Page 15 of Little Bedtime Snack

I rushed to clean up enough to go out there, throwing on a pair of joggers, brushing my teeth, that kind of thing. And when I walked out, there he was—plate full of waffles in one hand, coffee and juice on the table, and wearing my favorite thing of all, his smile.

“Good morning, sweet boy. I thought you might be hungry.”

“Waffles are my favorite.”

He chuckled. “I suspected so, since there were three different brands in the freezer, two different brands of mix, and you told me about different kinds of makers.”

“They’re all different,” I said, not even feeling bad about it. People like what they like, and for me, my current hyperfocus for breakfast was waffles.

It was no different than people who had preferences when it came to what kind of bread they ate, or what kind of cheese, or what cuts of meat. For me, waffles were where it was at.

“I should be the one cooking for you. You’re the guest.”

“But I am the Daddy, and Daddies always get to take care of their Little boys.”

“Be careful, a boy could get used to this.”

“That’s the entire point.”

12

MASON

Eli and I had been dating for just over a month and things had been going great. I’d go to his place. He’d come to mine. We’d grab dinner, go to the park, and even hit up the arcade a time or two. But one thing we hadn’t done was go back to the club.

He didn’t have a membership and said he felt bad about using one of my guest passes. I got it. The club was expensive. There was no denying that. But also, I had the guest passes, and there was no one I’d rather use them on than Eli. And unlike him, I had the money. If he told me he wanted to go every week, I’d have already purchased him his own membership—which was probably over the top, considering we weren’t even in a formal relationship.

But who did that anymore? Who says, “Will you be my boyfriend?” like they were still in high school? No one. And yet, it was starting to bug me a bit that we hadn’t had that conversation yet. And ultimately, it was my fault. I was the Daddy. It was my job to foster communication.

Maybe today, after we spent some time playing in the club where we met, I’d bring it up. I said “maybe” not because I was nervousabout being rejected and was scared. Now that I’d decided it needed to be done, it would be. But maybe because I didn’t know how deeply he was going to fall into Little space. I didn’t want to yank him out too soon just because I was starting to feel insecure. What kind of a Daddy would that make me? A bad one.

I picked him up, grabbing his backpack with one hand and intertwining my fingers with his with my other.

“I’m really excited about tonight.” He leaned into my side. “I had fun last time, but this one’s gonna be better.”

I gave his hand a quick squeeze. I wasn’t sure it would be better—because last time, it brought me him—but we were going to have fun. Lots and lots of fun.

We arrived fairly early. I wanted to make sure that I was able to get a private dressing room for us. The fancy ones you could pre-book were already reserved for the evening, leaving only a few first-come-first-served ones left. I had a surprise for him—one I wasn’t sure he wanted, but whether he did or not, I was going to offer.

It was something that needed the privacy of our own room, that was for sure. And whether he liked the gift or not, my feelings wouldn’t be hurt. I’d rather he be honest than try something he wasn’t into.

“Daddy, this room is so big and so different from our last one.”

Our last one—where he drank from me for the first time and couldn’t prevent himself from coming all over—had been the first one I stumbled upon. It had done the job, but this room was 100% better.

I had to push the vision of that night back, or I was going to be spending the night hard and needy instead of attentive, the way my boy deserved.

“This one’s designed for Littles. They even have a changing table.” I pointed to the corner.

“Do Daddies have to pick their Littles up?” His eyes went wide.

I could easily pick his small frame up, but I understood the shock. Not all Littles were small, not all caregivers were strong, and not all people took play to that completely immersive level.

“No, there are pull-out stairs. It’s good for boys and girls who use diapers.” Of course he’d figured that part out, but I wanted his mind on the diapers more than the table.

He shoved his hands in his front pocket. “I thought about bringing one, because that night you mentioned it, but I didn’t know if it was too forward.”

I put my finger under his chin and guided him up until he looked me in the eye. “I want you to be able to tell me everything. Nothing is too forward.”

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