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It worked on me.
“Promise him a pony?” I thought it was a good idea, but Cohen nearly giggled.
“Pancakes?” Whipped cream for picking a job seemed like a reasonable trade. “No more chocolate chips until he finds something to do?”
Coughing, Cohen sighed. “Has he rearranged your playroom again?”
I hadn’t been planning on telling on Daddy, but since Cohen asked, I had to tell the truth.
I was a good boy.
“Yes, Uncle Cohen, and he said he’s going to reorganize my closets next.” Yep, I was a very good boy. “If he doesn’t leave my stuff alone, I’m going to buy him moving boxes for his birthday next month.”
Then he’d really squirm ‘cause Uncle Cohen had started finishing the basement to make sure Daddy had space for his special stuff.
Uncle Cohen was back to coughing again, but it seemed like we were both on the same page now because I got another kiss as he straightened. “Point made, baby.”
I had such a smart Dom.
“Thank you, Uncle Cohen.” Cuddling closer and resting my head against his shoulder, I tried not to yawn as Bishop and Carter went off on another tangent…this time something about a chair?
Why was the dining chair so exciting when there was only one?
Uncle Cohen wrapped his arm around me and kissed my head. “You need a nap.”
Eventually, I’d get one.
Hopefully.
We’d been out running errands and then it was going to be nap time, but Daddy had to show Carter something he had in the storage unit, and then the plan had gone all pear shaped. “Can I have ice cream, Uncle Cohen?”
That would keep me awake.
He groaned, so I wasn’t sure if that meant I should ask for one scoop or two.
Maybe if I promised him sprinkles, I could have three?
“One. Two. Three.” They were such good numbers.
“No counting, cutie.” Uncle Cohen sighed and pulled me closer.
I was a good boy, so I nodded and rubbed my face against his shoulder. “Three. Yes.”
Sprinkles were good.
For some reason, he groaned, but I couldn’t ask him why until I stopped yawning. “I…”
Before I could try again, Cohen called out to Daddy. “He’s counting.”
Tattletale.
I might’ve said that out loud because Cohen made a rude sound. “Sorry, Uncle Cohen?”
Right?
That was polite, wasn’t it?
“One?” Was one sorry enough? “Two?”
“I have no idea what he’s saying, Bishop.” Cohen made Daddy wince, so I tugged on his arm.
“You have to call him pup. You never call him that. He’s going to think he’s in trouble.” We didn’t want that. Daddy might get upset, and then he’d never get a job.
Sad puppies didn’t do anything good.
Cohen needed water…he started coughing again.
“Counting?” Carter asked a silly question, but before I could tell him it was silly, Daddy must’ve explained that because he was nodding. “Ah, yes. Sorry, I got you distracted.”
Yes, he did.
As they walked back, I managed to keep my eyes open, but it was hard.
“Uncle Cohen, we need more sleep if we’re going to run errands here.” Yawning again, I tried to cuddle closer but there didn’t seem to be any more room. “And if Daddy works for Carter, can you make them find me a chair? I need a place to take a nap if Daddy’s going to be here lots.”
Daddy groaned. He probably needed ice cream too, but Uncle Cohen was so proud of me that I got kisses again. “That’s a very good idea.”
Carter needed water too, but eventually he smiled at Daddy. “I think we have a few things to talk about if you’re actually interested?”
No more talking.
“No, three.” I shook my head and sighed. “Uncle Cohen.”
Why had I thought waking them up early with blow jobs was a good idea?
And after a sleepover?
I was an idiot.
Uncle Cohen must’ve told a joke that I missed because Daddy and Carter both giggled. They were so silly.
“Alright, yes, let me know when you want to talk out the options and we’ll sit down.” Daddy shook his head as he turned and smiled at me. “Another time, though. Ian’s right, this was meant to be a short trip and we’re holding you up from closing too.”
Naughty pup.
I was so helpful. Now Carter could go home and take a nap or get spanked if that was what he wanted. Sundays were supposed to be for fun stuff.
“Can I have ice cream?”
“How late did you stay up last night?” Uncle Cohen sounded frustrated, so I knew I had to fix it.
But clock math was hard.
“Um, what time did Owner bring me home?” I couldn’t remember. “It was after BJ’s but before the actual bjs. Oh, did you know that Owner said he changed his mind and you could have us back? He said one drunk monkey was enough? Do you know if he has pets? I don’t think you’re supposed to have monkeys as pets.”
And should they have alcohol?
