Daddy Ink

by Ali Lyda

Another fundraiser this close to the tattoo flash event one wasn’t possible. But how else could I get the money? I remembered Reagan saying I was close to booking my tattoos six months to a year out. That was good money, and I didn’t need a lot of extra cash, so maybe I could lay some of it out myself. “I’ll m-make a d-donation. Use my money t-to hire someone.”

  “Absolutely not,” Mike said, softening his refusal with a gentle smile. “You’ve got a heart of gold, Javi. But I can’t take that much of your money. You already do so much around here. I’ll… I’ll think of something. But I wanted you to know the truth of where we were at.”

  “Thanks,” I said, knowing that was the best Mike could offer me right now.

  I stood up, suddenly feeling as if I were carrying an extra ninety pounds. Which, I imagined, was about how much Andrew weighed. As I left Mike’s office, I saw that Gordo must have moved. Going in search of him, I tried to keep myself steady.

  Andrew was a special case to me—I saw so much of myself in him. When he got upset, I understood why so well that it ached. Having a disability and having to fend for yourself made everything ten times harder. On a good day, at that.

  I refused to let Andrew down, but I needed new ideas on how to make and keep that promise.

  When I got to the art room, I found Gordo sitting with Andrew at one of the tables. I watched them for a moment, the thrill of seeing them together helping to melt some of the anxiety I was feeling. Gordo was showing Andrew how he scanned in sketches to color and perfect them in a manipulation software. I wished I had seen different jobs I could do with art when I’d been Andrew’s age. While I was flattered by Andrew’s interest in tattooing, and I loved my job, it was important to me that he knew he had options.

  I walked up, clearing my throat. Gordo scanned my face, his brow crinkling with concern. I gave a quick shake of my head, not wanting to draw Andrew’s worry just yet. Wary of Andrew’s ability to lip-read, I moved to where Andrew couldn’t see me speak.

  “Andrew’s b-been getting into a lot of fights and acting out. He needs extra help and Mike just t-told me that even with all the money we raised, they can’t afford a t-translator or c...c-caregiver.”

  Gordo reached out and took my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sorry, Javi, that sounds really hard. Let me put out some feelers to see if I know someone willing to help.”

  Just hearing the validation of my feelings was enough, but his offer to look for help as well had me over the moon. Impulse gripped me like fists on my shirt, dragging me in a rush to plant a big kiss on Gordo’s mouth, my hands cupping his face as if I could catch the kiss like a butterfly. Each kiss with Gordo felt better than the last. Kissing him felt right in a way that kissing never had for me before. Then again, I had never stayed with one man long enough to have the chance for this many kisses.

  Gordo smiled against my lips, nibbling at my lower lip before pulling back. When I shifted so I could sit across from Andrew, I found him watching Gordo and me with interest. He signed, “Do you like boys?”

  For a moment, I wondered if I’d made a mistake. It might have been egotistical to think, but I was sure I was the most stable force in Andrew’s life at the center. If this made him think less of me…

  Stop it. “Yes,” I signed back. “Especially this one.”

  But Andrew, tween going on twenty, just shrugged and pointed to the art Gordo had been scanning for him. It was a picture of a rooster, and I could see that Andrew had taken the techniques I’d showed him and made them better. It was a damned fine drawing, especially considering Andrew’s age.

  “You know you’re a good kid, right?” I asked Andrew.

  He frowned and looked at his hands. They were twisting together. I had to thump the table in front of him to get his attention. “I mean it, Andrew. You’re a good kid and I will always be in your corner, okay?”

  Andrew gave the slightest nod. It had to be good enough. Looking at my watch, I had to run to work. “I’ve got to go to work,” I signed to Andrew, while saying it out loud for Gordo’s benefit.

  Andrew gave me a big, goofy grin. “I can come with you. My apprenticeship starts today!”

  “Nice try,” I replied while laughing. After, I leaned in to give in to give Gordo another kiss, and then waved goodbye to both of them, but even as I was driving to Get Ink’d, my heart was back at the center.

  The shop was slow tonight. My client was running late, it was Dane’s night off, and Trinity was working on a customer. Next to her was Bryce, a new hire. He seemed pretty chill and was clever with social media. All of us understood it and had our own accounts that we managed, but Reagan was letting Bryce take over the shop’s accounts after Bryce had approached him with some cool ideas for visibility.

  I wasn’t bored, per se, but it was impossible to concentrate on my work. My mind was stuck on Gordo, which was becoming my norm. It was new and strange to have a person take up so much space in my chest, filling me with complicated emotions that I actually enjoyed filtering through.

  Missing him, for one, was new. Missing anyone was new. But for as much time as Gordo and I had been spending together, I missed him when we were apart. I wanted to spend all of my time with him and Giuliana.

  Following an impulse, I decided to call Gordo.

  “Hey, you,” he said, picking up before the first ring had finished. “Everything okay?”

  “Is it weird t-to say I’m missing you?”

  “If by weird you mean wonderful, then yes. I’m missing you, too.”

  Heat poured through my limbs, making them feel languid, heavy. I wanted to become a statue, freezing this moment, his words echoing in my ear forever. “It’s nice to hear your voice.”

  “You’re such a flatterer,” Gordo said with a chuckle. “So, speaking of speaking and voices… I’ve been thinking. Would you teach me how to sign? Your stutter truly doesn’t bother me, but I know it bothers you. I want to be able to understand you when you’re happy, when you’re upset, when you need control to communicate—whenever. I want to be able to listen to you, Javi, in whatever form is best for you. Is...is that weird?”

  My throat was squeezed so tightly it burned. A tear made its way down my cheek. I hadn’t done anything to deserve someone like Gordo. “If b...b-by weird,” I managed to choke out, “you mean the b-best thing ever, then yes.”

  “Wanna start tomorrow night?”

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  “No, like this,” I said gently, shifting Gordo’s thumb to change his ‘A’ into an ‘S’. “Now, show me the alphabet again.”

  He went slow, his tongue stuck out in concentration, but I watched in amazement as he signed the alphabet to me.

  “You’re a fast learner.”

  “I have a teacher who motivates me,” he said, throwing me a wink. I grinned and felt the tightness in my belly that always accompanied flirty banter with Gordo. That accompanied just being near Gordo.

  He was stretched out on a blanket on his living room floor, in sweatpants and a black, tight t-shirt that was riding up enough to show the shadow of his abs. I wanted to lean over and lick the exposed skin, but Giuliana was happily babbling between us. She investigated her toes, tasting them, staring at them, flexing them.

  “There are signs for her, too. She’s almost four months now, right?”

  Gordo sighed heavily, flopping back on the floor. “Yes. Don’t remind me. I feel like I’m going to go to sleep and wake up, and she’ll be in college.”

  “Don’t despair. If I remember from my foster time, six months is when it gets really fun. Solid foods, better b-back and forths—” at that moment, Giuliana let loose with a loud toot, prompting us both to laugh. “And they get even funnier, though little Miss G is already my favorite source of c-comedy.”

  Gordo rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. “Little Miss G?”

  “Absolutely. All kids need a nickname. Anyway, let me show you some signs.”

  We practiced them with each
other, and then with Giuliana. “More” and “eat” and “drink”. She would stare at us, try them, and then get bored and go back to her toes. Eventually, though, her eyelids began to flutter shut.

  “Naptime,” Gordo whispered as he stood, leaning over to pick Giuliana up. “Be right back.”

  Man, I loved watching Gordo leave a room. He was wearing sweatpants and managed to make them look good. His ass was firm, and I knew from experience now that it was quite grabbable. And if Giuliana was going down for a nap, there was time for some different kinds of lessons for Gordo.

  When he appeared again, I was semi-hard in my jeans at just the thought of being able to touch him. “I think we should raise the s-stakes.”

  Gordo stopped, head tilted so that his hair flopped sexily over his eye. “Oh?”

  “For every sign you get right, I’ll t-take off a piece of c-clothing.”

  Gordo sat in front of me, making no effort to hide how he looked at my body, his eyes filled with hunger. “And if I get it wrong?”

  “You lose a piece of c-clothing.”

  I started him off easy, picking signs that were simple. Things that we’d gone over with Giuliana. He nailed ‘more,’ ‘eat,’ and ‘excited.’ That had left me without my socks (Gordo had not appreciated that I treated each as its own piece) and no shirt.

  But when I was half naked, and he was still far too clothed, I changed tactics. I asked him to sign my name and his, and he got stuck on the letter “r”. He hadn’t been wearing socks, so his shirt was first to go. Gordo had a body that spoke of pushups and time at the gym. His abs were particularly enticing and I imagined running my tongue over them. Eager for more, I asked for the signs for “sexy” and “touch.”

  Finally, he was mostly naked and chuckling. “I don’t think you even taught me those signs, Javi.”

  “Nope. I just wanted to see you naked,” I admitted, getting onto all fours and crawling over to him.

  “I’m not all the way there, yet,” he said, voice husky.

  “I don’t want to wait another second,” I replied before kissing him.

  Our kiss became feverish in no time, all tongues and hot presses of muscle and moans. I crawled further until I was straddling him. The hot, hard ridges of our erections rubbed against each other through our underwear, and the front of my boxer briefs grew damp with precum.

  Gordo grabbed my hips, fingers digging into the meaty muscle there in the most delicious way. “All the way naked now,” he demanded. Not one to argue, I moved off of him just long enough to strip bare as he did the same. Then he gave me a crooked finger. “Come back to me.”

  I settled myself back on his lap, my knees snug on either side of his hips. Our cocks touched, sliding against each other, the sensation making me gasp. Gordo kissed my neck, tongue laving along my jugular and collarbone. I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling lightly until I heard him groan.

  He took my wrist and brought my hand to his mouth. With aching slowness, he sucked my fingers and licked my palm, wetting it thoroughly with his moist tongue. Then he guided my hand between us, closing my fingers around his cock.

  It felt like velvet, the hardness of it making my breath catch. He was hard like that for me. I didn’t need any more hints; I began to stroke him, moving my fist slowly from base to tip and back again, occasionally adding a twist that had Gordo sucking air between gritted teeth.

  “Fuck, that feels good,” he said before offering his hand to me. I jerked him slow as I laved his palm, taking each finger into my mouth and dragging my tongue along the hard ridges of his calluses and the whorls on each fingertip.

  When he grabbed my cock, I had to fight not to come immediately. Instead, I rocked my hips a bit and we set a rhythm, relentless and painfully slow, squeezing and stroking the other in tandem.

  “You’re s-so s-s-sexy,” I hissed when Gordo rubbed his thumb over the tip of my cock, smoothing the precum around.

  When he held up his other hand, I didn’t understand. “Put my fingers in your mouth,” he said. “Get them wet, Javi.”

  I groaned and pleasure shot through me at his words, but my lips parted and two of his fingers pushed in. My eyes closed and I rocked and sucked and stroked and oh, fuck, it all felt soo good.

  Gordo took his fingers from my mouth and shifted my on his lap so that he could reach under my legs and—

  “Ahhh,” I cried as his saliva-wet finger pressed against my hole. He circled it, teasing me with pressure until I was writhing. Then Gordo reached under the couch to grab a bottle of lube.

  “That’s a b-bit convenient,” I said with a breathy chuckle.

  “I wanted to be ready for you,” he said, voice low and rough. It sent fingers of anticipation slinking down my spine. He poured some lube on his fingertips and I licked my lips, eager to get back to touching. To being touched.

  Gordo settled again, one hand stroking my cock, his lubed fingers back at my hole. I groaned and began to jerk him again, the velvet heat of his cock thick in my hand. I worked to stay relaxed, relishing the pressure as his finger entered me. Soon he was stroking, finding that spot.

  “Fuck, Gordo,” I called out, half begging and half unable to take more. “I’m going to come.”

  “Not yet.” His one finger became two. He worked them into me until I was squirming and whimpering on his lap, wanting release. It felt so good that I thought having his cock in me one day would almost be too much.

  Gordo sped up his tempo, stroking me and fucking me with his fingers until I was panting and bouncing to get more, more, more of him. My own fist flew up and down his cock, desperate to bring him over the edge with me.

  “Soon,” he said, tone low and rough, “I’m going to be inside of you, Javi. I’m going to fill this tight, hot ass with my cock and make love to you.”

  His words sent me over the edge. His fingers stroking inside of me churned up my orgasm from deep inside, so that when I shot my load all over both of us, I felt the intensity of my climax from my scalp to my toes. Gordo stiffened under me, biting my pectoral as he came, his seed mixing with mine.

  “Jesus,” he said as we came down, our bodies sticky and sweat-slicked. “I’ll never forget the signs you teach if I have memories like this to accompany them.”

  I laughed loudly, the post-sex euphoria descending on me quickly, a fugue thicker and richer than any I’d experienced with past lovers. All I wanted was Gordo, despite feeling completely spent. I kissed him again, needing the reassurance of his lips, his taste, and the press of our bodies together.

  I needed it because my shield had been shattered, and my heart thumped, timid and unsure, beginning to wonder… to believe… that Gordo might be able to grow to love me.

  It scared the shit out of me knowing I was already in love with him.

  17

  Gordo

  Four months old, and Giuliana wanted to sit on my hip constantly so she could see everything as I did it. We were in the grocery store after her check-up appointment, where the doctor had been pleased with Giuliana’s growth curve, remarking on how happy and healthy she looked. I’d felt proud, the doctor’s praise a brief respite in the constant worrying I experienced day in and day out, sure that I was doing something wrong.

  The doctor had mentioned that I could start Giuliana on some simple cereals and oatmeal, adding that the new food might help her sleep for longer stretches at night. So while I felt massive trepidation at this new stage in child-rearing, I was highly motivated by the potential for more sleep. In the grocery store, though, there were just so many choices. Oatmeal, cereals, fortified, not fortified, organic, enhanced… what the hell did it all mean?

  Giuliana squirmed in my arms, wanting to see and touch everything. I tried to balance her with the cans and boxes I was looking at, scanning their ingredients.

  “Need a hand?” A man came up beside me, smile wide and understanding. Behind him, I could see a cart with a cute little boy sitting in the bucket seat, looking to be seven or eight months o
lder than Giuliana. The man himself was handsome, with close-cropped blond hair and blue eyes, and the kind of stubble that reminded me of my own—which was due to a lack of time to shave, rather than a conscious style choice.

  I handed him the can of oat cereal in my hand. “Yes, please. I’m supposed to start cereals, and I have no clue what I’m doing.”

  “Oh, God, yeah. I remember those days. Does your wife have an opinion?”

  I took a closer look at him. Because there was a question behind the question there—not just if my wife had an opinion, but fishing to see if I had a wife. “No wife. Single dad here,” I said.

  His eyebrow arched but his smile grew larger. “Me too. Fuck, it is so nice to meet another one of us in the wild. And you want this one,” he said, handing me a box of creamed wheat. “Super-fast to fix up, easily digestible, and easy to clean up the barf, should it come. My name is Richard.”

  I grabbed the box and threw it in my cart, happy to have a decision made. “I’m Gordon, but everyone calls me Gordo.”

  “Nice to meet you, Gordo.”

  “Is it always going to be this hard to make all of these decisions?”

  Richard laughed. It was musical, and I couldn’t help but join in. “Yes,” he said. “It doesn’t get easier. But when you make friends who are going through it, too, it makes all the difference. That’s Quinn in the cart. What’s your gorgeous girl’s name?”

  “Giuliana. Thanks for the tip about the cereals.”

  “No worries.” He reached into his back pocket. “Hey, I hope this isn’t too forward, but do you want to exchange numbers? I’d love to have a hang out and just talk single dad stuff with someone who gets it, you know?”

  There was a moment where I hesitated. Kyle had always been...finicky about me making other male friends. He’d always wanted to know who I was with and where we were hanging out, and he almost always invited himself along.

  I hadn’t minded for a long time because I’d assumed if Kyle and I shared a life, I was supposed to share all of my friends, too. But Christian later told me that he thought Kyle was being jealous and controlling, and after that, every inquiry from Kyle had rubbed me the wrong way.