He perks up, his pants tenting. “I— Yeah, I will. I'll eat every last bite, I promise.”
“Of course you will, baby.” I ruffle his hair.
Yeah, he can think what he wants and I'll continue to play the part of being clueless because as long as I do, I can keep being his Daddy and have him on his knees following my commands whenever I want.
***
“I can't believe Christmas is over,” Ignacio says, turning toward me.
“It was only yesterday, so if you want to still live in the holiday spirit, I'll allow it.”
He laughs, glancing out the window of the car. “Have you heard from your brother yet?”
I grip the wheel, releasing a harsh breath. “Nope. It's not like him to disappear like this. Not without a warning at least. When he says he'll be back, he usually is.”
“You don't think he had issues with a job, do you?”
“I hope not. I really wish he’d give me his clients’ info so I’d know who to bother when shit like this happens.” I pull into a small parking lot, the tires sludging through the snow.
“I'm sure he's fine.” He offers me a reassuring smile and squeezes my knee.
“Yeah,” is all I can manage to say. I won't rest easy until he's back, and what if Ignacio is wrong? My brother isn't anymore safe at his job than I was with mine. He keeps his clients’ info locked up tight and never gives me any names. Part of the service was offering them complete protection.
Ignacio turns his attention to the front of the shop. “Where are we?”
“We are getting your Christmas gift.”
“At a tattoo parlor?”
“Yes. Come on, they're waiting on us.” I get out of the car first and he is close behind me.
The door rings when we walk inside and a receptionist at a desk smiles our way. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, we have an appointment.” I glance around the shop and the back door opens. Before the woman can say anything else, a burly man walks out, giving us a once-over.
“Are you two Ignacio and Evan?”
I nod, walking his way. “We are.”
“Come on back. Y'all are two minutes late.”
I grab Iggy's hand and we follow the man to a back room. “Sorry, we had a little car trouble on the way,” I lie. More like Iggy was getting caught in his head again and the only way to bring him back was to pull to the side of the road, yank down his pants, and shove my face between his thighs. I would have shown up an hour late if my little dove required it.
The man doesn't say anything and slides on a pair of gloves, nudging his head toward a long table covered in plastic. “Take your shirt off and get on the table. Where are we getting this today?”
Iggy glances between us, his face scrunching up. “Getting what?”
“The dove.”
His eyes widen and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “I uh…my back would be good.”
“On your stomach then. Upper or lower.”
“Upper,” Iggy says.
“Big or small?”
“Somewhere in between.” He tugs off his shirt and blushes when both of our eyes are on him.