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I pat BJ’s bum. "Settle down, boy."
BJ turns his eyes up to me. He sniffles, then hugs Bob tight. "We’re trying to get comfortable. You’ve got quite a big belly, you know."
That I do. That I do.
I smile, then wrap my arms around BJ to help him find a suitable spot. I work his petite body into the crook of my hips, and he sighs contentedly as he wiggles his bum to try out his new home.
BJ is exactly my type. I have no idea why I held back from giving myself to him for so long.
It was wrong of me. Horribly, awfully, evilly wrong to shy away from making BJ my boy.
I was afraid of what people would say about me. Afraid of the rumors men would whisper around job sites when they saw me with a man who likes diggers as much as him.
Now, I know I was mistaken. BJ adores me, and that’s what matters most. All the haters can go get spanked by a forklift.
My right hand draws circles on BJ’s bum. "Gods, you fit perfectly."
"Like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich." BJ burrows his cheek into my chest, giving a baby raccoon that likes to cuddle into burly trees a run for its money. "That’s what working guys eat. I’ve seen them."
"Or a Nutella doughnut," I growl, leaning down to peck his temple. I’ve definitely seen my fair share of construction laborers eat doughnuts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I have no clue how they maintain the energy to accomplish such physically demanding tasks with their terrible diets. "One a little angel left them."
"Not an angel. I’m a working guy, too."
I close my eyes as I squeeze BJ tight. I try to focus on the things I’ll show him, the sites I’ll let him walk, but it’s hard when he’s wrapped so snug in my arms.
I have a hug bug, yes I do. A cute lil’ hug bug that only exists to give me love.
BJ breathes out a happy sigh. A strand of his dark chestnut hair floats up, fluttering above his head. I watch it dance under the ceiling lights, twittering this way and that, before it topples down on his forehead.
It hits me that I’ve never truly looked at BJ up close.
My eyes dip down to his nose, and I can’t help but kiss it. The nose of all noses. Pointy, lightly freckled, undeniably handsome—oh gods, I’m not sure why BJ needs such a perfect nose on top of everything else. Fair? Not even. It's not the steak I eat for dinner every night that'll give me a heart attack. It’ll be BJ’s nose.
"Are you eating my nose?"
I let out a snort, then shake my head. "You’d better not be saying that because you can tell that I'm hungry."
BJ giggles. "Nooooo. It’s because I felt your lips on it."
I brush a lock of his hair over his left ear. "I’m giving it a kiss. A Daddy kiss. I bet you’ve received many of those before, haven’t you?"
BJ shakes his head sadly. "You’d think so, but I haven’t. I’ll be honest, Bryce. Every time I’ve come close to finding a Daddy of my own, my obsession with construction scares them off."
My brow furrows. "I can’t understand why."
"It’s too much. Daddies want a Little who enjoys cute playful things, but not one who seems like they have an obsessive disorder. When I say I like diggers, I mean… I love them. I dream about them. Sitting on one, preferably on a working guy’s lap, and learning how to dig holes. In high school, I doodled mounds of dirt, envisioning what it’d be like to be the man who scoops."
"I still don't see what the problem is."
"It’s over the top." BJ bursts into tears, his eyes transforming into waterfalls that give the most gorgeous state parks in Upstate New York a run for their money. "I don't simply separate my Little and Big sides like I should. I think about adult things during the day, and construction at night. My interests blend into each other, and when other students are paying attention in the lecture hall, my head is in the clouds thinking about diggers."
I can’t help but smile, then tousle BJ’s hair. "I don't think your head is in the clouds. It’s in the construction yard. And guess what, baby boy?"
BJ’s wide green eyes lock on mine yet again. This time, I lose my train of thought. A million thoughts swirl through my head, each as vibrant as the lush, verdant emerald that sparks and pops within his irises. I almost wish I could extract their secrets, synthesize them, and put them in a fertilizer so all the grass at my properties could be this green.
"What?" BJ’s whispered voice is so soft, so angelic, that I get a pain in my chest. It’s a small pain, certainly not indicative of a heart attack, but one that throbs with the same intensity.
I grip his chin tightly, then peck his nose again. "There’s nothing wrong with that."
