Permanent Ink

by Avon Gale

  “Did I tell you that I had a dream about the hammer design?” he asked, as I patiently waited for him to stop shifting in his chair. “I was walking down this street, right, and I think maybe it was the one I grew up on but it was, like, different . . .”

  Was there anything more boring than hearing someone tell you about a dream they had? I made noncommittal noises and forced myself to concentrate on the design but not ignore him completely. I wondered if people understood how hard it was to do this job, which demanded precision, artistry, people skills, and a bedside manner to rival any medical professional.

  When Mr. Dream Hammer was out having yet another smoke, I went into the back room and gulped some water, surprised to find a Jimmy John’s sandwich with my name on it in the fridge. I picked it up and frowned, not remembering having ordered anything. How long had this been in there?

  “I got that for you,” Poe said from the doorway. “I was hungry and thought maybe you’d need something. What is up with this guy? I swear he’s almost smoked a pack of cigarettes. I am not going out to get him any if he smokes them all, by the way.”

  I snorted, unwrapping the sandwich. Hunter’s Club, my favorite. “Don’t worry. That’s definitely not in your job description.” I looked up and gave him a smile. “Thanks,” I said, lifting the sandwich. “Let me know what I owe you.”

  “It’s okay.” Poe shrugged. “I owe you a lot more, anyway.”

  That made me think, of course, of the kiss we’d shared. Was that Poe’s way of trying to repay me for the apprentice gig? I chewed on my sandwich, trying to think of some way to make it clear that was not only unnecessary but insulting.

  “Totally not why I did it,” said Poe, as if I’d spoken out loud.

  Luckily, we were saved by the sound of a bell—the front door, meaning Mr. Chimney had returned to squirm some more and regale me with his nocturnal imaginings. I rewrapped my sandwich, drank some water, and went to wash my hands without comment.

  It took another hour and two more smoke breaks before the guy’s tattoo line work was done. He made an appointment to come in for the color, and I breathed a sigh of relief when he was gone and I could lock the door behind him. I swore there was a cloud of smoke outside, and if he’d left his cigarette butts on the sidewalk, he was going to have to smoke in his car next time.

  Starving, I immediately went to devour the rest of my sandwich before heading back to clean up. Poe was still here, though, and he’d taken care of most everything by the time I’d returned. “That guy was driving you crazy, huh?”

  “How could you tell?” I thought I’d hidden my irritation fairly well, but apparently not.

  Poe shrugged. “I know you. And, I mean, that guy wouldn’t sit still. That’s gotta suck. How hard is it not to move around?”

  “Well,” I said, playing devil’s advocate even though I agreed, “it does involve needles. It’s not painless. Sure, a lot of people zone out, but not all of them.”

  “Not all of them talk that much, either.” Poe made a face. “I’m gonna have to practice pretending to be interested in the boring shit people say, huh?”

  I gave a sharp bark of laughter and shook my head. “Yeah, you definitely are. I can give you some lectures, if you want to practice.”

  Poe’s expression turned into something sly and challenging. “I’m not sure boredom is what I’d have to practice hiding.”

  Goddamn it. I schooled my features and gave him a stern look. “Poe.”

  “Mmm.” He grinned at me. “That tone of voice of yours does the opposite of bore me, Jericho.”

  I didn’t want to talk about this, and I was about two seconds from sending him on his way so we didn’t have to, when he said, “Can I show you something?”

  I leaned back against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest. “What exactly do you think you’re trying to do here?”

  “Show you my tattoo.” He hopped up on the tattoo chair where my last client had been sitting. “Because when I’ve earned it, I want you to fix it.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, especially because he’d unbuttoned his jeans and started shoving them down his hips.

  Holy fuck. I swallowed hard at the sight of him, lean-limbed and giving me a half grin, jeans pushed down enough to bare the sharp juts of his hip bones. There was something on the right one, tattooed in dark ink. I didn’t want to come any closer, but I’d be goddamned if I let him think he had the upper hand here.

  Pushing off the wall, I made my way over toward the chair. I glanced down at the tattoo, ignoring the way my heart was racing, the way my mouth watered at the sight of all that skin, and the fact I could see the beginning of an erection pushing against the fabric of his briefs.

  “What the fuck is that?” I was momentarily distracted by the abomination of a tattoo on his hip. “It looks like a melted Hershey’s Kiss.”

  Poe gave a low laugh, the sound of which went right to my dick. “It’s a raven.”

  “The fuck it is.” I squinted and tilted my head, but yeah, no. It looked nothing like a bird, much less a raven.

  “It’s supposed to be a raven,” Poe amended. He tapped it with two fingers, rubbing over the ink in a way that was far more sexual than it should be. “My friend’s cousin did it.”

  Oh, of course. “Where, in prison?”

  “In a basement,” he clarified. “It’s my writing name. I’m Poe, it’s a raven. Get it?”

  “I get it,” I said. “Or I would, if I believed for a second that was actually a bird.”

  “Yeah, well, the guy did it with some India ink and a needle. It hurt like fuck.” He made no move to pull his pants up, his fingers tracing his tattoo, his hip bone, and over the waistband of his underwear. “I want you to fix it for me, like I said. When you think I’ve earned it.”

  There was a playful heat in his voice, but there was something else too. Respect, and that was— Fuck, it was getting to me, and I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t help how hard it got me. He wanted me to fix his tattoo, but instead of asking or demanding or trying to cajole me into doing it, he wanted me to decide when the time was right.

  Yeah, I needed him to pull his pants up and go home. It was late, my defenses were down, and Poe looked like a goddamn wet dream with his pants undone and sprawled on a tattoo chair. I could tell by the way he was watching me that he knew exactly how much I wanted him.

  “You need to leave,” I said, very carefully. My feet felt like lead, rooted to the floor. I was staring at the bulge I could see growing in his pants, and I had to bite back a groan when his hand drifted down and his fingers lightly traced over the shape of his cock.

  Poe half sat on the chair, and for a second I thought he was actually going to listen to me. Relief warred with disappointment, right up until the second he grabbed me by my belt and tugged me forward. “You don’t want that.”

  “You don’t know what I want.” That was so obviously a lie.

  Poe used my belt as leverage to slide off the chair. He pressed against my cock, grinding his hips. “Then tell me. Tell me and I’ll do it.” He leaned in, mouthing at my neck. “Anything.”

  Tell him you want him to pull his pants up and go home.

  The words were in my head, I could hear them. See them, like they were words I was going to tattoo on someone’s skin. But they weren’t that permanent, and they faded the second I felt Poe’s hands working my belt buckle.

  “If you want me to stop, I’ll stop,” he said against my throat. “But I know you don’t want me to.”

  He was such a cocky little shit. The thing that got me so hot, though, was knowing he was doing it so I’d put him in his place. I reached up and let myself tangle my fingers in his hair, tugging his head away. He blinked his hazy, lust-glazed eyes at me and bit his bottom lip.

  Goddamn it. I groaned and yanked him in close, kissing him hotly. He kissed me back, clearly eager, his body shaking a little against mine. For some reason, feeling that faint trembling was what pushed me ri
ght over the edge into bad-decision land.

  Well, that and Poe’s hand, which was trying to slide down my pants.

  I grabbed his wrists and forced his arms to his sides, and I heard the frustrated noise he made against my mouth. “You want to know what I want, is that it? Then you shut up and listen, and do what I tell you.”

  “Y-yeah,” Poe moaned, breath caught. He stared up at me with obvious anticipation, and any thought I had about ending this went right out the window.

  “Get on your knees.” I didn’t push him, but I didn’t have to. He was kneeling before I’d finished speaking.

  “Yes, fuck,” he said, hands going to my belt. I let him undo it, followed quickly by the button and zipper of my jeans. He looked up at me, as if waiting for permission to free my erection.

  I sucked in a sharp breath and nodded, and Poe worked my jeans and underwear down to my thighs, baring my cock. I expected him to get his mouth on it immediately, but he didn’t, just knelt there and waited for me to— Fuck.

  I took my cock in my hand and stroked it a few times, shivering at how good it felt to touch myself and see Poe there, kneeling with his mouth parted as if he was waiting for my dick. I smacked him lightly on the side of the face with my cock, and he moaned. God.

  “You want my dick?”

  He nodded, eyes wild.

  “Then ask for it.”

  “Please,” he said, and all that attitude of his was gone, replaced by desperate, obvious need.

  I smacked him on the other side of his face with my cock, and I think we both moaned. “Please, what?”

  “Please let me suck you,” he said, and it was maybe the most respectful thing I’d ever heard him say. It was also the hottest.

  “Open your mouth.”

  He opened his mouth, and I gave him the head of my dick, but that was all. With my other hand, I let myself yank on his hair like I’d wanted to, and said, “Impress me and I’ll give you more.”

  His mouth felt so good, wet and hot, and he sucked and licked at the tip of my cock enthusiastically. His hands ran up my thighs, which I allowed, but when one tried to play with my balls, I pulled my dick out and smacked him on the side of the face with it again. “No. Not until I tell you to.”

  I loved having my balls played with, but if he did it right now, I’d come too fast. And I was already making this colossal mistake, so goddamn if I wasn’t going to enjoy myself.

  Poe’s tongue swirled around my cockhead, and I groaned, my whole body shivering with pleasure. “Good. That’s good. I think you can take some more.” I pushed my dick farther into his mouth, and he took every inch, sucking and licking and making my eyes cross.

  The urge to thrust full into his mouth was almost overwhelming, but I forced myself not to do it and kept giving him my dick inch by agonizing inch. “That’s it, that’s good, so fucking good.” Through the fog of lust, I could tell the praise was getting him as hot as the blowjob. I reached down and ran my thumb over his bottom lip, feeling it stretched around my dick. “Want to give you it all, boy. Think you can take it?”

  He nodded without taking his mouth off my cock.

  “Think you can take it if I make you choke?”

  I felt his moan around my dick and grabbed his hair with both hands. I snapped my hips forward, giving him my full length and feeling his throat constrict as he choked. I paused for a moment, wanting to give him a chance to back off, but he slid his hands around to my ass and tugged at me.

  “You want me to fuck your throat? Make you choke on my dick until I come?”

  His answer was to squeeze my ass, encouraging me. I might have teased him more, but I was too hot for it, so I started fucking his throat like I’d wanted, like I’d thought about at home in my bed. And he fucking took it, even though I was fucking him hard enough to make his eyes tear up.

  “Play with my balls,” I gasped, close to the edge, rocking on my heels as I drove myself into him. The way he choked and kept fucking wanting more . . . Jesus. “Rough, don’t fuck around.”

  Poe did it exactly like I wanted, palming my balls with a sure, firm grip while I fucked his mouth. His fingers glanced over my taint and near my hole, and the thought of him fingering me while I fucked his mouth nearly made me come. The thought of yanking him off my dick, bending him over the chair, and fucking him until he came all over the floor—

  I moaned and came in his mouth, taken by surprise at the force of my orgasm as my knees buckled and I nearly pitched forward. Poe didn’t pull off, he took everything I gave him, and I felt him swallow around my cock, which sent one last shiver of pleasure through me.

  When I was finished, I barely gave him a chance to breathe before I hauled him up with one hand fisted in his T-shirt. I kissed him, tasting myself on his tongue, and he was still struggling to breathe, but he didn’t stop kissing me. I turned us and pushed him up against the wall, angling us so that my thigh was pressed against his rock-hard dick. I shoved his jeans down but left his boxer briefs on.

  “You want to get off?”

  “Yes, please, fuck,” he rasped, blinking at me. His face was wet with sweat and tears from choking on my dick, and his hair was messy from my hands.

  “Ride me, come on,” I growled, and started kissing him again. I gave him more pressure, and he squirmed, trying to find the angle he needed. Feeling him wriggling around like that was enough to almost get me hard again.

  He put his hands on my shoulders and went for it, rubbing himself against my denim-clad thigh.

  “Feel good?”

  “Y-yeah.” His head was back against the wall, his eyes half-closed as we moved together. “Can I . . .?”

  Fuck, he was asking me if he could come. I braced my hands on the wall on either side of his head. I wanted to watch. “Yes.”

  His fingers tightened on my shoulders, digging into the muscles as he writhed and fucked himself against my leg. It didn’t take long before he came, that lithe, wiry body of his going tense as he spilled in his underwear and on my jeans.

  I stayed there a few seconds after, letting him finally get a breath. He opened his eyes and met mine, and we stared at each other for a long moment. I was still buzzing with satisfaction and aroused again after watching him come, and the thought Take him home, strip him, and put your mouth all over him was loud and insistent.

  Unfortunately, so was the dawning realization of what I’d done. I backed away, fixing my jeans and determinedly not looking at the stain on my thigh. Or at Poe, who was cleaning himself up with paper towels before pulling his pants back up.

  “I’ll clean up here,” I said, at length. I didn’t look at him. I wasn’t sure if it was because I felt guilty, or because I didn’t feel guilty enough.

  “Don’t do that.” Poe sounded, of all things, worried. “You know I wanted that, right? Fuck, you have to know that.”

  “I do,” I admitted. “But it doesn’t mean I should have done it. It can’t happen again.” I finally looked at him. “It won’t happen again.”

  He crossed his arms and glared at me. “You liked it. Don’t fucking lie. I know you did.”

  “It’s not about liking it, Poe. Of course I liked it. But I mean it, all right? It can’t happen again.”

  Poe stared at me for a long moment. He’d been respectful, deferential almost, when he’d been kneeling and taking my cock. Riding my thigh and asking me to let him come. But the smile he gave me was all arrogance, every bit the cocky little punk. He didn’t say anything, but that smile . . . he didn’t really need to.

  Poe

  “You need to go, Poe,” Jericho said. “I’m serious.”

  “Really?” I asked. “You want to play this game?” While you’re standing there with my come on your jeans? I wanted to say it, but at the same time, I didn’t want to risk pushing him any further away. I could tell he was trying to reassert the professional distance he’d been fighting to keep between us the last week. All I wanted was to tear it down.

  It pissed me off that he
was sending me away while his fair skin was still pleasure-flushed and his lips were swollen and red from our kisses. I could smell him on my skin, taste him on my tongue. I wanted more.

  “Don’t pull the mistake card on me.” If it was a mistake, I didn’t see a problem with making it again. And again.

  “I’m your boss.” Jericho’s voice was terse. He looked angry—whether at me or himself, I wasn’t sure. Probably both.

  “Who gives a shit? It’s not like anyone will fire you. This is your shop. You make the rules.”

  Jericho’s mouth tightened. “Yeah, well, new rule: no sex between me and my twentysomething apprentice. I’m old enough to be your father.”

  I straightened my shoulders, lifting my chin at him. “You’re not—and leave him out of it. The last guy I slept with was older than you. I didn’t give a single fuck.”

  Jericho’s eyes flashed, his expression hardening in an instant. I could tell he didn’t like hearing about me sleeping with someone else, but when he replied, all he said was: “You might not care, but I do. We need to establish some boundaries.”

  “But why do we need them?” At Jericho’s exasperated look, I added, “Seriously. Why? If we both want each other and we’re not hurting anyone, I don’t see the issue.”

  Jericho sighed. “I’m not going to argue with you. Just go, Poe. I need to do a few things before I lock up.”

  I wasn’t done with the conversation—not by a long shot—but I could tell Jericho wasn’t ready to hear me.

  “This isn’t finished,” I told him as I grabbed my hoodie from where it hung on the desk chair.

  Jericho turned away without a word.

  So much for fucking afterglow. Gritting my teeth, I left the shop.

  Over the next week, I kept trying to catch Jericho alone, but he went out of his way to make sure it never happened. He sent me on ridiculous errands or asked me to pick up lunch, which we never ate together, or dismissed me before he started his final client of the day—anything to get me out of the shop. Then, whenever I tried to linger, he suddenly found an excuse to talk to Pete or Roxanne or Harriet.