by
One enjoyed the nurturing support of a loving grandmother, the other endured the chaos of an unpredictable family home, both landed in foster care, where they bonded and became the family each other needed. For Murry and Raleigh, sticking together is more important than anything else in the world. For seven years, they have made a life for themselves dancing at a local strip club, while slowly exploring a piece of themselves that lets them escape their lives for a while.
When Dorian approaches them about modeling his line of pet play clothing after being treated to a steamy lap dance from them, the pair jump at the opportunity, especially with the added bonus of getting to drink from Daddy Dorian and maybe, just maybe, becoming more than just pretend pets to him.
Daddy's Precious Pets is part of The Lactin Brotherhood series about men who naturally lactate and the guys who need them. In this standalone, you’ll get a sweet and sexy story that brings together a sexy Daddy and an adorable and loving Little.
Genres:
Pairings: M-M-M
Heat Level: 4
Romantic Content: 4
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: 36-45
Protagonist 2 Age: 26-35
Protagonist 3 Age: 26-35
Tropes: Age Difference, Alpha Character, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Insta Love / Love at First Sight, Love Can Heal / Redemption, Meet Cute, Menage, Small Town
Word Count: 55000
Languages Available: English
“Damn, you went all out for this, didn’t you?” I asked, leaning over so I wouldn’t have to yell over the music for Aspen to hear me.
“You only turn forty once,” Aspen declared.
He was rocking out a mauve and gray suit tonight, looking sharp as hell, even with a matching tie that read I’m the birthday boy. Knowing him, he’d had it made just for the occasion.
A loud tsk from the other side of Aspen accompanied Parker’s eyebrows shooting up. “Forty? Please, you haven’t been forty in fi…”
“If you finish that statement, there will be no lap dance for you tonight.” Aspen explained.
“Wait, we’re getting lap dances?” Parker asked, expression immediately turning contrite.
“As of this moment, Dorian and I will be the ones getting lap dances while you go find someone to refill these drinks. I’m so parched my tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth.”
READ MOREThe bored expression Aspen shot him as he held his glass out for Parker to take was almost as amusing as the pouty look on Parker’s when I held my glass out to him too. After more than thirty years of friendship, he should have known not to give Aspen shit about his age. He’d been thirty for at least three years, and thirty-five had been met with steadfast refusal to even acknowledge the day. He had thrown himself a rave at thirty-eight, but that was only because it coincided with the announcement that he’d be playing the lead role in All Roads Lead Within, a play that had been in pre-production at the local theater. In reality, this birthday was his forty-fifth, but with lap dances on the table, I knew to keep my mouth shut.
The moment Parker was out of earshot, Aspen let out a fit of giggles and doubled over, shaking his head. We were tucked in a somewhat private corner of our favorite club, in wide, plush leather chairs, sipping colorful cocktails while waiting for the next bit of entertainment Aspen had arranged to arrive. One thing about him, when he promised a good time, he delivered. We’d already been treated to a mini-drag show with the finale being the trio singing Happy Birthday to him while feeding each of us a cupcake. Kinda sad that the most action I’d gotten all year was sucking buttercream frosting off a drag queen’s latex gloves.
“Here ya go,” Parker said, handing me a pale pink drink with three cherries bobbing in crushed ice.
Aspen took a sip of his the moment it was in his hands, lips pursing as his face scrunched up.
“Whoo-wee, what in the world,” he sputtered, licking his lips and eyeing the glass suspiciously.
“A sourpuss for a sourpuss,” Parker said, raising his glass in a gesture to Aspen. “Seriously, that’s what the drink is called.”
It was only then that I noticed that his glass, like mine, was rimmed in sugar, while Aspen’s wasn’t. Crisp, refreshing, and clearly made with some sort of grapefruit concoction, it really was quite good with the crunchy sugar accompanying it.
Aspen shot a squinty-eyed look at our glasses and giggled again before raising his glass in a matching salute. “Touché, my dear. Just know the game is on.”
COLLAPSE
