“Is there anything in particular you like about being Little? Or, are you more like a… Middle?” I try to recall what I read, the different labels the guy had posted about.
“I’d say Little,” Tyler says. “Are you sure you want to talk about this? I mean, I know I kind of threw that on you.”
“I’m good, Ty.” I smile. “I’m not as vanilla as you might think. I’m honestly curious about it.”
“I don’t regress as far as my friends,” he says. “I like to pretend and play with the toys, but I don’t like diapers like they do.”
Diapers? That wasn’t mentioned in the post. I’ve seen my fair share of older men and women that deal with incontinence and use some form of diaper, but I didn’t know there were people that used them willingly like that.
“What kind of toys do you like to play with?” I ask. Half of my brain is curious about this, wanting to know more, while the other half is starting to make a list of things that I could keep here if he comes back.
“I like make pretend,” Tyler says. “Figurines like dragons or princes and princesses to make stories with. I also like reading books and eating yummy snacks.”
“Dragons, books, and yummy snacks. Got it.” I count each one on my fingers and it makes Tyler smile. “And what do you want in a Daddy?”
“Brandt, you seriously don’t have–”
“Tyler, I’m just asking questions. I don’t know anything about this.”
“Sorry.” Tyler dips his chin to his chest and avoids my eyes. My words were a bit stern and I feel bad about it. I open my mouth to say something, but Tyler speaks again. “I think I’m just still a bit sad about Sunday night. Thinking about what I like reminds me of Mark. He’s great, but I know that he wasn’t expecting to care for me in that way.”
“What things do you like when you’re Little?” I ask tentatively. I don’t want him to be sad over it, but I can’t lie that my interest is piqued enough to push the subject.
I watch him pick at the fruit before sighing and setting it down on the table. He looks back up at me and gives a half-hearted smile.
“I like the thought of someone else helping to keep track of my issues.” I want to interject that he doesn’t have ‘issues’, he has a medical diagnosis. He continues to talk before I can say it though. “I also like having someone…”
His voice trails off and I don’t catch what he says. He looks up at me and his cheeks are tinged a cute pink.
“I didn’t hear that last part,” I say, a hint of humor in my voice because I feel like it’s something that he doesn’t want to repeat.The flush on his cheeks deepens and he glances down toward his lap. “Ty?”
“I said I like having someone that tells me I’m doing a good job.”
It’s such a simple thing. I smile warmly, nodding. Giving compliments to the cute guy sitting across the couch from me? I can do that. It makes me wonder if he gets that from family or not.
I move closer to him so I can lay a hand on his knee and squeeze gently. He gives me the smallest of smiles and it warms my heart.
“You are doing a good job,” I say. “Dealing with what you’ve had going on, while still holding on to your job, is amazing. Looking back now, you definitely shouldn’t have pushed yourself so hard but I’m proud of you. And I’m happy we got a diagnosis for you.”
There’s silence between us for a couple of seconds. I can see that Tyler is holding back saying something, or whatever thoughts are swirling in his mind. I want to relieve those worries. That’s what a Daddy does, right?
“You don’t have to say anything, Tyler.” I keep my voice soft. I rub my thumb across his knee. He’s still in his work pants and I want to offer him some shorts, but I don’t want to overstep. I also don’t want him to leave. I might have to do some more research on the whole Daddy thing, but I have been in relationships and I know what I like in a person. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”
His eyes widen almost comically. I smile, waiting for his answer. This will be his decision if he wants to or not.
“I have to wake up early,” he says. “I don’t want to bother you.”
“I have to wake up before six to get to work on time,” I say. “I get up early to come get my coffee anyway.”
I can see him debating it once again and I wait. He chews on the corner of his bottom lip. It’s adorable and I want to reach up and brush my fingers against his lips.
“If you’re okay with it,” he says finally. “I don’t have any clothes with me.”
“Do you have your medicine?” I’m more concerned about that than clothes. I can loan him those.
“I do,” he says. “I keep it with me, just in case.”
“That’s a smart idea,” I say. “And I can loan you some clothes.”
