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My eyes snap open. Groaning, I scoot away from the edge of the bed. "My bad. I thought you were someone else."
Marcello rubs his sleepy eyes. "Quit yapping, you two. I’m sleeping."
Lazaro picks up Pinky and squeezes him tight. "No problem there. I’ll just hug this little dino stuffy and let it lull me to the land of dreams."
My eyes roll to the whites. God, my brother is such a Little. I can’t believe I didn’t realize it earlier—it should’ve been plain as day.
I poke Lazaro’s ribs. "Are you sure you don't want a nice, steaming cup of raspberry tea in a pink teacup to wake you up?"
Lazaro shoots me a death glare over the stuffy. "Make fun of me at your own peril."
"Oh, Jericho," Marcello groans, his palm stretching out—a little too close to me, to be honest. "Come here, baby boy. Daddy needs to love on you before he gets out of bed."
Marcello’s firm hand flops around the empty bed.
That’s when it hits all of us at the same time—crap.
"Where's Jericho?" I crack my neck.
Lazaro lifts his head, then rests it against the bedframe. "That darn boy needs to quit running off in the middle of the night to use the restroom. This isn’t the first time I’ve caught him sneaking a little pee without alerting us."
"Wow." I shake my head in disappointment. "Really?"
Marcello pushes out a sigh. "Unfortunately, yes. He needs to learn that Daddy must always hold his rod while he uses the bathroom."
Lazaro grits his teeth. "When he comes out of the potty, we’ll tell him."
Un. Believe. Able.
Yes, it’s imperative that all good boys let their Daddies know when they’re about to use the restroom. It’s dangerous for a Little (even a twenty-eight-year-old Little like Jericho) to go on their own.
Sometimes, they don't shake properly, and this is always an issue. How can you learn to use the restroom if you don't shake? Daddy always needs to show his boy what to do—sometimes, even lead by example.
It’s the proper thing to do. Education comes first.
Lazaro taps his fingers on the mattress. "I don't hear Jericho using the potty."
"Give him time, brother." I cuff Lazaro’s shoulder.
Marcello scowls. "We need to put a bell on the bathroom door so we wake up."
"I agree," I say. "The last thing we want is for Jericho to fall into the potty."
This is a very real concern for every Daddy. Of course, it’s because we have an oversized, jumbo potty—one that Jericho could easily slip into.
The oversized toilet is one that I had custom-made for a past boy. He never wanted to use it—said it made him feel "ridiculous." It’s to mimic the effect of a regular-sized potty for a very small person, so that the Little kinkster feels, well, Little.
That’s it. I can’t take the suspense.
I stumble out of bed. "I’m going in there to shake his dick off right now."
Marcello crosses his arms over his chest. "If he wanted to tell us, he would’ve. We can’t barge in without his permission."
Lazaro sticks his nose in the air. "Maybe something happened. He fell asleep on the toilet."
I scratch my neck. "How can you fall asleep on the toilet?"
Lazaro shrugs. "Dunno. Maybe you’re reading. Or… boinging."
