Irons and Works: The Complete Series

by E M Lindsey

  Miguel had half considered staying over instead of making the drive home, but Amit’s texts had come in somewhere around the edge of New Mexico, and suddenly he had a second wind. He didn’t know what the fuck happened, but if Amit was at his place waiting for him—if Amit had ditched his job to seek comfort in Miguel’s arms—he wasn’t about to let him down.

  Miguel was head over heels for the man, and he didn’t care who knew. He stopped giving a shit if it was too soon, or poor timing. No one had mentioned a permanent job—not yet—but if they did, he was going to take it. Finn would be fine on his own for the last leg of the journey, and frankly, he was pretty sure the guy was ready to head back home no matter what.

  He was done living for other people—he finally had something of his own, and he wasn’t about to squander it.

  It was almost two in the morning when Miguel’s bike rumbled to a halt, and his legs were numb as he slid to the ground. His body ached, his face chapped from the wind, and it was only the thought of Amit inside waiting for him that kept him moving, one foot in front of the other.

  The door was locked, but his key turned easily, and he threw his shit on the table when he saw a small pile of Amit’s things on a chair. His heart sped up, and he practically tripped over himself in an effort to disrobe before climbing into the bed.

  As he peered around the corner, he saw the lump under the covers—much smaller than he was, tucked in a defensive position. It made his heart ache to see Amit like that, but it made it swell to know that he was the one Amit had come to. He quickly removed his socks, and wearing only his boxers, he slipped under the comforter.

  Amit’s body was warm, and he let out a small groan as he shuffled close to Miguel’s chest. There was tension in him, but it eased as Miguel took him into his arms and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Mm. You’re home?”

  Miguel opened his mouth to answer, then decided he wasn’t going to make Amit work for it. So, he squeezed him tightly, brushing another kiss down the side of his cheek, then let sleep claim him.

  He woke the next morning aching from head to toe from the tension during the long ride. He was alone in bed, but he smelled something cooking, which meant Amit hadn’t fled at the sight of him. He stretched his arms up, luxuriating in being in his own space, the covers still rich with the scent of his lover, the echo of Amit’s skin against his palms.

  By the time his bladder needed attention, he could hear Amit humming to himself and it made him smile. He fished a pair of sweats from his dresser, then slipped into the bathroom to take care of himself before wandering to the kitchen.

  Amit was there, wearing only one of Miguel’s t-shirts, a peek of faint purple underneath, letting Miguel know he was back in panties. His cock twitched a little at the thought, but more than wanting to pin Amit down and fuck him, he also wanted to just be near. His eyes flickered on the hearing aids which surprised him, but it meant he could clear his throat and Amit would hear him.

  “Morning,” Amit said without turning. He was pushing pieces of egg-soaked bread around the pan. “Hungry?”

  “Starving,” Miguel said. He slid up behind Amit, one hand pressed to his belly, the other dragging up to his chest as he nipped Amit’s earlobe.

  “For actual food, I mean?” Amit asked with a laugh, but he leaned into Miguel’s grasp anyway.

  Miguel hummed, low in the back of his throat as he tasted the column of Amit’s neck. Pungent with leftover cologne, salty with sweat from sharing closed space. “Both, but food is good.” He pulled back, then ran his finger around the shell of Amit’s ear. “I thought you left them.”

  “James ran to my house and grabbed a couple things for me. My phone charger, change of clothes…”

  Miguel’s hand dipped lower, nails scraping along the elastic of the panties that stretched around his ass. “These?”

  “I didn’t ask for them—which is a little mortifying. I’m hoping he just took a handful and didn’t pick them out,” Amit said.

  Miguel laughed, kissing him on the neck once more before pulling away for coffee. “I’m grateful either way. Love seeing you like this.” Love you, but that was an insane thing to say, and he bit it back with a vicious snap of his teeth as he stirred sugar into the dark brew. “So, uh…your mom…”

  Amit sucked in a breath, then let it out. “She’s home. Um.” He was staring down at the frying pan, gripping the handle so tight, his knuckles had gone pale.

  Setting his coffee down, Miguel closed his hand over one of Amit’s, stroking his fingers with the edge of his thumb. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

  Amit shook his head, and when he did speak, his words were thick with emotion. “It wasn’t her. Not really. It was my sister.” He dragged a hand down his face, then switched off the heat and turned a pained look to Miguel. “She’s angry at me for not being a better son. For being a fucking disaster.”

  “You’re not,” Miguel started to say, but the look Amit gave him shut him up.

  “I had plans. I’m smart—I know this about myself. I would have made an amazing psychiatrist. But college was so damn hard. When I first started, it was so chaotic. The lecture halls were crowded, and people wouldn’t shut up when the professors were talking. I couldn’t hear anything. I was just learning to sign, and I couldn’t follow the interpreter. Then…then when I could, they kept hiring students who didn’t know what they were doing to interpret, and my grades were falling and I just…” He took in a shaking breath. “I knew it would be both better and worse in grad school. The work would be harder, but I’d understand more. The classes would be smaller, quieter. But then, my dad died.”

  Miguel leaned his hip against the counter and offered his right hand to Amit, his left gripping his cup so tight, his knuckles ached. More than anything, he wanted to pull Amit into his arms and kiss him until he forgot. “So, you went home.”

  Amit pressed his thumb into the fleshy part of Miguel’s palm and rubbed absent circles there. His fingers traced the thick ropes of scar tissue around his wrist, the touch so gentle it almost hurt in the places he could feel it. “I went home. I climbed back into the closet and I hoped that someone would just…notice me, you know? I wanted them to be more than willfully ignorant. I’m not exactly subtle. But they were happy to pretend, and I was so afraid.” He swallowed thickly. “My sister sent a text, said if my mom finds out about me, she’ll have another stroke and it’ll probably kill her.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Miguel growled.

  “What?” Amit asked.

  Miguel repeated himself with the same emphasis as before.

  Amit looked at him with helpless eyes. “It isn’t.”

  “Yes,” Miguel said, then set his coffee down and reached for Amit’s hip, closing the distance between them again. “I’m not saying you should throw yourself a one-man pride parade in your mom’s bedroom, but to live a lie because someone convinced you she’s not strong enough…”

  “You don’t understand,” Amit said, his tone anguished.

  Miguel squeezed his waist. “You’re right. I don’t understand, but even if your mom can’t know, your sisters can. They can know and not tell her, and let you live without guilt.”

  “Aminah is just so angry all the time. She doesn’t want…she doesn’t want me to be different,” he said. “She’s mad that I’m gay, and that I’m Deaf, and that I’m happy being those two things. It hurts to live with her like that.”

  Miguel cupped his cheek. “Stay here with me for a while. I know you need to help out—I get that. But when you’re not helping your mom, or at work, be here.”

  Amit closed his eyes and let his forehead fall against Miguel’s collarbone. “I don’t know how to let myself have this.”

  “Little bits at a time,” Miguel told him. If for even a second he’d been considering leaving—that the work was too much—that thought was gone. There was no trace of life left without Amit. He was it for him. “And I’ll be here, waiting, when you’re ready for more.”
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  Amit lifted his head and leaned into Miguel’s hand when he cupped his face. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Yeah, you do,” Miguel said, then kissed him softly. When he spoke again, it was right up against his lips. “Someday you’ll believe me, and I can be patient until then.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Miguel was setting up his station when the bell on the door chimed. Sam and Kat were at the front handling the walk-ins, but he was fairly sure it was his appointment. A couple of guys had called the shop asking about genital tattoos, and Tony had hesitantly offered the appointment to Miguel. Tony and Sage had both done them, and Mat often took appointments for other body mods and scarification, but Miguel had been interested in all of those things.

  Mostly from the point of view that he couldn’t be picky when it came to his services, but also people like that usually wanted it for a reason. Reasons he could personally understand. The fire had scarred him in more ways than one, and it was tattooing that had given him control over the uncontrollable. He liked being able to offer that to others.

  When he looked up to see who it was, though, his heart sank. A couple of frat boys from Denver in backward hats wearing identical smirks. Kat was handing off a clipboard with the forms he’d need to sign, and the corner of his mouth was lifting in a smarmy grin as she explained the process of penis tattoos.

  “There are two different options. Medication to help maintain an erection, or a very short tattoo,” she said, leaning against the counter, giving her best Morticia Addams stare.

  The guy’s eyebrows lifted. “I don’t think I’ll need any help keeping it up.”

  Kat snorted. “Whatever you say, man. Anyway, I’ll have you sit down with your artist, then he can take you into the back room to get started.”

  She started ahead of him, but his hand darted out to grab her shoulder. When he made contact, Miguel immediately rose to his feet, and he saw Sam had pushed himself to the entrance to his stall, his hands in fists like he was ready to come to blows.

  Kat calmly turned and carefully removed his hand from her shoulder. “Is there a problem?”

  “Just,” the guy said. His eyes darted to Sam, then to Sam’s chair and his lip curled. Then he looked at Miguel and his eyes widened. “Uh. I mean. You’re not going to do it?”

  Kat snorted and shook her head. “No, that’s not my area, kiddo. Miguel’s the one taking your appointment today, and he’s one of our best.”

  “I love a good dick,” Miguel said flatly when he saw exactly where this was going.

  The kid paled even further, and it was almost automatic the way he followed Kat to the stall. He sank in the chair, but Miguel saw the appointment ebbing away, and he wasn’t going to miss this cash, even if it was one of their more expensive services.

  “We need to take a look at your design, then in the back room you’ll need to get an erection and maintain it for the duration of the stencil application,” Miguel said, tucking his hand behind his back and bracing himself against the counter with it. “After that, we’ll begin. It doesn’t look like you have a lot of ink, so you’ll want to keep it small.”

  The kid swallowed. “How uh…what do you…?”

  Miguel let his mouth curve into a very small grin. “Once you have an erection, I’ll grab the skin of your penis tightly, pulling the skin taut, and I’ll begin. We’ll have to stop if your erection flags, which is where medication can come in. Porn is also good, but the more you go soft, the longer this’ll take.”

  “So I need something to help me stay hard?” the kid asked.

  Miguel shrugged. “Yeah. Though like I said, you’re not going to want something intricate.”

  “I want my dick to look like a snake,” he replied.

  Miguel almost laughed, barely holding it back. He didn’t look up at Kat or Sam, knowing full well if he did, that would be it. “I don’t…know that it’s a wise choice. That’s a lot of detail, and it compromises the work if you go soft.”

  The kid licked his lips, and Miguel saw it coming, but not soon enough to speak up and prevent it. His head turned and he looked right at Kat. “Maybe you can be my fluffer, babe. Suck me off when…”

  The rest of his words were cut off when Kat hauled him up by the back of his hair. Miguel knew she was strong, but he was still impressed with the way she manhandled him through the shop floor and to the front door.

  “Try to set foot in my shop again and you’ll be leaving without your snake,” she spat.

  Sam snorted, and Miguel bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

  The kid spluttered. “Fuck you, bitch! The owner’s not going to like this when I fucking call his ass.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m the owner, dickhead. Me and my husband. But by all means, please give him a call. I’d love to see his face when you tell him his wife kicked your ass out after you asked her to suck your dick.”

  At that, the kids turned tail and ran, the door slamming behind him. When Kat turned back around, her face was drawn, a little pale, and her hands clenched into fists. She didn’t say a word right away, but she walked to the desk and picked up the clipboard the kid had signed. Staring down at it, she eventually thrust it at Sam.

  “You know what the fuck to do,” she said.

  Sam nodded, taking it as she breezed past him and went out the back door. Miguel was torn between going after her to check on her, and staying with Sam, and he looked over at the other man who had his cell phone out.

  “What does she want you to do?” Miguel asked.

  Sam looked startled for a second, like he forgot Miguel was there. “Blacklisting him. Shitheads like that get blacklisted from the reputable shops here.”

  Miguel nodded, biting his lip. It made sense, and Martin’s shop had something similar, but he hadn’t run into anything like that before. “Does that…does she get that a lot?”

  “She gets a lot of shit from assholes like that kid. And from dickheads in the industry who think women shouldn’t tattoo,” Sam told him with a shrug. He looked down, then back up at Miguel again and offered a half-smile. “You can go check on her. She probably just needed a minute.”

  Miguel nodded, then hurried out the back door and found her outside, leaning against the wall of the alley. She had one boot kicked up on the brick, her arms tucked around her middle, but she didn’t hesitate when Miguel offered a hug. It was softer than he was used to, but it felt warm and maternal, and it had been so damn long since he’d had any kind of mom-hug.

  “You okay?” he asked her.

  She pulled back, rolling her eyes. “Yes. It’s not that little fuck-face that upset me. He just showed up at the wrong time.” She swiped a hand under her nose, then rolled her gaze up toward the overcast sky. “There’s this tattoo convention in Vegas coming up that I really wanted to present at. It’s mostly just artists showcasing their work, but they’ll do panels for people in the industry that highlight new products or techniques or issues that a lot of artists face. Tony told me I should submit a proposal to run a panel on women in the industry, but they rejected me this morning.”

  Miguel’s brow furrowed. “What? Why?”

  She laughed bitterly. “Because those pieces of shit still seem to think that as a whole, women don’t belong here. That it’s a man’s art. They said it just wasn’t a good fit for the convention and thanked me, but it was bullshit.”

  “Fuck. I’m so sorry,” he said, and he meant it. He wished there was anything he could do, but he was more than a nobody.

  Kat waved him off. “Don’t even worry about it, babe. I’m happy here and people who want actual diversity combined with good art know where to go. We’re not an unknown shop, even if we are in some small town.”

  Miguel laughed. “Yeah, I kind of got that.”

  She grinned and knocked into him with her elbow. “I was kind of raging out. Did he look like he was going to piss his pants when I told him to call Tony?”

  Miguel laughed again, shaking his
head. “I think he already had when you grabbed him by the hair. That was badass by the way.”

  She rubbed the back of her neck and shrugged. “I learned more than a few moves to handle customers like that. I’ve had to throw more than one guy off Derek when some asshole got him worked up, and it just comes in handy.”

  Miguel didn’t know a lot about Derek, but he knew his PTSD was easily triggered, and he could only imagine when he got a drunk or pissed off client. He felt another rush of affection for this shop, and he prayed they’d see him as a good fit.

  “Hey,” Kat said, interrupting his thoughts, “are you doing okay?”

  Miguel licked his lips, then shrugged. “Mostly.” And that was true. The DNA results had come back positive, and he’d just gotten the phone call the day before that it was time for him to go handle it. He’d seen Cristin’s photo with the email the agent sent over, and he did remember her. She’d been at the club more than once, always hanging off his dad. She was the one he’d fucked right before he left, and he didn’t know how, but apparently the kid was his. “I have to take off for a few days. I already told Tony but…”

  “You know we’re not going to replace you while you’re gone, right?” she offered.

  Miguel huffed a laugh. “I guess, yeah.”

  Kat stared at him a moment then her brows rose. “It’s not us, is it? It’s Amit.”

  Miguel felt his neck go hot with a blush, and he couldn’t look her in the eye. “I don’t really know what the fuck to do. I’m afraid this is going to change everything.” Miguel had been keeping tight-lipped on the whole DNA thing, but something about Kat brought it out, and the words flowed easier than they had in a while. He confessed to everything and by the end, the two of them had settled on the low wall with their backs to the building.

  “Shit, babe,” Kat said, taking his hand in hers. “That’s a lot. Do you know what you’re going to do?”

  Miguel let out a tense laugh. “Fuck. Not even a little bit. I mean, kids were never the plan. Hell, a boyfriend was never the plan, but Amit has so much going on right now. I don’t know how he’ll take this.”