by Okati, Willa
"Aye, aye."
"Oh, so you like taking orders now, do you?"
"I'd take anything from you, Rack. Even a lecture on why we should enjoy the nightlife of Dallas, and to hell with how many eyebrows we raise." Daniel comes in for a kiss, just like a plane taxiing in to the runway, and licks Rack's lips for one more taste before dodging the swipe of his lover's hand and heading for the bathroom. "Look out, Texas, here we come."
"Too damn right," Rack says, lighting up again. "They won't know what hit them."
Daniel has a feeling that Rack's right. But what the hell? Die all, die merrily. And if he has Rack by his side, he can handle just about anything.
Rack's worth braving the world for.
Chapter Two
God bless Texas.
Daniel's made quick work of setting up Rack's booth -- practice has made perfect -- and Rack's pinned up all his flash and set his portfolio out. Pre-advertising has brought in a huge crowd, and Daniel thinks his eyeballs may melt from all the sheer "hot" that's filling the convention center.
"Eyes to me," Rack murmurs, bumping Daniel with his hip as he makes one last adjustment to his chair.
"I was just looking," Daniel protests. "Don't tell me you weren't copping a glance or three at those fine cowboy asses yourself."
"Hell, yes, I was. All tight and round and mmm." Rack hums. "Still, eyes to me, eh? Or if you've gotta look, then don't touch. You're mine, and we both know it. Besides," he says, wickedly laying a hand on his tattoo machine, "don't you want to get started on your ink?"
Daniel jumps for the bait like a doggie for a chew toy, which Rack probably knew he would. His butt's in that adjustable chair before you can say "boo", and he's wiggling in excitement before Rack can even squeeze out the first cap of ink. "Indigo first, right?"
"'S right," Rack says, already absorbed in his work. "A nice rich purple. We'll go down the length of your arm with that particular shade if you've the nuts to handle it."
Daniel gives Rack a look so long and patient that even the Devoted Artist has to turn around and meet his eyes. "Rack," he says, patiently as he can, "I have pierced nuts and metal studs in my dick. I also have a tattoo on said dick. I think I can handle partial shading on one arm."
Rack's grin is wicked. "Right, sure. You up to a performance before the crowd, then?"
Daniel shifts to the people bunched around them, from cowboys who look absolutely fascinated by he and Rack, to the already punked-out who are there to learn at the master's feet. He shifts to get a little more comfortable in the chair, and then throws Rack a daring smile right back. "Go for the gold."
"Saffron's not until later."
Daniel reaches out to swat Rack's ass. "Smart-mouth." He leans back. "Come on, time is money. You've got at least a dozen customers lined up already."
"And how d'you know that?"
"I have faith. Also, I have a pretty good view of your sign-in book. It's filling up fast."
"Gonna be another long day with the machine, then." Rack gives it a test buzz. There are a few flinches, but still more curiosity. "You can spell me by drawing up a few designs to order."
Daniel's heart catches in his throat. He's only been practicing for six cities now -- is he good enough? "Rack?"
"No worries, pet. I trust you with the art." Buzz, buzz goes the machine. "Just like you trusted me all along. And I'll do any punches myself, but you watch, because that's the next thing you're learning."
"I have no idea what I'm going to do with all this knowledge once we get back home."
"Oh, I dunno." Rack scoots his chair up to Daniel's side, dipping his machine's needle in the indigo ink. "I'm thinkin' you can decorate me up a good bit. After all, I haven't anything on my back yet."
"I want to hear the story about that scalp tattoo, then," Daniel bargains. It's the only one Rack hasn't told him about.
To his surprise, Rack blushes and mumbles something like, "No way in hell," but Daniel thinks he can coax Rack to give in. A good hard fuck and a blow job ought to get him spilling his secrets.
"Was it for that one guy who dumped you before you and I got together?"
Rack jumps. Daniel grins. "Who went and told you that?" Rack demands, aggravated. "Has Mei Li been tellin' secrets out of school?"
"Nope. I guessed by my own self." Daniel wiggles around. "Hurry up with that ink. The crowd's getting restless." Besides which, he's itching for the feel of the needle on his skin and the adrenaline rush that always follows that first sting of pain. It's addictive as he imagines drugs to be, not that he's ever tried anything harder than pot, and that made him cough.
"Hush up, then, and I'll get started." Rack's absent again, fading away into his utter stillness of concentration. He narrows his eyes at Daniel's arm, moves it to and fro a little, dips his needle again, and then starts up the machine.
The first touch of metal to skin burns like fuck, but then Daniel's flying. He closes his eyes and arches as much as he dares, savoring the fine burn as if it were a good wine or a really hearty beer. Beer, he thinks. Guys with tattoos don't drink a lot of wine. Well, Toby does, but he's really, really gay, as opposed to the everyday gay that Rack and Daniel are.
Speaking of Toby, Daniel wonders how he's doing with the thing he's had for Joey all this time. Daniel can't see the attraction himself -- come on, Joey is an out-and-out asshole, and they fight all the time -- but maybe with Mei Li running the shop, things have settled down and the two are getting to know one another.
Stranger things have happened.
Rack's working his way down Daniel's arm when one well-muscled specimen steps forward, tugging at the brim of his cowboy hat. "Don't mean to interrupt," he says apologetically. "You mind if I get a closer look?"
"Nah." Daniel waves him on. "Close as you want, but just don't get in Rack's way."
"Oh, no. Wouldn't do that." The cowboy, or so Daniel assumes, is wearing a beige suede vest with a little fringe. It's a little campy, and Daniel knows from camp, but hey, who is he to question what a guy wears during his day out on the town? "Doesn't that hurt?"
"Some," Daniel admits, still riding the waves of bliss. "But that's part of the fun."
"I don't get how pain can be fun."
"Let me put it this way." Daniel winces a little as the skin Rack's going over starts to get tender. "You ever been out riding for a whole day? Your ass is completely sore and your thighs are aching, but the wind is blowing and your horse is still going at a gallop. You can't help but feel the thrill of being out there in the great wide open with all that power churning around you."
His speech draws murmurs from the crowd, the line of waiting men, and a nod from the cowboy beside him. "It's kind of like that," Daniel goes on. "Hurts at first, sure, but then you get that total bliss going on. You could compare it to running, if you wanted. You start gasping and your legs burn, but then there's that second wind and you feel like you can soar. It's all about the adrenaline rush, man."
"That'd be why you have so much on you?" the cowboy wants to know.
Daniel grins. "That, and my honey's the one who does my artwork. Any chance to get close, you know?"
The cowboy's cheeks go slightly pink, but to his credit he just nods and tips his hat again. "Mind if I keep on watching?"
"Help yourself. Viewing pleasure is free."
At that, several others crowd in. "Here!" Rack snaps. "Out of my light!" He adjusts the halogen lamp over Daniel's arm. The cowboys back off, their faded jeans showing off all their best ass... sets.
Daniel waves his free hand at the men. "He gets involved in his work. Don't mind him. Just stay out of the light, and you'll be fine."
More murmurs. "Think he'd do a stallion on my bicep?" Mr. Fringe asks. "Something like that horse on the chalk cliffs."
"That'd be Devon," Rack says abruptly. "And if you’ve got the dosh, I can do you up anything you like."
"He's that good," Daniel affirms. "And 'dosh' means money, for those of you who don't speak Rack-ese." He
grins a little. "I'm fluent, but throw me a y’all and I'm lost, got it?"
Chuckles break out. Daniel thinks he even sees Rack's lips twitch a little. He's good, and he's fast, almost to the bottom of Daniel's arm. The wrist is a little more painful than the rest, but from top to bottom there are wild spirals of deep purple, and Daniel's loving it already.
When Rack finishes, it's with a pat to Daniel's hip and a relieved sigh. "Tricky stuff, this, but it turned out just fine. You can have the next color when we reach our next stop."
"Aw, not until then?"
"Healing time, pet, healing time. I want this piece to shine." Rack rolls his chair back and puts his machine down on the counter. He removes the needle and places it in the biohazard container, then snaps off his rubber gloves. He tosses them in the trash, then reaches for a bottle of Vitamin E capsules. Waving them at the crowd, he orates, "Listen up, all of you blokes. There's some that'll try and sell you on anything from Vaseline to some concoction of their own to use, and make no mistake, you do need to keep a healing tat moist, but there's nothing better than these. Pierce one and squeeze the goop out. Use that to moisten your ink and it'll heal up a treat. Trust me on this one." He gestures at a stack of pill bottles. "Three ninety-nine along with a tattoo."
There’s more noise among the crowd, sounds of agreement. Daniel sits up for Rack to bandage his arm. He knows enough to keep the gauze on for an hour, and then wash himself off with a little soap and water. There's a small bottle of Vitamin E in his pocket already.
God, he's gonna look good, walking around as Rack's living billboard. Preening a little, Daniel examines his tattoo one more time before it's covered with white hospital padding and Rack's pressing down tape that won't hurt coming off. "There you have it," Rack says, patting Daniel's ass again. "Go and wander about a bit, maybe a couple of hours, and then come back so you can give me a breather."
Daniel grins. "Yes, sir." He hops off the chair and offers it to the cowboy, who was after all first in line. "Ups-a-daisy. And remember what I said about adrenaline."
The cowboy takes his mount with a definite air of bravado. "I've mended wire fences since I was twelve years old," he says. "I don't think a needle's going to -- fuck!"
Rack grins up at him. "Calm down, mate." He brandishes a purple surgical marker. "I'm just drawing in the outline so you can tell me what you think of the design."
Their whole waiting crowd finds this hilarious, and even the cowboy, who's bright red, has to chuckle. Daniel gives an imaginary hat a tip, and he's off into the crowd, wearing his bandage like a medal of honor. He's looking good with a lot of his ink on display, and the black wifebeater Rack suggested was a fine choice. It's hotter than New York down here in Dallas, but that could just be because summertime is burning high and hot in the skies. Better than looking good, though, he's feeling fine. Nothing can bring him down.
Speaking of being up, though, he wants a second cup of coffee. Rack's given in a little since they've been eating a lot of beef dinners on this trip, and Daniel even got a blood test to show that his iron levels are fine. Rack still nags a little, but it's mostly out of habit. Just goes to show that he cares, anyway, so Daniel doesn't mind.
He scans the crowded convention center, savoring the sound of tattoo guns buzzing and the noise of the crush of people. There has to be a kiosk somewhere... yeah, there. Not too far away, too, and staffed by a plumpish girl who looks to be friendly. Smart vendors, setting up shop at a place like this. They know that tattoo artists live by their caffeine, and they probably do a booming business.
Daniel bops over and gets in line, knowing he's acting like a kid hyped up on too much sugar, but unable to help himself. New ink! And maybe he can coax Rack into those cheek piercings later. He's been promising for a couple of cities now, and Daniel's already picked out his studs. He wants holes in the upper cartilage of his ears, too.
He's bouncing up and down, humming snatches of a country song he only half-remembers, when he gets a little too enthusiastic and bumps into the guy ahead of him in line. The man jumps as if he's been shot, and Daniel's ready with a quick apology when he turns around and Daniel sees that it's Josh.
"Oh. It's...it's you." The hunted look in Josh's eyes fades a little bit, and Daniel has to hold it in not to reach out and touch the man's shoulder. Josh just invites that kind of touching, but Daniel's pretty sure he isn't gay and it's not a wise idea to get all touchy-feely with someone you a) don't know too well and b) are pretty sure could cold-clock you if you made a move.
Not that he's going to. Make a move, that is. He just wants Josh to calm down a little, you know?
"And it's you," Daniel answers with an easy grin. "How's life as a gofer treating you?"
"Not...not too bad." But Josh's hands tremble a little as he holds out two dollar bills and says, "Large coffee, please."
The vendor turns to pull a cup. On impulse, Daniel says, "Hey, don't worry about it. This one's on me, okay?"
Josh flinches. All the same, he nods after a moment. "Thank you."
"It's just a cup of coffee." Daniel fishes a fiver out of his pocket and passes it over to the vendor. "Same for me, and keep the change."
The vendor rolls her eyes. "A whole dollar, just for me." Her grin belies her words.
"Hey, doesn't every little bit count? Especially when I know for pretty certain that what you're charging two dollars for probably costs less than ten cents?"
"Hush up, now." The vendor changes Daniel's coffee cup to an extra-large. "That kind of talk's bad for business." She eyes his arm. "Got something new today?"
She has a tattoo of her own on her forearm, so Daniel is free and easy in showing off his bandage. "It's a full-arm design. Today I got one of the colors done."
"Can I see?"
"Sorry, it's not ready for public viewing yet. But I may be back later." Hell with maybe, he knows he will be. Now that he's back on the java, he may never stop. But for now, he collects his cup and Josh's, passing the one over. Josh takes in hands that never stop their fine trembling, and nods his thanks.
They move over to a small stand crammed with packets of raw sugar, yellow, blue and pink packets, and metal dispensers of cream and half-and-half. "Anything for you?"
"I can get it myself," Josh snaps. Daniel backs off, and fast. You don't want to piss off the ex-military. Josh looks down, though, as soon as he's said the words, and sighs. "Look, I'm sorry."
"Hey, no worries. You feel like sharing a bench while we drink?" Josh nods, and Daniel's feeling some of that adrenaline surging back in. He bounces, a little like Rack on an average day, and points the way to a couple of free seats. Going on ahead, he's glad when he gets there that Josh has followed.
As usual, the man hunches over his cup, looking hunted and haunted. They're mostly alone in the small seating area, with just a couple of women flicking through tattoo magazines across the way. The roar of conversation rolling through the hall blocks out extra conversation, so Daniel feels at his ease with Josh. They can talk without Josh worrying about his stammer -- which Daniel can tell he does.
"So what brings you out on a break?" he asks, swirling a small wooden stick in his coffee to get the cream evenly mixed in. "They don't need a gofer right now?"
Josh shakes his head. "I've got thir...thirty minutes. Left out of an hour." He looks embarrassed. "I was watching you early...earlier. Just for a minute. Rack was doing some good work."
"He's a hell of an artist," Daniel agrees.
"And you just leave him with all of these cowboys?" Josh blurts.
Daniel blinks. "Well, yeah. The rule is look, but don't touch. I know he's going to be sharing the same mattress with me tonight, same as last night. I trust him." That trust is something he doesn't take lightly. "Rack isn't the type to stray. Once he finds something he likes, he latches on like a dog with a bone and doesn't let go." He lets himself grin. "I happen to be one of his favorite things."
Josh half-grins. "That's good for...for you." He looks back dow
n at his coffee. "How'd you two meet, anyway?"
Daniel's mind flashes back to installing counters in the soon-to-open tattoo parlor and do you want to fuck, or what? and Rack nailing him hard within four hours of their first "hello", but he figures that's probably not the best kind of story for Josh to hear and settles on the abridged version. "You know I'm a carpenter, right? I have my own workshop back home. Six-week sabbatical. Anyway, I was installing some stuff in Rack's parlor and we just sort of hit it off."
Josh nods again. "I guess that's not...not what I was asking," he says. Coloring an even deeper red, he asks: "How did you...did you know that you were gay?"
Oh, boy. Daniel has a feeling that this conversation is going to be long and possibly painful for both parties involved. He gently tests the waters with, "Why? Do you think you might, maybe be, yourself?"
