The tattoo itself only takes an hour—I’m usually quick with letters, but Mojo’s skin above his pubic area is delicate and thin, so I’m more careful than usual to make sure the lines are crisp and tight. He wiggled a bit when I was putting on the transfer, and I had to get him to hold his d**k to one side, out of the way, so it would stop bumping against my wrist, but other than gritted teeth and a grimace as I worked, he weathered it fine.
It isn’t until I’m taping a sheet of clear plastic wrap over the area that I realize what he said earlier about Darcy. “Hold up,” I say, pausing with my hand over his lower belly.
“What?” he sighs. His face is still flushed and he’s sweating a little, but whether it’s because of the endorphins flooding his system after the tattoo or the erection held
