Age play. Does that mean other people do this? Timber is acting like all this is normal.
“What is the age part?” I ask.
“People like to role-play that they’re a different age. You could pretend you were six or seven. Maybe eight? I don’t know which age would feel the best to you. But that’s usually a big part of it. The people who like to do this kind of roleplaying are often called ‘littles.’” He picks up two LEGO bricks and analyzes them. “Care to show me how these work, baby boy?”
“How do you know all of this?” I ask. “Have you done it before?”
The idea of him playing LEGOs with someone else makes me irrationally jealous.
He shakes his head. “I’ve wanted to, but all the littles I’ve met weren’t interested in me because I’m muzzled.”
It’s hard for me to understand why they would let that stop them from wanting to be with Timber, but I guess I’d want a bond with an alpha too if that was still an option for me.
“So you just… want to play LEGOs with me?” I ask incredulously. It seems too good to be true.
“Yes. I’d also like to build a blanket fort with you. Among other things.”
“But we can’t just build a blanket fort. We’re adults.”
He chuckles. “I think you’ll find that we can. I brought a flashlight so we can read inside the fort after it’s done.”
I smile and duck my head, a little embarrassed by how excited all this makes me feel.
He leans over and kisses my forehead. “There’s my baby boy.”
21
Timber
It takes me an hour to drill a few holes into Andrew’s ceiling and attach the canopy. I spread the fabric out until it covers the entirety of his bed, creating a secret alcove at its center.
“It needs more blankets and pillows,” Andrew says. Then he disappears out of the room. I notice that his steps are short, and his shoulders sway with that same exaggeration he often adopts when he’s relaxed with me.
He scurries back with an armful of pillows. Some of them are austere decorative pillows he probably stole from the big room with the scary painting. He places them in a circle, outlining the edge of the canopy, then he scurries off and returns with more several times until his bed has turned into some makeshift nest of pillows. He sits at the center, looking up at me with this mischievous smile that makes me melt.
“Do you like it, baby boy?”
He nods. “Come on, Daddy. Come snuggle with me.”
I grab the bag of LEGOs, the flashlight, and the tattered copy of Frankenstein on his desk.
“Want me to shut off the light? Or… are you afraid of the dark?” I want to add, “when you’re in your little space.” But one thing at a time.
“We have a flashlight, Daddy,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. His voice shifts this time too. It’s higher-pitched and has a touch of playfulness. It’s wonderful to watch him relax, knowing that I’m responsible for bringing this out in him.
I shut off the light and run toward the bed, crashing into the pillows with my own playfulness.
Andrew brings out something special in me too.
I set down the book and tickle this stomach. He squirms and giggles underneath me. “Daddy! You’re messing up the pillow fort!”
I press a kiss to his lips and sit up. That’s when I notice the canopy is a little different than the one on display. This fabric has hundreds of tiny little stars that glow in the dark.
“Uh, Daddy?” Andrew asks. His voice isn’t as playful as before.
I turn the flashlight on, so I can see his face. “Yes?”
“When we’re… playing like this. I don’t think I want you to kiss me. Or do anything sexy. It just feels… I don’t know. Like something I don’t want right now.”