Vic’s dark gaze flickered past Big Man. “I know what you’re thinking,” he teased.
Before Matt could reply, Big Man uncapped a felt-tip marker to trace the outline of the heart, then leaned in to write. “What are the initials again?”
Together Matt and Vic both said, “M, R, D.” As Big Man began to write, Matt clarified, “D as in David.”
Big Man nodded. Sitting back, he turned Vic’s arm toward Matt for his approval. The sight of his initials on his lover’s skin excited him. “That’s it,” he sighed. He reached out for the heart but pulled back before touching the area and ruining the image. “It looks great.”
He couldn’t wait for his own turn in the chair, but the noise the tattoo machine made when Big Man started it up almost changed his mind. High and piercing, a thousand times worse than a dentist’s drill, the constant buzz of the needles made Matt’s stomach flip. When Big Man touched the needle to Vic’s shoulder, the grimace that flickered over his lover’s face terrified Matt. ::It hurts, doesn’t it?::
Vic raised one eyebrow and pressed his lips together. Following Matt’s lead, he used their mental connection to speak. ::Of course it hurts.::
Taking a deep breath, Matt punched his fists into his thighs to force himself to calm down. But Vic was the strongest man he knew, even without the super strength Matt’s semen gave him. If Vic flinched at the needle, how would Matt react? Please don’t let me scream, he prayed as he watched Big Man retrace the heart drawn onto Vic’s arm. The first bright drops of blood began to well up from his lover’s irritated skin. I’ll bite my tongue in half if I have to but God, please don’t let me scream like a girl.
Vic heard that thought loud and clear. Glancing over in concern, he asked, “You doing okay, Matty?”
“Is it supposed to bleed so much?” Matt asked, unable to keep the nervousness from his voice.
“I’m a free bleeder,” Vic answered. The way he said it, so nonchalant, told Matt this was nothing new. He nodded weakly, but couldn’t tear his gaze from the needle or the blood that pinked Vic’s skin when Big Man wiped it away from the tattoo.
* * * *
Fifteen minutes later, Big Man turned off the tattoo machine. Matt’s ears continued to ring, as if the noise itself had been tattooed into his brain. With another squirt of the antibacterial liquid, Big Man cleaned Vic’s latest tattoo with a paper towel. Matt watched the colored skin distend, the image moving as Big Man rubbed over it with short, brusque motions. When Big Man turned away, Matt got a clear view of the red heart, the white banner a vivid contrast, the tiny black letters inside, his initials, a part of him forever emblazoned on his lover’s body.
As he watched, beads of blood bubbled up through the ink like stigmata. Matt felt an uneasy pressure rise in him at the sight, a sickness like the tide threatening to drag him under. His face burned; when he touched his cheeks, his fingers felt like ice. Who was he kidding? He didn’t like seeing himself bleed over a paper cut, loathed a shaving nick, and here he was about to get a tattoo? Was he crazy?
Matt rose to his feet, his mind in turmoil. He didn’t know if he could go through with it, didn’t know if he wanted to, but one thing was sure... “I’ve got to go.”
Big Man looked up from covering Vic’s new tattoo with medical gauze. “Go where?” Vic asked with a frown. “You’re next, babe.”
Anxiety twisted Matt’s stomach, strangling the words trapped in his throat. “I... I can’t.” His mouth tried to smile as he frowned, and he wiped a hand across his face as he drew in a shuddery breath. The confusion in Vic’s eyes was painful to see. ::I’m sorry,:: Matt thought. Remembering Big Man, he spoke out loud, hating the small, wounded voice that came from his lips. “I’m sorry. I’m... I think I’m going to be sick.”
He hit the door at a dead run. Behind him, he heard Big Man call out, “Bathroom’s on the right! If he spews in the hall—”
“Give him a minute,” Vic said. “He’ll be fine.” His thoughts chased after Matt, seeking a similar reassurance. ::Right?::
::God,:: Matt shot back. In the dim hallway he found a doorknob that opened beneath his touch and he fell into a dark room, hands fumbling along the wall for the switch. Above, one bare bulb flashed to life, illuminating a small closet that barely held an old cracked toilet and low sink. Slamming the door shut behind him, Matt twisted the spigot and splashed bracing water onto his face.
Jesus.
He couldn’t do this, couldn’t go through with it. He was a fucking wimp. What would Vic think of him now? ::I’m so sorry—::
Vic’s soothing presence filled his mind. ::Calm down, Matty.::
The water stung his face like ice. Rivulets ran down his neck, dampening his T-shirt. Slowly the urgent need to vomit passed, leaving him weak and dizzy. Calm, yes, he was calm. Alone in the cramped bathroom, he felt his lover’s arms around him, heard tender words nuzzled into his head. ::Calm.:: Vic’s soft whispers overpowered the needles’ piercing buzz, and when Matt closed his eyes, it was his lover’s face he saw, not the swell of blood on Vic’s fresh tattoo. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he let Vic’s powerful psyche quell the turmoil that raged within him. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. If Vic could do it...
A heavy hand knocked on the door to the bathroom. Before Matt could answer, he heard his lover’s gruff voice against the wood. “You in there, Matty?”
“I’ll be right out,” Matt called.
The knock came again, and this time the doorknob turned, insistent. “Let me in.”
Matt reached over and turned the knob, unlocking the door. As Vic entered the tiny bathroom, Matt crossed his arms in front of his chest, hugging himself against the far wall to make room for his lover. He felt like a recalcitrant child waiting to be chastised. Vic didn’t have to point out that this was his own idea; Matt was well aware of that little fact. Somehow, it made the whole situation that much worse. He looked weak and stupid, yes, and he couldn’t raise his gaze to meet his lover’s, so sure of the disappointment he’d see there.
But when Vic spoke, there was only soft kindness in his voice. “Matty, it’s okay.”
His words touched Matt deep inside, unraveling the frenzied ball of emotions that had wound up in him. Taking his elbow, Vic pulled him closer, and Matt let himself open up to his lover’s embrace. “I’m a wuss,” he mumbled as his arms found their way around Vic’s broad waist. “This was my idea in the first place and now I can’t do it. I just can’t.”
“Shhh,” Vic murmured against his neck. One hand rubbed Matt’s back in a soothing gesture. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
Matt sighed. “I do, that’s just it. But it’ll hurt—”
“It’ll sting a bit,” his lover conceded.
Matt tried again. “It’ll bleed.”
Vic nodded. “It might.”
Silently Matt pointed out, ::You’re not helping here.::
Leaning back against the sink, Vic hugged Matt to him. When he shifted his feet apart, Matt fit comfortably between his legs, their bellies flat against each other, an unmistakable bulge pressing into Matt’s crotch. With a sly smile, Matt thrust his hips against Vic’s and murmured, “What’s this?”
“I told you it turned me on,” Vic said with a laugh, “seeing you in a place like this.”
His folded hands rested comfortably on Matt’s butt; their familiar, heavy weight helped calm him. Leaning back in Vic’s embrace, Matt picked at the buttons on his lover’s sleeveless shirt and pouted. “There’s nothing sexy about me being scared.”
“You don’t look scared,” Vic countered. He kissed Matt’s temple, his cheek, his chin, then ducked his head to force Matt to look at him. “You look amazing,” he murmured. “You look strong and confident and so damn sure of yourself. That’s the guy I love. The guy who does what he says he’s going to do. Who makes up his mind and sticks with it. Who isn’t afraid of shit, where’s he hiding now?”
With a faint smile, Matt admitted, “I think I left hi
m at home. If I could just stop thinking already and just get in there and do it—”
Vic silenced him with a kiss that lingered on his mouth. Matt opened to him, letting him in. The soft press of lips and insistent tongue sent shivers down his spine, quickening his blood and weakening his knees. Vic pulled back just enough to sigh into him, “You need a distraction.”
“This works,” Matt managed before Vic chased his words away with a lick of his tongue. His hands slipped down to cradle Matt’s buttocks, squeezing his firm ass through jeans that suddenly chafed over-sensitized skin. Then, one hand holding him close, the other trailed over his hip to rub at the front of his crotch. Vic fingered the curve of Matt’s zipper, his nail pop pop popping over the tiny metal teeth as his hidden cock stiffened beneath the touch. Matt’s own hands fisted in Vic’s shirt, pulling his lover closer as their kiss deepened.
Between them, Vic thumbed open the fly on Matt’s jeans. The zipper parted—his fingers eased into the front of Matt’s briefs, tickled through cottony hair, stroked the hard, thick shaft that jumped at his touch. “Please,” Matt moaned, taking a step back. He found himself up against the wall as the small bathroom closed in around them and everything else disappeared—everything that wasn’t Vic before him, the hands down his pants, the mouth on his.
Without a word his lover sank to the floor, tugging Matt’s jeans and briefs down with him in one swift motion. Matt’s swollen erection swung free, rising to meet the eager mouth that closed over his bulbous cockhead with a sweet kiss. Vic’s mouth seared Matt’s flesh, his tongue circling the tender tip of his dick before taking the full length in. Arching away from the wall, Matt thrust into his lover, legs trembling at the sensations that flooded his body. The hot mouth suckling, loving him; the hand between his legs, massaging his balls like dice in his lover’s palm. One long finger stretched across the hidden flesh between his legs to tickle the puckered skin of his ass.
Vic’s other hand strummed Matt’s lower belly, pushing the T-shirt he wore out of the way as he fondled Matt’s navel. Every inch of Matt’s body fluttered at the touch. His blood raced, pounding in his chest, his temples, his dick, tingling his nerves, enflaming his senses. “Please,” he gasped, and “yes,” and “God, Vic, yes, yes.” Matt gripped Vic’s hand tight, then rubbed over his lover’s shaved scalp, plucked at his ears, held his head as he fucked into the willing mouth. He quivered from the loving ministrations, the hands on his body, the mouth and tongue and lips that guided him to release.
With long strokes of his tongue, Vic worshipped Matt’s cock. On his knees now, he concentrated on the full length of Matt’s erection, beginning at the tip and swirling down to the thick base, buried in musky curls. His saliva slicked down Matt’s dark pubic hair, coated his throbbing balls, cooled the heated skin behind them that Vic licked out to taste. “God,” Matt sobbed. His body was on fire, ignited by his lover, a pyre burning bright, fueled by mutual desire.
Suddenly Vic stood and turned, dropping his own jeans to the floor to present the twin pale mounds of his buttocks. “Fuck me, Matty,” he growled as he gripped the sink in both hands, feet spread apart as wide as they’d go with the jeans cuffing his ankles. “Fuck me hard. You know how I like it.”
Matt didn’t have to be asked twice. Brushing the hem of Vic’s shirt up out of the way, Matt held his lover’s hips as he worked the tip of his dick between the round cheeks of Vic’s ass. His lover gasped and pushed back against him at the same moment Matt thrust into his hot center; they met in a clash of skin and sweat, Matt fisting the fabric of Vic’s shirt, Vic’s knuckles as white as the porcelain sink he clung to. They moved together in an ancient rhythm, fast and rough, Vic bucking as Matt drove into him, seeking release.
The connection they shared opened like floodgates, and a myriad of emotions tumbled between them. They shared every aspect of the deed—Matt felt his own cock bump his prostate as he thrust into Vic, and knew that Vic’s swollen glans throbbed as if inside his own tight ass. They came simultaneously, an orgasmic rush that tore through them both, ratcheting their emotions into a realm of pure sensation, beyond thought and fear, beyond words. Burrowed deep inside Vic, Matt wrapped his arms around his lover’s waist and leaned against him, a fierce hug that seemed to be all that held the both of them upright. “Oh God,” he sighed into the damp skin along the back of Vic’s neck. “I love you.”
One hand covered Matt’s. Vic’s sphincters, still clenched, held the wilting cock within him. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “I won’t think anything less of you if you can’t go through with this—”
“I can.”
The words slipped out unbidden, and Matt kissed his lover’s shoulder as if to punctuate his assent. He needed that tattoo now, if only to burn this moment into his memory forever, a testament to the love they shared. His voice sounded strong and sure, no longer laced with doubt. “I will, right now, before I can change my mind.”
But he didn’t relax his grip around Vic’s waist, and neither moved, unwilling to spoil the sudden intimacy that enveloped them. When Matt finally loosened his arms, Vic held onto his wrist to keep him close. “Big Man,” Matt started.
In the mirror above the sink, Vic met Matt’s gaze. He clenched his buttocks, renewing Matt’s interest. “Let him wait.”
* * * *
When they returned, Matt entered the room first, Vic’s hand held fast in his. Big Man’s gaze dropped to those entwined hands, then raised to meet Vic’s stern eyes. From the look on his face, Matt suspected Big Man knew about their tryst in the bathroom, but he didn’t say a word as Matt dropped into the tattooing chair. Ignoring the second stool, Vic sank down to sit on the edge of Matt’s chair. “This cool with you?” he asked the tattoo artist.
Big Man shrugged. “Just don’t move,” he cautioned in a weary voice that said he’d seen it all. “I don’t want to fuck up the art.”
As Big Man prepped his ink, Matt rolled his shirt sleeve up over his shoulder. One of Vic’s large hands rested easily on his thigh, comforting him. His lover’s voice filled him inside when Vic telepathically reassured him, ::You’ll be fine.::
With a wan smile, Matt took a deep breath and held it. He closed his eyes, trying to center himself. Don’t think about the pain, his mind whispered. Don’t think about anything if you can help it. Fifteen minutes and it’ll all be over. That’s not too long for something that will last a lifetime, is it?
And then Vic was there, his presence warming Matt’s body as if his lover lay above him. Matt felt Vic’s heart beat in time with his own, felt his lover’s pulse through his own veins, saw himself through his lover’s eyes. He looked fearless and strong. He could do this. He would.
The first spritz of soapy liquid startled him, so cold against his overheated skin. He opened his eyes and saw Vic frowning at the bandage that covered his own new tattoo. As Big Man ran the straight-edge razor over his upper arm, Matt asked, “What’s the matter?”
“It itches,” Vic replied. He scratched at the bandage hard enough to tear the medical tape away from his skin. Smoothing it back down, he told Matt, “Usually only bothers me later, when it’s healing.”
Now Big Man pressed the template onto Matt’s flesh. His impersonal manner was incongruous with the loving way Vic had applied the temporary tattoos earlier. When Big Man retraced the outline of the tattoo, the pen tickled Matt’s damp skin. He remembered the feel of Vic’s tongue on his body, licking the tattoos into place, and he sent that memory into Vic’s mind, a wicked grin already toying at the edges of his lips. ::Remember—::
A flash of intense pain flared through him and was gone. He jolted, but Big Man held his shoulder in an uncompromising grip that prevented him from moving. “Stop,” the tattoo artist warned.
“Vic?” Matt reached out for his lover, but Vic’s concentration was on the bandage and the piercing itch beneath it—the source of the pain Matt felt ricochet through him. He watched in disbelief as Vic ripped the bandage aside to scratch a
cross the surface of his new tattoo. “God, Vic, don’t do that! You’ll ruin it...”
But the tattoo beneath the bandage no longer looked fresh and bloody. The ink had dried, the skin healed. Matt’s initials looked as if they’d been touched up recently—the colors were vivid and bright—but there were no scabs on the tattoo, nothing to indicate that it had just been carved into his arm. It looked nothing like Vic’s facial tattoo had when healing.
Big Man shook Matt’s arm to get his attention. “Initials?” he asked, his voice brusque. “Come on, guys. I ain’t got all day. What—”
“V, S, B,” Vic told him. He ran his hand over the tattoo and flinched. Matt could pick up some residual pain deep in his lover’s muscles but nothing more. With a sardonic twist of his lips, Vic mused, ::Now we know what position gives me healing powers.::
Suddenly the tattoo machine hummed to life. Matt tensed, fingers digging into the soft arms of the chair. “Relax,” Big Man told him as he positioned the buzzing needles near Matt’s shoulder. “It’ll hurt more if you don’t.”
Matt felt Vic pry his hand off the arm of the chair. He folded Matt’s fingers into his own palm. A warmth spread through them at the touch, a golden glow that seemed to pour from Vic’s hand into Matt’s, then move along his wrist, up his arm. Strength and love wove through him, encasing him in an armor that kept the rest of the world at bay. When the needles touched his skin, Matt heard their insistent whirr but barely felt their bite. Vic’s newfound healing power managed to drive the pain away.
Matt dared to peek at the tattoo taking shape on his arm. The spots already inked in stood out glossy against the faded temporary tattoo, but there was no blood. No scabbing, no wound. The healing ability Matt had unwittingly transferred to Vic during sex flowed back into him easily at his lover’s touch. ::This isn’t so bad,:: he thought.
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