He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled me into his lap, towel and all. I curled up, knees tucked in, head on his shoulder. I could feel his heart beating. Slow. Steady. Unshakeable.
He held me for a long time. Didn’t rush. Didn’t fill the air with words. Just sat, one hand splayed over my ribs, keeping me anchored, keeping me here. His other hand stroked up and down my back, not looking for anything, just soothing.
“Better?” he finally asked, voice low.
I nodded, face hidden in his shirt. “Yes, sir.”
He squeezed me gently. “You did a hard thing today. I’m proud of you.”
I smiled. I was proud of me, but it was Christmas Eve tomorrow and all this would be over soon.
Felix must have felt the shift in me because he went very still. His hand was warm on my back, but I was freezing on the inside.
I tried to say something, anything. The words stuck.
I didn’t want to lose this. Didn’t want to lose him. I’d never let myself want anything this much, not even with Jason, and that had been nearly a decade of pretending if I just stayed quiet enough, maybe he’d let me stay. I wanted Felix to keep me because I was good for him, not because he felt sorry for me. I wanted him to want me around, not just as a sub, but as his.
I wanted him to be my Daddy. I wanted to be his boy.
The thought made my stomach turn over, sharp and sweet, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe. If I said it out loud and he laughed—or worse, pitied me—I’d die. I would. The shame of wanting that, at my age, in this body, with all my failures, was a weight I could barely hold.
He’d called me good boy, but that was just what Doms said, right? It didn’t mean anything. If I asked for more, if I wanted more, he’d see me as pathetic. Too old. Too much. Too needy.
I curled tighter on his lap, desperate not to let it show, but he was stroking my hair, my back, like he’d wait out the storm forever.
“You’re quiet,” he said finally, voice low. “What’s happening in that head of yours?”
I shook my head, fast. “Nothing, sir.” I blew out a breath of air. “Maybe wishing it wasn’t the party.” That I could stay on his lap forever.
He chuckled and brushed a kiss in my hair. “We don’t have to stay long.”
No, I never stayed anywhere long.
I was always let go eventually.
Chapter sixteen
Felix
The Little room glittered with Christmas lights and laughter. Tinsel shimmered from every railing, paper snowflakes twirled from the ceiling, and the hum of Christmas songs buzzed underneath it all. I’d been to events like this before—organized chaos, warm and loud—but never with someone who mattered.
Clayton hovered near my shoulder, clutching his juice box with both hands. The soft green sweater I’d picked out for him made him look younger, almost glowing against the silver garlands. He was trying so hard to be brave.
“You’re doing fine,” I murmured.
He smiled faintly, the kind that trembled at the edges. “It’s louder than I thought it’d be.”
“Stay close.”
For a while, he did. He laughed with the others, answered questions shyly, let one of the Littles show him a handmade ornament. I watched the tension start to drain from his shoulders. His smile—small but real—was a damn miracle. I watched carefully as he joined an enthusiastic table of Littlesmaking Christmas cards and even laughed and joined in their chatter, helping one with stickers, another with glue. He glowed when they both said thank you, and I watched him relax as he was needed. That was his thing. He needed to be needed.
Then Mark, one of the older Daddies, clapped his hands to start a game. “All right, my Littles, everybody stand up and come to the mat. Time for musical chairs! Everybody plays, or I’ll be the Christmas Grinch and send you home early!”
It was meant as a joke. Everyone laughed.
Everyone except Clayton.
He’d stood with a smile, but then froze when Mark spoke. The color drained from his face so fast I thought for a second he might faint, and I got to him quickly.
