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A Little Problem

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Khalid stretched luxuriantly as he padded into the room, suppressing a groan out of consideration for Dimitri. He’d gone to bed a few hours earlier, smiling past his headache and dropping a kiss on Khalid’s brow, and Khalid was glad to see he’d successfully fallen asleep. He’d gotten better at restraining his more beastly tendencies, but he was certainly more pleasant to deal with after a victory against his own insomnia.

Khalid drew closer and found his lips pulling into a faint, charmed smile when he saw that Dimitri was draped in his favorite nightgown - more Fodlish in style than the ones Khalid had grown up with, but crafted with light Almyran fabric so that Khalid could just see the faint outline of his body through it. His hair spilled out onto his pillow, dark against the white casings in the dim light, and Khalid reached absentmindedly for it, meaning to give it a stroke.

Dimitri flinched before he could get there. Had he awoken?

“Fath - no,” Dimitri whined. Khalid settled on the edge of the mattress, frowning in concern; that didn’t sound like a wakeful Dimitri, but it didn’t sound like a happy Dimitri either. He shuddered around a gasp as Khalid at last placed a couple fingers in his hair, tucking a strand or two behind his ear.

“Dimitri?” he asked, and Dimitri only sobbed.

Poor thing. Khalid sighed, dipped forward, and kissed Dimitri’s brow, much like Dimitri had to him earlier that night. Khalid had grown to appreciate and understand Dimitri’s nightmares in greater detail since the war; it was a rare week when he didn’t startle out of a dream stained in blood and chased by screams at least once, and Dimitri had endured that pain for so much longer than he had…

He smiled to himself. If nothing else, Dimitri had allowed at least one convenient little way to help him out of his nightmares.

“Who’s up for a little fun, baby?” he whispered into Dimitri’s ear, groping down the side of his body. Whatever - whoever - was tormenting Dimitri tonight, they had nothing on Khalid’s own mouth. Dimitri had told him that much, flushed up to his ears during one such tactical deployment of his own most talented asset.

But as Khalid brought his hand around to the front of Dimitri’s body and continued feeling downward, purring at the feeling of smooth, firm planes of skin beneath gossamer fabric, he paused. He laughed a bit, half disbelieving, as his fingers found dampness.

“Did you wet yourself…? Oh,” he crooned, reaching for Dimitri’s hair with his clean hand. “You’ve had a rough night, haven’t you?”

Dimitri sobbed again, and Khalid decided enough was enough; he couldn’t stand to let him stew in his own fear any more. He shook Dimitri’s shoulder - first gently, then a little harder - until Dimitri startled into wakefulness. His arm swung around and Khalid ducked underneath it, searching out Dimitri’s wide, panicked blue eye and careful to speak in low tones.

“Sh, sh, it’s alright, babe,” he murmured, finding Dimitri’s shoulder and cupping it in his grounding hand. “You’re awake now, you’re safe, I’m safe -”

Dimitri’s eyelid was a blur, the way it flickered. Dimitri’s face was blank and he breathed heavily in and out as he seemed to emerge upward into reality, meeting Khalid’s gaze and holding it until his mouth fell closed and he swallowed his tears.

“Daddy,” Dimitri choked, and Khalid raised his eyebrows. He was regressing - alright, Khalid could work with this. Absolutely.

“That’s me,” he confirmed, offering Dimitri his most sympathetic smile. “Hey, it sounded like you were having a bad dream. Did you wanna talk about that?”

Dimitri turned his head - looked away, down at the bedsheets, and swallowed again. He pressed his lips together and Khalid fought down a sigh of sympathy as Dimitri’s eye grew dewy again.

“No?” he offered, and Dimitri shook his head in confirmation. “That’s okay, baby.” He dipped forward to kiss Dimitri’s cheek; Dimitri hummed, as if thanking him. “It looks like you had a little accident,” Khalid informed him, and Dimitri gasped and pulled his knees up to his chest.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Dimitri blurted, sounding for all the world like a humiliated child. It was sort of sweet. It… kind of got his dick a little interested, which Khalid had still not quite had time to deduce was a good or a bad thing. At least Dimitri seemed pleased that he was into it, in most cases.

“I’m not mad.” He slipped out of bed, holding Dimitri’s hand as he went, coaxing him along after him. “I just want to make sure you’re comfortable, baby.”

Dimitri’s brows were still tented in shame as he followed, but he did so without complaint; a whispered “I’m sorry” escaped as he stood, cupping his hands in front of his groin. Cute. 

“Still not your fault,” Khalid replied, pausing to boop him on the nose. That at least startled a smile out of him, if a weak one. They’d work on that. “Let’s at least get you out of that nightie, okay? That can’t be comfortable, little guy.”

Dimitri nodded sedately; Khalid took that as his cue to find the hem of his nightgown and lift - “Arms up, you know how this works” - the garment over his head. It was a bit of an endeavor, though it was helped by Dimitri being in a cooperative mood. Sometimes, he was fussy or excited or just plain wiggly. “Good boy,” Khalid said, removing the nightgown altogether and carefully folding it around the pee stain before letting it drop to the ground so he could address Dimitri’s smalls.

They were, surprise surprise, even wetter - but they clung from that dampness, formed around a familiar shape, and Khalid couldn’t help an awed, adoring smile. “Are you excited, baby?” he crooned, reaching for Dimitri’s hips and bending forward, laying a quick - and calculatedly wet - kiss on his nipple.

Dimitri whined, shuffling his feet in embarrassment. “No…”

“Huh,” Khalid grunted, pulling down Dimitri’s smalls, leveling his face with his dainty cock. “What’s this, then?”

Dimitri bounced on his toes, trying to wall Khalid off with his hands - but Khalid reached out and held them firm, smiling, first at Dimitri’s cock - perfectly small, cherry red at the tip and easily concealed in one palm - and then at Dimitri’s face, similarly red and bathed in shame and lust. He met his eye, then quickly looked away, pressing his lips together before whispering, “Daddy, stop looking…”

“Stop looking? At this?” Khalid said, indicating his erection and shaking his head. “Baby, it’s too cute. How am I supposed to look away?”

“Stop.” 

Khalid laughed, but finally did as he was told, taking care to scoop Dimitri’s clothes off the ground as he went and bring them to the door, where he left them. Perhaps not the most sanitary solution, but servants came to collect their laundry every morning and Khalid was feeling impatient - he’d already been a touch aroused just in seeing Dimitri peacefully asleep, but now, with Dimitri regressing and standing, naked, in his room, all he wanted was a little action.

He paced to the wall holding their dresser and wet a rag in their shared basin before returning to Dimitri, who was, if anything, even more visibly excited, squirming as Khalid watched, fidgeting and carefully holding his hands in front of his erection.

“Don’t you go covering up again,” Khalid chided, sidling up to him, sharing an affectionate look and a similarly affectionate touch with him. “You’re all messy, kiddo.”

Dimitri wrinkled his nose in distaste at the name, but Khalid just kissed him yet again, holding him steady with an arm around his waist and placing the rag against his stomach. Just a hint of a shudder and even smaller a hint of a whimper eked their way out of Dimitri as he let Khalid kiss him. Khalid nudged Dimitri’s thighs apart and he spread them willingly, filling him with a rush, a thrill, at the reminder that Dimitri trusted him so completely.

“Good boy,” Khalid murmured, drawing the cloth up and down first one thigh, then the other; Dimitri grunted low in his throat at the teasing.

“Daddy, my penis,” he whined, insistent. Khalid had to laugh.

“I don’t know how long ago you wet yourself! It probably got all over, so I have to clean all over.”

“No,” he whined a little harder.

Khalid huffed, but in good humor. “If you let me finish,” he said, “We can have a little fun together. We’ll take care of your cute little penis, baby.”

That seemed to satisfy him. Dimitri allowed Khalid to wipe down his inner thighs and his taint, then work his way up over his balls - bigger than his dick, which had brought Khalid no shortage of delight to discover - until he finally managed a cursory swipe over his erection, to Dimitri’s immediate dismay.

“Daddy!”

“Hey, I don’t think I got everything,” Khalid countered, gently nudging his shoulder to turn him around. “Sometimes things come down this way,” he added, slower, softer, as he patted Dimitri’s butt.

He could hear the lust in Dimitri’s voice now - an almost grown-up lust, but even that just made his cock pang with excitement. “Oh,” Dimitri breathed, arching his back and leaning forward, steadying his palms on the mattress. Khalid couldn’t help but smile.

“Relax, baby,” he murmured, carefully swiping the rag over first one cheek, then the other. He dipped between them as delicately as if he had never touched this place before - indeed, as if he’d never buried his nose right on in there and licked until his jaw went numb - and took infinite pleasure in circling a fingertip, through the barrier of the cloth, around Dimitri’s rim.

A low moan escaped Dimitri as he did. Khalid hummed his approval, then drew the cloth up the remainder of his crack. “All clean!” he announced briskly, startling Dimitri out of his reverie. “Time to get you dressed, little guy.”

Dimitri turned his head with his mouth wide open. “But - I wanted to play.”

“Yeah, we’ll play. But you need to get ready for bed if I’m gonna take you there,” Khalid argued back, turning to the dresser and pulling it open. Dimitri had a few nightgowns he favored, so the soiling of his own personal favorite was no loss to him; he chose another Fodlish-styled one, a little more opaque but all the more ruffly for it, for him to wear - and some frillier smalls, too. “Don’t be a brat,” he continued as he turned back, and Dimitri’s eyes went wide.

“‘M not a brat!” he objected - and when Khalid approached, holding his nightie open for him to pull on, he obeyed. Dimitri was unique, Khalid thought, in that he really did take it to heart when Khalid asserted his authority like that; he might pout and he might whine, but he wanted very badly to please him, whatever it took. Like much of the experience, it was beyond adorable.

The nightgown and the smallclothes each went on without further trouble, and Dimitri waited patiently by while Khalid assessed the bed for damp spots; that done, he pulled back, found the bottle of oil in their nightstand and called “Catch!” as he tossed it to Dimitri. Dimitri caught it readily enough, but looked confused at it having been given to him.

“You’re big enough that you can take care of that,” Khalid said patiently, shooing Dimitri toward the bed. “I have to clean my hands, kiddo.”

He turned, not waiting for Dimitri’s response; in all honesty, he was curious what it would be. It was only after he’d rinsed his hands and dried them, taking all the time in the world with it, that he turned back to the bed and found Dimitri waiting right where he’d left him. He held the oil in his hands like a foreign object, looking lost, confused, and just a little pouty.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, approaching the bed. Dimitri frowned.

“I want Daddy to touch me.”

“Yeah?” Khalid slid in to sit next to him. “Where do you want me to touch?”

Dimitri pursed his lips. “Stop being mean.”

Khalid couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, sincere as anything, and edged closer. He kissed him once again - just a little kiss, on his warm red cheek - and whispered, “You’re just so cute when you pout.”

“I said -”

“I mean it,” Khalid hummed, pushing closer, reaching for the bottle of oil. Dimitri smelled good, all things considered - the scent of piss likely would linger until they both had a proper bath, but Dimitri also smelled warm and heavy, like sleep. “My baby boy is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” he continued, and Dimitri seemed to get the hint. He laid back, gazing meekly up at him through half-lowered lids, and smiled. Khalid played with the hem of his nightgown.

“Nothing in the whole world could be cuter than finding my baby sleeping,” he pressed on, smoothing one firm palm up Dimitri’s thigh until he found the gentle frills of his underwear. “Even when he’s had a little accident.”

Dimitri shifted under his touch, biting his lip and tilting his torso. He shifted his hips like he wanted Khalid to touch more - and less - simultaneously retreating and pressing forward. “Daddy,” was the only word on his lips before he half-covered them, kissing his own fingertips before turning his loosely-formed fist, letting the back of his thumb rest on that plump, pink lower lip.

Khalid teased his fingertips beneath the hem of his frilly smalls, torn between watching frills and lace move over Dimitri’s perfect, slender thigh and watching him open his mouth around his thumb, just the hint of dim red tongue showing before he sealed his perfect lips around the very tip. As poor an actor as Dimitri was in any scenario but this one, he played this part perfectly - wide-eyed and unassuming, suckling at his thumb as if he didn’t know perfectly well how positively wild that drove him.

“Oh, baby,” Khalid groaned. What else could he do? Between his pretty pale thighs, the loose frilly pools of fabric draped over him, those perfect lips, and his golden hair, spilling onto the pillow - Khalid could pay both their weight in gold and never buy half as pretty a picture. He lingered there, dick throbbing just at the sight of him, until Dimitri grunted, shoved impatiently at him with one foot, and bucked his hips.

“Alright! Yeah, you’re the boss,” Khalid laughed, finding Dimitri’s hips again and sliding his underwear down just far enough that he could comfortably reach between his thighs. Dimitri’s erection was leaking readily by now, pooling on his lower stomach, and Khalid wanted to tease, to pull him apart bit by bit -

But Dimitri wasn’t the only one feeling impatient.

A drizzle of oil here, a couple fingers there - Dimitri parted for him like a dream, soft and touchable as ever inside. He took it differently, when he regressed - bowing his head instead of tilting it back, moaning, closed-mouthed, around his thumb instead of gasping loudly into the air. Khalid beckoned with the fingers inside him, hooking them into his sweet spot, and that, at last, forced Dimitri’s mouth open.

“DADDY - Daddy, daddy, inside,” he gasped - demanded, really - his shoulders heaving, his legs kicking with impatience. “Get inside, want you -”

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Thought you might be too.”

That prompted another groan, which was at last enough to get Khalid back on track - he pulled his fingers out and paused to crack his knuckles before he drizzled another handful of lube to slick up his cock. The next part - where he knelt between Dimitri’s legs, smirking down at him, aligning their cocks and admiring how his so easily blocked Dimitri’s from view - was all for him, all to bask in it before he lost himself in Dimitri’s perfect heat.

One more complaint - this one half-muffled from Dimitri’s thumb between his teeth. “Careful not to bite too hard,” Khalid cautioned him, still favoring his dad voice, and at last he leaned forward over Dimitri’s torso, shuffled his knees back, and guided himself in.

Dimitri’s reaction was as immediate as it was ecstatic. His head tilted back, his thumb still bracketed in his teeth - all the better for Khalid to draw in his deep, delighted moan. He leaned down, feeling their connection as he did, feeling Dimitri’s soft, addictive insides clench around even the secondhand movement, and kissed the underside of his jaw. “Beautiful,” he said, treasuring it - Dimitri’s warmth beneath him, the hollow whine that escaped him, everything - as he drew languorously out.

Dimitri’s broad chest seemed to deflate underneath him as he did, his lovely blue eye flickering closed. He whined into the slow draw of it, still kissing the tip of his thumb, and Khalid watched, enraptured, as he thrust back in. Dimitri tossed his head; he squeezed his mouth closed, then let it fall open again, whining high and sweet and demanding all at once.

“Baby,” Khalid exhaled, overwhelmed.

He thrust again, harder - Dimitri was tugging on him, inside and outside, every backward thrust like escaping quicksand and every limb flying up to pull him close. He mashed their lips together, clumsy cute like a child, and Khalid groaned into his mouth.

“Baby,” Khalid repeated, lapped his tongue over the hard ridge of Dimitri’s teeth, and moaned, “Yes, you’re so good.”

“Daddy - gonna -”

“Yeah?” He kissed Dimitri’s lower lip, then his cheek, then his jaw, smearing saliva on him and not caring. “Show me, baby -”

Dimitri’s orgasm wrung his own out of him in seconds - Khalid had only to feel that pulsing squeeze of Dimitri’s insides, lean his forehead on his chest and watch that sweet little dick gushing thick, hot juices all over his pretty nightgown, before he was following along after. He dragged his lips over whatever flickering sensations presented themselves to his mouth, insensate and overwhelmed all at once.

Dimitri’s chest slowed beneath him before Khalid properly registered that he’d collapsed atop it. He swallowed, licked his lips, and opened his eyes. His vision was half smothered in delicate white linen, and he had a short, silly thought about how this was how Dimitri saw the world.

And he tilted his head back, and he raised his head up. And Dimitri was a vision, his skin glistening with sweat and his sharp eye softened with affection.

“Better?” Khalid said, ragged and exhausted, warm and ready for sleep. Dimitri nodded, smiling. “Good. ‘Cuz if you started begging for a round two -”

“Daddy.”

“I’m messing with you.” He wriggled upward. His cheeks ached from the smile Dimitri had plastered onto them, but that ache eased with their kiss. “I could probably stay awake long enough to bring you a bottle, if you’re still scared.”

“No…”

“No?”

There was a small, sweet smile formed onto Dimitri’s lips. His eye glittered with a sort of mischief, and Khalid wondered how deep in the fantasy he still was - whether he was still facing his baby, or instead was facing his husband. “You’ll keep me safe, Daddy,” he whispered. “Won’t you?”

And of that much, Khalid was certain.