Have Yourself A Primal Little Christmas #2
The best part, which I don’t think she’s noticed yet? Emily’s sewn plackets in the bodysuit and tights for easy access in . . . a strategic area.
“Like it, my bumble baby?”
“So much, Oppa.”
“Good.” I take a fleece out of the luggage and drape it around Cynnie’s shoulders, attaching the little closure at her neck.
This is another Emily-creation; I’m going to have to start paying her for these commissions.
It’s an after-care blanket in feather-soft fleece with Velcro tabs at each corner so it can be fastened in a number of different ways to cuddle my little in comfort.
The way Jack and Bravo strip and dress their littles tells me they’ve played together many more times than the two hunts we’ve done together.
I’ve seen how comfortable Logan and Emily are being naked around other kinksters, but I’m not there yet.
I spent a week sharing rooms with De Leon and was never naked in front of him. I guess I’m just not a nudist at heart.
Covering Cynnie while I change her is different. She’s more comfortable with public nudity than I am, but I don’t share my bumble baby with others. She’s mine.
Once I have her dressed, and blushing an adorable golden rose as she’s discovered the costume’s easy access, I unwind the fleece and tuck it away for later.
I strip off my sweater and shirt; I’ll hunt bare-chested.
I’m already wearing soft black pants with reinforced knees.
I pull on the hot pink, fur-trimmed cape, and matching Santa hat.
“Ho-ho-ho,” I say.
Cynnie and Sammi, who is watching us as Jack changes into a purple and white wolf onesie that matches Sammi’s, squeal and clap.
“Primal Santa Daddy,” Sammi coos.
I give him a feral grin.
“Ready?” Bravo asks, striding over. He’s wearing a barbarian costume that’s similar to mine only in leather. A fabric sword flaps at his hip that makes me grin. Very safe for slaying his little, who is dressed as a Christmas dragon in a red, green, and gold onesie.
Henry and Leda are in complementary costumes, only Leda’s in a fluffy blue and gold princess gown. I wonder if they play with Bravo and Yumiko as a foursome often.
“Ready,” I confirm. “How much of a head start are we giving our prey?”
“Ten minutes,” Bravo says.
“Five.” Jack grins.
“Compromise at eight.” I take a manual kitchen timer out of the luggage. Waggling my eyebrows, I ask the littles, “Ready, prey?”
Cynnie and Leda squeak adorably.
Sammi shifts from foot to foot.
“Hold up,” Jack says. He draws Sammi aside and whispers something. Sammi turns pink as he nods.
“Potty break,” Jack announces.
All of the littles troop off to the bathroom. Unbelievable. Cynnie would have been trying to hold it all through the scene; I should have checked. There’s a lot to be said for Jack’s experience and how well he can read his boy.
Once the littles return, I catch and hold Cynnie’s dark eyes. “Anything you need to tell Oppa?”
She pulls a face, rolling her eyes right and left. “Nope, nothin’.”
“You’ll pay for that later, my bumble baby.”
“Not afraid of the big, bad Oppa.”
Game. On. “You will be.” I twist the dial on the timer. “Ready, set, go!”
The timer buzzes as I release it. With shrieks, the littles bolt through the door into the maze.
Cuteness on the hoof.
“Did you check the site for the secret of the maze?” Jack asks me once our littles are out of sight.
I shake my head. “I figure the LED lights are down one side of the rooms, like in here.” I nod to the strip down the right side of the room. “That makes it a right-hand maze. Put your hand on the right wall of whatever room you’re in, follow that wall all the way out.”
“Ooo,” Bravo and Henry chorus.
I chuckle at them. “Two minutes of Googling on mazes.”
“You’d have been wrong at Logan and Emily’s collaring,” Jack tells me. “That was a left-hand maze. Sorry you missed that. It was a great party.”
I nod. Showing up for my little that day was more important. I wouldn’t change a thing. There are no secrets between me and my bumble now. We’ve seen the worst each of us has to offer.
We love each other enough to forgive and move on.
The four of us make small talk until the timer goes off.
I learn Henry is short for Henrietta and, like Bravo, she does something unmentionable for the government.
We trade cards. In case she needs a hacker to help do unmentionable things.
She’s Bravo’s friend, which is enough of a bona fide for me.
Even if it wasn’t, looking into Henry’s eyes is the same as looking into Mac’s eyes.
I know appearances can be deceiving, but there’s a solidity there, a sense of unwavering rightness.
Henry might be the same sort of sin-eater that De Leon called me, but neither she nor Mac would ever lead me into battle for the wrong reason.
When the buzzer goes, Jack nods to me. “You and me first. Bravo and Henry will bring up the rear and make sure none of our littles flank us.”
I chuckle at the thought of a coordinated little attack. Cynnie is sneaky enough to organize something like that.
“Lead the way,” I tell him.
Through the door, the austere prison appearance of the security rooms with their white walls and tiled floors gives way to the child-friendly maze.
The floors are rubberized. The walls are padded to shoulder-height.
The furniture has rounded corners. This is why Jack picked this place.
We can chase our littles without fear of injury.
The first few rooms are brightly colored: primary reds and blues. There’s barely any furniture in these rooms and nothing in the way of hiding places. No sign of our littles.
The walls and floors shade to green by the time we hit a T-junction. Jack goes right; I go left.
The green theme continues through the next rooms. I take the time to check the furniture: under a table, inside a green-painted cabinet. But my interest’s already focused on an emerald rope net that stretches up toward what looks like a loft level.
The rope’s still quivering slightly.
The net’s slope is so gentle I could probably walk up it, but the act of climbing gets my blood heating. A low growl starts in my chest as I prowl upwards.
“Bumble, my bumble, can you hear me?”
There’s a soft patter of feet in the loft.
“I hear you,” I growl. “I’m coming up. I’m going to find you. I’m going to catch my bumble baby and eat her all up.”
A faster patter of feet. I don’t think that’s my little. Cynnie can’t keep quiet when I taunt her.
Just in case, I keep up the talk. “My buuumble. I’m coming for you, my bumble.”
I climb above eye-level. It’s not another floor, just a ten by twelve loft about eight feet off the ground. My view into the loft is obscured on both sides by painted foam boxes, creating a narrow opening I’ll have to climb through.
I try to peer between the boxes, but they’re too deep. No line of sight. With a sigh, I commit, pulling myself up over the lip and squeezing through the gap between the boxes.
Three hot, wiggly bodies pin mine to the cushioned floor before I pull my feet through the gap.
“Got you, Oppa!”
A coordinated little attack indeed. And someone has very sharp elbows, one of which is planted in my sciatic nerve.
I could throw them off, but I don’t want to risk injuring any of them. Best to stay on the floor and turn the tables. I roll over and grab familiar soft curves. “Got you, my bumble.”
She wriggles and writhes, but after playing with her for months, if there’s one thing I know, it’s how to hold on to my little. I get both of her wrists in one hand, scoot along the soft flooring until I’ve got her aligned, then pull her arms above her head and roll over on top of her.
I peck a kiss on the tip of her nose and grin at her. “We appear to have a ho-ho-hostage situation,” I say.
She bucks beneath me, knocking her tiara askew. Her dark eyes flash defiance. So cute. “Oppa! You’re supposed to be at our mercy.”
“Yeah!” Sammi say, pounding on my back. “We caught you.”
“Hm.” I lean in and blow a raspberry in Cynnie’s neck, which makes her squeal so loudly she can be heard on the moon, much less the rest of the maze. “Feels like I caught you.”
“I sting you!” Cynnie protests, wriggling wildly. She’s going nowhere. I shift so my hips press on her thighs. Each wriggle works her legs further apart.
“I don’t think so.”
Keeping her hands pinned above her head, I reach back with my free hand and pinch whatever I can reach of Sammi. Feels like a thigh. He yelps.
“Ouch, Mister Max!”
“Get off me, Sammi. Your elbows are sharp.”
“But I’ve got you,” Sammi protests.
“Doesn’t feel like you do. And there’s no way your daddy hasn’t heard this. So, you might want to run.”
The other little, lying across my legs and trying to wrap something around my ankle, squeaks. “We should run.”
“Never give up, never surrender!” Cynnie protests.
I chuckle, loving that she know all my favorite movies now. I’m still getting her up to speed on X-Men, but at least she knows the difference between Earth-616 and Earth-199999.
“I question the commitment of your fine crew, baby,” I say as the weight across my legs lessens.
“We stand as one!”
Cynnie tries to rally her team, but whoever is pinning my legs is spooked. Even Sammi’s sharp elbows are digging a little less fiercely.
“I think I hear something,” the leg-pinning little says.
“You sure do,” growls a voice from below. Sounds like Bravo.
“Flee!” The little pinning my legs squeals and scrambles away. Sammi crawls off me with less alacrity and a few more elbow-jabs.
“Yeah, run for your lives,” I call after them. I begin pushing along the floor with my knees, clearing the fake-box blockade and working fully into the loft space, opening the way for anyone coming up the rope net. “I’ll just claim my Christmas prey.”
“I’z not prey, Oppa!” Cynnie protests, struggling ineffectually.
“Prize? Present? I’d unwrap you like the best little present I could ever get except that I don’t need to, do I?”