Page 21 of Merry Little Christmas
Bright-eyed, they only shrugged, tipping their head back in a silent demand for a kiss. I leaned in, happy to give it to them—only to be drenched by a sudden wave of water.
Unable to be angry about it, I laughed and scrubbed my eyes clear. “Okay, you’re asking for it!”
They yelped as I splashed them back, and a war broke out. Soon enough, more water covered the floor than what was left in the bathtub. Breathless, I sat back on my heels. I was soaking wet and exhausted, but that dirty little giggle made it all worth it. They were sixteen the first time I ever saw them cry, and I’d never forgotten it—it was the day I vowed that I’d do anything to make them happy. Hearing their laugh and knowing I was the one that caused it was a dream come true.
Peyton sat back in the tub, drawing their legs up and restingtheir head on their knees. God, they painted a beautiful picture. Beads of water dripped from wet hair, dotting their red-tinted cheeks. Fuck, I was one lucky man.
Before I lost sight of myself, I retrieved a washcloth from beneath the sink. “Time to get you clean, little one.”
Peyton didn’t protest, moving pliantly as I washed them from head to toe. After drying and wrapping the fluffy towel around them, I asked, “Do you want me to get you ready for bed?”
Their only answer was strolling over to my dresser, stealing a t-shirt, and shuffling out the door. Pausing, they tossed a sleepy, but bratty grin over their shoulder.
God, I was fucked.
I followed, finding them waiting patiently by the changing table. They giggled as I lifted them, warming my heart. After I dressed them in the T-shirt, they laid across the table while I collected their supplies. Peyton watched, bleary-eyed as I fastened their diaper on. I hammed up the attention, kissing along their belly until they squirmed. “Tickles, Daddy!” they squealed.
“Where? Here?” I feathered a light touch right above their piercing, and they wiggled in my grip.
They howled with laughter. “Daddy!”
Hands around their waist and my thumb brushing that piercing, I ceased the torture. Peyton’s stomach heaved beneath my palm as they fought to catch their breath, and I couldn’t help but pause to appreciate their beauty. Soft skin beneath my fingertips created such a striking contrast to the rough patches on mine. Brown eyes shone under the lights, lids growing heavy. When I noticed their finger in their mouth, my first instinct was to reach for a pacifier, but the image of the rocking chair in the corner of my eye, I got a better idea. “Are you too tired for a bottle tonight?”
They released their finger with apop,head thrashing side to side. “No! Milk, please!”
Chuckling, I pressed one last kiss to their belly before covering it with the T-shirt. “Aren’t you going to get cold?”
I helped Peyton off the table and they made a beeline for the rocker. “That’s what Daddies are for.”
Well, I couldn’t argue with that, could I?
I couldn’t ignore how…righteverything felt. It was like Peyton and I had been stumbling around, clueless as to what was right in front of us.
I remembered what it felt like when my last relationship ended. All because my ex didn’t respect my wishes to keep regression non-sexual. He had every right to find what he needed in a partner, but that didn’t mean the breakup didn’t suck.
But Peyton… We lined up in every way. I guess we always had.
In the kitchen, I warmed some milk on the stove while I withdrew my secret weapon from the cabinet: sugar free coffee syrup—vanilla, naturally. It was Peyton’s favorite. They’d always had a sweet tooth.
I had a few bottles, but selected one that I knew Peyton would love. Neutrally colored, it was decorated with pastel stars that matched the beads on their favorite bracelet.
That bracelet had been one of the first hints that they’d been a Little. Well, that and the bratty attitude they’d always had—or lack thereof when I opened my mouth. Jesse typically snapped right back at me, but with an arch of my brow and a shift in my tone, Peyton submitted every time.
With that realization, I wondered why Ihadn’tseen it before. The desire had always been there, but I never imagined that they’d feel the same way about me.
Shoving the irrational thoughts aside, I returned to the nursery. Peyton was curled up in the rocker, thumb in their mouth and well on their way to sleep. But when I walked into the room, they sat up. “Mine?”
Whether they were talking about me or the bottle, I wasn’t sure, but I settled next to them. “Nope, I made this all for me.”
They glared, but in their hazy, sleepy state, it was far from intimidating.
I pulled Peyton into my lap, positioning a pillow under my arm to keep them comfortable. Cradled against my shoulder, with their legs thrown over the side of the chair, they happily latched onto the bottle. I clocked the moment the warm, sweet liquid hit their tongue. With a hum, they closed their eyes and drank. I held tight onto the bottle, their hand covering mine. Sitting there, watching them, my throat tightened and my heart fluttered.
I’d been foolish to think we were ever just friends. Peyton had trusted me with their deepest secrets, had run tomewhen they needed help. They’d shown me parts of themself that no one else had ever experienced before.
I’d always known that I’d do anything to protect them but now that feeling was amplified. I’d obliterate anything that threatened their happiness with a smile on my face.
Peyton adjusted their position, tightening their grip on my hand, and my chest squeezed.
