Page 18 of Daddy Next Door

His lips quirked up. "And I accidentally discovered you're the person I've been chatting with online for months." He paused, taking a sip of his tea. "StarryLittle."

Hearing my online name in his voice made my cheeks burn. I dropped my gaze, suddenly fascinated by a small chip in the table's wood.

"I can’t believe you figured it out," I said, my voice smaller than I intended.

He shrugged. "It wasn't hard to connect the dots."

"And you didn't say anything." It wasn't a question.

"No." His eyes—blue and steady—held mine. "I struggled with that decision. As a psychologist, confidentiality and boundaries are . . . well, they're everything. I knew you kept that part of yourself private, and I didn't want to force a revelation you weren't ready for."

I traced the rim of my mug with my fingertip, noticing how my nail polish—pale pink with tiny stars—suddenly felt childishly obvious. "I appreciate that you stopped talking to me as ProtectorE."

Ethan leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "I valued our conversations. But when you started talking about your new, hunky neighbor—”

I blushed.

“I had to stop. It felt wrong.”

Something in my chest loosened at his words. I realized I'd been holding my breath and let it out slowly, feeling my shoulders drop. Without thinking, I tugged at a loose thread on my sleeve, twisting it around my finger the way I did when I was anxious or slipping into little space.

Ethan's eyes tracked the movement, but he didn't comment. Instead, he asked, "How are you feeling about all this, Lily?"

The question was so direct, so professional yet gentle, that it broke something loose inside me.

"Honestly? I'm embarrassed. Mortified. But also . . ." I paused, searching for the right word. "Relieved. Like I've been holding my breath for years, and suddenly I can breathe." The admission hung between us, raw and honest.

My fingers moved to the teaspoon, spinning it slowly in my mug. "No one knows about this part of me. I mean, one friend knows I'm into . . . age play stuff, but not the extent. Not how much I need it." My voice grew softer with each word.

Ethan nodded, his expression free of judgment. "It's a deeply personal aspect of identity for many people. And unfortunately, one that's often misunderstood."

"Is that why you have that room?" I asked, curiosity overriding my embarrassment. "Have you always been a . . . a Daddy?"

The corner of his mouth twitched at my hesitation over the word. "I discovered that side of myself in my late twenties. I was dating someone who introduced me to the dynamic, and it just . . . fit. Like finding a puzzle piece I didn't know was missing." He took another sip of tea. "As for the room—yes. I had it at my old place and I’ve tried to quickly put it together here, too."

"It's incredible," I admitted. "I've never seen anything like it outside of, you know, online photos."

"Thank you." He gave a warm, genuine smile. "I was in a long-term DDLG relationship that ended about two years ago. She moved to Europe for work—amicable split, but difficult. I've been . . . well, not actively looking, but open to finding someone compatible since then."

Something in his phrasing caught my attention. "Is that why you're on LittlesOnline? Looking for someone?"

Ethan's face softened. "Initially, yes. But over time, it became about community too. Support. Understanding. I’ve loved talking to people on their—Littles and Bigs." He set his mug down. "Why did you join?"

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling exposed. "Loneliness, I guess. I'd just moved here after breaking up with someone who tried to understand but couldn't quite . . . get it. He thought it was just a bedroom thing."

"It's more than that for you."

It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway. "Much more. It's a refuge. A way to put down all the adult stuff that gets so heavy sometimes." I glanced up, catching his gaze. "Does that make sense?"

"Perfect sense." He reached across the table, not quite touching me but close enough that I could feel the warmth of his hand. "You want to feel safe enough to be vulnerable. To let go of control in a world that demands we maintain it constantly."

I nodded, blinking back unexpected tears. "Exactly."

Ethan watched me for a long moment, his gaze gentle but assessing. "When was the last time you allowed yourself to fully be in that space, Lily? Not just online, but physically, emotionally?"

The question hit a nerve I didn't know was exposed. I felt my bottom lip tremble slightly, and without thinking, I caught it between my teeth—a gesture I'd tried to break myself of for years because it made me look "too young."

"I don't know," I whispered. "I try sometimes, alone in my apartment. But it never feels complete. More like I'm playing pretend with myself."

---