by T C Heffer
"How could I not want that? You're like, literally perfect."
"I'm far from perfect, Pete, but I appreciate the sentiment." Jeremy eats another bite of his breakfast and prompts Pete to do the same. "Next question: leaving aside the issue of telling your Dad about us, what's the biggest thing you were just worrying about?"
"Uh…I guess that would be the headspace I was in until a minute ago," Pete says, watching as some melted butter trails down the side of his stack of pancakes. "It's confusing. I've never…I never knew I had it in me to act like that again or that I even wanted to, but it was almost intuitive to defer everything to you like I was really younger again. Part of me wonders what the hell's wrong with me, why letting you take care of me like that felt so good and so natural."
"There's nothing wrong with you, Pete, so get that notion out of your head right now," Jeremy commands.
"But I'm eighteen! I'm graduating in a few months. Aren't I supposed to start behaving like an adult now? Y'know, going forward instead of back?"
Jeremy shakes his head. "There's no one way to do things, Pete. I won't lie to you—a lot of people wouldn't understand, but they don't matter. Only what you and I think matters here."
"So, what? It would be fine if I wanted to act like a kid all the time? It doesn't seem right to me."
Jeremy hesitates, choosing his next words carefully. "Forgetting about right and wrong, does that sound like what you'd want out of life, to be my little full-time?"
"Your little?"
"That's what they're called—men and women who want to be taken care of by Daddies or Mommies. Littles."
"How does that even work?"
"Well, for some couples, it's a 24/7 thing. Other littles go out during the day, work jobs, and then, when they come home to their partners, they leave their adult persona at the door. Some only do it when the little feels stressed and thinks it's necessary. The degree to which they delve into their little personas differs from person to person too. Some go the full nine yards—crayons, sippy cups, clothes with trucks or pretty things on them, and even diapers—whereas for others it's more about the caretaking aspect, where they don't really act like children per se. They still have a Daddy or a Mommy, though, who'll make the decisions and take care of everything for them so they don't have to worry about anything. Does that make sense?"
"Sort of. I don't really understand the more involved stuff, but I guess it's not for me to understand."
"From that answer, am I right in thinking that becoming a full-time little isn't what you want?"
Pete thinks long and hard, and Jeremy gives him as much time as he needs. It's difficult to sort through all of his feelings, but he manages it in the end. "No, I don't want that. I loved you taking care of me, but I don't think I'm actually a…a full-on little. I don't want to be treated like an actual kid again, with the crayons and colouring books and stuff. Definitely not the diapers."
"Just to be clear—there wouldn't be anything wrong if you did."
"No, I know. I don't understand, but I'm not judging the people who do want that. They're not hurting anyone."
Jeremy accepts this answer easily. "What exactly do you want, then?"
"Being with you earlier felt amazing, having you make the decisions—there's no use kidding myself about that—but I don't want that all the time. I still want to go to college, get a job, and have some sort of independence."
"That's perfectly fine, Pete."
"It is? You wouldn't mind me still being my own person?"
"You'd always be your own person, free to call things to an end at any time, even if we went for a more extreme arrangement, but no, I don't mind," Jeremy confirms, setting down his fork, his pancakes half-eaten. "To be honest, that isn't what I would want either."
"Then what would you? I still don't really get how the Daddy thing works outside of sex. And, come to think of it," Pete adds, wrinkling his nose, "in hindsight, it's kind of weird that we did sexual stuff in the shower when I was in that headspace."
"You mean you didn't enjoy it?"
"No, I did," Pete hastens to assure, seeing the frown on Jeremy's face. "I really enjoyed it, but something about doing that while I was acting younger than my age feels like dangerous territory to me."
"Ah. That's a common misconception to newbies in this scene."
"Huh?"
"That Daddies or Mommies who do sexual things with their littles must be sexually attracted to real children."
"I don't— I never accused—"
Jeremy holds up a hand. "I know you didn't, Pete, but I need to make this very transparent."
Pete shuts his mouth and puts his own fork down, listening intently.
"Could there be men and women out there who are only in this lifestyle because they get off on imagining that they're doing disgusting things with actual children? I'm not denying that there could be, but that's not me, and that's not any of the others I know or have interacted with."
"Who are you, then?" Pete asks.
"I'm just a man who enjoys taking care of people. I always have."
"Have you had proper littles before?"
Jeremy nods. "I had one once, over a decade ago. It was back when I first got into the scene. It didn't work out because, as I said earlier, a full-time little isn't what I'm looking for. He moved on to a Daddy who could give him exactly what he needed, and since then I've only had casual things with boys that lasted no longer than a few days each. They were good boys, but none of them ever felt right. Like we fit together."
"And what about me? Do I fit? Am I what you're looking for?" Pete tries to hide how hopeful he is for an affirmative response, but he isn't altogether successful.
"I'm looking for a boy who wants me to take care of him sometimes, to help him make decisions both big and small when it seems like things are getting too much for him." Jeremy sends Pete a smile, his eyes soft, and there's no doubt in Pete's mind that Jeremy isn't speaking hypothetically. He's speaking about him. "A boy who likes to be dominated in the bedroom and loves cuddles, who maybe needs a bit of discipline from time to time to make sure he stays focused. A boy who's willing to let go and give me his everything without worrying about judgment because he knows that, whatever happened, I would never judge him."
Pete looks away, overwhelmed and touched.
"Who does that sound like to you?" Jeremy asks him after a moment of quiet.
Pete gives a slightly wobbly smile. "It sounds like me."
"Exactly. We barely know each other, but I just have a feeling that you're the perfect boy for me."
Now that he has a definitive answer, Pete feels brave enough to meet Jeremy's gaze again. "So we're doing this?"
"There'll be more things to work out as we go, but yes, I think we are."
"Awesome!" Pete is so exhilarated that he leaps up from his stool, races around the island and climbs onto Jeremy's lap to kiss him passionately.
"Easy, Pete!" Jeremy laughs, returning the kiss with his arms wound around the teenager's back.
"Sorry. I couldn't help myself."
Jeremy smiles affectionately and brushes Pete's blond hair back from his forehead. "It's okay."
After a few more kisses, Pete returns to his own stool and they both finish their pancakes in companionable silence. Once the plates and cutlery is all loaded into the dishwasher, Pete spots the clock on the microwave and pouts. "I need to go," he laments. "My Dad will be home soon."
"Let's gather your things, then," Jeremy says, putting a hand on the small of Pete's back and guiding him in the direction of the living room, where they left Pete's clothes yesterday.
"God, I don't wanna go, though." Pete sighs. "We only just got things sorted out."
"I don't want you to leave either, but until you're ready for your Dad to know about us, we can't do anything to arouse his suspicions."
"Yeah, you're right. Still sucks big time, though…"
In the living room now, Jeremy collects Pete's jeans, boxers and T-shi
rt, folds them carefully and hands them to their owner. "How's this? You can keep my clothes for now, and we can text each other all the time when it's not feasible for us to see each other."
"That'd be good," Pete assents. He gets his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and is pleased to discover that the battery isn't yet flat. He unlocks it and gives it to Jeremy. "Put your number in here."
Jeremy taps the screen a few times, and then Pete hears a chime from the master bedroom. "Now I have your number too. You can text me whenever you want."
"I will."
Migrating into the foyer, Pete opens the front door and then lingers, his head tilted up for a goodbye kiss. He gets it, and then, unfortunately, it's really time for him to go back to his own house. "Is it weird if I say that I miss you already?"
Jeremy shakes his head. "Not at all. I know I'm gonna miss you as soon as you're gone."
"I think my Dad has another night shift next weekend. We could go out or something, and I could sleep over again afterward," Pete suggests.
Jeremy runs his fingers through the teenager's hair. "Yeah? Do you want me to take you on a date? Maybe out for dinner?"
"I'd like that. I've never been on a date before."
"Then that's what we'll do. And then, when we get back here…I'm gonna have my way with you again."
Pete quivers with a fresh wave of arousal. "I can't wait."
"Me neither, baby. Now, you should go before I lose control, throw you over my shoulder and tie you to my bed so you can never leave."
"Fuck…" That sounds like a wonderful idea to Pete, but he doesn't give in. Reality calls. "Bye, Daddy," he says, reluctantly stepping over the threshold.
"Goodbye, baby."
With that, Pete turns and walks down the front path before he can change his mind. He gets in behind the wheel of his Kia and waves when he sees that Jeremy is watching him from the open doorway. Jeremy waves back, and then Pete sticks his keys in the ignition and drives off, holding on to the elation he feels from getting the finer details of his relationship with Jeremy hammered out. That they actually have a relationship is enough to stop his mood from plummeting now that he's on his own again. Pete—geeky, awkward Pete—is now in a relationship with a much older man who would definitely be a contender for the Hottest Man Alive trophy. Maybe even the Hottest Man Ever trophy.
Now he just has to figure out a way to tell his Dad.
What could go wrong?
— CHAPTER FIVE —
- Monday, November 25th, 2013 -
When Monday morning rolls around bright and sunny, Pete walks into school with a spring in his step. Nothing can bring him down.
He reaches the classroom in which he'll spend the next hour and finds his best friend Steve Brooks already sitting at one of the desks in the back. Pete walks down the narrow aisle and takes the empty desk next to his friend, still humming the obnoxiously catchy pop song that was on the radio as he pulled his Kia into the parking lot just a few minutes ago.
"You're in a good mood this morning," Steve observes, looking suspicious.
"Yup!" Pete replies, popping the P.
"Any reason why?"
Pete debates whether or not he should tell the truth. On one hand, Steve is his best friend and they rarely keep secrets from each other. But on the other, he hasn't told his Dad about him and Jeremy yet, and he doesn't want to risk it getting back to his Dad before he's ready for him to know. The Chief should really hear the news directly from his son. So, with some reluctance, Pete lies:
"Not really. I just slept really well last night," he says. It's close enough to the truth that he doesn't feel too bad about it, his mood not soured at all.
Steve arches an eyebrow at him, obviously knowing there's more to it, but he doesn't push.
It's then that the bell rings and their Math teacher enters the room. Mr. Harrison is an ornery man with grey hair and glasses, and he's had it out for Pete since he started attending this school almost four years ago. Pete makes a production of getting out his workbook and sitting up straight, not wanting to give Mr. Harrison any reason to saddle him with detention later in the day. It wouldn't be the end of the world—and it would be far from the first time—but being trapped in a room with the teacher for any longer than he has to be isn't his idea of a good time.
As the man apprises the class of what today's lesson will be about, Pete tries to listen intently, but it's difficult. While he's good at it, Math has never been his favourite subject, and his mind often wanders. This is usually the reason he's given detention.
In spite of his efforts to be good, Pete's mind swiftly fills with thoughts of Jeremy, as it has ever since they parted ways on Sunday morning. God, Pete can't wait to see him again. He wonders where the man will take him for dinner that weekend.
"Mr. Campbell!" Mr. Harrison shouts suddenly, jerking Pete out of his daydreams.
He looks around, confused. "Huh?"
Mr. Harrison stands right in front of his desk with his arms crossed over his chest and a stormy expression on his face. "Are you paying attention?"
"Uhh…"
"Because if you were, then you'll be able to give the solution to the last problem we just went through." Mr. Harrison's eyes are filled with sick pleasure. "Well? I'm waiting."
Pete leans sideways in his chair to get a look at the blackboard, but the equation that Mr. Harrison must be talking about is nothing more than a white smudge. "I don't know," he admits.
"Just as I thought," Mr. Harrison says smugly, lowering his arms to his sides. "I'll see you in detention this afternoon, Mr. Campbell."
Hanging his head with a sigh, Pete pouts for the rest of the class and doesn't even attempt to pay attention anymore. His Dad is going to kill him, and what would Jeremy say if he found out? The last thing Pete wants to do is make Jeremy mad at him, and he has a feeling that screwing up in school like he just did is a sure-fire way to accomplish that.
Can he keep it a secret? There's no rule that says Pete has to tell Jeremy that he got detention, right? And anyway, it's Jeremy's fault he's in this mess.
Stupid, sexy Daddy…
When the class ends, Pete puts his untouched workbook away, picks up his backpack and trudges out of the classroom with Steve.
"Dude, what we you thinking about in there?" the other boy enquires. "You were totally spaced out."
"It was nothing," Pete answers evasively.
"Really? Because you had a goofy-as-fuck smile on your face the whole time, so it must've been something."
"Just drop it, okay? I'll tell you later, but not yet."
Steve stops dead in his tracks, holding up the traffic currently in the hallway. He grabs Pete's arm and pulls him to the side so that they don't get in anyone's way. "You're seeing someone!" he exclaims.
"What?! No I'm not!" Pete denies, but he's so flustered that the lie is obvious.
"Yes you are! Who is it?" Steve asks excitedly. "Do I know her?"
Clamming up, Pete shakes his head slowly. He's close to panicking as he remembers that he hasn't even told Steve he swings both ways yet. Yes, they tell each other nearly everything, but Pete has never had a reason to reveal his bisexuality because he was always busy professing his undying love for Diana Bailey, the most popular girl in school with hair so blond it's practically silver. Now Pete has two big secrets he needs to tell his best friend.
Damnit.
"Well? C'mon, don't hold out on me, you dog!" Steve lightly punches Pete's shoulder.
"Steve, seriously…" Pete scrunches his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Not now."
"Fine," the other boy says shortly. "Be like that."
When Pete opens his eyes again, he sees a hurt-looking Steve frowning at the floor. Guilt eats away at him for a moment, but then he tells himself that, even though they're best friends, he doesn't actually owe it to Steve to tell him everything about his life the second it happens. Steve did that when he managed to land a date with his girlfriend, Mia Morris, a
nd then again when he lost his virginity to her a couple months later, but that isn't how Pete operates. And if Steve is really his best friend, then he should understand and be patient with him.
"Steve, c'mon, man," Pete says sadly. "I'm sorry, but I'm not ready to tell you yet. Why isn't that okay?"
The other boy raises his head again and purses his lips. "I guess I just feel like we've been growing apart lately. And I know a lot of it's my fault because I've been spending most of my time with Mia since we started dating, and I haven't exactly been helping my case when I ditch you like I did last weekend. I just miss us, y'know?"
"Yeah…I know," Pete says. He pats his friend on the shoulder. "I'm still not ready to tell you what's going on with me, but maybe we can hang out more this week. If you don't cancel again," he adds, winking to show that he's not actually upset. How could he be when it was Steve's choice to see Mia instead of him that led to Pete meeting Jeremy?
Steve's expression clears of its gloominess. "Yeah, I'd like that."
"And I'll say this," Pete continues, beginning to urge them toward their next class. "It's good—what's happening is very good, actually—but it's still a lot. A big adjustment. When I am eventually ready to tell you what's going on with me, I'm gonna need my best friend to ramble to and freak out with."
Steve gives a lopsided smile. "It's a date."
"Don't let Mia hear you say that or she might get jealous," Pete teases.
"Whatever, Pete. Like you could get me."
Pete clutches a hand to his chest, feigning offence. "Oh please! I could totally score a real date with you if I wanted. Who could resist all this?" He gestures emphatically to his body.
Steve rolls his eyes and shoves him playfully.
When they reach their next class and take the only two desks that are still free, conveniently side by side, Pete needs an extra bit of reassurance. "So…we're cool, right?"
"Yeah," Steve responds. "We're cool."
— CHAPTER SIX —
- Saturday, November 30th, 2013 -
When the day of Pete's first date with Jeremy finally arrives, he's a jumble of emotions—excitement and nervousness war within him, the latter slowly winning. It makes him jittery as he stands in front of his closet, struggling to pick out an outfit. His phone is unlocked on top of his bedsheets, the text he got from Jeremy earlier today displayed on the screen. It told him that he should wear something casual, but Pete still wants to look good for him, wants to show him that he's putting in an effort.