His Burglar Boy

He came for the teddy bear, and stayed for the thief.

Mike

Stealing is wrong.

Rescuing is saving, and that makes it the right thing to do.

If somebody leaves behind a plant, it comes home with me. If a stuffie gets lost, it comes home with me. And if a teddy bear spends all day sitting by himself in a museum exhibit with nobody to talk to, obviously he's coming home with me too.

Sir Theodore Von Cuddles deserved better.

I wasn't expecting his "owner" to show up in my apartment.

Alastair is grumpy, ridiculously handsome, weirdly old-fashioned, and completely convinced I have a theft problem. I don't. I rescue and it's not a problem at all. If he keeps leaving lonely things where I can find them, that's hardly my fault.

Maybe one day he'll let me keep him too.

Alastair

Retrieving my excellent example of early industrial textile craftsmanship from the thief's flat, which he had inexplicably named Sir Theodore Von Cuddles, should have taken all of five minutes.

Instead, I've managed to acquire an American little with remarkably sticky fingers, an alarming affection for midnight tea parties, and the baffling belief that anything "lonely" belongs in his flat. Every time I retrieve one stolen possession, another mysteriously disappears. Cuff links. Fountain pens. Books. Apparently, if I wish to keep my belongings, I ought to stop leaving them where Mike can "rescue" them.

I have no intention of encouraging this behavior.

The difficulty is that I appear to enjoy retrieving stolen goods from my little thief as much as he enjoys stealing them.

His Burglar Boy is a low-angst Daddy/little MM paranormal romance featuring a perpetually exasperated vampire, an earnest little with a rescue complex, stuffed animals, midnight tea parties, egregious theft, age play, and a happily ever after.