Page 3 of A Little Cinny Latte

The whole sight cheers me up, but I can’t stop wondering if Number Eight is okay. Is he back there too, singing along to all the Christmas carols?

The brochure mentioned how much he loves Christmas, so it’s a strong possibility.

At one point, I see a few of my Daddy friends I met over the summer bid on their boys. I love that even some of the couples got to participate, especially for a good cause. After Hunter announces the last boy, I stand and make my way toward my friend.

“Hey there, John. I’m shocked you didn’t make any bids. Is everything okay?”

I wave away his concern. “I’m fine. What happened to boy Number Eight?”

“What do you mean?”

I flip open the brochure and point at Number Eight’s info. “You introduced Number Seven, but then skipped right to Number Nine.”

“Ah, yes. That was Riley. I think the stage fright got the best of him.”

I smile.Riley.

“Do you know him?” I ask, my tone hopeful.

“Yeah, he’s sweet, sometimes a little shy. Actually, most of us in town know him. Quite a few Daddies were sad he didn’t participate tonight.”

I want to ask more, but I also don’t want to invade the boy’s privacy. If he really is that well known in town, then I’m sure I’ll see plenty of him in January.

“Your Daddy instincts are going crazy, aren’t they?” Hunter smirks.

“Oh, god. They are. Am I that fucking obvious?”

Hunter shakes his head. “Nah, you’re good. I only know because I was about to head to the playroom and check on him myself.”

My eyes widen. “But everyone is out here. Has the boy really been in the room alone this whole time?”

“He isn’t alone. I think Tony is back there, and so is another couple or two.” Hunter’s eyes seem to sparkle. “Why don’t you go check on him?”

I nod, already walking toward the playroom I’ve been eager to use with a boy of my own. When I finally make my way across the busy club and over to the section I need to be in, I enter the playroom and immediately spot a gorgeous boy with dark brown hair and a tidy, thick beard.

Something about the sight of his facial hair makes me pause and smile. Most littles I’ve met pride themselves in being clean-shaven, but I must admit, I love hair on my men.

The boy is in the corner playing by himself, surrounded by colorful blocks. He has a purple cat-like stuffie next to him, and I can tell from here that the boy is talking to the purple toy.

The sight is adorable as hell. When the boy stands, the air leaves my throat with a gasp. Unlike all the other elves who seemed to wear festive or skimpy elf costumes, there’s something different about this elf outfit. It’s tight and formfitting and reminds me of a onesie.

Fuck.

He would be perfect in a onesie.

The adorable little heads towards a shelf lined with plastic boxes and, of course, he reaches for something in the container on the very top, causing his long sleeve shirt to ride up and revealhis toned stomach. I notice a dark happy trail beneath striped leggings, a vision that would have immediately made me hard if I were fifteen years younger.

He takes a second box of blocks and goes back to where his purple stuffed animal is sitting. To my shock, he plops back on the ground and dumps the box out in front of him. Blocks fly everywhere. A moment of giggling is replaced by unbearable sadness as he looks around at the chaotic scene. A few tears fall down his cheeks. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m walking toward the boy, ready to do anything in my power to get him to smile.

Suddenly, the door to the playroom opens, and several boys and Daddies I recognize from the auction walk in and stride right toward the little who seems to have captivated me. I spot my friend Ash and his boyfriend, Drake, in the group.

Number Eight quickly swipes at his eyes and hides his tears behind a shy smile. Soon enough, all the boys are surrounding Number Eight and playing while the Daddies watch over them.

I swallow hard, a deep yearning hitting me square in the chest.

Someone claps me on the back, causing me to startle. Tony is standing next to me. “It isn’t too late to walk over there and introduce yourself,” he says.

My gaze bounces over to the young man. He looks like he might be in his mid-to-late-twenties. His beautiful tan skin is a little flushed, but he’s finally smiling a genuine smile. There’s no wayI’m going over there and interrupting the happy scene. The last thing I need to do is yank the poor boy out of his headspace.

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