Chapter Fourteen - Oscar

I t's not difficult to fall into a routine after that first visit to Ryan's place. While I'm working, I call, text and Facetime with him wherever possible, and on my weeks off, I drive to Denham and take up my role as his house-Daddy with pleasure. I fill his freezer with home cooked meals, though I do make an effort to take him on dates and spoil him as any good Daddy should, too.

In the privacy of his home, we also fall into a routine as Dom and Sub. Ryan craves the release and endorphins from regular discipline, and I love that he trusts me to meet his needs. It's not always spankings, either. As time moves on, we experiment with various toys like nipple clamps, floggers and whips, and I particularly enjoy edging him, adding to his frustration by introducing remote controlled vibrating plugs and chastity cages. I love making my Boy beg to come.

The guys at the station tease me about how smitten I am, and Ryan confesses that his colleague, Sarah, teases him just as much whenever she catches him smiling at his phone. It's nice to have that, I decide, even if I do threaten to kick Jim's ass every time I catch him making kissy faces at me. Back home, I'd come across a couple of guys who were also active in the BDSM scene, but there's something special about the group of men at this station.

It's like something out of a soap opera or cheesy LGBTQ romance novel: not the kind of set up you'd really expect to come across in real life. But every last one of the men I work with are somewhere on the queer and kinky spectrum, and they've become more of a family to me than the flesh and blood I left back in Texas.

Come to think of it, I should probably let my folks know I'm still alive out here, not that my pops would probably care either way. I was dead to him the moment I told him where he could shove his expectations of me. But Mama would care, even if our relationship is strained, courtesy of her being torn between wanting what's best for me and wanting to keep Pops happy.

When my phone rings in the middle of the day on a Thursday, four days away from my next week off, I frown when I see Ryan's name and smiling face on my screen. I take a moment to drink in the photo I took of him during our trip to Shell Beach, with the blue water sparkling behind him, contrasting with the white of the shells, the sunlight making his skin and smile even more vibrant. It's my favourite of all the photos we've taken together. But then I realise that he wouldn't be calling me on a workday if it wasn't important, and I hurry to press the green ‘accept call' button.

"Hello?" I ask cautiously, stepping away from the fence I'd been mending. I pull my hat from my head and use it to fan myself in the heat of the midday sun. "What's up, darlin'? Everything okay?"

"I…I'm being sued," he says, sounding like he's about five seconds from breaking down, and my frown deepens, both at the panic in his voice and at his words.

"Sued?" I repeat, dumbfounded. "For what? By whom?"

"For defamation by—hey, did you actually just use ‘whom' correctly? Honestly, who says ‘whom' in conversation? Been hanging out with the King of England or something?"

" Ryan ," I bring out my Daddy Dom voice, trying not to smile at his questions. "Focus. Defamation? Why?"

He's quiet for a moment before he sighs. "The guy from The Vault. He's suing me for making that police report. Apparently, it caused damage to his reputation or character or whatever when they came to question him."

"His behaviour caused damage to his character," I growl, outright scowling at the reminder of the son of a bitch in question. Flashbacks of finding Ryan terrified and calling out for help churn my gut. I wish I'd turned around and planted my fist in that evil asshole's face. Even more so now that he's found a new way to torture my beautiful Boy. "Honey, he's not gonna get far with that lawsuit."

"But…"

"He's not. You've got witnesses. I'm a witness—"

"You're also my boyfriend, so a lawyer would argue… something . Spousal privilege? I don't know, I didn't study law."

"Okay, but I wasn't dating you when we met, and even so, there's the security guy—"

"Who didn't see anything." His voice breaks and my heart goes with it. "It's just my word against his."

I want to climb into my truck and drive to him, to comfort him and reassure him that the asshole who assaulted him isn't going to win here. But I can't. He's three hours away and I have to work. Then again, I'm sure Rob would give me some time off if I explained the situation to him. Even if he hasn't seen Ryan since the night that he helped Dusty over the phone, he's got a soft spot for my Boy, too, as anyone with half a brain should.

"Darlin', breathe for me," I try to soothe him over the line, my heart squeezing painfully again as he sniffles.

"Daddy," he says plaintively, "I can't deal with this."

"Yes, you can, baby. But I'm here and I'll help however I can."

* * *

After getting off the call, having been able to calm Ryan down enough to put off my instinct to run to his side, I start scrolling through my phone for contacts I never thought I'd have to use. My thumb hovers over the name Trevor Hatton for half a second before I press the call button and bring my phone to my ear.

When Ryan gave me his kids' numbers, it was with the understanding that I'd only ever contact them in case of an emergency, like if something happened to my Boy.

This counts, right?

Ryan's sniffles echo in my brain, and I set my jaw. It counts, all right.

The line rings a couple of times before a pleasant voice answers, "Trevor speaking."

"Hi," I start, "my name's Oscar Williams. I'm—"

"Papa's boyfriend," he finishes for me. His tone turns sharper. "What's happened? You wouldn't be calling me out of the blue in the middle of a workday just to introduce yourself."

Smart guy, I think to myself, nodding. "Rye's fine. Well, physically speaking," I assure him. "But he's being sued for defamation by…" I trail off, suddenly unsure of myself and this decision I've made to enlist Ryan's stepson's help. Because the guy might be a lawyer, but he works in criminal law and, by doing this, there's a possibility I'm going to give away information Ryan might have been keeping to himself.

"Defamation?" Trevor sounds as bewildered as I felt, but after a beat he says, "Don't tell me it's got something to do with the lowlife he reported to the police before he left Brissie. I know Papa doesn't tell us everything, but that's the only thing I can think of…"

I knew that Ryan was close to the kids he'd helped raise —close enough that they call him ‘Papa', even as adults— but I didn't realise they shared quite so much information with each other. But it's a relief to learn as much, because it means my fear of accidentally outing Ryan's kinkier side to his kids has been allayed.

"Yeah, you got it in one," I tell him. "Rye's beside himself, and I'm pissed that this guy even thinks he has a case. I mean, as far as we knew, he hasn't even gone to trial or anythin' for the charges yet, assuming he's even been charged at all."

In fact, I only suggested the other day that Ryan should reach out to the police back in Brisbane to see what had happened with the report he'd filed. He just assumed that there hadn't been enough evidence, despite our witness statements, and that was that. At least filing a report means that there will be evidence of the guy's behaviour if someone else steps forward in the future, but I was secretly hoping the guy would pay for what he'd done to my Boy.

"Well, that is a criminal issue I can help with, but the defamation suit is a civil matter," he replies after a moment of contemplation. "Hold on a tic," I hear the distinct sound of typing and then he says, "Okay, so, I can't help with a civil suit, but I'm sending a friend from uni an email. Henry specialises in family law now, but this will still be in his wheelhouse. He's based on the Gold Coast, but he'll take meetings via Facetime and will happily travel when need be. Can I give him your number in case Papa's in surgery or can't get reception?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Excellent." There's more tip-tapping of keys in the background of the call, before Trevor says, "Okay, sent. And I'll call Papa later to let him know, too. I'm pretty sure Old Mate hasn't got a leg to stand on —Papa's got a defence under the argument of fair reporting at the very least— but Henry will be better equipped to go through it all with you guys."

I'm relieved to hear it, and I thank him profusely, adding, "I'm sorry that this is our first time talking. I really, uh, care about Ryan," I love him, actually, but I haven't told him yet, so it feels wrong to say it to anyone else first, "and you and your sister mean the world to him. And I'm sorry for your loss, too. Your dad sounds like he was a great man."

There's another extended moment of silence before Trevor says, "He was. And thank you. It sounds like you're a good guy, too." He pauses, and even on the other end of the line I can feel a subtle change of tension in our conversation. I guess what's coming next before he adds, "I hope you're not all talk, Oscar. You'd better be treating my Papa right."

"I promise I am."

"Good." A smile seems to lift his voice. "Thank you for calling me. I appreciate it."

Winding up the call, I debate texting Ryan to let him know what I've done, but then I decide to call him back instead, just in case I've overstepped. I'm his Daddy, and I promised him that I'd try to take on a lot of his stresses and hard decisions as part of that, but this is his first time being someone's Boy, and communication is still key to making this work.

"You really called Trev?" he asks me after I've given him the update, and I can't quite read his tone. He doesn't sound upset, but he does sound a bit wobbly.

"I did," I fan myself with my hat again, cursing the heat and lamenting the extra time I'll take fixing the fence. But Ryan is more important right now, and Rob will understand that. "Is that okay?"

My heart seizes just a little as his breathing hitches, but then he answers, "Oscar… Daddy , it's better than okay. Thank you."

Oh, thank God.

Ryan continues, oblivious to my sudden sense of overwhelming relief, "I had no idea where to start, and I…I felt stupid about it." I don't like the self-deprecation in his tone. "I'm almost fifty-two-years-old, and I just—I just panicked. I've never been sued before. I didn't even think to call my own kid."

"That's a perfectly understandable response," I soothe, wishing yet again that I could just bundle him into my arms and hold him until he feels better. "And I'm glad you don't think I crossed a line. You're my Boy, and I promised I'd take care of you. I know I should have asked you if it was okay first, but I didn't think of calling Trevor until after our call ended." Then I just acted on instinct.

Impulsive, I chide myself. That's what landed you here to begin with.

Not that it's a bad thing that I am. In fact, coming to Australia is still the best decision I've ever made, even if things have turned out quite differently to what I had originally anticipated. Some might argue they've turned out even better this way. They'd be right.

"We might not have considered this situation specifically, but I meant it when I said I trusted you to make important decisions for me," he reminds me gently, and now I wonder which one of us is supposed to be comforting the other. "This is part of that. It means a lot to me that you reached out to Trev, and I'm glad that I don't have to go looking for a lawyer now. It's a weight off my shoulders. A huge weight, actually. So, yeah. Thank you, Daddy." He goes quiet for a beat before he says, "Can I…I mean, would Rob let me hire a cabin for a few nights? I, um, I'm going to cancel my appointments for the next couple of days and…I really just want to be close to you. It's okay if you have to work, but—"

"Rob ain't gonna take your money," I tell him with certainty, more than excited by the prospect of seeing him tonight after all. Of being able to hold him close and see for myself that he's really okay. "But there'll definitely be a cabin here for you, honey. Leave that to me and drive carefully, all right?"

Ryan promises that he will, and we say goodbye again. Cringing at the mess of fence posts and wire I still need to deal with, I bring Rob's contact details up on my screen and call him next.

Come hell or high water, I'm taking care of my Boy first.