Page 59 of Daddy Defender
I move closer to the couch, easing down on the armrest, watching Bodie sleep. His chest rises and falls, steady, his fingers curled around Poot’s tusk like he’s anchoring himself.
I think of his confession in the van, how Vince threatened to expose his Little side, to shame what makes him special. That bastard used his vulnerability like a weapon, and it makes me want to snap his neck.
But more than that, it makes me want to shield him, to be the Daddy he needs, the one who never lets him feel small for being himself.
I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from his face, my touch light so I don’t wake him.
“You’re mine, Little One,” I murmur, the words barely a breath. “No one’s taking you from me.”
But then my elbow bumps the counter, and a coffee mug wobbles, tipping over with a clatter.
Shit.
Bodie stirs, his lashes fluttering, a soft whimper escaping as he clutches Billy tighter. His blue eyes blink open, hazy with sleep, and he squints at me, all pouty and adorable.
“Daddy?” he mumbles, his voice small, tugging at my heart.
“Sorry, sweet baby boy,” I say, keeping my voice low, soothing. “Knocked something over. Go back to sleep, you need it.”
I lean forward, tucking the blanket around him, my Daddy side in full swing, wanting him to drift back to his dreams.
But Bodie shakes his head, sitting up a bit, his stuffies still clutched tight.
His eyes are clearer now, searching mine, and there’s something in them—need, not just sleepiness.
“I don’t wanna sleep,” Bodie says, his voice soft but firm, a hint of his surfer boy defiance peeking through. “I need…something else.”
He bites his lip, his cheeks flushing, and the air shifts, heavy with unspoken want.
My pulse kicks up, my Daddy instincts warring with the heat his words spark.
He’s looking at me like he did in the living room that night, all fire and trust, and I know what he’s asking.
It’s not just physical—it’s us, sealing what’s been building, the bond that’s more than a mission or a fling.
If I was in any doubt about what the boy wants, I know for sure when he lifts the cover to reveal the big tent at the front of his briefs.
“Okay then,” I growl.
I should shut it down, keep my head clear for tomorrow’s op, but the way he’s leaning toward me, vulnerable yet bold, cracks my resolve. He’s my Little, and I’m his Daddy, and right now, that’s all that matters.
“Bodie,” I say, my voice rough, low, as I slide onto the couch beside him, my hand resting on his knee. “You sure, Little One? We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
I’m giving him an out, testing, but my body’s already humming, the need to claim him, to show him he’s mine, roaring through me.
Bodie nods, setting Poot and Billy aside, his hands reaching for me, small but steady.
“I’m sure, Daddy,” he whispers, his eyes locked on mine, all trust and heat. “I need you. Now.”
That’s it.
The line’s crossed, and I’m not turning back.
I pull him into my lap, his body soft and warm against mine, and cup his face, my thumb brushing his lip.
“Alright, my darling boy,” I murmur, my voice thick with want. “Daddy’s got you.”
With that, I cradle Bodie up in my arms. As I snuggle him, I plant a soft kiss on his lips, the energy between us sparking up immediately.
