Page 162 of Daddy's Naughty List

Yep, I was going to need to be scarier once I was done being Santa.

I hadn’t come up with any good threats or scenes by the time I got dressed, but that might’ve been because being dressed as Santa did not inspire me to stressful scenes. So I decided it’d have to wait until I was changed and didn’t have the desire to ask wiggly subs if they wanted a sucker after talking to Santa.

“Santa is going to the living room.” Because it had a good oversized chair and nothing in the playroom shouted Santa to me unless things at the North Pole had taken a very interesting turn.

“I’m almost ready.” Stirling was doing his best to sound relaxed, but it was on the forced side, not the actual calm side. “You go sit down.”

“You’re being really bossy. You know that, right?” My cheeky retort got another giggle from him. “Yeah. You know.”

As I grumbled about cheeky boys just loud enough for my cheeky boy to hear, I slowly made my way down to the living room. I wasn’t sure if he needed extra time to get ready or just to give himself another pep talk, but I wanted to make sure I didn’t accidentally rush him.

It turned out to be a good decision when he came down five minutes later looking slightly flustered but adorable.

He was wearing the Scooby-Doo T-shirt I’d bought him and simple cotton shorts he’d always said made him look too young.

Interesting.

Okay.

I was starting as Santa at the mall and he wouldn’t let any kid surprise him, so I smiled and held open my arms. “Who’s next to sit on Santa’s lap?”

There was nothing overly sexual or even flirty in my tone, so I wasn’t surprised when he gave me a big innocent grin. Iwassurprised, however, when he bounced over to my lap and sat down just as innocently. “Me, Santa. It’s my turn. I’m Stirling.”

Nothing flirty there either.

What was his game?

“I’m so excited to meet you, Stirling. Do you know what you want for Christmas?” I’d never played the role of Santa straight before, so making sure I didn’t sound like a dirty old man was distracting as fuck.

Primarily because Stirling didn’t do Little stuff.

He actively avoided it and while ittechnicallywasn’t a red on his limits list because of some interesting mental gymnastics, he’d made it clear he didn’t want to do it.

To say his first experience with age play had gone badly would’ve been a massive understatement, but we’d figured out ways for me to get my caretaking needs out in ways that didn’t feel overly Daddy to him.

I’d been good with that.

I didn’t need the title or to buy him toys to take care of him… but this was an interesting development.

What the fuck had he been doing in therapy lately?

Even Conner knew about Stirling’s limits and he hadn’t done anything to push Stirling to sit on my lap and tell Santa what he wanted. We’d both been worried that would be too close to a trigger for him.

So if it wasn’t my fault and it wasn’t Conner’s… it was definitely therapy’s fault.

“Yes.” Slipping his hands between his knees, Stirling wiggled and didn’t do anything to make himself look older or sexier. “Toys.”

“Oh.” Doing my best to stay in character, I gave him a wide-eyed smile that hopefully looked sweet. “Tell me about the toys you want.”

Sex toys?

A new game for his system?

A computer game might be called a toy.

Was he practicing to see how close to Little he could get without panicking?

I really should’ve put my foot down about the more answers thing.

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