Chapter 9

Jakob

Maybe this dinner idea wasn’t the greatest one I’d ever had. Papa had worked the overnight shift for the last several days, but he was off today, and finally… finally…we were going to be able to decorate the tree properly.

Papa had been so sweet about making sure I had a packed lunch to take to work every day. He even snuck a dorm refrigerator into my office and stocked it with yummy snacks like Greek yogurt and applesauce because he was the best.

The least I could do was make Papa a decent dinner.

If he followed his usual pattern, Reed would sleep until about six, which left me two hours to make dinner.

We’d been texting the other day, and he told me his favorite dinner was this seventies recipe his mom made when he was a kid.

Meatballs in a sweet-and-sour sauce with pineapples and rice.

How hard could it be? You take some hamburger, find some spices, and put it in a ball.

Rice is just boiled in water, so that couldn’t be hard.

The sauce was cornstarch mixed with stuff.

Easy-peasy.

I didn’t have a recipe, but I could Google, and I found a blog post that sounded like he’d described.

It wasn’t from a cookbook, though, and the blogger didn’t include all the fine-print details of specific ingredients and measurements.

Now that I was making it, it seemed less than easy and nowhere near peasy. I wasn’t sure what spices to use, so I used the ones I’d heard people mention when they talked about meatballs. The blog post said the sauce was cornstarch, vinegar, soy sauce, and sugar. Reed was a bit of a health nut, so I only used a teaspoon of sugar because I didn’t want it to be too sweet. The rice was the least complicated part since it was just raw rice dumped into boiling water. Now all that was left to do was wake up Reed and show him my hard work. I might be a little, but I could do things for my Papa.

Unfortunately, I was still sleeping in the guest room, so I felt slightly naughty as I crept into Reed’s bedroom.

Ack, he was a beautiful man.

He slept sprawled out, starfish-style, on his back.

He’d kicked the covers off to the floor, but, unfortunately for me, he’d kept his tight boxer briefs on.

His bulge looked promising though.

We hadn’t really talked about sex.

All the porn I’d watched had the Daddy topping his boy.

I could unequivocally say I didn’t hate the idea, though it wouldn’t be my first choice.

But I didn’t know how to calculate the odds of Papa letting me top him when I knew nothing about the practical mechanics of sex.

Luckily, I could put the thought on the back burner because before I got lost in my head, Papa woke up.

“Love, is everything okay?”

His voice was husky with sleep. It was, hands down, the sexiest voice I’d ever heard. Voice actors had nothing on my Papa. “You need me?”

As he spoke, Papa stretched his hand to me, and I raced across the room. I laced our fingers together and joined him on the bed. It seemed perfectly natural that I’d curl up against his side and drape a leg over his. His chest was covered in a nice layer of fur that tickled my nose. This must be what heaven felt like.

“I made you dinner, Papa, and it’s time to eat.”

Reed reared his head back to look at me. “You know how to cook?”

“Well, I’ve never done it before, but I found a blog post that sounded like the recipe you said was your favorite when you were a kid. I tried to make that.”

“Oh, baby, that’s sweet of you. How long until it’s ready?”

“Uhhh, now.”

I’d spent too much time ogling him in the doorway, which left me no lead time. Oops.

“No worries. Let me go to the bathroom, and I’ll head down.”

Papa kissed my cheek, rolled off the bed, and padded quietly to the bathroom. When the door shut, I leaped off the bed and hurried back to the kitchen. The timer for the rice had gone off at some point, so I turned off the burner but left it on the stovetop so it wouldn’t get cold. Papa followed me a few minutes later, wearing sleep pants and a threadbare Rainier hockey shirt. I wanted to gobble him up. Literally. I understood why he wanted to go slow, but I wasn’t loving it.

“Papa, sit at the table, and I’ll be your server, okay?”

“Can I help you with anything?”

He glanced at the table, but I’d already set it with silverware. His favorite beer was out of the fridge and sitting next to a frozen glass like I’d seen him use and my sippy cup of chocolate milk was already done. They both would be a little warm now, but surely that was okay. A little warm never killed anyone. Probably.

“Nope, just sit, and I’ll put the food on plates.”

I looked at the stove and realized I had forgotten part of dinner. “Well, shoot, Papa. I forgot about veggies.”

“A missed vegetable serving isn’t going to hurt.”

“I guess,”

I said the words but wasn’t convinced. Papa liked veggies a lot.

I took the lid off my rice to spoon some out. The grains looked all right but not fluffy like restaurant rice. When I stuck the spoon in farther, I realized the entire bottom of the pan was scorched. There was a burned crust along the bottom and up the sides. Gah. I had no idea if that would affect the taste, but I scooped from the top and middle and hoped for the best, then ladled some meatballs in the sauce on top. I carried the plates—his regular and mine divided—to where Papa sat at the table.

Papa’s smile reassured me, but I wouldn’t breathe easy until he took his first bite. The air stopped moving in my lungs when his fork reached his mouth and the food slipped inside. I watched his facial expressions like a hawk, looking for clues about the taste. He was completely expressionless until he swallowed.

“Thank you for fixing me dinner, love. It’s been a long, long time since I woke up to a home-cooked meal.”

With that, he took another bite of the dinner. Satisfied, I took my own bite and—

Oh, fudging hell, what was that shit?

Papa sputtered, grabbed his napkin to spit his food into it, and roared with laughter.

“Oh God, that was out loud too?”

“Yep, but you get a pass for this one. Did you follow a recipe?”

Reed asked delicately.

“Well, not quite. It was from a post about it, and it sounded like your mom’s, but it wasn’t super specific.”

“What did it say?”

“It said season the meatballs as you normally would, so I used the stuff I’d heard of with meatballs.”

“Like what?”

Papa sounded skeptical, but now I didn’t want to say because this dumpster fire was inedible.

“Oregano.”

“Oh.”

Papa’s eyes were wide. “And the sauce?”

“It said to make a sauce with cornstarch, soy sauce, vinegar, and water. Oh! And sugar, but I only used a teaspoon because I know you don’t like sugar.”

Dammit, I’d wanted to make him a nice dinner to say thank you for everything he’d done for me. True to his word, he’d been with me when I called the insurance company and found out where my car was taken. He’d helped me arrange a rental car, but then I canceled it because Ubering was a lot more convenient and no one honked at the driver like they did when I drove. Reed had even agreed to be my new emergency contact. Not once had he gotten mad or frustrated, and now I’d ruined it.

“Hey,”

Papa said as he pushed his chair back, grabbed me by the wrist, and pulled me onto his lap. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. Fixing me dinner was the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in years, and how it tastes doesn’t change that.”

“But you’re hungry, and I messed up your favorite dinner.”

“That oregano got me in the mood for Italian food. Why don’t we order something from Bistro di Nonna? Their lasagna is the best I’ve ever had. Tomorrow, I’ll call my mom for the actual recipe and we can try again.”

“Can we still decorate our tree?”

“Absolutely, love.”

#

“Papa, do you think it looks like a proper Christmas tree?”

We didn’t have as many decorations as other trees, but we had plenty of lights and shiny strands of red beads. Even with only a few ornaments, I thought it still looked pretty, but I wasn’t sure I had enough experience to have a proper opinion. I checked the water level every single day, so it wasn’t dry and hadn’t lost many needles. Papa told me I was doing a good job, and the words expanded my chest with pride.

“I do think so. The ornaments we got the other day look beautiful on there. I’m glad you went with all of them.”

I tried to contain my happy dance. I failed, but Papa just laughed when I did a quick jump up and spun around a few times.

“Uh, Papa, you went with all of them. I was trying to narrow them down.”

“Meh, close enough. Anyway, I think I might have more buried in the back of the closet if you want to add more. I’ll look tomorrow, but if it’s okay with you, I want to take a break from the tree.”

“Oh, sure. Do you need to go somewhere?”

“No, no. I have a questionnaire for both of us to fill out so we can see where we line up.”

With my agreement, Papa grabbed a sheet for each of us and a pen before he returned to his spot next to me on the couch.

“All you have to do is check off things you enjoy, things you’re interested in trying, things that are probably limits, and things that are unquestionably a limit.”

Well, that would be easier said than done since I had no experience with anything. Still, I tried to answer the questions as best I could. If I’d seen it in porn, and it made me want to jack off, I counted it as a yes or a maybe. Papa finished his list before I did, but he patiently waited for me to complete my own. Still, the list frustrated me.

“Papa, here’s my list, for what it’s worth.”

“First, c’mere.”

He beckoned me closer, and I moved onto his lap. I snuggled into his chest and my left hand snaked under his shirt. My fingers combed through the wiry hair on his chest. In my exploration, I found one of his nipples, which fascinated me. The nub constricted tightly when I circled it with my fingertips and then scraped over it with my nail. I tried the other one as well with the same result. I alternated between the two because I couldn’t get enough. It must have affected Papa because his breathing turned harsh. The power I felt to make this man shudder was addictive. “What do you mean for what it’s worth? It wasn’t supposed to be an exercise in frustration.”

“Because I haven’t tried anything other than kissing. How does one truly know if they like blowjobs if they’ve never had one? Or given one, for that matter. It’s not like being gay.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“I’ve always known I was gay. Like, I’d look at a girl and think she was objectively pretty or whatever, but I never imagined kissing one or anything. But the guys? I imagined all the things. Going through puberty surrounded by college guys who, rightfully so, ignored me was awful. It never bugged me if a girl didn’t want to talk to me.”

“So you’re not sure if you like blowjobs?”

When Papa asked the question he also moved his hand from my knee up to my thigh. My breath caught in my throat. “I think we should do a little experiment.”

“Yeah?”

I managed to croak out. Please don’t let me humiliate myself by coming in my damn pants. Please. Please. Please.

“If you do, we’ll keep playing until you come again in my mouth.”

“Out loud?”

“Out loud.”

Dammit.