Page 25 of Daddy Protector (Night Ops Daddies #1)
Cole
“Okay, now before we get down to serious business,” I say, thinking that what my Little needs right now is to relax, let go of the stress he’s feeling, and enjoy some good, old fashioned Little time. “My boy needs a little fun.”
“Daddy?” Richie asks, raising his eyebrow and smiling, the thrill of the motorcycle ride back to the motel evidently having perked him up once more.
The motel room is a sanctuary once more, the rain’s soft patter against the window a gentle counterpoint to the emotional storm of Richie’s cut and run and then our roadside reunion.
“On the bed, sit,” I say. “And that’s Daddy’s Orders.”
Richie sits cross-legged on the bed, Fizz clutched in his lap, his damp hoodie clinging to his shoulders, his dark eyes alert but softening.
The motorcycle ride back was quite something. His arms tight around me, his trust tentative but returning. It was a good start, but I know I need to rebuild what I broke.
Richie is my Little, my love, and I’ll do whatever it takes to show him I’m his Daddy—honest, reliable, no more walls between us. No more lies. No more half-truths.
I kneel beside the bed, my voice soft, infused with a playful warmth to coax his Little side out.
“Hey, sweet boy, how about we make a fort? A safe place, just for us,” I smile.
Richie’s lips twitch, a spark of curiosity flickering in his eyes, and I grab the pillows, stacking them into a makeshift wall, draping the spare blanket from the dresser to form a cozy canopy.
Come on, join in.
This is for you.
This is perfect for my Little boy…
“Well…” Richie says, a flash in his eyes. “I guess it might be kinda fun. You know, just to chill out a bit before we do the tough stuff later…”
“That’s my boy,” I smile. “Come on, let’s start.”
Richie hesitates for a brief moment, then joins in, his fingers brushing mine as he adjusts a pillow, a small gesture that feels like a bridge across the gap between us.
The fort takes shape, a snug enclave on the bed, its soft walls a shield against the world.
I crawl inside, the blanket brushing my head, and beckon him with a grin.
“Welcome to your kingdom, Prince Richie,” I say, my tone warm, theatrical, leaning into the game and trying to be the best playdate Daddy I can be. “I’m the dragon, sworn to protect you, but you gotta learn to trust me first. Are you ready to hear my roar?”
My sweet boy’s smile blooms, his Little side shining through, and he nods, clutching Fizz tighter.
“Okay, Dragon Daddy,” Richie says, his voice shy but eager, the word Daddy a balm to my guilt, a sign he’s letting me back in.
I lay out the game: he’s the prince, guarding his kingdom, and I’m the dragon, proving my loyalty through quests he sets to test my devotion.
Richie starts simple, commanding me to roar softly so as not to scare Fizz, his eyes twinkling with mischief. I do as I’m told, letting out a low, rumbling growl, barely above a whisper, and he giggles, the sound melting the tension, his laughter a light that fills my heart.
“Good dragon,” Richie says, patting my arm, and I feel his trust stirring, our bond returning to something like I know it can be.
Richie escalates, his confidence growing, and points to the fort’s entrance.
“Now, Dragon Daddy, guard the kingdom!” Richie commands. “Circle the bed three times, but don’t let any invaders see you!”
His voice is playful but firm, a prince issuing a royal decree.
I nod solemnly, crawling out of the fort with exaggerated stealth, prowling around the bed, my movements slow and dramatic, puffing out my chest like a proud beast.
I duck low, pretending to hide from imaginary foes, and he squeals, clapping his hands, Fizz bouncing in his lap.
“You’re sneaky, dragon!” Richie laughs, and I wink, circling again, making a show of checking the perimeter by peeking under the bed, earning another burst of giggles.
Each laugh, each moment of play, rebuilds his trust, his eyes brightening, his guard lowering, the hurt from my secrets fading in the warmth of our game.
He’s back.
My beautiful boy.
This is what being a Daddy is all about…
I crawl back into the fort, settling beside him, and up the stakes.
“Prince, a dragon needs trust to protect the kingdom,” I say. “Give me a quest to prove I’m worthy.”
Richie tilts his head, thinking, then smiles, his voice softening.
“Tell me a secret, Dragon Daddy, something you’ve never told anyone,” Richie says, a glint of mischief in his eye.
His words catch me, a challenge that cuts to the heart of our rift – or should I say, my mistake.
I meet his gaze, my voice low, honest.
“I’m scared sometimes, boy,” I say. “Scared that I’ll fail you, that I won’t be enough to keep you safe. But I’d give my life for you in a heartbeat, you need to know that.”
His eyes widen, his hand finding mine, and he whispers,
“I trust you, Daddy,” Richie says, emotion in his eyes.
The moment is raw, a building block in our trust, and I squeeze his hand, my heart swelling with pride and love.
Prince Richie sets another quest, his Little side in full bloom.
“Make the kingdom cozier, dragon!” Richie squeals in delight. “Fix the fort so no rain gets in.”
I nod, tucking the blanket tighter, adjusting pillows to seal gaps, my movements deliberate, protective.
He watches, beaming, and declares, “You’re the best dragon ever!”
I challenge him back, asking him to trust the dragon by sharing a secret of his own, and he leans close, his voice a whisper.
“I’m scared for Pop,” Richie whispers. “But with you, I feel safe, like nothing can hurt me.”
Richie’s trust, his vulnerability, is a gift. And I vow to honor this gift, to be the Daddy he needs, no secrets left to break us.
I pull Richie close inside the fort, his head resting on my chest, and we play on, him directing me to sing for the kingdom, my rough voice humming a lullaby, his giggles softening into yawns.
Each task, each shared moment, solidifies us… Daddy and Little, partners in this fight, bound by trust rebuilt on laughter and care.
I kiss his forehead, my heart full, knowing we’re stronger now, ready for Hunter and even the cartel, or for whatever comes.
“My boy is tired,” I say. “Stay here, Prince and your dragon shall fetch you a perfect remedy.”
Richie giggles and waves me, his dragon protector, away.
As Richie’s eyelids droop, his energy fading, I slip out to the diner across the street, the rain lighter now, the neon sign buzzing softly. I grab a bottle of warm milk, the waitress’s smile kind, and return, finding Richie curled in the fort, Fizz in his arms, his face peaceful.
I offer the milk, and he drinks, his Little side content, his trust in me a quiet glow. He drifts to sleep, the bottle empty, his breathing soft, and I sit beside him, the fort’s canopy a shield around us.
“Sleep well, baby boy,” I say, my voice quiet. “Daddy will be here the whole time.”
The motel is quiet, the lamp’s glow steady. But my mind shifts, pulled to a darker memory, a flashback to an enemy Hunter made, a man who could be behind the threat we face…
Years ago, in a sweltering warehouse in Mogadishu, Hunter led a Night Ops Guard op to disrupt a weapons smuggling ring.
I was his second, Henry at our flank, and Xavier, an ambitious new Guard, was part of the team.
Xavier was sharp, skilled, but always slightly devious, his eyes calculating, his loyalty more to himself than the code.
The op was high-risk—intel on a shipment, a tight window to intercept. Hunter ran it like clockwork, his commands clear, his calm infectious… but Xavier went rogue, breaking formation to chase a side deal, hoping to snag intel for personal gain.
Xavier’s move tipped off the smugglers, and the warehouse erupted in gunfire, a chaotic firefight that nearly cost us everything. Hunter pulled us through, his leadership saving Henry from a stray bullet, but Xavier’s betrayal cost us two informants, their blood on his hands.
After, Hunter confronted Xavier, his voice cold, stripping him of his Guard status.
Xavier left under a cloud, his ambition souring into resentment, swearing vengeance as he vanished.
Word was he fled to South America, tying himself to a drug cartel, his skills turning mercenary. I remember his face—lean, sharp, a smirk hiding venom—and Hunter’s warning: “Xavier’s the kind who holds grudges. Watch for him.”
And when Hunter speaks words like that, any man would do well to heed them…
Now, with the safe house hit, the cartel’s shadow looming, I wonder: could Xavier be behind this? Is he the one hunting Hunter, using Richie as leverage?
The timing, the precision of the attack, it fits his style… calculated, personal .
Henry’s intel might confirm it, and if Xavier’s involved, this fight just got uglier.
I glance at Richie, sleeping peacefully, his trust in me a fragile, precious thing. The fort, our game, it’s rebuilt our bond, but Xavier’s ghost is a reminder of the stakes.
I need to protect Richie, find Hunter, end this threat, whether it’s Xavier or another enemy. My hand rests on his shoulder, his warmth grounding me, and I vow to be his dragon, his Daddy, no matter what.
The motel’s quiet holds us, but the fight’s coming, and I’m ready.
When all is said and done, there won’t be a fiercer Daddy than me in this or any other kingdom…