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Laughing, his cheeks pinked as he shook his head. “I’m never going to live that down. Around here, I’m going to be Wesley’s Bishop forever.”
Unless he became my Bishop.
But that was a completely inappropriate thought to have about a new friend—a new friend who might’ve already met someone else—so I laughed, nodding and trying to push back the stupid wandering thoughts. “Yep, we have long memories and we love good stories.”
He groaned, but his face was too bright for the drama to be genuine. “I don’t even want to know what stories he told.”
I was about to be helpful and volunteer until he turned the conversation back around to me. “No stories about me. I want stories about you. If you didn’t have a playtime sleepover this weekend, then when do you get to be little? Why didn’t your friends just make it into a little sleepover?”
He asked the most interesting questions.
“It doesn’t come up that often.” Regular people didn’t do things like that. “We still had fun, talking, too much alcohol. That kind of stuff, but most people tend to forget about it.”
As I grinned, shrugging and hoping to figure out a way to talk about something else, his brows pulled together. “Why don’t they? Cartoons, some crayons or games…it’d be just as much fun.”
It would?
“I…” I found myself shrugging again.
How had the conversation gone so off track so quickly?
“Um, we just don’t talk about my little side that often.” I wasn’t sure if there was a reason why. Sometimes something fun like my Play-Doh would come up, but we never actually used it. “Well, I’ve talked about it, so it’s not a surprise.”
There was very little privacy at work, so I hadn’t even tried to hide it, but that didn’t mean I had to broadcast it or ask people to play with me.
That would’ve been…
“Eli would play with you.” Bishop said it so matter-of-factly I knew he thought he was telling God’s honest truth. “He’s got a friend that he hangs out with sometimes and they color and play dress-up.”
I wasn’t going to even ask how he knew that. People just seemed to randomly vomit stories to him like he pulled them out just by looking at them.
“He and I haven’t talked much about that kind of stuff.” Although come to think of it, one time he had asked me where I’d bought onesies.
I just thought his underwear choices had gotten a bit more interesting or that it might be for research.
“I make time for that kind of stuff on my own, though.” That seemed to be the wrong response because he frowned.
“With other littles like at a club or something like that?” He crossed his arms over his chest and I had to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. “Ian?”
How did he say that so…
He was a sub, right?
Swallowing, I shrugged, not sure what to say. “I’m happy with my life, but yes, I go up to a club in DC sometimes.”
Just not often.
Playing around strangers was weird even if everyone was nice.
He must’ve seen that on my face, though, because his expression grew more intent. “How often? When was the last time you went up to play?”
Shit.
“Um, last spring?” And considering the air was starting to get chilly at night…well, it’d been a while.
“That is terrible.” Bishop sat taller and gave me a look like he was charging into battle. I had to ignore how sexy it was and focus on his idea…his surprising idea. “We’re going to fix that, first thing.”
I wasn’t sure I liked where this was going.
“Oh, I don’t…” I wasn’t even sure what to say, but that didn’t seem to bother Bishop.
“Littles need playtime to relieve their stress.” He wasn’t wrong, but in this case, I wasn’t sure how right he was.
He was perceptive, though, and broke off his charge to study my probably confusing expression. “We’ll start slow.”
Was that better?
I liked the idea of having someone to play with or even just to be in charge while I colored. But that wasn’t…friends didn’t…right?
“What do you mean?” I was done trying to piece my random thoughts together. If Bishop wanted to be in control, I’d let him.
Subs took control sometimes, right?
“We’re going to have a…a little night.” He seemed more confident the longer he spoke, eyes shining with whatever he was imagining. “It’ll be great.”
We were?
It would?
“What does a little night entail?”
Wait.
I should’ve stopped this madness instead of agreeing to it.
Had I agreed to it?
He was so…Bishopy.
“I’ll play Daddy and make dinner and stuff like that. Then we’ll watch a movie or some cartoons and we’ll color.” He made it sound so logical, like we were both kids and he was pretending to be the dad. “I have friends that aren’t boyfriends, but one’s the little and one’s the Daddy.”
People did that?
I mean, real people, not just internet people.
