Page 13 of Little Boy Toy

“I work construction.”

“That’s why you’re so big and strong.”

“I used to do more of the physical work, but no. It’s a lot of office stuff. I’m a foreman now, so I delegate a lot, and I can even work from home a lot, but yes, I’ve done my share of heavy lifting and still work on sites.”

“I do computer stuff. Not really conducive to growing muscles.” He paused, one eye closing. “But I do type fast.”

“You master the computer and I master cement mixers and ditch diggers. Well, I did in the past.”

“Big boy toys.” He grinned. “We’re more alike than we think, maybe?”

“I would say so.” I frowned. “Are you a big boy?”

“I’m little. But when I was in first grade, I aced reading. That’s the magic age for me. Six.”

“Do you remember that book Now We Are Six?”

“Yes! The Winnie the Pooh guy wrote it. There might be a copy around here!” Kendry jumped up and ran to the bookshelves.

I had been a gentleman with him, and remained so, but I couldn’t help but stare at the backs of his luscious thighs where his shorts rode up as he bent to look at the books on the lower shelves. Those little pants were far too short to keep me honest. The thin material hugged the sloping globes of his ass, detailing every line and curve.

Whether he was looking for love or not, this little was not afraid to show off his amazing body.

My stomach tightened until I thought it would cramp. Damn. Was I lying to myself that I had any control at all?

Just then, Kendry ran back to me with a small, green hardback book in his hand. It looked insignificant compared to the other big and bright picture books on the shelves, but I knew it contained some of my favorite little snippets from childhood. I’d once owned a copy just like that green one.

“Found it.” He handed it to me.

I paged through it. “I do remember having this book when I was a kid. Do you?”

He nodded. “Did you have a favorite?”

“My brother and I had a favorite.”

“Will you read it to me?”

I found it. It was a poem called “Forgiven.” My brother and I had just called it the “beetle” poem. When I started reading about how Christopher Robin, who I figured was the boy in the poem, had a beetle named Beetle, but he also answered to Alexander, I started chuckling.

When I finished reading it, Kendry was on the floor laughing, having slid from the pillow in his chair. It really was a pretty good poem-story and took me back to some good days. Maybe I was understanding being little a bit better now, and how the things Kendry took away from the little experience added to his life and special memories more than just as a sexual kink. I had a boy inside me as well, which made me wonder if that meant something more.

But the daddy part of all of this? I still didn’t know anything about that except that I loved being with Kendry, sharing with him, enjoying his clothing choices—those short shorts!—and especially these special times of reading fun and funny children’s stories.

I slowly paged through the book to make the feelings of this moment linger. A soft touch on my arm nearly startled me.

Kendry, now kneeling at my side, looked up at me with a sweet, wide-eyed gaze that tugged right at the center of my chest.

“Hey.” I kept my voice soft.

“I have a question.”

“Okay.” This was the first time he’d made any moves. At all.

He lowered his lashes, hesitating, his hair shining in the soft light of the room.

“Um, well,” he began. “Could you—would you like spending time together outside of the club? I’m just asking because, well, um, it’s sorta limited here.”

I had been waiting for this. Now was the moment. Spending more time together could hold a lot of layers of meaning. If Kendry was ace, I still wanted to be with him. If all we did was have times like these, and maybe even some cuddling, I would love it. I might have to hold myself back, but all this was strangely fulfilling, and I didn’t want to give that up.

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