Page 3 of Saul

He sighed. “Do you know anything at all about Daddies and Littles?”

“Fuck,” I spat. “You’re about to tell me I’ve gotta change his diaper.”

Chris leaned forward and his smile vanished. “I have no idea what Calvin’s personal needs are or how deep he goes into his little space, and I doubt with that attitude you would ever be lucky enough to find out.”

It was a slap, and I deserved it. I nodded. “Aye, aye, sir.”

Chris leaned back. “It’ll be one weekend. There’s a welcome reception on the Friday, a family rehearsal dinner Saturday night and obviously the wedding Sunday. The reason Ricky’s so worried, apart from Steven being there, is that Calvin has no family. He knows me, Ricky, and my sister, and that’s it. He needs someone in his corner.” Chris’s intent gaze eased a little.

“Why does Calvin have to think he’s doing you a favor?”

“Because he won’t accept help under any other circumstance. And unfortunately, because of the job you’re taking this week,you won’t have any chance to meet him until you get to the airport.”

I nodded. That might not be a bad thing. It would also give me a chance to do some research. As in what the hell pulling off being a Daddy entailed.

Friday morning, I closed my laptop and stared at my packed suitcase. It was small. I had a rented tux and shirt for Sunday that would be waiting at the hotel, casual for later today, swim trunks, and dress pants and a shirt for tomorrow.

That had been easy. What was proving a lot more difficult was my utter fascination with Little and Daddy relationships. I’d never classed myself as husband or partner material. I supposed I didn’t like labels, which was hypocritical seeing as how I’d had one since I joined the Marines at eighteen, the day I got my required high school diploma. To be honest, as an enlisted Marine, I had other enlisted to fuck, men or women. The brass only cared if you crossed ranks, and as I moved higher up the pecking order, my sex life dwindled considerably, except for casual hook-ups on leave.

But what was fascinating about a Daddy-Little relationship was that the dynamic wasn’t always about sex. It was more about responsibility and caring for their partner. Making sure their needs were met. Hopefully, it included a good sex life, but it was deeper than that. The trust the little showed in his or her partner blew me away.

And wow, was there a huge gamut of possibilities. Some only wanted to play during sex, some sank into their little side just for weekends. Enthralled, I’d just read this blog by a Little who was one of America’s top heart surgeons, and every Friday night like clockwork his Mommy greeted him at the door and helped him to get bathed, then diapered his butt and dressed him in a onesie.

Some Littles just played at clubs, and some wanted the lifestyle 24/7. Apparently ABDL orAdult Baby-Diaper-Loversalso came in varying degrees. Some loved the feel of them but never actually used them. Some went all the way.

Leaning back, I closed my laptop and thought about that, wondering why that wasn’t making me run for the hills. Realizing after a couple of moments that my mouth was hanging open, I snapped it shut.

I heard the polite knock on the door and knew that was my ride to the airport. Standing, I gathered my suitcase, wallet, and keys, and strode out.

I’d flown into Kansas a couple of hours ago, but I wasn’t getting a connection so I’d opted to exit and meet Calvin at check-in. I recognized Calvin right away, even if the photo didn’t do him justice. In the pic of the young man, Calvin had his arms around Ricky, and he was laughing but unremarkable. He was a slim brown-haired, brown-eyed young man with a cute, upturned nose and a few freckles. Chris said the picture was four months old, from Ricky’s birthday party, which made sense. It was just after he’d broken up with the other guy. Calvin was smiling at the camera, but I was used to sizing people up, and interpreting body-language of all types. Calvin was putting on a show of happiness for Ricky, and I had to admire him for it.

I stared for a moment, shocked by how different the Calvin in front of me was to the Calvin in the picture. That Calvin had looked almost shrunken, hiding behind the smile that was obviously fake. This Calvin, even understandably nervous, almost glowed with determination. His brown eyes sparkled with a mixture of nervousness and curiosity. His lips were full, puffy as if he’d been chewing on them, and his freckles covered his nose and cheeks. He smiled as a child nearly ran into him, and the adorable dimples that popped up on each side of hismouth just about took my breath away. Then he watched as the kid ran back to his parents and it was then that I saw it. The second of utter longing. The moment when the kid ran into outstretched arms, knowing they were loved. They were welcome. And the sudden urge to touch him to tell him he wasn’t alone had me fisting my hands.

Then he turned and froze, but he wasn’t looking at me. I followed his gaze and saw a couple of guys standing nearby. I could almost hear the indrawn breath of pain from Calvin as the older one of the two reached out and pushed the other one’s bangs out of his eyes. It didn’t take rocket science to work out from Calvin’s distraught expression that this must be the ex, Steven, and his new squeeze. They turned, and I knew any second Steven would see Calvin and the need to protect him flooded my system. “Calvin, baby,” I said loudly, automatically, and, startled, Calvin glanced over at me. I didn’t miss Steven’s head shooting up, either.

I strode over, seeing Calvin’s arm move, knowing he was about to make the mistake of trying to shake my hand, and didn’t give him a chance. Stepping right into his personal space, I simply wrapped my arms around him and drew him in close to my chest, loving the adorable little squeak that left his lungs, and the way he fit against me. “Daddy missed you,” I murmured and tucked his head under my chin.

Calvin froze, then began to tremble, but after a long few seconds where I stayed still and just let him lean, a sigh left Calvin’s throat, and he simply melted into my arms. And for more time than I liked to admit, I forgot I was just playing a role, because Calvin snuggled up to my chest felt too damned perfect for just one weekend.

Chapter three

Calvin

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, my brain chanted. But pressed this close to Dream Daddy, my body was ignoring my brain and having a party all of its own. In fact, I was ready to do the Dirty Macarena right here in the airport,completelynaked. My dick was very happy to meet ourOfficer of the Dayand was standing at attention all on its own.

After a moment, sanity prevailed, and I relaxed my arms, preparing to let go, but he turned his head into my neck and whispered. “Enemy inbound.” His arms clamped tighter, and he straightened. The floor was suddenly much farther away, buthappily, his lips were a lot closer as they slammed down onto mine.

I might have made some sort of noise, but it was swallowed, any remnants of sound thoroughly chased out by his tongue. I had a brief thought that being devoured so completely in the middle of an airport was taking this mission a little too far. He hummed in the back of his throat and he tasted clean and minty; clearly I’d died and gone to heaven.

And I kissed the hell out of him right back as he did the bending backward melt-my-panties move.

No one could ever accuse me of being inflexible. In fact, one of my favorite films was Billy Elliot. My flexibility came from a sense of self-preservation, needing to be able to crawl and hide in tight spaces, but I was also quite sure I would have rocked a tutu.

Then I realized with shock I would never have been brave enough to even contemplate wearing something like that. That was Ricky, not me, andwhat was I doing? Daddy must have realized my change in enthusiasm because he drew back a little, gave me a final peck, and lowered me to the floor. It was a good thing he kept hold because my knees weren’t interested in holding the rest of me upright, and I doubted they would recover anytime soon. I saw him glance to the side, then step back. He still held my arm. “They’re still watching, but I think we put on a convincing show.” It was like getting a bucket of ice water dumped on me. I opened my mouth to reply, but no words came out.

“My apologies, but I gathered that was your ex and his latest?” He didn’t wait for my reply, if I could have even gotten my brain to command my mouth to work. “I think we should go through security,” he murmured and took my carry-on from me after a firm look when I was reluctant to let it go. He then steered me forward as though he assumed I couldn’t read the signs.

It was nice, though, and the jury was still out about reading instructions.

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