Chapter Eleven
Paxton
“More than okay,” I admitted.
Ideally, we wouldn’t be having this conversation when Nico couldn’t ask me to leave.
This was his space, and making it at all uncomfortable during a snowtastrophe wasn’t a good plan.
It wasn’t really fair to him on multiple levels, but somehow we walked right into the conversation.
Ignoring the daddy-sized elephant in the room wasn’t an option.
“I know we never really talked about this before, but in my relationships, I’m the daddy.
And ideally, daddy for someone who was little.
” I watched his face for any hints I should back out of this topic.
It was one thing for me to be talking about myself, but once I brought up littles, the dynamics of that changed.
“That’s why I didn’t pursue you before. I didn’t want to ruin everything by scaring you away.
I mean, every time I saw a hint that maybe you might be interested in that kind of relationship, I convinced myself that I was reading too much into it, that I was seeing what I wanted.
You weren’t… You aren’t just some person I met at a club.
You were my neighbor, my coworker, my friend and we might not be neighbors and coworkers anymore, but you are still my friend. ”
He was clutching his teddy tightly, his eyes not quite meeting mine. “I liked you too.”
His confession slammed into me. There were times when I’d almost convinced myself that he did, but until he said those words just now, I’d never have been able to fully believe it. Even now, I half feared I might have misheard.
“I didn’t know,” I said, “but I do now. And am I right? Are you...are you little?”
He nodded.
“Do you have a daddy or a mommy?” I’d always known he was gay, but sexuality and having a mommy or daddy didn’t always go together.
This time, he shook his head very fast.
I wanted to jump straight to asking him to be my little, but we went from not seeing each other for an extended period of time to barely confessing we’d ever had any feelings for each other. Asking him to be mine was just a leap way too far. But knowing it was a possibility…that was enough…for now.
“Thank you for being brave enough to tell me, to let me know, sweet boy.”
His cheeks pinked. “What...what kind of daddy are you?”
This question took me aback. “Can you explain more about what you want to know?”
“I don’t know...like, are you very strict? Or are you a daddy but nothing more with your littles? Do you spoil your littles? Do you need to do everything for your littles? Like, that kind of stuff, I guess.”
I could tell it was difficult for him to ask, and I wanted to do everything I could to make it less so.
But the truth was, we were having a hard conversation, and sometimes it was just best to push through.
But even knowing that, I couldn’t leave him like this.
Not if there was something I could do to ease his discomfort.
“Did you want any of your other stuffies? What would make you feel more comfortable?”
“No. I have Oscar, but maybe… Would you...would you hold my hand?”
Nico was in this interesting headspace that wasn’t big and wasn’t little. It was endearing and sweet and showed so much trust. “Absolutely. How about we grab some pillows and sit on the floor and hold hands?”
I don’t know what it was, but there was a comfort that came from not being on furniture. Not physical comfort—we were getting older, and sitting on the floor was not ideal for that. But when on the floor, it felt smaller somehow, and I thought it might be worth a try.
“I’ll grab some,” he said and left the room.
He came back with some pillows. We sat with our backs against the couch, and I took his hand and held it between mine.
“Thanks, Daddy.”
Gods, I loved it when he said that. “Anything you need from me, just tell me.”
With Oscar in one arm, his hand between mine, he leaned against my shoulder. “That’s better.”
It really was.
“So, are you ready for some of my answers?”
The impulse to kiss the top of his head was there, but I held back. We were not at that point. “I don’t think I’m a strict daddy, but I do have some rules.”
That was a difficult question to answer because I always preferred sweet obedient boys to brats. I could be playful, but my idea of a good time wasn’t dealing with someone who wanted that kind of supervision.
“What kind of rules?”
“Getting enough sleep, making sure you eat your vegetables, drinking enough water—that kind of thing.”
He sat for a good minute before responding. “Those sound like good rules, Daddy.”
“I think so.” And I wasn’t militant about it, forcing specific veggies in specific quantities or diagraming water intake, both things some daddies did. “But no, I’m not the kind of daddy who has you write lines or sit in corners or doesn’t talk to you if you make a mistake.”
He let out a small gasp. “Daddies do that?”
“Daddies do what their boys want or need, so yeah, some do.” Some were also bad daddies, but I didn’t put that in there. This wasn’t about a pissing match over whether I could be king of the daddy world or not. It was about open communication.
“And as far as how much I do for my littles, it would depend on the little and what we decided on. Some littles need to get so little that they need daddies to do everything, from feeding to pottying to carrying them to bed. Does that sound like you?”
“No, Daddy.”
“I didn’t think so.” I played back his series of questions in my head, not wanting to miss any.
“And as to whether I spoil my littles, I think what you mean is, would I would spoil you. And one million percent, I absolutely would. I’ve been holding back, trying not to be pushy since I’ve been here, but if I were your daddy and you allowed it, I’d be spoiling you. Do you like being spoiled?”
He pulled his head off my shoulder and looked up at me. “I don’t know. I’ve never had anyone spoil me before.”
Well, that was going to have to change because if anyone deserved to be spoiled, pampered, and loved, it was Nico.