Chapter
Twenty-Six
KEANE
Ihear laughter and the faint clatter of pans before I even get to the door. Something in my chest twists. I wasn’t expecting a full-on troop of Littles swarming Oren like this.
Stepping inside, the scene hits me all at once. Beads everywhere, half-finished pumpkin bracelets on the counter, a mini mountain of grilled cheese on a plate, and Oren in the middle, threading beads with a shy, guilty smile as if he knows he’s being spoiled rotten.
“Hey,” I call softly, and they all pause mid-chatter, eyes wide.
Then Lane yells, “DADDY’S HERE!” and suddenly the room erupts again.
Oren freezes for a fraction of a second, and I catch the flash of vulnerability, the hint that he feels like he doesn’t deserve this attention and love. My steps are slow as I approach, careful not to startle him.
“Look at you,” I murmur, crouching to his level. “Making bracelets, eating grilled cheese, and running your own little superhero squad.”
He blushes, but his smile is warm.
“They… they came to cheer me up,” he admits softly. “I… I feel like I can breathe with them here. And, um… it helps.”
I reach out, gently brushing a strand of hair from his face.
“You don’t have to be strong alone, you know. That’s what we’re all here for. And I’m right here too.”
His friends whoop in agreement, and I can’t help but chuckle. Oren’s hand finds mine under the table, fingers lacing together, a quiet anchor amidst the joyful cacophony. His eyes meet mine, small but shining, and I realize that every protective, patient instinct I’ve felt toward him isn’t just about keeping him safe; it’s about being part of his world, messy, loud, and full of laughter.
And right there, in the middle of beads and grilled cheese and tiny pumpkin bracelets, I feel it—this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
The Littles have finally been shooedhome, leaving Oren and me alone in the warm, littered aftermath. He’s perched on the couch, pumpkin bracelet in hand, eyes big and honest.
“Stay?” His voice is almost a whisper, a hopeful little tremor.
I shift beside him, heart thudding. “You know I said I’d try to let you be brave on your own, right?”
He tilts his head, a slow smile creeping across his face.
“This isn’t about being scared,” he admits, sounding serious. “This… this is about wanting to sleep with my Daddy.”
I freeze, chest tight, pulse racing. The words land with a clarity that leaves no room for doubt.
“You mean… you want me here?” I ask carefully, trying to keep my voice smooth.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “All night. Right here. Don’t leave me.”
I swallow hard, eyes tracing the curve of his face, the way his small hand still lingers on mine.
“You’ve been asking for that for a while now, haven’t you?”
He nods, cheeks pink, and I lean down, brushing my lips gently across his forehead, then his nose, tasting the sweetness of lingering pumpkin spice and grilled cheese.
“Alright,” I murmur, voice rough with something I can’t name, “then I’m staying. Tonight, I’m all yours.”
And as he leans into me, curling against my chest, I know this is exactly where I want to be—where I’ve always wanted to be. Drawing comparisons between Oren and the last boy I dated doesn’t seem fair. They’re entirely different men. Alex was manipulation disguised in sweet smiles, bratty and jealous, and never mixed sex into his Little space. He regressed when he felt stressed or scared, which wasn’t nearly often enough to satisfy the Daddy in me.
Oren, on the other hand, wears his Littleness like a second skin. Always close to the surface, mixing seamlessly into his personality. I get plenty of Daddy time with him, and he’s never bratty or manipulative. Oren is a breath of fresh air. Sweet sunshine and easy smiles. And that wicked imagination of his, always mixing the sexiness with the vulnerability, it’s… intoxicating.
I couldn’t have wished for a more perfect boy.
