Page 5 of Spilled Ink

"My man? You mean my ex, or my partner? Pete had a few. One really terrible barbed wire thing that he got in Cancun..."

"Oh, man. I don't have to do those anymore. No butterflies on boobies, no bullshit armbands for drunk frat boys." Rooster grabbed another paper towel, the gloved fingers black.

"Yeah. He always meant to get it covered with something else, but never got around to it."

"It's shit like that that'll eat at you, man. That all of a sudden weirdness."

"Yeah. I never thought of it that way." Oh. That almost feltgood. Fuck, that was weird, huh? How it felt less like pain, more like a good buzz.

"Uh-huh. You're feeling it now, so just let it happen. You're cool." The bottom of Rooster's braid brushed his leg as Rooster switched colors.

That little touch sent ripples through him like the needle couldn't begin to. His breath caught, his chest rising sharply. Fucking A.

"Mmm..." Fuck, that was a hot sound -- sexual and horny and satisfied as hell.

"Uh-huh." Mark agreed. Wholeheartedly. Suddenly he was tingling all over, his cock rising in his jeans. It was sort of what the fuck and all hot.

"You think this is good, you ought to feel it in a hot spot. It'll drive you out of your goddamn mind." Shit, he could feel Rooster talking, breath brushing him.

"A...a hot spot?" Was that him stuttering like an eighteen-year-old with his first date going past first base? Jesus. But he was into it, jonesing on the sting and the heat and the blood singing just under the skin.

"Mmhmm. Right behind the balls, the webbing between your thumb and forefinger -- those are good. The best for me was behind my left knee. I shot like a virgin." Oh, Jesus. Rooster almost purred the words out, like a fucking phone sex operator.

Swallowing, he waited for Rooster to ease back and change position before shifting on the seat, trying to ease the ache. Goddamn. He'd thought he was dead from the waist down.

"I'm going to highlight with some white now." Those rubber gloved fingers stroked the inside of his elbow.

Mark shivered, his nipples hard as stones. "Okay. Go for it."

"You got it." Fuck, that grin was... naughty.

Of course, that fucking needle wasn't. That burned, so goddamn good.

Okay, how could something go from ow to oh so damned fast. Jesus Christ he was burning. Needing. Something, anything.

"Okay. I'm going to spray you down, now. It's my favorite fucking part." That spray bottle squirted, the burn going ice-cold, his nerves screaming with... Pain? Pleasure? Something.

Whatever it was, he didn't remember it from his last ink. Oh, Mark was sure it had happened, but not like this. Not with Rooster's voice grating over his nerves and his cock thumping in his pants.

"I can fucking smell you, man. Let me see?" Those too-pale eyes dared him, pushing him.

"I... see?" His poor, overheated brain... shorted out a little. It couldn't quite process that. His body, though, it was willing, leaning back in the chair. His knees spread wide.

"Uh-huh." One rubber glove came off with a snap, those fingers on his thigh, helping him spread as they headed north.

Moaning, he arched his hips, pushing up toward that touch, fucking fire shooting up his spine and bursting in his brain. "Please."

"Yeah. Yeah." His package got cupped in Rooster's hand, just enough for him to feel, then his zipper came down. Oh, shit. Rooster's hand was on fucking fire.

His cock pushed right out and slapped into Rooster's palm, his skin on fire, his flesh pulsing. God. He hadn't... it had been forever since he'd been this fired up. Like, years. He'd never been this needy with Johnny. Never.

"There. Fuck, yeah. Ride it, man." Rooster's voice got deeper, lower, the words pouring over him, filthy and needy and hot as fuck.

"Jesus..." His voice sounded raw, like it was scraping over broken glass. His cock was gonna explode. Boom. He thrashed, trying to get more: more feeling, more heat.

"Come on." Rooster's lips brushed his ear. "You need this more than anybody I've ever fucking met, man. Give it up."

Body going into a tight bow, Mark shot, his come spattering his jeans, his bare belly. "Oh. Oh, fuck."

"Yeah. Hell, yeah." That touch eased, stroking him through one aftershock after another.

He finally flopped back against the chair, his breath slowing, the sweat drying on his skin. "I. Damn. Should I apologize?"

"Only if you were faking it." Oh. Asshole.

Mark laughed weakly, his cock still twitching in Rooster's hand. "Then I'm not sorry. Messy, but not sorry."

"Life is fucking messy, man." Rooster chuckled and handed over a roll of paper towels.

"No shit, man. That is so true." Mark mopped up with the towels, already thinking about his next tattoo. He wondered what Rooster would be able to do if he really hit a hot spot.

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