Page 11 of Their Little House Tristan (Five Little Roommates #2)

Bellamy

“Look what I have.” I turned to see Tristan standing in my doorway, an envelope in hand.

“Bills? Do you have bills?” I teased. “Because, if so, I really don’t want any more.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, which I 100percent deserved. “Does this face look like these are bills?”

I squinted at him, as if I were trying really hard to see it.

“No,” he admitted, “I suppose not.”

I stuck out my tongue.

“I was just messing with you. What I’ve got isn’t good, it’s great.” He handed me the envelope, bouncing with excitement I matched when I looked inside to find two invitations, aka tickets, to A Little Fun.

“Wait… Chained? Their little event everyone is talking about? Isn’t it tonight. I thought this was sold out.” It was a caregiver/little event at Chained where the proceeds went to a local rescue called City GoldenDoodles. The tickets had to have cost a fortune.

“They are,” he said with a smirk. “But I have an in with the management.”

“Let me pay for them.” We usually went even-steven on all date-like activities, but this was different. The night was outside of his price range, especially with him needing the money he made for school.

“An in . Meaning, I got them for free.”

“I guess if you’ve got an in, I’ll let you pay.” I stuck out my tongue. “And we have to go. It would be rude not to.”

As if there was a way to keep me from attending, especially since James might be there.

“Let’s be matchy.” I couldn’t think of anything more irresistible than two matching littles.

“Matchy for the win.” A giggle erupted from him.

“Exactly!” He spun around and darted to my stash of little clothes, pulling out half a wardrobe and tossing pieces across the bed. “What do you have that matches any of this?”

He came here with very little; his sudden move from college to his shitty parents meant most of, if not all of his little belongings had been lost forever.

He glanced at the pile. “I have nothing. We can just be cute, no need to match today.” The disappointment in his voice nearly broke me. Twinsies had been a fun idea, but now it was mandatory.

“Let’s go. We need to get something new for the occasion. The dogs are counting on us,” I said.

“You just want to get dressed up because you think the hot daddy might be there.”

“Or maybe”—I winked—“I want to get dressed up for my hot little.”

Either way—we were going. I was now determined that we were going to be the cutest littles in attendance.

There was only one place in town where I knew we could find club-worthy little gear, and it wasn’t a hard decision what to get once we got there. Front and center were two onesies. The first had a little bunny that said I’m the cute one , and the other had a puppy that read No, I’m the cute one .

There was no choice to be made—we had to get them.

I grabbed a pair of shorts that matched the puppy to go with my bunny onesie, and he got the shorts that matched the bunny to go with his puppy onesie. We were going to coordinate epically. No one there wouldn’t know we were together.

We added knee-high socks—mine covered in glittery hearts, his with tiny carrots. Did they match? Not even remotely. Did we care? Absolutely not.

We looked like a million sparkly, pastel-colored dollars.

“Will that be all today?” The cashier grinned, clearly amused by our selections.

I loved that there was a place in town now where we could freely buy what we wanted. That hadn’t always been the case. My first onesie was from an online store and came in a generic plastic mailer, somehow making it feel dirty instead of fun. I much preferred this.

“Almost,” I said. “We need one more thing.”

I’d been searching the shop but hadn’t seen what I wanted: a paci clip for my friend. Tristan was constantly losing his paci or dropping it and needing to wash it mid play. I knew how much he loved that thing, and I wanted him not to have to worry about it tonight.

When I explained, the cashier lit up. “I’ve got just the thing,” she said, disappearing into the back room. She returned with a paci clip decorated with bunnies, kittens, puppies, and ducklings. Cuteness overload, and I was there for it.

“This one’s on me,” she said warmly. “Honestly? I haven’t seen such adorable coordinating littles in a long time. Makes this mommy’s heart so happy.”

We thanked her, probably too many times, and headed home where we showered, packed our bags, and made sure we had our invites more than once. Tonight was going to be epic. I could feel it.

We were doing this.

We were going to the club—together.

Not just to play, although we were definitely going to do that, but maybe, just maybe, we’d catch the eye of the hot daddy we were both interested in. But even if he didn’t come, I was going to have fun with Tristan. We clicked in more ways than I ever considered possible with another little.

Thanks to his position, Tristan had access to any of the dressing rooms if no one else reserved them for the night. And while the one we got wasn’t fancy or decked out with little themes, and it felt more high school locker room than luxury, it gave us what we needed as we got ready: privacy.

“Tristan,” I said, voice low. “Can I get you ready tonight? Can I take care of you?”

His eyes widened just slightly. “Yeah,” he whispered. “As long as I can get you ready too.”

Like I could turn that down.

We slowly undressed each other, planning to put on our new clothes immediately afterward. but standing there, with him naked in front of me had me hard as a rock, and his cock mirrored mine.

“It might not be the best idea to go out there with a boner.” Tristan licked his lips, his eyes on my erection. “It’s not like we can hide them under our clothing.”

Neither of us had brought diapers, just two pairs of thick underwear. Diapers were the only chance we had of keeping our arousals from being too evident to the wrong people. Honestly, we hadn’t expected to need them, not without a daddy present. Diapers alone were not the same as with a caregiver, not by any stretch. And besides, that was more Tristan’s thing than mine.

“I…think I need help taking care of that,” Tristan murmured, his cheeks pink, his eyes still glued to my length.

“Do you?” I asked, brushing his hair back with my fingers.

He nodded.

I yanked him into a searing kiss, mumbling against his lips, “Only if that means I get to take care of yours, too.”

He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he dropped to his knees in front of me. The room seemed to quiet around us. Gone were the noises of the people walking by, leaving only him and us and this moment.

His hands slid up my thighs, slow and firm, like I was everything he desired. I wove my fingers through his hair, careful not to push him while letting him see and feel how much I wanted this.

He wasn’t rushed or frantic, the way I would’ve been had I got there first. He was so much more controlled in his desire, kissing a path up my thigh, heading to where I longed him to be. I didn’t care if we ever made it out of this dressing room as long as he didn’t stop.