food more when I’m nonsexual,” he added. “I don’t like crusts on my toast. And I walk around with my stuffies more. I love stuffies. I have thirty-six of them.”
Could he get any more adorable? Camden was waking up a side of me I hadn’t known existed. To this extent, anyway. My friends and family knew I was a caregiver, but this urge to protect and nurture was bringing things to a whole new level.
I wanted to buy Camden a stuffed animal.