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Bryce kisses my hair as I suckle him. We’re on top of a garbage dump almost as if we rule the whole city. This is where real construction workers come at the end of a long day to deliver their trash. They’re not allowed to put it in black bins like regular people, no. They’re special. They have to receive special permits to drop their construction garbage off here.
Bryce has the most permits out of anyone. That means he basically sends his men here every day, which is so special I nearly fail to fathom it. So many men in New York want to be in his position—powerful and mighty, able to build empires and have access to all the best places.
In Bryce’s arms, I’m capable of doing anything. Helping families in need. Being Little. And playing in the town dump, the biggest, best dump like I only dreamt about as a boy, to my heart’s content.
I hug Bryce as best I can. It’s tough because his body is so large, but I manage. "Thank you, Daddy. Best day ever."
Bye grins as he kisses my forehead. "I’m glad you think so. I had fun, too."
He leads me out of the dump, but not before stopping for another sucker. The manager pinches my cheek and tells me I was the best-behaved boy at the dump that he’s ever seen, and that he wishes all the workers who dumped their garbage every day were as polite as me.
I lick my sucker happily as Bryce and I skip back to his car. This was a great day, maybe even better than when I first went to the job site. No, that’s impossible—that was also the best day ever.
Maybe there is no such thing as a best day. Maybe there are only best days. Each is perfect in its own way.
* * *
Later that night, I snuggle up next to Bryce under the moonlight.
We’re in my bed, which makes me happy for some odd reason. Not that I don't love his bed—I do. It’s wide, warm, and his down comforter is one of the most comfortable blankets ever.
Something inside me wants to snuggle with him in my bed. My dump truck bed, the one that I fell in love with the instant I walked into my room.
I thought it was so sweet that Bryce designated a whole room just for me. At first, I assumed I’d be sleeping with him every night, but part of me was disappointed that he didn’t want me with him. As he later explained, that wasn’t the case at all.
It’s important to let a boy have his own space when you move him into your house.
The last thing Bryce wanted to do was force me to sleep beside him—an absurd proposition. He suffers from sleep apnea, and occasionally he wears a CPAP machine.
He was also concerned about rolling over and crushing me. This wasn’t due to his weight which isn’t that much for a man of his stature, but due to his immense bulk. He’s a meaty, tall man, capable of giving the best bear hugs the world has to offer, but this comes with "downsides."
The "downsides" aren’t really downsides to me. I love everything about Bryce, from his kind, fluffy soul, to his size that dwarfs my own. I like being the little one, the petite one that he can lift by the back of my shirt. I love when he zooms me around, making me giggle and curl my toes. And I especially love how he cares about me. Only Bryce can make me feel as if I’m both a strong, mature, responsible man who’s learning more about the real world every single day, and a baby that needs his Daddy to take care of him.
I let go in Bryce’s arms, sighing contently as my lemonade flows out of me. Bryce uses plastic sheets in my bed, so there’s no danger of staining the mattress.
This wakes Bryce up.
He grumbles, then moves his hand between my legs to check on me. "Uh oh. Someone had an accident in their sleep."
I let him check me for a little longer, not opening my eyes or saying anything. Happiness is all I feel when he checks me. He likes to ensure that I’m okay, that my body is functioning normally.
At last, I yawn and smile. "I’m not sleeping."
"Oh, no?" Bryce clears his throat. "Then, why did you wet in my arms?"
I snuggle deeper into his chest. "I feel so safe with you. Safe and secure, Daddy. Big strong Daddy who keeps me safe."
Bryce snorts as he rubs my shoulder. Then, he picks up Bob, and slides him under my arm. "You must be careful not to get Bob wet. We’ll have to wash him."
"I know."
I’m shy all of a sudden. Speaking about Bob after I made lemonade makes me quiet down.
Today at the dump left me feeling all sorts of fuzzies. I thought it was because of the sucker—I do like my candy, obviously. There’s no Little on the face of the Earth who doesn’t. As Bryce drove us home, I couldn’t help but think that the warmth brewing inside of me was due to something else altogether. It wasn’t the sugar, the candy, or the happiness I felt when the manager handed it to me and complimented me. No, it was because for the first time in my life, I knew I’d found the one.
Bryce cares for me in every way. He changes me, cuddles me, tickles me, and showers me with praise and love. When he’s not teaching me about finance and real estate, he’s taking me to banks, showing me how the world works, and even helping me with my coursework. He got a private tutor for himself so he could teach me calculus. Can you believe that? Unlike so many men who simply pay lip service to what their partners want, Bryce puts his money where his mouth is. He even checked up with my father about his pledge to take me on a father and son date. My father did—it happened last week. We went to a local park after the sun set and he pushed me on the swings, and I giggled and kicked my legs, feeling his hands on my back, which felt so wonderful because I thought my father hated me, except as it turns out, he simply didn’t know how to relate to me. Bryce fixed that.
"Have you ever thought about having a forever boy, Daddy?"
