Page 71 of Calculated Chaos

When Reylon’s needle touches Hollister’s skin, the look on his face says he was definitely not ready. I probably should have warned him that the wrist is pretty sensitive, but it didn’t cross my mind. The horrified expression on his face remains while I try to get him talking about the last museum exhibit he saw.

Reylon chimes in, discussing how much he likes indigenous art from the Americas and that we should put Peru on our bucket list, but the chatter does little to calm Hollister. Fortunately, Reylon is fast and the tattoo isn’t too big.

Hollister is breathing like he’s in labor, his face screwed up in pain and cheeks red from the stress. Seeing him freak out like this triggers my Dom mode, so I roll my stool behind him, massaging his shoulders and leaning in close to his ear.

“You’re doing such a great job, sweet boy. You’re so brave and I’m so proud of you.”

His breath catches as he sinks into my touch.

“That’s right. Good boy. Relax. I can’t wait to reward you when we get home.”

Hollister squeezes his eyes shut as he leans his head back to rest against my shoulder. “Thank you.”

“I’ll take care of you, baby. You know that.”

He nods, opening his eyes and turning his face slightly to see me. “I know.”

Hollister chills out at that point, relaxing into the pain and discovering the joy that is fresh ink.

Once the final touches are done, Reylon sits back in his chair, admiring his work. “What do you think?”

Hollister, breathing heavily, looks at his wrist, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “Oh wow. That’s… so much better than I even expected. Wow.”

Reylon beams. “Yeah, it came out cool.”

Hollister nods, slowly shifting his gaze to me. “What do you think?”

“I think you look good inked up.”

Holl’s cheeks turn bright pink, and if we were alone, I’m pretty sure I’d pounce.

“Thanks, Reylon,” Hollister says softly as he slides out the chair. “But don’t get any ideas that I’m suddenly into tattoos. That fucking hurt.”

I chuckle and Rey pats Hollister’s back. “Famous last words, am I right, Axel?”

“Yep.”

Hollister sits next to me while Reylon works on me, his eyes glued to his own wrist. I already know what he’s thinking without asking. He’s proud of himself for doing something so out of character. When I catch his eyes, his face lights up.

“I’m so damn happy, Ax.”

“That’s good, baby. You deserve it.”

Hollister nods firmly. “You know what? I really do.”

* * *

After tattoos, lunch, and a few hours of shopping for casual “non-accountant clothes” as

Holl put it, we’re on our way home when Holl’s phone rings.

He answers it via Bluetooth. “Hey, Sara.”

“Where are you?” she asks.

“In the car. Why?”

“Can you meet me at Larry’s on Twelfth?”

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