Page 9 of Spilled Ink

"It's my place, man. I make the rules."Don't stop. Please. Every nerve in Rooster’s body was zinging.

"So pretty." He could feel it when Mark pulled his hair up and rubbed it over that cut belly. Could see it out of the corner of his eye.

He reached down, slipped his zipper. "You cool if I..."

His balls might explode if he didn't.

"Shit, yes. C'mere. Or should I come there? Will the table hold both of us?" Pulling him up, Mark worked at getting him where they were face to face, worked at getting into his pants.

"It'll hold. Careful of your ink." He scooted and shifted, sort of stunned but fucking needing it with every fiber of his being.

"Not gonna ruin your work." Those eyes twinkled up at him a moment, then Mark put his head down and got to work, hand closing around Rooster's cock nice and tight, thumb rubbing up the underside. Rooster made this noise like he'd been hit with a line drive, his hips rolling and jerking, pushing right into that rough hand. Calluses. Damn. He hadn't expected. Uhn.

"That's it, man. I can smell you. Fuck." That voice was like another kind of touch, with its heat and need and hint of awe. Mark's other hand slid behind his head, pushing into his hair and grabbing a big handful to pull his head back. Then the hottest mouth he'd ever felt settled on his throat.

"Yeah. Fuck." Rooster humped, hands on the edge of the table, giving him something to brace against.

Those lips burned against his skin, sliding up and down, from his collarbones to his chin. All the while, Mark worked him, stroked and squeezed, stopping only to trace the dragon's claw. It wasn't going to take him long -- it had been a while and he hadn't been so revved up since he'd been a meth-head. He could hear himself, talking, growling, running off at the mouth.

"Uh-huh. Oh, God. Come on." That hand was gonna pull everything right out of him. And when Mark licked along the head of the dragon on his chest...

Rooster shot so hard his eyes rolled, his cry echoing through the shop.

"Someone needed that as bad as I did," Mark said, kissing his lips finally, a short, damp touch.

"You fucking know it." He grinned down, flying, relaxed deeper than he'd been in weeks.

"Better than a smoke break?" Laughing, Mark patted his thigh. "Though I could go for that right now."

"Way better, but we don't have to choose." He eased himself up and off, cleaning Mark up and helping him get the sheet around his waist.

"Thanks." They both washed up a little before heading out back to have a smoke. Damn, the man looked good in a sheet.

Rooster leaned back against the wall, lit one up and offered it over.

Nodding, Mark took the smoke and leaned next to him, quiet and not near as jittery as he'd been. That was something else, what they'd got up to.

They smoked nice and easy, Mark's fingers coming back to his hair, again and again.

Fucking cool.

"Guess we should finish up, huh?" He got a sideways grin. "Can't wait to feel what color does."

"Oh, man. I'm hoping you want me to stop between fill and highlights." Rooster grinned over, winked. Yep.

Fucking loved his life.

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