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Lazaro and I lose ourselves in a stuffy war. We set up troops, battalions, and reenact the game Bentley and I created.
Halfway through, Lazaro does something different. "I don't like rough games."
I nod. "There’s nothing wrong with that."
"I want my stuffies to hug your stuffies." Lazaro places his hand on mine.
My cheeks flush pink. "Perfect. They can make peace."
"Oh, no." Lazaro grins. "They’re still fighting—but they’re having a hug war instead."
O.M.G. I look up, gazing into Lazaro’s eyes. How… did I get so fortunate?
Lazaro is what every boy dreams about when they play with their Daddy. Most Daddies aren’t capable of this kind of play. It’s something only Littles know how to do.
Lazaro is amazing because he has a Little side, too. I adore that about him. Oh, I’m so happy he is who he is and doesn’t try to run from it.
Our stuffies hug. Time flies by, fading to the wings. Each stuffy approaches a different one, and buries it in a hug.
We don't pause, don't hesitate. We damn well don't quit until each stuffy has hugged the others—no stuffy will sleep tonight without having hugged one of their best friends.
The guesthouse door opens, and Marcello and Santino enter.
"There you two are." Marcello smiles as he tousles my hair. "We were looking for you."
Lazaro looks ashamed as he glances at Santino and Marcello. He grips a teddy, furrowing his brow, staring at his crossed legs.
Santino sits by Lazaro. "Everything all right, bro?"
"Yeah." Lazaro nods—quietly.
Santino pats Lazaro’s back. "We don't judge you, Lazaro. You like to play—that’s wonderful. We wish you would’ve told us earlier."
Marcello settles down into the spot beside me. "You having a Little side makes you a better Daddy. You can intuit what Jericho wants in a way we cannot—be his playmate."
Lazaro’s jaw drops as he stares at the two men. His eyes flit between them, incredulous. "Really?"
Santino smiles. "Yes. Don’t be ashamed—don't run from who you are.Be yourself.Jericho will love you more for it."
It’s true. Leaning forward, I plant my hands on Lazaro’s. "I’m so glad you discovered this side of yourself with me. I’ll cherish it, Lazaro. I promise."
"Kiss me, boy," Lazaro whispers, his breath fanning out across my lips.
Our lips meet. It’s beautiful, transformative, breathtaking. He grips my cheeks, then plunges his tongue into my mouth.
When we part, I pick up a stuffy and set it on his lap. "This is for you."
Santino guides Lazaro’s eyes toward the stuffy. "See, Lazaro? Jericho gave you a stuffy—he cares about you."
"More than you could know," Marcello adds softly.
Lazaro blinks hard to stave off tears, but one still rolls down his cheek. "Thank you all for accepting me."
This is what Daddy relationships are all about. No one is only one thing in this life—we’re all learning, growing, and exploring how we are. Lazaro shouldn’t have to be strictly a firm, non-playful Daddy because that’s what everyone thought when they first saw him (except for his love of pink—perhaps a smart boy would’ve seen this revelation coming).
"Play with me a little longer," I whisper, pulling out more stuffies.
Lazaro turns to Santino and Marcello. "Can you two leave for a sec?"
