I chuckle. “It sure is. Are you glad you got on that plane?”
He grins. “Yes. Thank you, Daddy.”
“You’d have got on without me.”
He stares at the remnants of his hot dog doubtfully. “No. I wouldn’t. I’d have run away and delayed the flight for everyone.”
I squeeze his hand. “Maybe, but that didn’t happen. And now you’re here.”
“With you.”
I smile. “With me.”
Briefly, he rests his head on my shoulder, then he straightens and polishes off the hot dog.
“You’ve got—” I motion to the corner of his mouth. “—Ketchup. Let me.” I use my napkin to dab the ketchup away. As I do, I imagine my cum at the corner of his mouth instead. “You’re a messy boy.” I ensure my tone is approving.
His cheeks become as pink as the streaks in the sky. “Do you like messy boys, Daddy?” he asks with an innocent flutter of his lashes.
“Yes.” I brush my fingertips over the spot I just cleaned and then run my thumb lightly over his lower lip. I’m aching to kiss him, but I won’t, not until I’m sure he’s desperate for it too. The wait is part of the fun. “We should go to the comedy club. We’ll take the subway.”
The show is in an intimate venue. We get one drink free with the ticket, but the assumption is that we’ll keep ordering drinks throughout the show.
“I’m not going to drink,” Ty says, staring into my eyes. His eyes are filled with lust, making my spine tingle.
“Sensible. I won’t either.”
We stick to soft drinks. The show is hilarious. Everyone in the audience laughs until we’re practically falling off our chairs. I laugh so hard my sides hurt.
By the time it ends, Ty is looking somewhat weary. Not that I can blame him. He hasn’t slept since the flight, and that wasover twenty-four hours ago. Maybe inviting him back to my apartment isn’t a great idea, after all.
We step out onto the street. Judging from the baffled look on Ty’s face, it’s busier than he was expecting.
“New York never really sleeps,” I tell him. “But it looks like you need to. Where do your friends live? I’ll take you back there.”
He pouts, which is adorable. “I was hoping we’d go back to yours.”
“Are you awake enough?”
He sighs. “Probably not.” He stares at the sidewalk and shuffles his foot. “I’m sorry. I’ve had a great evening, and I really wanted to—you know…”
I do.
“But I’m just so tired.”
I cup his jaw and stroke his cheek. “It’s fine. I don’t mind. You know… You could still come back to my place. You could get some sleep, and we could pick up in the morning. If you want to?”
He perks up a little. “You don’t have work tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
He smacks his forehead. “Right. I knew that. I’m blaming the jetlag. I’d forgotten what day it was.” His eyes widen, and he bounces on the balls of his feet. “That means it’s almost Pride.”
“It sure is.”
What has he brought to wear? I’m looking forward to finding out.
“We could go together,” I suggest. “Unless you were planning on going with your friends.”
