With his free hand, Barry wipes under his eye, careful not to smudge his make-up. He sighs, a defeated sound, and seems to deflate a little before Chris. Despite the venue and the few people passing by, despite the crowd inside the bar and Barry’s band mates wandering somewhere nearby, Chris wants nothing more than to take Barry in his arms, hold him close, and take away the doubt and pain twisting on his face. But when he moves closer, Barry’s words stop him in his tracks. “I know you’re not. But you’re half in love with him and I can’t stand it.”
Chris laughs, relieved. That’s ridiculous. “Barry, jeez. I am not—”
“You are.” Barry rubs his hand across his nose as he sniffles. “Don’t deny it, babe. Hell, you may not even know it, but you are. He’s all you talk about twenty-four seven. Whenever we’re together it’s Lee this and Lee that. It’s like living in a threesome without getting laid by both guys. I’ve always shared you with him, always.”
“Barry—”
But Barry shakes his head and pulls his fingers free from Chris’s hand. “Believe me, Chris. I’ve dealt with it long enough and I can’t take it any more. I just can’t. The only time you talk about your work is to tell me what new tattoos you’ve given Lee. He’s first on the speed dial on your cell. I know—I looked. Most of your calls are to him, not me. You spend hours together after everyone else has left the parlor and he’s inked in places I don’t want to think of you seeing, let alone touching, and…” Another sigh, this one so sad, it breaks Chris’s heart to hear it. “And he likes you back. Don’t say he doesn’t.”
Chris forces a laugh that sounds fake to his own ears. “Barry, really. You’ve got it all wrong—”
“Do I?” Barry stares at Chris, his face hardened now, his emotions masked. “Did you even notice the look on his face when you were touching his crotch? Or have you seen it so often before, you don’t realize what you’re seeing anymore?”
* * * *
The next time Chris calls, Lee hesitates before he agrees to anything. “This isn’t another scheme to get me to go clubbing with you guys, is it?” he asks, dubious, when Chris wants him to swing by the parlor after closing. “Because, dude, you ditched me and I had to fend off three very drunk-ass girls the rest of the night.”
“Naw, man.” Chris laughs, a warm sound through the tinny receiver on Lee’s cell. “I got a new design I want to draw and you’re my canvas. My muse, even. You coming?”
Keep talking like that and I will, Lee thinks, but he keeps that to himself. Instead he grunts into the phone, noncommittal, but Chris knows him so well, he just laughs again. “See you at eight.”
Lee is sure to wear a pair of boxer briefs under his faded Levis this time. He arrives at quarter to, like usual. The place looks empty—April’s not behind the counter like she normally is and Chris’s booth is hidden behind a black folding screen. The buzz of a tattoo needle can be heard over the rush of air from the AC. Knocking on the counter as he steps around it, Lee calls out, “Yo, Chris?”
The buzzing stops. “Back here.”
As Lee approaches the screen, he hears a woman ask, “That your friend? The gay one?”
“God,” Lee mutters. “Tell everyone, will you?”
Chris laughs as the needles flare to life again. “Come on around, Lee. Check this out.”
On the other side of the screen, a woman lies on her back in Chris’s tattooing chair. She’s topless, her long blonde hair in dreads and secured into a ponytail on top of her head. She has piercings in her nose and both eyebrows and lays beneath Chris’s needle, her small hands holding aside her breasts as Chris inks a large purple and pink butterfly onto the center of her chest. From the smears of ink and faint traces of blood that discolor her pale skin, Lee knows they’ve been here a while. Chris is on the very last bit of the left wing, filling in a curlicue that curves over her ribs.
When she sees Lee, she grins. Her lipstick is black, making her look ghastly. “What do you think?”
Lee whistles low. “Man, that’s wicked. How long’s it taken?”
Chris shrugs as he finishes up. “Couple hours. You like?”
“You’re amazing,” Lee tells him. He doesn’t mean just the design or the tight colors, either, but Chris doesn’t have to know that.
It takes another ten minutes before the customer is pulling on an oversized T-shirt, the cellophane covering her fresh tattoo crackling as she dresses. Lee waits, hands in his pockets, as she tips Chris and he lets her out the front door. Once it’s locked behind her, he steps over to where Lee is, leafing through a book of pre-fabricated tattoo designs. Without warning, Chris leans heavily against Lee’s back, his weight warm and welcome and so damn unexpected, Lee’s dick hardens in his jeans. “You ready for me?” Chris wants to know.
His breath tickles Lee’s ear and, for one precious moment, neither move. Lee wants to reach behind him, touch Chris’s waist, keep him close, but he’s afraid any move he makes will ruin things between them. So he waits until Chris steps back and tugs on one of Lee’s belt loops. “Come on, Lee. Your turn.”
Lee forces a grin as he follows Chris. “I sure hope you’re not planning on putting a butterfly smack in the middle of my chest,” he says, trying to lighten the mood between them. Why does he feel awkward all of a sudden? He’s been alone with Chris before. Hiding his true feelings for his friend has become second nature to him now. “Maybe something cool, like a torn wound with a beating heart exposed, or ribs, or something that’s not quite so girly, you know?”
With a laugh, Chris disappears behind the screen. Lee follows, but before he can take a seat in Chris’s chair, his friend shakes his head. “Jeans come off. No chest tat for you today. I’m going lower.”
Fear seizes Lee’s heart. God, with the hard-on he’s sporting? Oh, hell no. Grasping at his belt buckle, Lee starts, “Chris, I don’t think—”
“Come on,” Chris cajoles. “Don’t get all shy on me now. Unless you’re going commando again?”
“No, I’ve got on skivvies. But—”
Chris shakes his head. “No buts. Take it off, sexy. Let me see what we’re working with here.”
Lee’s heart beats in his throat as he unbuckles his belt. When he unbuttons his jeans, his zipper eases down on its own beneath his erection. He fists the front of his boxer briefs, hoping to hide the bulge there, but Chris is busy getting his inks ready and isn’t paying Lee any attention. Quickly Lee strips out of the jeans and hops into the chair, pulling at his crotch to make the material look like it’s just puckering up on its own. As Chris unpacks a fresh needle, Lee jokes, “I wonder what your boyfriend would think if he saw us like this. What’s his name again?”
“Barry,” Chris answers. His voice sounds a little off somehow, not quite as bright as it was before. “And he’s not my boyfriend any more.”
Part of Lee wants to whoop with delight, but he manages to contain himself. He hopes he sounds sincere when he says, “That sucks. What happened?”
Chris shrugs. “We broke up.”
“Well, duh.” Lee shifts in the chair, raising the knee closest to Chris in an effort to hide his crotch from his friend. His dick has a mind of its own, it seems; once it heard Barry was out of the picture, it stood up at attention and wanted in the conversation. Lee wonders if he can excuse himself for a few hot moments in the bathroom alone to show it who’s boss. “When did this go down?”
“At Toad’s.” Chris still isn’t looking at him, which gives Lee an excuse to study his friend. Though there’s a lingering sadness about his mouth and eyes, Chris doesn’t seem overly upset about losing a guy he once called the one. “That night we went, remember? We got into it after he found us with my hands down your pants.”
Lee snickers. He remembers that all too well—those few moments still give him enough to fantasize about when he jerks off. “Dude, we weren’t even…I mean, you told him, right? It was completely innocent. Shit, you barely even saw my pubes.”
A faint smile crosses Chris’s
face. “He knew that. But we got to talking and he said some things I hadn’t even thought about before, things that really got me thinking, you know?”
“What kinds of things?” Lee asks. He thinks he knows. From the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he isn’t sure he wants to hear Chris repeat them.
Chris takes a moment to strip off the latex gloves he’s wearing. They’re tossed into the trash, and a fresh pair is plucked from the box on Chris’s desk. He sets them next to the little cups of ink he has arranged there. Then he wheels his stool over to where Lee sits. Guiding Lee’s knees apart, Chris glides in between them, hands on Lee’s ankles. The sadness is gone from his face now. A fierce glow has replaced it, igniting the depths of Chris’s eyes until Lee can’t tear his gaze away from his friend. The hands on Lee’s ankles start to rub up his calves, pushing down his socks to smooth over hairy skin. “Things about you,” Chris says softly. Lee covers his crotch with both hands to hide it from view. “Things about us I never noticed before.”
Lee’s voice sounds like it comes from a million miles away when he murmurs, “There is no us. We’re just friends.”
That faint smile is back, ghosting over Chris’s mouth, curving his lips. Lee stares at it so long, he doesn’t realize it’s coming closer until he hears the squeal of Chris’s stool when it pushes out from under him. Then Chris is leaning above him, the hands on Lee’s legs ruffling his hair as they smooth up to his knees, then over his thighs. They’re in his lap, Chris’s hands, covering Lee’s own for a moment before easing beneath Lee’s fingers to brush over the front of Lee’s boxer briefs. His dick jerks beneath Chris’s touch, dampening the fabric that separates them. Chris’s breath fans over Lee’s upper lip and those eyes stare into his own, larger than life and closer than Lee ever imagined them to be.
When Chris speaks, his words are mere breath against Lee’s mouth. “We don’t have to settle for just that,” he purred. “If you’re interested in something more…”
Lee always has been. He kisses away the rest of Chris’s words, every fiber of his being crying out in triumph. Yes.
THE END
ABOUT J.M. SNYDER
A multi-published author of gay erotic/romantic fiction, J.M. Snyder began writing boyband slash before turning to self-publishing. She has worked with several different e-publishers, including Amber Allure Press, Aspen Mountain Press, eXcessica Publishing, and Torquere Press, and has short stories published in anthologies by Alyson Books, Aspen Mountain Press, Cleis Press, eXcessica Publishing, Lethe Press, and Ravenous Romance. For more information, including excerpts, free stories, and monthly contests, please visit jmsnyder.net.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!
Tattooed Love - Gay Erotic Romance Box Set (5 Books in 1 Collection) Page 14
