Little Big Heart #2
“My name is Mylo but my friends just call me My.”
“My, huh? Cute. How about if I just call you Mine.”
Mylo has had experiences in life that have altered his sense of security. He finds himself reverting to a child-like space when alone, in crowds, just about all the time. He can’t help it. Sometimes friends make fun of him, but he doesn’t feel broken, and doesn’t want to be fixed.
One day, Mylo realizes there is a name for what he desires. Little space. Littles have partners called daddies who take care of them. This new knowledge gives him a feeling of identity and wholeness he’s never had before. Now, all he needs to do is to find one of those daddies and convince him to let him come home with him.
Landau has had his heart shattered more than once. He’s a daddy with a need to caregive a boy. Most of his relationships have been with men who play on weekends, or when it’s convenient. Too many want bedroom antics but not much more beyond that. Landau has a desire for more. A boy who will be his all the time. A boy who wants to let go and let Landau do all the daddy work in and out of the bedroom.
Landau wants to be needed. That’s all there is to it. He’s given up on finding a compatible partner until one day he meets Mylo—and his whole world changes.
This book is part of the Little Big Heart series of standalone novels. Includes: Daddy/little MM romance. Hurt/comfort. Onesies. Stuffies. Sippy cups. Sweet bath times. Cloth diapers. A needy, 24-hour boy. A daddy with the biggest heart of all. HEA.
1
Mylo
Every night the same memory returned.
I’m very small. I’m lying in bed—old enough to be without a crib—and I can still smell the lingering pipe smoke of my father in the room. He’s put me down in his big bed tonight because he and my mom have guests over for the evening and one brought their own kid who is now fast asleep in my room.
I stretch out my arms and legs as far as I can and I still can’t reach the edges of my parents’ bed. I feel tiny as a mouse. Very vulnerable. The world is a giant cavern I can’t understand. There’s too much of it. I need a small space, like here and now, with fresh covers over me, placed here by my father’s steady hand. I need to be safe.
I lie very still. My eyes scan the room’s shadows. The door is open and the hall is dim, but I can still see the lines and angles of the walls and doorframes (bathroom and entryway) and windows. It is silent here, my parents’ murmuring too low to make even a soft buzz.
Then, as if from nowhere, the lonely engine of a small plane rumbles the air. I know it’s a plane. I have learned about planes from picture books and know what they do, even if I’ve never been on one. I can see it like a drawing, a little car with wings that murmurs high through the sky.
At night, I’ve seen the lights on distant planes when mom or dad lets me out in the backyard to look at the stars. I picture this plane flashing as it moves in a slow line through the night sky. The rumble of the engine becomes a vibration inside my mind, lulling me. How can something so small in all the vast distances of dark and space still make it through the journey to land safely so far away?
The sound fills me up. My heart turns over in my chest, all warm and tingly. It reminds me of something I can’t yet articulate but know deep inside is a familiar truth for me. I am here. I exist. I am a little speck in the great beyond just starting my journey. Safe. Secure. Warm and unafraid. The world is a scary place but here, I am okay.
I breathe in that faint sweet pipe scent. I close my eyes. My smile is wide. This moment is everything.
This was where it all started for me. The need to recapture that moment. To drop into little space and linger where I knew I was loved and safe. Because after my parents died, nothing felt safe to me ever again.
As I sat at the picnic table on the edge of the lunch court, scrolling through my phone, someone walked up behind me and dropped a clear, plastic bag on the space in front of me. Inside was a collection of bracelets in every color, all plastic, some jelly with glitter, some hard bangles with rhinestones.
“Happy Birthday, My!” Trix leaped over the bench seat and straddled it. “Hope you like them.”
“Like them? I love them.” I grabbed up the bag and held it close to my chest. I adored jewelry.
Trix had known me since we were both ten years old. She lived next door to my gran, where I’d stayed since the accident. She was the one person in my life who completely understood me. Only Trix would give me such a gift, knowing how much I adored bracelets, necklaces and rings—especially the kinds made for kids—namely little girls.
I’d always envied her jewelry box contents. One day when we were still little, as we played in her room, she took out all her jewelry and laid it out in front of us. One by one, she put each piece on me. I was amazed and in love. It felt good to wear such sparkly things. Like taking deep breaths after drowning. Like I was whole again.
“You look so pretty.” She’d clapped her hands.
I nearly melted under her praise.
I didn’t have any jewelry of my own. Determined, I saved the small allowance Gran gave me every week. My first purchase was a flashy crystal ring which fit my middle finger. My second was a little pack of stretchy bracelets—pink, yellow and purple—which I twisted onto my wrist in an artful way. After that, there was no stopping my imagination, and my budding pubescent tastes.
I had to match my jewelry, so when Gran took me shopping for school clothes, I picked the most colorful, outlandish styles.
Sure, I was teased at first, but with Trix standing by me—much taller and much stronger than I as preteens—no one really messed with us beyond verbal comments.
Junior high was the worst because I never really outgrew my babyish voice or the fact that, when threatened, I retreated into the shadows to suck my thumb. By then, I already suspected I was gay as well. Trix did, too, but that didn’t faze her at all. We got through the harder years together. Trix was one of those rare, steadfast friends who was as loyal as gold. If not for her, I would not have made the effort to socialize much, if at all.
Trix was popular in high school. Because of that, her friends thought it was totally cool that she had a gay best friend who liked hearts, flowers and teddy bears. I ended up being part of her gang as just “one of the girls.” I wasn’t a girl, but I liked being with the girls. It was another way for me to feel completely safe. I could ogle pictures and videos of boys with them in a safe way and everyone thought it was great.
Now Trix said to me, “Well, graduation is in two days. And in August, I leave for college. So, I’ve been having thinky thoughts.”
I hung my head. I was enrolled in a community college, but Trix was leaving. She was super smart and had gotten into an ivy league school with a full scholarship.
“I don’t want you to go,” I whispered, longing to suck my thumb, clutching my hands tightly in my lap. We’d been inseparable for eight years. What would I do without her?
“I know.” Trix reached out and pressed a lock of my dark, straight hair behind my ear. “But we’re adults now, My. Of course, we’ll stay friends with texts and phone calls, but our paths are turning out to be different. But we have the summer and I have ideas.”
She was always right. She had a boyfriend now, too, who would be accompanying her to college. Things were changing fast.
“Ideas? Like what?”
“What we need to do for your birthday, since you’re officially an adult now, is take you out and get you laid.”
“What? Laid? No way.” I hunched into myself.
I stared at the bag of bracelets gleaming in the sun. The way I looked and the accessories I loved to wear—who would want me? I’d cheered the girls on throughout their dating lives in high school, but for myself—I stayed away from boys. I wasn’t interested in anyone my age anyway. In my fantasies, my lovers were always older, not schoolboys but men. Real men.
“You gotta get yourself out in the world,” Trix said. “I demand for you to be happy.” She bopped me on my head, then put her arms around me and hugged me.
“I don’t think I’m ready.”
“You’re cute, you’re sweet, you’re smart. And you’re eighteen. You’re ready.”
“Where would we go? A gay bar? I’m not twenty-one.”
“Private parties, of course,” she replied as if it was that easy. “And Pride events.”
I knew what she meant. Private parties meant jocks and frat boys. Still not my cuppa. Anyway, most of her friends were straight. And Pride events? Well, I’d been to the parade and fair when I was younger. It was fun but had left me a bit overwhelmed and intimidated.
“Private parties aren’t gonna find me a date,” I told her. “I’ve already met all your friends. Even the two gay ones, Sky and Toby. They’re not into femboys.”
Trix got up, went around the table and sat so she could face me. “Mylo, we need to have a discussion.”
She hardly ever called me by my full name. This meant business.
“About what?”
“About your sex life.”
I giggled. “I have none. End of discussion.”
“That’s exactly what I mean. Answer me this: do you want to date?”
“Maybe. If the right person came along.”
“What might that look like?”
“You know my type. We’ve boy-watched together before. I like them a little more mature. Not my age.”
“I know that. And while you were underage, that was a hard no.”
I nodded.
“But not now.”
I scowled.
“When you borrow my yaoi manga,” she went on, “you also go for the sorta kinkier ones. Size difference. Age difference. Boys in lace with older men. Boys in dresses. In makeup. Losing their virginity in their childhood bedrooms with kinky businessmen while their stuffies watch. I get it. Super hot, no argument from me. Sweet partnered with rough. Controlling. Spanking. Master/slave. I know they’re all comics and all fantasy, but we haven’t really talked about it. Not all that seriously.”
“About what?” I really didn’t see where this was going. I read for escape, not reality.
“Kink.”
“What?”
“I think you might lean on the side of being a little kinky.”
I wanted to laugh again but squirmed on the hard seat instead. “Isn’t acting like a baby enough? You think there’s more?”
“That’s my point. You like stuff like that, I mean, not just jewelry and makeup, but baby stuff. You could be into age play or a middle or a little. You always say you want a mature guy and that everyone we know our own age is brain-dead. Are you sure it’s not a daddy you want?”
“Wow. That’s blunt and to the point.” But—a daddy? I flushed all over at the thought like my body knew what it wanted before my brain.
She shrugged, brushing her long dark curls over her shoulder. “I don’t know how to be any other way.”
“That’s for sure.” I looked down. “Sounds like you know way more about it all than I do.”
“I’m into it, but in books and boyslove and stuff. But for you, maybe it’s bigger than just the books you read. You and I have shared a lot over the years. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Yeah. But not as it pertains to real life.”
“But don’t you think you might want to find out?” Trix frowned at me, bringing her face closer to mine.
I looked away. “That sounds way too scary.”
“You’ll never know unless you put yourself out there. Experiment.”
“Trix, stop. You’re giving me heart palpitations now.”
She put her palm on my forearm. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to freak you out. I just got to thinking. With me leaving in August.” She gulped. “I’m going to miss my My.” Her eyes got a little teary. “I want you to be happy. I feel like I don’t want to leave you behind if I know you’re not, you know, opening up a little more, getting out there, meeting people.”
My own eyes stung. Trix squeezed my arm.
“Let’s make this our best summer. Let’s run a little bit wild. We have two whole months.”
“You want to find me a lover so you won’t have to worry about me.”
She pouted. “I’ll worry about you anyway. All the time. Friends for life, right?”
I nodded, still looking at my lap.
Trix leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Would finding a lover be such a bad thing?”
“What if I’m ace?”
She shrugged. “Then you’ll find that out and you’ll know. But you have to get your pretty little firm ass out there first. Right? You’ve never even had a date, My.” She sat back, her hand going to my chin and forcing me to face her. “If you think it’s a terrible idea, I won’t bug you again about it. But what’s wrong with letting loose? It’s our last summer. Let’s play.”
Play. I loved that term. My heart sped up at the thought. Trix would be there always offering advice and shoring me up. She was protective and feisty. Knowing she was at my side made the prospect seem almost fun.
“What about your boyfriend? Won’t he want to spend all these days with you?”
“Cody’s got a part-time job. He’s got car payments his parents won’t pay for. Which is funny because they’re paying for his college and everything else. Anyway, he’ll tag along sometimes, too. He’s totally cool like that.”
“Maybe.”
“He likes you, My. Really.”
I wasn’t so sure. She’d only been dating him for six months, but at our age, that was like six years. Cody tolerated me. He was one of those guys who said and did all the right things to be accepted by his peers, but he had his nose up in the air a lot, too. Not that he was all bad. I tried to imagine him at the Gay Pride fair, being all cool, letting guys hit on him and acting like it was no big deal. It made me laugh.
“What?” Trix asked. “Is that laugh a yes?”
“That laugh,” I replied, “is a maybe.”
Hi, I'm Wendy and I'm a voracious reader as well as an author.
Currently, I write all male/male romances and am lately focused on omegaverse. For many years mm has been my first love.
The stories of my characters rattle around in my brain until I have to write them down or lose sleep!
All my books are available in Kindle Unlimited. Happy reading!
Little Boy Mine #2
Series
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