Page 31 of Daddy Protector (Night Ops Daddies #1)

Four months have passed since the Baby Balloons Club party, and our new life in the duplex apartment gifted by Hunter feels like a dream carved into reality.

I’m a lucky guy, that’s for sure.

The apartment, perched high in a city high-rise, is a warm, safe haven, its open-plan living area bathed in evening light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, the skyline twinkling beyond.

Polished oak floors glow under soft rugs, a sleek sectional sofa faces a stone fireplace, its flames crackling, casting shadows across framed photos—Richie and me at the diner, him with Fizz, us with Hunter at brunch.

The kitchen’s marble island holds a vase of wildflowers, a nod to Richie’s Little side, and a corner nook brims with a selection of his stuffies. Fizz still reigns supreme of course, and takes pride of place next to Richie in bed. Speaking of which…

The bedroom, up a spiral staircase, boasts a king-sized bed draped in soft linens, and a balcony offering views of the river’s silver gleam.

It might all sound very fancy. And, honestly, it is. But it’s way more than that to Richie and me.

It’s our home , a space where our Daddy and Little lifestyle thrives, rules and rewards woven into our love, and tonight… I’m ready to make a vow that seals our future.

“Baby boy, where are you?” I call out from upstairs.

“I’d downstairs, Daddy,” Richie’s voice calls back.

Richie’s in the kitchen, humming as he arranges cookies on a plate, his romper snug and secure, his hair shiny as ever, a star sticker on his hand from today’s reward for finishing his work early.

But don’t get me wrong, Richie’s work is very, very serious.

He’s taken a senior strategic role at Hunter’s security firm, his sharp mind—honed in the mill against Xavier—now shaping operations, analyzing threats, and outsmarting competitors.

I’ll give my darling boy his credit, he’s absolutely killing it, his confidence soaring, his presentations earning praise from Hunter and his team. And I’m so proud, my Little proving he’s a force, balancing his fierce intellect with the softness of our routine.

Mornings start with my rules—make the bed, drink water, no sneaking candy—and his rewards, stickers leading to cuddles, new books, or a night of me reading the boy his favorite otter family stories.

Richie’s trust in me, his Daddy, is my anchor to the world, and his love, wild and tender, is my fire.

Oh, and when he’s naughty, Richie knows that he can expect to see my fiery side too…

and we’ve had plenty of spanking, paddlings, and some corner time too.

After all, Richie is still very much a Little who loves to sass when the mood takes him!

I walk down the stairs and head to the fireplace, a small velvet box in my pocket, my heart racing with anticipation.

Relax.

It’ll be fine.

Just play it cool…

I’m still a Night Ops Guard, my skills sharp, my missions occasional but real, and danger could loom—another Xavier, another cartel, or worse—but I’m committed to protecting Richie, always.

Hunter’s firm keeps me on call for freelance ops too, but tonight, it’s just us, our home a sanctuary.

Henry’s been around for a visit, his grizzled warmth and banter a constant, and I’ve seen a change in him—a longing in his eyes when he sees Richie and me, a readiness to find his own Little.

It might sound crazy, but Henry could be ready to settle down himself.

Last week, at a Guard meetup, he lingered by the Baby Balloons Club’s flier, asking about Littles’ events, and I grinned, knowing he’s on the cusp of his own story, a Daddy waiting for his match.

But for that to happen, Henry will need to admit it to himself first…

Anyway .

I call Richie over, my voice soft but firm, the Daddy tone he loves.

“Darling boy, come here,” I say, trying to keep it casual. “I’ve got something for you.”

He bounces over, cookies forgotten, his eyes bright, Fizz tucked under his arm. I guide him to the sofa, the fire’s warmth enveloping us, and sit, pulling him onto my lap, his weight familiar, perfect.

“We’ve built something incredible,” I say, my hand brushing Richie’s cheek, his skin soft under my calloused fingers. “You’re my Little, my partner, my love, and I want you to know I’ll protect you always, no matter what lies ahead. Night Ops Guard or not, you’re my world.”

“Daddy…” Richie says, emotion etched onto his face.

Richie’s eyes shimmer, and I pull out the velvet box, opening it to reveal a custom Daddy & Little inspired bracelet—silver, delicate, with a tiny charm shaped like a star, engraved with “Daddy’s Little” on one side, our initials on the other.

“This is for you,” I say, my voice thick with emotion, “A promise, a token of our bond. Every rule, every reward, every moment… it’s all here, and I’m yours, forever.”

I slip it onto his wrist, the star glinting in the firelight, and he gasps, tears spilling, his fingers tracing the charm.

“Cole,” he whispers, his voice trembling, “It’s perfect. You’re perfect, my Daddy, my everything.”

Richie leans in, kissing me, his lips soft, fervent, a spark of our passion igniting, and I hold the boy close, the bracelet a symbol of our commitment, our love a shield against any danger.

We pull back, his head resting on my shoulder, and I reflect on our journey—from the safe house’s terror, the motel’s secrets, the mill’s bloody victory, to this, a life where Richie shines in his career, his brilliant mind doing it’s thing.

He’s briefed teams on threat assessments, his plans as sharp as the one that trapped Xavier, and Hunter’s pride mirrors mine, his son a leader in his own right.

Yet, he’s still my Little, giggling over stickers, curling up with Fizz, trusting me to guide him, to love him.

The balance—his strength, his softness—is what makes us unbreakable, and I know, even if danger calls, we’ll face it together, Daddy and Little, partners in every storm.

I think of Henry, his quiet hope at the club, his questions about Littles’ meetups, and smile, knowing he’s ready, his heart open to a bond like ours.

He’s even texted about a Littles’ picnic next week, his gruff tone hiding excitement, and I’ll be there, cheering him on, hoping he finds his own light.

Hunter’s been a rock, his gift of this apartment a foundation for our future, his acceptance of our love a blessing that binds us as family.

“We did okay in the end,” I chuckle. “It was a rough start. But we’ve come out the other side, haven’t we, boy?”

“Hehe, we have,” Richie replies, no doubt flashing back to that very first spanking and his mountains of sass and bratty behavior.

I lift Richie’s chin, my eyes locking onto his, the fire’s glow dancing in his gaze.

“Richie, my Little,” I say, my voice steady, a vow from my soul, “I love you more than words can hold. You’re my heart, my home, my forever. No mission, no danger, will ever change that. I’m yours, Daddy and man, always.”

Richie smiles, tears shining, and wraps his arms around me, his voice a whisper against my chest.

“I love you too, Daddy, my Cole, my forever,” Richie says. “We’re unstoppable, you and me, and I’ll love you always.”

His words seal us, a final declaration that echoes through the apartment, the bracelet glinting, our love a flame that burns eternal.

We sit, entwined, the fire crackling, the city alive beyond our windows, and I know this is our epilogue, not an end but a beginning.

Danger may come, missions may call, but with Richie—my Little, my love, my partner—I’m ready for anything.

The duplex, our haven, holds us, and as I kiss Richie’s forehead, his bracelet catching the light, I feel it: we’re home, we’re whole, and our love will light the way, forever .