“Thanks, Daddy.”
Gods, I loved it when he said that. “Anything you need from me, just tell me.”
With Oscar in one arm, his hand between mine, he leaned against my shoulder. “That’s better.”
It really was.
“So, are you ready for some of my answers?”
The impulse to kiss the top of his head was there, but I held back. We were not at that point. “I don’t think I’m a strict daddy, but I do have some rules.”
That was a difficult question to answer because I always preferred sweet obedient boys to brats. I could be playful, but my idea of a good time wasn’t dealing with someone who wanted that kind of supervision.
“What kind of rules?”
“Getting enough sleep, making sure you eat your vegetables, drinking enough water—that kind of thing.”
He sat for a good minute before responding. “Those sound like good rules, Daddy.”
“I think so.” And I wasn’t militant about it, forcing specific veggies in specific quantities or diagraming water intake, both things some daddies did. “But no, I’m not the kind of daddy who has you write lines or sit in corners or doesn’t talk to you if you make a mistake.”
He let out a small gasp. “Daddies do that?”
“Daddies do what their boys want or need, so yeah, some do.” Some were also bad daddies, but I didn’t put that in there. This wasn’t about a pissing match over whether I could be king of the daddy world or not. It was about open communication.
“And as far as how much I do for my littles, it would depend on the little and what we decided on. Some littles need to get so little that they need daddies to do everything, from feeding to pottying to carrying them to bed. Does that sound like you?”
“No, Daddy.”
“I didn’t think so.” I played back his series of questions in my head, not wanting to miss any.
“And as to whether I spoil my littles, I think what you mean is, would I would spoil you. And one million percent, I absolutely would. I’ve been holding back, trying not to be pushy since I’ve been here, but if I were your daddy and you allowed it, I’d be spoiling you. Do you like being spoiled?”
He pulled his head off my shoulder and looked up at me. “I don’t know. I’ve never had anyone spoil me before.”
Well, that was going to have to change because if anyone deserved to be spoiled, pampered, and loved, it was Nico.
Chapter Twelve
Nico
“I don’t know. I’ve never had anyone spoil me before.” As soon as I said it, I wanted to take it back. It sounded like I was having a pity party in the middle of our conversation, but that wasn’t the intent—not even close. I wanted to be honest. “Pax? Can we pretend I didn’t say that?”
“No, sweet boy. We’re having an open conversation. The words we say here matter, especially if they’re said without us thinking too much. We self-censor too many of our thoughts.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way, but he was absolutely right. I did that a lot, and I had especially done it with him in the past, not wanting it to slip out that I liked him. And then when I finally decided I wanted to tell him, I did it to the point I prevented myself from getting the words out.
“I think I’m gonna try not to do that anymore, Daddy.” I couldn’t promise him that I’d stop. That would be impossible. Being aware of it would go a long way. Or at least that was my theory. We’d see soon enough.
“Well, it’s a great goal, but don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s not easy to do.” As if he could hear my thoughts. “I haven’t figured out how yet.”
I loosened my hand beneath his enough to intertwine our fingers, his other hand still covering the top of mine.
“Tell me, Nico,” he said. “Has it been hard being up here by yourself, without being able to play with any friends or daddies or mommies?”
“Yes and no. And yes.” I didn’t want to overthink my response, but also, it wasn’t something I’d ever thought about, and there were so many layers. “That’s a really big question, Daddy.”
“Because?”
