The question surprised her. Most men would have simply told her what they thought was best. But he was giving her a choice. Respecting her boundaries even in this small way. She’dnoticed that about him. When it came to her safety, he didn’t ask her opinion or give her a choice. Doc was coming or she was going to the emergency room. But, when it came to everything else, especially her feelings and her little side, he’d been more than respectful. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to stand up and be more forceful or if she appreciated how kind and considerate he’d been.
"Company," she decided, the word slipping out before she could overthink it. "If you don't mind."
"I don't mind," he replied, stepping into the room. He gestured to the edge of the bed. "May I?"
She nodded, and he sat, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence stretching between them.
"I saw you put away the things Savannah sent," he said finally, nodding toward the nightstand.
Lily flushed. "They're nice, but... not exactly practical given the circumstances."
"Sometimes comfort is practical," he countered. "Especially in stressful situations.
"Is that what they taught you in the SEALs?" she asked, a hint of sarcasm creeping into her voice. "The tactical importance of coloring books and stuffed animals?"
To her surprise, he chuckled. "Not in those words. But yeah, in a way. They taught us that mental well-being impacts performance. That finding ways to decompress is crucial to survival."
She hadn't expected that response. "And what did you do? To decompress, I mean."
Something flickered in his eyes, a memory, perhaps. "Whittling."
Did he just say whittling? "Whittling?" she repeated, unable to hide her surprise.
He nodded. "My grandfather taught me when I was a little boy. He made my brothers and I little toys. Toy horses, whistles, even wooden yo-yos. He’d sit quietly on the back porch with a glass of my grandma’s sweet tea on the table and whittle. No noise, no distractions, just him, nature and the piece of wood he was turning into a piece of art. There's something about creating something with your hands. I didn’t understand until my first tour in combat. I’d returned from the field and I was… struggling. There was a thick fallen log near us. I cut off a piece with my knife and whittled my first whistle. I found that focusing on one simple task quiets the mind."
Lily considered this. "I guess coloring is kind of like that."
"Exactly," he agreed. "So don't dismiss it as impractical. If it helps you stay centered, it's as important as any weapon."
She looked down at her hands, twisting nervously in her lap. "It's not just that," she admitted softly. "It's... when I'm in that headspace, I'm vulnerable. Defenseless. And right now, I can't afford to be either of those things."
Blade was quiet for a moment, considering her words. "You don't think I'd protect you?"
"It's not about you," she said quickly. "It's about me. About not being a burden."
"You're not a burden, Lily," he said, his voice firm. "You're my responsibility. My—" He cut himself off, as if catching whatever he'd been about to say.
Her heart skipped a beat. Had he been about to say my little girl? The thought sent a warm shiver through her that she tried desperately to ignore.
"Besides," he continued, "being in little space doesn't make you defenseless. It just changes how you process things. You'd still be you. Still capable."
She looked up at him, surprised by his understanding. "You know a lot about this."
"I'm a Daddy through and through," he admitted. "It is who I am. A part of my identity, just like being a little is part of yours. I’ve researched and studied DDLG, attended classes at The Citadel for Doms. Exchanged ideas with other Mommies and Daddies. Learned a few things and have a pretty extensive tool belt. The first little I had… well, I rushed into things, I was a young hothead. I understood my needs and not hers. I’ve matured a lot over the years and have learned how to put a little’s needs first. How to be a good Daddy."
The thought of him researching DDLG dynamics, trying to understand her needs, touched something deep inside her. "Thank you," she whispered.
"For what?"
"For... not judging me."
He shrugged, as if it were nothing. "If I judged you for being a little, I’d have to judge myself for being a Daddy. There’s no shame, Lily. No shame in knowing who you are."
A comfortable silence fell between them again. Outside, the wind had picked up, whistling through the trees surrounding the cabin. The sound made the space feel even more isolated, more intimate.
"Can I ask you something?" she ventured after a moment.
"Anything," he replied.
