The truth is, I'm wiped.
Olivier helps me into my pajamas, soft cotton ones with cartoon trucks, a set he surprised me with this morning. They fit snug, making me feel small and cared for.
"Adorable," Olivier murmurs, buttoning the top.
We head to the bedroom, the big master bed waiting with its crisp sheets and plump pillows.
“Wow. I really am tired,” I say. “I could just collapse and go sleepy.”
“See, Daddy’s always right,” Olivier says, a wink and knowing look in his eyes.
The city hums faintly outside, but in here, it's our world. I climb in first, Lexi under my arm, scooting to make room. Olivier joins, pulling the covers over us, his body warm and solid as he spoons me from behind.
"Story time," he says, arm around my waist. "Once upon a time, there was a brave Little dragon named Danny, and he had the biggest wings in the whole kingdom..."
My Daddy’s voice is soothing, low like a rumble, weaving a tale of adventures—me as the dragon, Lexi my trusty sidekick, flying through clouds, battling storms but always finding home with my strong Daddy knight, Sir Chefking. Olivier weaves in details from our day… the Dancing Daisy castle, bubble baths as magic potions.
My eyes flutter, the words blurring into comfort.
Safe in his arms, Lexi soft against my chest, sleep pulls me under.
The last thing I feel is his kiss on my hair, whispering, "Sweet dreams, my boy."
I drift off, content, dreaming of dragons and Daddies.
Morning comes and I blink awake slowly, stretching under the heavy duvet, my body still carrying that delicious, heavy feeling from yesterday. Lexi’s tucked against my chest, his soft scales tickling my chin. I nuzzle him for a second, smiling like an idiot, then roll over to reach for Olivier.
He’s not there.
The sheet on his side is cool, pillow dented but empty.
A little flicker of disappointment curls in my chest, but it’s chased away by the smell drifting in from the kitchen—coffee, something sweet like cinnamon, and that faint, comforting scent of Olivier himself.
I yawn big, rubbing my eyes, then swing my legs out of bed.
My pajamas ride low on my hips, the waistband loose from all the wiggling I did in my sleep.
“Daddy…” I mutter, still half asleep but knowing that Olivier won’t be far away.
I pad barefoot through the apartment, Lexi under one arm, the hardwood cool against my soles. The city hums faintly outside the big windows, but in here everything feels quiet, soft,ours. I know this is Olivier’s place, but I really like it and, unusually for me, I actually feel comfortable in a space that isn’t mine for real.
I find him on the living room couch, legs crossed, laptop balanced on his thighs. He’s in a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair still a little messy from sleep, brow furrowed in concentration. The screen glows with spreadsheets, graphs, numbers marching across columns—financial projections, profit margins, cash flow curves.
Serious stuff.
Restaurantstuff.
Olivier glances up when my bare feet scuff the rug. His expression melts instantly, stern focus replaced by something warm and amused.
“Morning, sleepy dragon.” His eyes drop to the front of my pajamas, where morning wood has made an enthusiastic appearance, pushing the soft cotton out in averyobvious tent.
My face ignites.
“Oh,ummm…” I try to angle Lexi in front of me like a shield, which is ridiculous because he’s tiny and I’m huge. “Sorry, Daddy, I just…woke up.”
Olivier’s chuckle is low and fond. He sets the laptop on the coffee table, closes the lid with a soft click, and pats the cushion next to him.
“Come here, boy.”
