Page 100 of Phantom Faceoff
He grins full of amusement and affection.
“Love you, too, Wildfire.”
I draw him in for a kiss, moaning obscenely when his tongue— warm and sweet from his own coffee—prods around my mouth like a playground.
“Not fair.”
We break away at Julian’s pout, and while keeping one arm around me, Malachi slings the other around his best friend.
“Maybe it’s time for you to start looking for your own Daddy.”
Julian only pouts more, crossing his arms but leaning into Malachi’s chest.
“You won’t let me use the websites.”
“Because I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“How am I going to meet a Daddy if you won’t let me talk to any Daddies?”
The three of us have played around a handful of times, but as mine and Malachi’s dynamic has gotten more serious, we’ve found that so has our possessiveness of one another. Even casually, Julian has dropped referring to Malachi as “Daddy” because I expressed discomfort over it.
I felt like an ass, because he was Julian’s first, but they both assured me that my feelings were a priority. They restructured their relationship so Malachi can offer him support but not full on caretaking anymore.
“I might have a solution for that,” Malachi says, giving both of our waists a squeeze. “I looked into an event coming up. A camp for Littles. I thought maybe you could meet some like-minded friends.”
Julian’s eyes light up, though hold a bit of skepticism.
“I’d have to go alone.”
Malachi nods. “Zander doesn’t regress, and I’m not leaving him for a whole summer.”
Julian blows out a breath, but movement from inside the building interrupts whatever he’s about to say.
Tess pops her head out, sees the three of us, and grins. “Hello, loves. Right on time.”
Before anyone can complain, Tess grabs one of my hands and one of Malachi’s and pulls us toward the doorway.
“I worked really hard on this,” she whispers in my ear, earning her a look of suspicion from Malachi. “Appreciate me.”
I kiss her cheek. “Whatever you need.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
The rearranged record shop is more spacious with half of the store housing rows of CDs and vinyls with brand new listening stations that are much more Zander-proof than the originals.
The other half? It’s a wide open space with a small, gated off section of audio equipment and a slightly elevated, circular stage.
I use the term lightly, because it won’t likely fit more than two or three people.
It’s currently occupied by cords and instruments, namely a keyboard and something else with a lot of buttons.
There’s someone crouched at the keyboard, messing with something at the bottom, and when I throw Tess a questioning look, she nods enthusiastically.
“What’s this?” Malachi asks, still taking everything in.
“It’s a set up for live bands,” I say, fighting a blush when Malachi’s surprised eyes turn on me. “You love music, and Julian told me you’ve never gotten to go to a concert.”
Which I understand given his aversion to crowds. “So, I figured I’d bring the concert to you.”
