Chapter Seventeen: Ryan

O scar didn't need to say the words for me to know how he feels. I saw it in his eyes during our session, felt it in his determination to give me what I'd asked for as safely as possible, and had it confirmed in his gentle questioning during his aftercare.

I watch in comfortable silence as he climbs out of bed to get a wet washcloth, then lie back as he wipes me clean, giving himself a scrub with the same cloth once he's satisfied that I'm good. Then he tosses the cloth into the bathroom and pads over to the kitchenette, reaching into the fridge and emerging with two bottles of water. One of them, he sets down on the bedside table. The other, he cracks open and passes to me as he climbs back into bed, snuggling against my side again.

I drink greedily from the plastic bottle, relishing in the condensation that wets my fingers. My body is still heated and sweaty, and I feel like a shower is in order, but I don't want to break the softness and sweetness of this moment.

After draining half the bottle, I twist the cap back on and drop it unceremoniously on my bedside table, turning over so I can plaster myself to Oscar's toned, tattooed flesh. I kiss whatever skin I can reach. It's not because I'm trying to be sexual, but because I can't resist the sensation of his skin beneath my lips.

His arms, strengthened by his manual work, wrap around me like the sexiest of cocoons. I can feel the steady rhythm of his heart beating against my own, and I feel at home in a way I haven't since Maddy died.

I'm loved. Taken care of. Protected from the world.

"We should probably shower before we fall asleep like this," Oscar eventually says, and I smile into his shoulder.

"Oh, is showering with me a chore?" I ask playfully, and he swats at my bare backside.

"Stop pretending you're a brat, honey. We both know you're not."

I snort. "Maybe I'm trying something new. I've never been a Boy before, either." I lean back and bat my lashes at him exaggeratedly. "You'll still love me if I'm bratty, won't you, Daddy?"

Oscar laughs and groans all at once. "This post-subspace high is adorable," he declares, but then his expression softens. "But I love every version of you there is, darlin'."

If I hadn't already fallen in love with him, that would have done it.

* * *

Staying at the station is everything I needed and then some. Leaving the stress of work and life behind, knowing that Oscar will take care of me in every way I need, was the right choice to make. Even though I agonised over closing the practice, I knew that I wasn't going to be in the right frame of mind to be treating patients — especially when the patients can't verbalise their issues.

Knowing that Sarah's going to send any emergency calls on to the closest vets she can, I'm happy to let my Dom —my Daddy— make every other decision for me.

And he does.

He decides what we're eating and when. He decides when we're going to go for a walk down to the petting zoo, and when we're going to take a nap curled together on top of the bed's crumpled white quilt. He also decides that I don't need a spanking or a paddling, and I have to admit that I'm still feeling settled after the intense emotional release from being choked, so I don't push the issue.

It's perfect.

It's all perfect.

I can't remember the last time I felt like I took a holiday. If I strain my memory, I realise that it was before Maddy died. Afterwards, the year I spent trying to regain my equilibrium felt more like purgatory than anything else, even though I wasn't working. I'd been grieving and lost and alone.

I'm none of those things anymore.

Yes, I will always grieve Maddy, but he would have hated to see me wasting away, not taking proper care of myself or even attempting to find happiness. I don't believe in an afterlife, nor am I at all religious, but every so often, I like to think that I can feel his approval in my choice to move on.

Having his kids' —our kids'— approval helps, too.

Calling to tell them that I was dating again was one of the most awkward things I've ever done, but both Mak and Trev assured me that they wanted to see me happy. Mak even said she was relieved to know I was trying to find love again. Neither of them pushed me for any more information than I was willing to give and, while I had hinted that Oscar is a bit younger than me, I haven't told them how much younger.

I guess I'm still afraid that they'll be weirded out that I'm dating someone barely older than they are.

And while they know that their Dad and I were into BDSM (courtesy of their teenage selves snooping in places they shouldn't have been), I honestly don't know how well they'd take it if they heard me calling Oscar ‘Daddy'.

Not that he's ever asked me to do so in front of other people. I'm sure he'd love it, but he also understands how new the dynamic is for me, and probably also how I'm afraid people might react.

So, all that to say, I'm happy now. I'm finding my way, and I'm not alone.

I've achieved a lot of that on my own, I know I did. But finding Oscar made everything so much better. He came into my life at just the right time, and he hasn't so much as batted an eyelid at my issues. Even now, with my withdrawal from life because of a simple civil lawsuit, he's staying strong and helping me through it.

He even sits with me through the initial phone call with Henry, the lawyer Trevor set me up with.

We're at the tiny little table in the cabin, and I've got my phone propped up on the table so we can meet with Henry via Facetime. Oscar squeezes my hand in full view of the camera. Henry smiles warmly at us as he introduces himself, and I acknowledge that we did actually meet at Maddy's funeral: a bunch of Trev and Mak's friends came as emotional support, but the whole day is still a blur to me.

"I'm still sorry we're not properly meeting under better circumstances," he says smoothly, and his youthful dark skin crinkles at his forehead as his expression pulls into a frown, but then his words immediately surprise me, "I've reached out to the claimant's lawyer and, to be honest, even he thinks his client's case is shaky at best. I advised him that we will be arguing your civil rights under Section twenty-nine of the Defamation Act to make a fair report. I could also argue justification under Sections twenty-five and twenty-six of the Act due to the nature of the statements being both substantially true and contextually true, however I know he'll contest that the case hasn't been tried in a criminal court, so his client hasn't been found guilty…but that still doesn't negate your rights to make the report in the first place."

"So, what you're sayin'," Oscar cuts in while my panicked brain tries to catch up, "is that his lawyer is aware that he ain't got a leg to stand on."

"Correct," Henry nods. In the little video feed, he clasps his hands together on the surface of his desk. "The best they can do is try to argue that you knowingly made a false report with the intent of injuring his reputation."

"Which he damn well did not!" Oscar's temper flares, and it's such a rare thing to hear him raising his voice in anger that I startle a little.

He immediately squeezes my hand a bit tighter and grimaces. "Sorry, darlin'. It just grinds my gears to think that someone would say those things about you."

I nod and squeeze his hand right back. "I know. But," I smile shyly, forgetting our audience, "you're hot when you're angry."

Henry clears his throat, and I blush and look back at the phone screen. He looks thoroughly amused. "You remind me of some friends of mine," he says, then gives himself a little shake and settles back into work mode. "The old ‘he said/he said' stuff is where we might have an issue. However," he starts flicking through the manila folder which had been sitting untouched in front of him, "the police took statements from the club during their investigation, and they included character references. The fact that you were a regular and an ‘ideal patron' and he was new to the scene works in your favour. And they recovered video footage of the hallway leading to the private rooms which appears to corroborate your report."

So then why hasn't he been charged? Sentenced? Locked up so he can't do it to someone else again? I wonder bitterly.

Oscar doesn't have my restraint, and he asks the question out loud: "If they've got all this proof, why the hell isn't he in jail yet?"

Henry sighs. "Probably a number of factors. Due to the situation, you understandably reported the incident after the fact, and there wasn't any physical or DNA evidence to collect. It took the CIB —the Criminal Investigation Branch— some time to begin their investigation beyond your initial statements, and a while longer to locate your assailant. His statement would have contradicted yours, and then they have to investigate further to prove that he's lying. It's not as cut and dry as TV makes it look. But, obviously, just being questioned by the police was enough to spook the guy and set off this whole absurd lawsuit against you."

"Which you think won't go anywhere?" Oscar prods with a frown.

Henry nods. "I know it won't. In fact, I don't even think you need to travel back here to attend any mediation sessions. We can do it by Facetime or Zoom or whatever if we absolutely have to."

Oscar hums thoughtfully. "What about the criminal charges? What happens there?"

"I'm not specialised in Criminal Law" —on the screen, Henry closes the manila folder and leans forward over the top of it "—but this won't derail that as much as he probably thinks it will. The police are dedicated to protecting the community and seeing justice served. It just takes some time."

We talk a little bit more about the logistics of what he'll need from us going forward, and how he intends to proceed on my behalf, before Oscar and I thank him and end the call. I'm feeling much less worried about the whole situation now. Part of that is Henry's conviction that the lawsuit won't go anywhere, but the rest is all Daddy.

I feel like I can face anything with him at my side.