Tattooed Love - Gay Erotic Romance Box Set (5 Books in 1 Collection)

by Snyder, J. M.

  “Don’t move,” Vic told him. When Matt ignored him, he spoke directly into Matt’s mind. ::Hon, please. I’m enjoying this.::

  ::At least one of us is,:: Matt replied. Then it occurred to him—petroleum jelly. Of course.

  He felt Vic’s presence probe inside his head, a gentle sensation that gave him a glimpse of the pleasure trilling through his lover’s nude body. For an instant Matt felt the sweet ache that pulsed in Vic’s cock and balls, the clench of muscles in his ass at the anticipation building between them, the almost boyish glee that invigorated his blood and couldn’t keep the grin from his face.

  Grudgingly, he let himself be won over by his lover’s enthusiasm. Yes, it was a bit exciting, not being able to see or touch Vic. It heightened his senses and made even the slightest brush of skin on skin seem like the first time he’d ever felt another’s touch. His flesh tingled where Vic had kissed it; his cock throbbed from the hands that slipped over its slick length.

  ::You like this,:: Vic thought as he thumbed the slit in the tip of Matt’s dick. Matt had to bite his lower lip to hold back the orgasm that wanted to tear through him. He wouldn’t let it, not yet; he wasn’t ready to end this. Vic chuckled as he picked up on Matt’s emotions. ::Don’t try to tell me you don’t.::

  “Just please,” Matt sighed. He bucked into Vic’s fists, raising his hips off the couch. “Let me in already, will you?”

  “Is that how you ask?” Vic teased.

  Matt cried out, exasperated, “Vic!” His lover’s laugh infuriated him. “I’m dying for you here.”

  The couch moved as Vic repositioned himself—the hands on Matt’s dick worked his length until it felt like a steel shaft wrapped in velvet flesh. The jelly Vic had applied warmed beneath his ministrations; his fists glided along Matt’s cock with ease. His fingers picked at Matt’s cockhead once, twice, tiny pinches that made him gasp and writhe on the couch. God, he thought, his mind a blur. Jesus and please and Vic oh Vic oh God Vic... the words ran together in his head, a litany that surpassed language and soared into the realm of pure sensation. One word resonated as Vic fondled him—::Yes.::

  Suddenly heavy knees sank to the couch on either side of Matt’s thighs, and large, tight buttocks pressed against the tip of his dick. He thrust up and felt hot flesh take him in, Vic’s tight hole puckering around his dick as he eased inside. They fit together like clockwork, bodies meshing like well-worn gears, in a rhythm as old as time itself. As Vic sat down on Matt, taking the full length into him, he opened his mind to his lover, letting his emotions and passion pour into Matt’s body to mingle with his own lustful desire.

  In his mind Matt could see what Vic saw—himself on the couch, chest bare, Vic straddling his hips as Matt moved deep within his lover. Vic leaned back against the arm of the couch. One hand danced over Matt’s lower belly, smearing it with petroleum jelly, as the other worked his own erection, pressing it into the dark kinked curls at Matt’s groin, rubbing the hard length between his hand and Matt’s body. Deep inside him, strong muscles worked at Matt’s cock, massaging it. Slowly, oh God, so slowly, Vic moved above him, bringing him to release.

  When Matt finally came, it was in a quick rush that raised his hips off the sofa, driving him deeper into his lover. He cried out Vic’s name, and God’s, and whatever else came to mind as the sexual tension and pressure building in him climaxed. As his seed shot into Vic, he felt hot juices slick his abdomen. Vic trailed a hand through his own cum, then touched one spunk-covered finger to Matt’s lips. Matt closed his mouth around the offering, suckling at Vic’s fingertip. He only released it when his lover lay down over him to replace that finger with his own lips. “Love you,” Vic murmured into Matt. “You still want that tattoo?”

  “What?” Matt asked, breathless. Were they still talking about that? With a tug at the shirt pinning him down, he added, “Let me hold you.”

  When Vic pried the T-shirt off over his head, Matt had to blink at the sudden light. He felt like a newborn babe in a strange new world. Vic released one arm, then the other, then cradled Matt to his chest. Reaching behind him, he snagged an afghan off the back of the couch and draped it over them both. When he tried to slide to one side, though, Matt held him fast above him. He didn’t want to lose the warmth of Vic’s body against his, and he wasn’t ready to pull out from his lover just yet. Vic protested, “I’m a bit heavy—”

  Matt cut off his words with a kiss. ::Hush,:: he replied. ::You’re right where I want you.::

  * * * *

  Maybe it was Vic’s healing tattoo, or Matt’s talk of getting inked, or just a lucky coincidence. Whatever the reason, their bout of lovemaking on the sofa triggered a new and strange power in Vic, more supernatural than superhuman. On its own accord, his skin began to display spontaneous tattoos. Odd designs darkened various parts of his body, appearing on his skin as if welling up from within. They shone wetly for a few minutes, then disappeared—haikus in kanji letters written out across his stomach, a complicated Möbius strip that spanned his chest, a series of elaborate sand castles that sprang up on his back and then faded as if washed away by an invisible tide. Tiny tribal markings appeared on Vic’s face, framing his lips and goatee, before dissolving away. The fake tattoos played around the edges of his real ones, giving his skin a constantly shifting appearance. It was beautiful to watch, and Matt stared at the images that arose on his lover’s body, fascinated by the power he’d inadvertently given him.

  But over the next few days, the ability faded—they all did in time. The designs appearing on Vic’s flesh grew fainter by the hour, black paling into a worn-out blue, intricacies falling apart into simple line drawings, then stick figures, then nothing. By the end of the week, the only tattoos on Vic’s body were the ones he’d paid to have put there. The ink on his face healed nicely, with little scabbing. Whenever Matt looked at it, he thought again about getting his own tattoo.

  “Just a little one,” he told Vic one morning at breakfast. He kept bringing it up, not so much because he wanted his lover’s permission, because he knew Vic wouldn’t mind, but because he wanted his lover to help talk him into it. Not that he was afraid, really. Just... uncertain. He wanted a tattoo, he did. It was the needles and the thought of pain, no matter how temporary, that gave him pause. “Your initials maybe. What do you think?”

  It was becoming a familiar discussion, one Vic wouldn’t let himself be drawn into for long. He wanted Matt to make the decision—he’d support it, of course, but he wouldn’t make it for him. He couldn’t. He kept pushing that thought into Matt’s mind in the hopes that it would stick there, but Matt was stubborn and kept pressing Vic for a more definite answer. With a shrug, Vic reminded him, “It’s permanent, Matty. If you’re sure...”

  Matt grabbed his lover’s hand in both of his. “This is permanent. We’re permanent. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  What started as three little letters grew into a heart with Vic’s initials inside, and if Matt was serious about it, then Vic wanted one, too. And if they were getting matching tats, they needed to find a spot to suit them both, which crossed off anywhere Vic already had an image inked into his skin. Matt suggested an ankle, but Vic told him it would hurt more, right on the bone. When Matt stood and turned to slap his butt, only half teasing, Vic vetoed that, too. “No one’s touching your ass but me,” he growled.

  Eventually they decided on the fleshy upper area of their right arms. “When do you want to go get it done?” was Vic’s next question.

  Matt didn’t have an answer for that. “Soon,” he assured his lover. Silently he added, Just as soon as I work up the courage to do it, or hell, as soon as I get drunk enough...

  Picking up that thought, Vic pressed Matt’s hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “We don’t have to do this,” he started.

  But Matt shook his head, adamant. “We will.”

  The idea had taken root in his mind. He wouldn’t let himself back down.

  * * * *

/>   Vic didn’t mention the tattoo again, but Matt couldn’t stop worrying over it. What it would look like, what colors he’d use. He spent too many hours at the gym Googling tattoo designs online when he was supposed to be working. Finally he settled for a red heart, outlined in black, with Vic’s initials inked in a white banner across the center. One evening, when the two of them lay in bed, the sheets entwined around their naked bodies, Matt showed the design to his lover. Vic simply said, “I’m sure Big Man can do this.”

  “Big Man?” Matt asked. “Who’s that?”

  “Guy who does my tats.” Vic set the piece of paper on his bedside table, then ruffled his lover’s hair. “So I guess we’re still on with this?”

  Reaching across Vic’s wide chest, Matt snagged the paper from the table and looked it over again. “Of course.” He held the paper up to his shoulder, then leaned against Vic to show his lover. “What do you think? You like it?”

  For a long moment, Vic stared at the design. Growing nervous, Matt mentally prodded, ::Vic? Well?::

  A sudden rush of lust poured into Matt, staggering him. With a shaky laugh, Matt asked, “What’s that for?”

  “Tattoos turn me on,” Vic admitted. His eyes gleamed with an inner heat, and his lips curved in a wicked grin. “I bought you something.”

  “What?” Matt rolled back to his side of the bed and deposited the paper with his tattoo design on it on his own bedside table. Then he turned to Vic like an excited little boy. “When did you get it?”

  With a laugh, Vic opened the drawer on the table next to him. Whatever he extracted hid easily in his large hands. Matt tugged at his elbow, eager to see the gift. “What is it?”

  Vic opened his hands and held out a small booklet of temporary tattoos. Matt stared at them, confused. “Why’d you get these?” he asked, taking the booklet from Vic. He flipped through it—the tattoos were black, and all of the same Chinese character. Some were large, the size of his palm; some were tiny little rows of the same symbol, written over and over again. Matt turned the booklet over and saw the design printed on the cover, the word LOVE written beneath it. He laughed. “How sweet. This doesn’t change my mind, though. I still want that damn heart.”

  “This is just for fun,” Vic told him. Taking the booklet, he tore out the first page, then handed the rest to Matt. “There are some instructions on the back. Read them to me. Where do you want this one?”

  Laying back against the pillows, Matt pulled down the bed sheets to expose his hip. “Here?” he asked, pointing to a flat spot low on his belly. His stomach fluttered when Vic touched it. “How does it stick to the skin?”

  “Read the directions,” Vic said again.

  Matt frowned at the booklet, trying to read the fine print typed on the back cover. “Apply to clean, damp skin—”

  A warm tongue licked the spot Matt chose. The sensation, so sudden and unexpected, ignited his blood and tented the sheet covering his crotch. If that was how they were going to play, Matt could think of a dozen other places to put that tattoo. With a shaky laugh, he pulled the sheets over an inch closer to his groin and pointed again. “Maybe here instead.”

  Vic’s tongue darted out to lick that place, too. Dropping the book of temporary tattoos, Matt gripped his hard cock through the sheets and gasped. As he watched, Vic nosed the sheet aside, his tongue licking beneath the fabric to wet down kinked curls. He found the root of Matt’s shaft, licked beneath it to taste his fuzzy nuts, then leaned in to close his mouth around the base of Matt’s erection. “God,” Matt sighed.

  Vic’s breath tickled Matt’s saliva slicked skin. “Well?” he asked. “What next?”

  Matt fumbled for the booklet. “Um...” The words swam before him, unreadable. His nerves buzzed, his mind a blur—Vic’s body was a familiar weight against his legs, and Matt couldn’t concentrate on the fine print with his lover’s tongue lapping his hip like a grooming cat. He wanted that tongue beneath the sheet again, around his dick. Could they put the tattoo there?

  ::Matty.:: Vic nudged him with his mind, a loving touch. Aloud he asked, “What’s next?”

  “Press tattoo onto skin.” Matt watched Vic position the tattoo on his hip, then press it down with one heavy hand. “Um, wet the back of the tat—”

  Vic licked out again, this time wetting the paper stuck to Matt’s hip. His tongue swirled over the white paper, dampening it, until it seemed to dissolve into Matt’s skin. The black ink of the tattoo showed through the transparent paper in dark contrast to Matt’s pale skin. When it was good and wet, Vic glanced up at Matt, who breathed, “Peel it off carefully.”

  With gentle fingers, Vic peeled the paper backing away, leaving the dark tattoo in its place. Tentatively Matt touched it, smoothed it down. Reaching for the tattoo booklet, Vic asked, “Where do you want the next one?”

  Matt imagined himself on his stomach, ass in the air, as Vic licked another tattoo onto the tender flesh of his inner thigh, just below his buttocks. Catching that thought, Vic’s grin widened. “Flip over, lover boy.”

  The sheets tangled around Matt’s legs as he hurried to comply.

  * * * *

  Talking about getting a tattoo and actually sitting in the parlor next in line turned out to be two completely different things, Matt discovered.

  The Saturday before Labor Day, he woke up convinced that if he didn’t get the damn tattoo today, right now, this instant, he’d chicken out and never go through with it. Impatiently he paced the small kitchen and circled the dining room table where Vic sat nursing a cup of coffee, trying to wake up. “Sit down, will you?” his lover grumbled. He nudged the chair beside him to block Matt’s path. With a huff, Matt fell into the chair, arms crossed, one leg jiggling so hard, it shook the table. Vic placed a hand on Matt’s knee to still it. “The place doesn’t even open until noon.”

  Somehow Matt managed to make it that long, but nervousness churned his stomach and he didn’t dare eat any lunch, for fear he wouldn’t keep it down. By the time they entered the tattoo parlor, his mind whirled out in a sort of euphoric rush. This was what he wanted to do, he knew it. No regrets.

  But doubt crept in when he met the tattoo artist, a scrawny guy Vic introduced as Big Man, whose colorful shirt with its long sleeves turned out to be one large tattoo that covered him from neck to waist, shoulder to shoulder, and down each arm to stop at his wrists. He had a wiry beard he wore twisted in a braid, and a broken front tooth that looked like a fang when he grinned. As he led them down a dingy hallway, Matt’s apprehension grew with each step.

  The hallway ended at a small room that looked surgically clean, despite the many posters gracing the walls of heavily tattooed, big-breasted women in various states of undress. A hulking machine sat in one corner; trays of sterile needles and small pots of ink lined the available counter space. Matt watched with dreadful fascination as Big Man opened a clean set of needles and began attaching them to the tattoo machine. When he unwrapped an unused disposable razor, Matt’s voice crept up an octave. “What’s that for?”

  Vic’s hand touched Matt’s hip. “Relax,” his lover murmured. “You’re gonna get yourself all worked up before anything even happens.” Slipping his arm around Matt’s waist, Vic pulled him into a quick, one-arm embrace. He nosed aside Matt’s thick black curls to whisper into his ear, “You sure you want to go through with this?”

  “It was my idea,” Matt reminded him. If Vic could withstand the momentary discomfort of getting a tattoo then damn it, Matt could, too. Speaking directly into his lover’s mind, he asked, ::It doesn’t hurt for too long, right?::

  Vic’s reply was a kiss on his ear, and the mental assurance, ::You’ll be fine.::

  What looked like a dentist’s chair took up most of the room—Vic dropped into it without waiting to be asked. There was a stool for Big Man, who wheeled in a second one for Matt. As he sat down, trying to look everywhere at once, he felt a warm hand cover his and glanced at Vic, only to find a smoldering look in his lover’s eyes. With a
self-conscious grin, Matt asked, “What?”

  Vic’s gaze flickered to Big Man, who studiously ignored them as he filled tiny cups with red and black ink. Still, Vic spoke to Matt through their psychic connection, well aware of their audience. ::I never thought I’d see you in a place like this,:: he admitted silently. With a tug on Matt’s hand, he rolled his lover’s stool closer. His fingers slipped into Matt’s lap to poke at the front of his crotch. Raw lust rushed over Matt like the tide, drowning him in Vic’s passion. In the confines of his pants, Matt’s cock twitched to life as Vic’s gruff voice filled his mind. ::Turns me on. Damn, I want you.::

  Matt laughed as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. Vic’s middle finger traced the curve of his zipper, pressing into the slight erection hidden in Matt’s jeans. ::Hold that thought,:: Matt told him. ::When we’re done here—::

  A few feet away, Big Man cleared his throat to remind them they weren’t alone. “We about ready?” he asked, not looking in their direction.

  Vic gave Matt a salacious wink. “Oh, yeah.”

  A dull blush crept into Matt’s face, heating his cheeks, but he caught Vic’s hand in both of his and pressed his lover’s knuckles to his lips for a quick kiss before scooting out of the way. Perched on the edge of his stool, he watched, wide-eyed, as Big Man prepped Vic for the tattoo.

  First he cleaned a spot on Vic’s arm, daubing the skin with alcohol and some green, foaming mess that squirted out of a bottle like hairspray. The disposable razor scraped uselessly over already bald skin. Then he applied what looked like a temporary tattoo, rubbing it onto Vic’s shoulder like a template to guide him during the tattoo process. Matt thought of his own temporary tats, just now beginning to flake off. A line of Chinese characters still encircled his dick just below its plumlike head; whenever he tried to rub them away, he ended up jerking off instead. And this morning in the shower, he’d scratched below his right buttock and came away with black ink under his fingernails. He could still remember the way Vic’s tongue had felt as his lover pressed the tattoo into his skin.