Masked & Miserable
A Sacred Heart’s MC Novella
(Book 3.5)
by A. J. Downey
Text Copyright © 2014 A.J. Downey
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved
Dedication
To Jacqueline Denn & Lia Rees for trying to cut me out of the snarl of formatting issues in order to get this series and all my other works into paperback in addition to the e-reader format. Thanks for liking my work enough to want to share it with more people, and thank you even more for having a generous spirit to help me out. Squick’s story may be small but it has a lot of heartfelt sentiments to it, like I do for all your help and support.
And to all my enterprising heterosexual male friends who read this for me. Some of you couldn’t get past the sex scene without blushing, laughing and getting real uncomfortable, and some of you couldn’t get past the sex scene period, but you all tried and you all gave me the feedback I needed. Thank you all for being open minded enough to give it a real shot. I know it wasn’t your thing but you did it anyways because you love me. I love you too.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter 1
Squick…
“Andy, do you have time for a late consult?” I looked up from my inventory and squinted at Ashton. It was close to closing time.
“Yeah! Yeah. Hold on just a sec.” I hurriedly put things away in my tool drawers and stood up. I followed Ashton out into the lobby area and blinked.
Holy shit.
“Hi.”
He was fucking… Holy shit!
“Squick are you okay?” Ashton’s voice snapped me out of it.
“Yeah! Hi, what’re you looking at having done man?” I stuffed my hands in my pockets and rocked back and forth in my worn black All Stars.
He was amazing. Exquisite. Just… wow. He was shorter than me by a head but that’s not surprising. I’m like six foot five, which made him like five-nine or so. He was slender in that way… that just… shit, turned me the fuck on. I didn’t like guys that were overly built out. He had that willowy look to him, muscular, sure but more of a whipcord over bone kind. His hair was black, except for the front where it was on fire. Either he or someone he knew, had helped him dye the front shock of his hair in reds, oranges, yellows and even whites so it looked like a fire burst in front, over his brow. The locks of hair brushing his pale forehead made me want to reach out and smooth them away.
He had these liquid, deep brown eyes behind a pair of wire rimmed oval glasses that fit his face, making him more handsome, not less. His hands were stuffed into comfortably worn light jeans. I couldn’t see much skin. He had on a thin, long sleeved, army green v-neck sweater, a white crewneck tee peeking out at the throat. The jeans were scrunched over a pair of black Doc Marten shoes and the backs of ‘em were frayed from too long stepping on them. This guy was my kind of hot and my mouth was suddenly dry just looking at him. I realized I hadn’t been listening to a damned word he’d said so far and so I quickly tuned in.
“I’m a musician,” he was saying, he pulled his hands out of his pockets and pushed back the sleeves on his sweater to his elbows and I was mesmerized by his hands. Large with long fingers.
“Okay,” I said.
“I wanted a line of music from here to here.” He held up his arm and indicated from his wrist to his elbow on the outside blade of his forearm. He was fucking phenomenal! Whipcord over bone, just as I’d suspected. I followed the delicate tracery of his veins which stood out on the backs of his hands. I nodded.
“Should be doable. You have any other ink?” I asked. He blushed and his kissable lips pulled into a smile.
“No, this would be my first,” he said.
“No problem man. So you said you were a musician, was there a specific line of music you wanted? Were you thinking just some random notes or did you want something like sheet music, lines and all?” his smile broadened.
“Actually,” he dug a piece of folded paper out of his wallet and handed it to me. I unfolded it and found a perfect line of music across the page, I held it up landscape style and said.
“C’mere, let me see,” he came forward and held up his arm. I held the paper against it and went into work mode. I sucked my teeth and contemplated.
“Gimme like five minutes?” I asked. Ashton beamed at me and returned to her spot at the front counter.
“Sure!” he said and brightened.
“What was your name?” I asked.
“Aaron.” Aaron… wow. Even his name was hot.
“Hey Aaron, I’m Andy, most people around here just call me Squick,” I stuck out my hand. Touch me, yes, please touch me.
Aaron shook my hand and smiled, “Nice to meet you Andy.”
I felt my cock twitch in my jeans just at the sound of my name on his lips. I let his hand go abruptly. It had been warm, his skin soft, fingertips calloused. Holy shit. This was bad. Like really bad.
“Be right back Aaron,” I put on my best smile as I said it and I went for the Thermofax to see about making a stencil, sure, but more to calm my shit. It’d been a while since I’d had such a visceral reaction to someone. Aaron was fucking attractive as hell! I cringed, leaning on the table that supported the machine and took a deep breath. I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t let Trig see…
“Andy?” I turned and looked at Ashton.
Fuck. That obvious? I wondered. She shut the door behind her and sighed out.
“You okay?” she asked, her sunlit eyes clouded with concern.
“Yeah, just needed a sec to make a stencil,” I feigned innocence. She smiled gently.
“You need to stop hiding,” she murmured, “It’s tearing you up inside.” She hugged me and I was too stunned to hug her back for a second. I wrapped my long arms around her narrow shoulders and back and smiled, acutely aware of the touch of sadness it held.
“I’m fine,” I said and felt queasy at the lie. She smiled up at me a little sadly and nodded after carefully considering my face. The woman read me like a book.
“Okay. See you later then, Ethan and I are heading home.” She let me have the lie for now, didn’t push and I smiled with a little less sadness and a whole lot more guilt.
“Okay I’ll close up after I’m finished with Aaron,” I promised. She nodded and slipped out, shutting the door behind her. Coward that I am, I gave myself two or three more minutes before heading out. Trig and Ashton were at the door to the shop. He pulled the cord on the open sign and it winked out.
“Night Bro, see you tomorrow,” he said and I nodded.
“Night Trig,” I called out, waving absently and with one last lingering look from Ashton, they left. It was just me and Aaron. Zander and the rest of the guys had left an hour or more ago, thank fuck. I felt the tension in my neck and shoulders ease marginally.
“Ashton get your ID and have you fill out the paperwork?” I asked.
“Yeah, yeah! Right he
re,” he handed me his stuff as he spoke.
“Cool, great, come on back.” I led him back to my station and motioned for him to have a seat.
“Can you take off the sweater?” I asked and swallowed hard. He smiled and pulled the long sleeved shirt over his head. My breath caught when the tee underneath rode up over his stomach, flat with a light dusting of dark hair, a happy trail leading down into his pants. Jesus H. Christ… I wanted to lick him.
“Hold your arm out like this,” I showed him what I needed and he complied. I held up the stencil and nodded before setting to work. I sprayed down the area with green hospital soap, holding a handful of paper towels underneath to keep from dripping all over his lap. Aaron was smiling, his liquid deep brown eyes watching me from behind his sexy as hell lenses.
“How long have you been doing this?” he asked.
“Going on six years now. Started my apprenticeship early, about sixteen, with the drawing and the cleaning and the general scut work.” I used a safety razor to shave the light dusting of hair from the area, more precautionary than anything.
“Yeah? I thought you had to be eighteen to even set foot in one of these places,” he mused.
“You do. I lied my ass off. Had my first tattoo done when I was sixteen too.” I smiled and lifted my pant leg, pointing to a black and white cartoon comic book guy, Johnny the Homicidal Maniac on the inside of my right leg midway between ankle and knee.
“Is that Johnen Vasquez!?” he exclaimed and I startled. Most people knew Invader Zim, not a whole lot of folks knew Johnny the Homicidal Maniac or Squee and even less knew who the hell Johnen Vasquez was, let alone that he was the creator of the characters.
“Yeah,” I said and eyed Aaron speculatively.
“I love Nny and Squee!” he exclaimed. I carefully laid the stencil along his arm but I was shaking some and it folded in on its self. I sniffed, washed off his arm and tried again and failed again, the damned lines weren’t straight, the treble clef higher at the elbow than the notes at the end towards his wrist.
“I have Nailbunny and the Doughboys on me too,” I said and tried the stencil for a third time.
“That’s awesome!” he laughed and his eyes danced with happy. I suppressed a groan and hung my head. God damn. Failed the stencil again.
“Problem?” he asked concerned.
“Just having a tough time getting it straight. Stencil is the most important part of the tat.” I licked my lips. Wait, did he just follow that a little too closely?
“Yeah, no, I get it,” he said startled. We were silent and finally I got the damned thing on straight. I held up a hand mirror.
“Good?” I asked. He inspected it in the glass and nodded slowly after a minute.
“Yeah good,” he declared, all smiles.
“Okay, cool.” I got one of my liner needles installed on my very favorite gun and tapped the pedal experimentally. Aaron jumped slightly at the loud buzz of the gun.
“Does it hurt much?” he asked dubiously and I smiled.
“Ever do any stupid shit when you were a kid?” I asked. He smiled a one sided smile, and I think my fucking heart stopped.
“Didn’t we all?” he asked. I grinned.
“Fair point,” I conceded. “Okay, more specifically, did you ever stick a nine volt battery on your tongue?” his eyes widened and he blushed the hottest shade of pink. I laughed and he cracked a grin.
“Yeah,” he said finally laughing with me.
“Feels pretty much exactly like that,” I told him. He leaned back and huffed out a breath.
“Okay, that sucked but it didn’t suck too bad.” He was still; thoughtful for a second then he nodded having apparently psyched himself up enough to go through with it.
“You ready?” I asked anyways and he gave a curt nod.
“Ready,” he affirmed, and so I dipped the needle, smeared some A&D over where I was starting and dug in. He hissed out a breath that carried with it the scent of spearmint and I smiled, laying in one long line, where the notes were gonna rest. I let up.
“Not too bad right?” I asked. He looked a little pale.
“Nope,” his voice was a little strained, breathy in that way that said he was either going to hurl or keel over. I quirked a brow.
“Not gonna get sick on me are you?” I asked. He may be pretty but I think my boy Aaron might be a bit of a wuss.
“Nope, I just… I don’t like needles,” he confessed lamely. I burst out laughing.
“Well too late now. You’re in it to win it my friend!” he smiled at me and nodded nervously. I went to work. This was an easy piece once the stencil was in place. I just needed to get it done. I worked in silence for a minute or two. I glanced up at Aaron’s face and smiled. Yep. Endorphins had kicked in, he was getting into the zone a lot of people went into when they had ink done.
“Not so bad is it?” I said softly.
“No, nuh uh, not once you really get going,” he agreed.
“So what do you play?” I asked.
“Cello,” he said.
“Get the fuck out!” I leaned back and looked him over to see if he was serious. He blinked.
“No I’m being serious. I play the Cello and the Violin, Guitar sometimes too,” he smiled faintly.
“Never in a million years would have pegged you for a classical type. So what do you do for a living?” I asked getting back into the tat.
“I play for the philharmonic orchestra,” he said and my eyebrows went up.
“No shit!? You’re that good?” I asked.
“Mmm hmm,” he nodded and it jostled his arm I pulled the gun away and looked. I was on a note, no harm done.
“Try not to move,” I said.
“Sorry,” he said. If he were any other guy I would have been a dick and said, ‘it’s your tat’ and shrugged it off but I was liking Aaron, probably way more than I should.
“No worries, I just want it to look good for you man.” I glanced up into a startled expression. Aaron’s face softened and he smiled and I swallowed hard… just something in his eyes…
“Thanks,” he said.
“No problem.” The buzz of my gun filled the ensuing silence. It took about ten minutes to finish him up. I slathered on the A&D and taped him up.
“You should leave this on for two hours. If the bandage is stuck, wet it. If you take a shower, avoid putting the tat directly under the spray for the first couple of days. Use Aquaphor to keep it moist…” I ran through aftercare instructions with him and he stared at me wide eyed and nodded. I handed them to him on a slip of paper and he smiled appreciatively.
“How much do I owe you?” he asked.
I stripped off my gloves and shrugged. What can I say, I wanted beautiful Aaron to remember me… That and I was tired and feeling saucy. Wasn’t like I was ever going to see him again…
“You know what, it’s your first tat, it’s late and I think you’re pretty. On the house,” I told him and smiled big.
He laughed and grinned, “You think I’m pretty?” he asked incredulously. I quirked a brow and raised a shoulder in an indelicate shrug. If he were straight he could take it as a joke, I’d used the right tone for it to be one but my heart seized in my chest at his next words.
“You’re not so bad to look at yourself,” he said and his voice had dipped, become husky with a lust of his own. I swallowed hard and stilled, eying him to see if he were fucking with me. His expression read stone cold serious.
Fuck. Me.
“Can I at least buy you a drink?” he asked carefully. I blinked and found my traitorous body was on its own fucking program, my head nodding. Too late for my mouth to deny him now. I thought to myself. Not that I would deny Aaron my mouth, fuck, the exact opposite. I wanted to put my mouth anywhere and everywhere on his body that he’d let me. What the fuck was wrong with me!?
“Yeah. I’d uh… I’d like that Aaron,” he smiled wide and stood up, pulling his sweater over his head.
“I know a great bar a
few blocks over. Walk with me?” I nodded dumbly.
“Yeah okay. Just let me clean up…”
What was I doing!? This was so not the way to fly under the fucking radar! This could be a total disaster if any of the guys found out, so why was I taking such a huge risk!?
My thoughts had been railing on this inner diatribe the entire time I’d cleaned up my area, through locking up the shop and they were pretty much on the same bent several minutes later as I walked along the cracked sidewalk beside Aaron. I had my hands stuffed into my jeans pockets and my leather jacket zipped against the mid-November chill. My prospect’s cut blew back and open over the jacket and I saw Aaron eye it sidelong out of the corner of his eye.
“So what else do you like aside from tattoos and Johnen Vasquez?” he asked and huddled into a leather bomber jacket of his own, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of it.
“Well, as you can probably tell, I’m trying to patch into the local MC.”
He smiled, “I don’t know many…” he cleared his throat, the pause pregnant, “Bikers,” he finished. I sighed inwardly, catching his drift full on. He didn’t know many gay bikers, and truth be told, neither did I, not a single damned one… I was so fucked.
“They don’t know. I’m, um, careful about it.” I swallowed the bitterness, and wondered why the hell I was telling him.
“Oh. I can’t imagine that’s good,” he said querulously. I wanted to snort and say something snappy or sarcastic like ‘no shit, Sherlock’ but I didn’t have it in me. Nor did I really have it in me to discuss the MC and my standing in it, at least not for right now. Don’t get me wrong! I saw prospecting for the Sacred Hearts as a total labor of love. I loved the guys like they were my family and would do anything, and I do mean anything for them but for tonight, right now, looking at Aaron with the perfect physique and those deep, soulful, liquid brown eyes. I just wanted to be me. The real me. No masks, no hiding, and believe me I knew just how fucking dangerous that could be but for right now…
“Yeah, well it’s complicated,” I said dryly and he was as sharp as he was hot because he changed the subject, but not entirely so…
Masked & Miserable: A Novella of the Sacred Hearts MC (Book 3.5) Page 1