Jacob Lee hmm'd to himself. The intention all along had been to surprise Donathan with his tattoo tomorrow evening, to get home before his lover and stretch out naked on their couch, one foot planted firmly on the floor and one hooked over the back of said couch, hand teasing his cock, his new ink proudly on display.
Now, though, he found himself so strongly tempted to tell that it surprised him.
"What?” Donathan asked, a slight change in the tension of his muscles warning Jacob Lee that he'd picked up on the mental struggle. “Something wrong, hon?"
"No,” Jacob Lee said automatically. “Don't you fret."
"Don't you try to bullshit me.” Donathan's gentle caresses changed fast to a sharp pinch. “What's going on?"
"Aw, now, it's nothing to get pissed over,” Jacob Lee protested. “Far from the fact, there. I'm arguing with myself as to whether or not to let you in on what your birthday gift is meant to be."
He might have predicted the way Donathan lit right up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Tell me!” he enthused. “Is it bigger than a breadbox?"
"Can't say that it is, no.” Jacob Lee indulged in a long, full-body stretch. No use wrangling the fine points of the debate in his head, was there? He'd heard old-timers say happiness shared is happiness doubled, and he considered that to be fine advice.
And he realized, as he stroked the long blade of the samurai tattooed on Donathan's chest, he wanted Donathan there with him while Bethannie worked more than he wanted to take Donathan off his guard. Though, he thought, he'd save the naked and on display fantasy for use another time soon after.
"It better not have wheels, unless it's a racing bike. Ooh. Is it a racing bike?"
"Sorry, darlin', but no. You get two more guesses."
"Only two?"
"I'm feeling generous. Three is the norm, right? You get a bonus question."
Donathan grumbled, half-heartedly socking Jacob Lee in the shoulder. “Fine. Is it ... a book? The old book I loved so much?” He rippled, excited again. “Did you ask the landlady for that ledger?"
"Not yet, although I plan to, and you're getting warm."
"I love you.” Donathan planted a loud, smacking kiss atop Jacob Lee's noggin. “Two more questions. Is it some kind of art supplies? You know I've had my eye on a new set of oil pastels."
That would have been a good thought; still, Jacob Lee thought he had oil pastels beat all hollow. “Nope, though you're still plenty warm. One more guess."
Donathan huffed out a thoughtful puff of air. “Let me think. Not a bike, not a book, not art supplies, but close to the mark on the book and the art stuff.” He hesitated. “I don't have a clue. Maybe it's a blank journal to draw in?"
"Warmer still.” Jacob Lee licked a circle around Donathan's nipple, loving the taste of his skin. “Last chance to back out and still be surprised. Yes or no?"
"Either you tell me or I'll self-combust on the spot."
Jacob Lee shuddered. “We can't have that, no sir. Here, give me your hand. That's it.” With Donathan's help, he maneuvered them upright, kneeling with their knees at horizontal angles to one another's. “You know how you're always teasing me to get some ink under my skin? I think this is a birthday present you'll love for the rest of your life..."
Chapter Eight
"Donathan!” Bethannie's grin nearly split her face in half, full of shiny white teeth, sapphire chip sparkling. She hauled Donathan away from Jacob Lee, who'd shamefacedly grabbed his lover's hand like a girl to combat his nerves as they approached the shop on foot, and proceeded to hug the stuffing out of him.
Donathan didn't seem to mind a bit, laughing and pounding Bethannie on her plump back. “I haven't seen you in a month of Sundays,” he said, picking her up a few inches to make her squeal. “When Jacob Lee told me you were the one doing his artwork, I had to come see you again."
"Uh-huh.” Bethannie, back on her feet again, straightened her hair and winked at Jacob Lee. “Like anything could separate you two, which is more apparent than ever to me now that I see you side by side. You make an old lady's heart glad."
"Ma'am, I doubt you'll be ‘old’ when you're eighty-five,” Jacob Lee put in gallantly and truthfully. Bethannie's style continued to endear her to him. Anyone who showed Donathan so much affection was an absolute winner in his book, anyway. “Donathan said anyone who the victim wanted to bring along, they could. I didn't have time to check by you. I hope it's all right?"
"Don't even ask me such a thing,” Bethannie scolded. She patted Jacob Lee's cheek, though she had to reach up about a foot to do so. He hadn't realized she was small in stature, her personality huge enough for seven feet of woman. “I'd never deny this joker anything, even if we did have observer policies at Hummingbird, which we don't. Come on in, boys. It's just us right now.” Stepping back from the doorway, she gestured for them to enter. “Donathan, you remember the way. Show Jacob Lee on back. I'll be with you directly."
"Yes, ma'am,” Donathan said with a sly wink at Jacob Lee.
"Are you teaching this one manners?” Bethannie shot back, speaking to Jacob Lee. “I think I like the change. He never shows me any kind of respect."
"No,” Donathan replied cheerfully, “but you love me all the same, and vice-versa, I'm sure."
"Scamp. Jacob Lee, you keep him in check while I gather a few things I'll need. Shoo, now, go on.” She flapped her hands at them.
"Let's go before she takes a broom to us.” Donathan snickered, catching Jacob Lee by the hand. “This way."
Jacob Lee remembered well enough, but decided not to protest. He followed Donathan as obediently as a lamb through the warren of work stations, all the way to Bethannie's personalized nook, where he stopped dead in the doorway. Lord have mercy, she'd already laid out her tattooing machine, wrapped in sterile plastic, along with what he just knew were needles in their hermetically sealed medical pouches.
Donathan or no Donathan, birthday or no birthday, he broke out in a cold sweat. What if he couldn't do this?
"Hey.” Donathan stood on tiptoe, lips brushing Jacob Lee's cheek. “Don't you chicken out now."
The mix of tenderness and impudence made Jacob Lee crack a smile. “Mind your mouth."
"That wouldn't be any fun. Here, let's get you situated.” Donathan coaxed Jacob Lee to the padded table, fussing over him while he sat and found his comfort zone. “You never did tell me,” he mused, drawing patterns over Jacob Lee's chest, “where on your body you planned to get this ink."
"Got to keep some things a surprise."
"Even from me?” Donathan wheedled.
Jacob Lee cackled. “You're a mess, love."
"That's the God's honest truth.” Bethannie had appeared in the doorway, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed. “Lordy, lord, you two are sweeter than Valentine's chocolate."
"Miss Bethannie,” Jacob Lee protested, blushing, knowing exactly what the guys at the site would think about this assessment, true or not. Really, though, why should he care? Must have been nerves rearing their ugly head in unexpected ways.
She winked at him. “I won't say another word about it. Are you ready to do this?"
Jacob Lee swallowed down a lump of nervousness. He lifted his chin. “Yes, ma'am."
"Good man. Are you still wanting the tattoo where we discussed the other day?"
"I am.” Jacob Lee sat up straighter and stripped off his T-shirt, the blue one, one of the oldest and raggediest he owned, chosen on Donathan's suggestion. Apparently you didn't generally dress up for tattooing. He tapped the spot above his heart, up and to the left of his sternum. “Right here."
Donathan breathed in. His lover apparently couldn't resist reaching out to touch, caressing the spot Jacob Lee had named. “It'll look gorgeous there, whatever you've chosen."
Bethannie raised her eyebrow at Jacob Lee behind his back. Knowing what she was asking, he nodded in return.
"This is what he wants,” she said, touching Donathan's shoulder to get his attention. She handed him a
neatly trimmed circle of lithographic paper. Donathan took it from her, and stared. He stood transfixed for several breaths, eyes round.
Worry nibbled at Jacob Lee's mind. “It's alright, isn't it? I thought you'd like—"
"Are you kidding me? I don't just ‘like', I love.” Donathan looked like the sun had risen in his smile. He handed the temporary ink stencil back to Bethannie. “You took it from the book. I couldn't have thought of a better."
"It's a memory,” Jacob Lee agreed, rumpling Donathan's hair roughly so he didn't break down and bawl in front of Bethannie, in a tattoo parlor. Romantic-natured or not, there were lines he wasn't any too willing to cross. “Like your thunder clouds."
Bethannie chuckled. “Separate, you two. Donathan, you can take a seat on Jacob Lee's other side, there. There's a second stool by the CD player, you know where that is.” She kicked her own rolling stool toward Jacob Lee, the seat high enough for her to reach him. “Lie back, now. It's time."
Oh, mercy. Jacob Lee flexed his fingers, uncurling them from the fists they wanted to make, and did as he'd been told. Donathan's quick, hard kiss lent him a good measure of reassurance. “I'm ready."
"First thing I'll do is shave you,” Bethannie explained, cellophane crinkling as she opened a single-razor pack with a blue Bic inside. “You've got one heck of a pelt, son."
Jacob Lee snickered despite himself. “Donathan likes his men hairy."
"Then he surely did get lucky with you. Speaking of Donathan, would you like to do this yourself?” Bethannie offered him the razor. “Got to go gentle with the skittish ones."
"Of course.” Donathan took the razor naturally as you please. “A packet of the foam and a pair of latex gloves? Thanks."
Jacob Lee closed his eyes at the pleasure of Donathan's fingers skating lightly over his skin, even oddly as the touch had changed with the surgical gloves, smoothing on a coat of shaving cream that felt less thick and Reddi-Wip-like than what he normally used, and more like a skin of frothy soap that smelled of pine. He curled his toes, startled by how much he enjoyed the soft scrape of the razor over his chest, knowing it'd itch like a bitch when it grew in later and not really caring right then.
Donathan kissed the newly-bared patch of skin. “That tastes terrible!"
Jacob Lee laughed at him, opening his eyes to catch Donathan's twinkle.
Donathan looked proud enough to pop, and the needle had yet to touch Jacob Lee's skin. “I'm done, Bethannie. Your turn."
Bethannie shook her head. “How about you apply the stencil?” She offered Donathan both the lithographic paper and a spray bottle with the nozzle wrapped in cling film. “After all, you're the one meant to enjoy this most of all. It should be arranged to suit you, and Jacob Lee, too."
Donathan cocked an eyebrow at Jacob Lee, who grinned at him. He saw no flaws in this plan. “Okay,” Donathan said slowly, accepting the tools Bethannie held out to him. He studied the stenciled design Jacob Lee had chosen, their initials intertwined behind the claddagh band. “Only one way up,” he mused. “Get it centered and level..."
Jacob Lee shivered in anticipation and enjoyment as Donathan moistened his chest with some clear, hospital-smelling liquid from the spray bottle. The stencil was surprisingly chilly when pressed on the shaved patch of skin, kind of clammy, too.
Donathan peeled back the decal and assessed his work, pursing his lips in thought. “Looks good to me. Bethannie?"
"First time out of the gate,” she approved. “You've got a fine eye."
Donathan's cheeks colored a faint pink. “Stop flattering me, Bethannie. I know what you're up to."
Come to that, Jacob Lee had a pretty good working theory himself. He wasn't really sure what he thought about her machinations; he was sure about how good Donathan's soothing, familiar hands were on him.
"I'm innocent as a new-born lamb,” Bethannie scolded. “Shame on you. Now, you do the ink caps. Don't sass me, either. You know what shades your Jacob Lee will like."
"Bethannie, I'll get you for this,” Donathan grumbled, but did as he'd been instructed. He kick-rolled his stool toward the stainless-steel paper-covered tray. “Are the caps still on the shelf underneath?"
"As ever and always.” Bethannie sat back, clearly willing to let Donathan run as much of the whole show as she could. “Jacob Lee, tell him what colors you were thinking of so he can grab the right bottles of pigment."
"I actually hadn't been,” Jacob Lee admitted. “Can't believe I didn't.” He bit his lip, frozen again, unable to choose. Inspiration struck. “Donathan, it's whatever you want, so long as it isn't pink."
"Jacob Lee, you—"
"Nuh-uh.” Jacob Lee waved off the protest. “It'll make a better memory if you're part of the choice, won't it? Pick me out some good colors."
Donathan's lips twitched. “Just so long as they're not pink."
"You put pink on me and you're not getting laid for weeks."
Bethannie cackled. “Now there's an empty threat if I ever heard one."
"Bethannie,” Donathan chided, pinkening deeper. He blew an errant fall of hair out of his eyes. For a long moment, he stared thoughtfully at Bethannie's neat rank and file of ink bottles, tapping one of the tee-tiny ink caps on the surface of the tray. “Blue,” he decided at last. “A good, rich blue. Carborundum. And green, too, with a dash of teal to give it some depth. Black for the outline."
Jacob Lee watched, proud enough to pop, while his Donathan efficiently and quickly prepared the ink caps and set them in an orderly row. Bethannie looked them over, approving the green-teal blend. “That'll look fantastic with his skin tones."
"It will.” Donathan drew back and placed his hand on Jacob Lee's shoulder. “That's the end right there, Bethannie. No way I'm taking the tattoo machine itself to Jacob Lee's skin."
"Couldn't let you anyway, seeing as you're not certified.” Bethannie held out a trash can for Donathan to drop his gloves in. “You know what I'd like to see one day, and I think you have too much talent not to give it a try. That's all."
"That's a hell of a birthday present, Bethannie,” Donathan groused, albeit with a light of curious, almost wistful awe shining in his eyes. “I don't know."
Jacob Lee couldn't hold it in any longer. “Hey.” He looked up at Donathan. “If it's something that really interested you, then why not give it a try?"
Donathan grimaced. “I suck at regimented work, Jacob Lee, you know that."
Jacob Lee shrugged, but kindly. “I know you're as free a spirit as they come, yeah. Doesn't strike me that tattooing is a boring cubicle kind of nine-to-five. You're good with people and you're gifted with your art. I'm not pressuring you either way, mind. But if you think you'd like to try, then I'll back you up. That's all."
His lover bent and seized Jacob Lee's mouth with his own. “I'll think about it,” he whispered against Jacob Lee's lips, flicking the tip of his tongue over Jacob Lee's teeth. “Maybe as a happy birthday to you, when it's your turn."
Bethannie radiated pleasure, but said nothing. Wise woman. She hopped up and headed to the sink, washing her hands surgeon-style. After drying them off under a hot air stream operated by a foot pedal, she plucked up her own pair of gloves and rolled into position at Jacob Lee's side.
"Ready for me?” she asked.
And Jacob Lee was. “Bring it on."
Epilogue
Six Months Later...
The doorbell jingling over the main entrance to Hummingbird West made a sweet, sweet sound in Jacob Lee's ears, familiar by now but never any less exciting, heating his blood and firing up his nerves.
No one had noticed him yet, so he took the opportunity to stop for a moment and drink it all in. He'd learned to love everything, from the buzzing of tattoo machines, the soft flick-flick-flick of potential customers paging through artist portfolios or flipping through the racks behind thin glass, the low chattering conversation between those who'd already chosen what they wanted and had only left to wait their turn.
He'd
even found within himself a tolerant shake of the head and a sort of good-humored patience with the blasting punk and emo and reggae roaring all the way up to eleven from three out of the five tattooist workstations.
Bristol, a tall thin guy with a permanently scruffy goatee, a shaved head and spiky black tribal tats nearly from neck to toe, sensed his presence. The man had a knack for knowing who was who and what was what, Jacob Lee had discovered. He half wondered if Bristol hadn't summed up the way things were and could be and had skipped out a-purpose, leaving Bethannie to work her magic on him.
He looked up from his position behind the glass-topped display counter, paused in his explanation of titanium versus niobium ear brads with a slender waif of a girl and chortled at Jacob Lee. “I told Bethannie you couldn't stay away, especially not today."
Jacob Lee shrugged, comfortable in his standing at Hummingbird. “Couldn't miss this, now could I?” He glanced around, dropping his voice. “How's he been doing?"
Bristol humphed thoughtfully. “Not bad. Not bad at all. Coupla times he snuck out and went to commune with the forsythia bushes, but he's always come back, and he's got some satisfied customers, let me tell you."
Jacob Lee wanted to whoop and pound Bristol's shoulders in celebration. Something of that must have shown on his face, for Bristol stood back, hands raised in the universal “I surrender” gesture. “Save it for your honey, now. I'm not into more than a handshake from a big-ass bruiser like you."
"Better not be.” Donathan poked his head around the corner leading back to the workstations. His hair stood up in a hundred different directions, his bright eyes sparkled with glee, and his smile was both excited and sweet. “He's mine, all mine."
Jacob Lee reveled in the pride those words never failed to bring him. “Damn right. Come here, you."
Donathan shuffled his hair behind his ears. “You gonna make it worth my while?"
"Oh, I don't know.” Jacob Lee pretended to pick lint off his shirt. “I'd thought, since it was a special occasion and all, you might have time to squeeze in another customer this afternoon."
Spiked Page 6
