Bite & Release

by CORY CYR

  “Have a seat. So what did you have in mind?” he asked, his expression showing a hint of doubt. I was still looking over the contents of the room when my eyes fell to Rory’s hands. Even though his knuckles were tattooed, his nails were clean and short. It seemed strange but seeing his hands looking like the room, white and hygienic was comforting.

  “The tattoos that Shea . . . Andrew has,” I paused, taking a deep breath. “Do you have photos?”

  “You bet. One of the most intricate pieces I ever did. Did he tell you that the work took over a year to complete?” he asked walking over to a large cabinet. He opened it, and bent down to retrieve several binders from the drawer.

  “He did tell me, and it’s amazing what you did.” Rory sat back down, sliding his chair closer to mine. He studied me as he held the first book, still closed.

  “You know everything right? I assume Andrew told you . . . I mean you two are together, so he . . .” Rory trailed off, his expression pinched. I knew he was talking about the scars and the abuse that made those injuries. “I gather you want a tattoo?”

  I nodded my head.

  “Maybe a rose, something girly—” he said. I peered at Rory with a slanted smile and cut him off dramatically by waving my hands in front of his face.

  “I already have an idea of what I want. I was thinking of getting something similar to what Shea has, but on a much smaller scale.”

  Rory’s eyes got huge, and clearly, he had no idea how ballsy I was. Actually, until I just said it, I didn’t even know how ballsy I truly was. Regardless of how fearless I appeared to be, the thought of needles now had me kind of panicky.

  “Oh . . . kay . . .” Rory drew out the word. “What did you have in mind?”

  I explained to him that I wanted exactly what Shea had, but I just wanted my left shoulder done, maybe down to my bicep and Shea’s name somehow woven into it. Obviously, Rory knew I called him Shea and not Andrew, so I wanted the name Shea to be incorporated into the artwork. With only three days before Christmas, I hoped he could do it. Rory set the binders down on the floor and looked at me, and this time it was a look of admiration.

  “First tattoo?” he asked. I nodded as I rubbed my hands together. “I have to warn you, that particular tribal tattoo is painful. Are you sure you don’t just want a tiny flowery thing for your first? Okay, I know I sound like a womanizing pig, but I need you to understand what the tattoo you’re asking for entails—blood and discomfort.”

  Nothing like totally freaking me out. Thanks, Rory. I knew there would be pain, but for some reason I forgot about the blood. I wondered how much blood . . .

  “I think I can handle it,” I said, even though doubt lingered in the back of my mind.

  “Alright, the other thing is, how do I say this? You should never tat anyone’s name on your body other than your mom’s or your kids. Lovers come and go. I do cover-ups all day and night to erase the bad memory of a failed relationship,” he advised, smirking.

  “Never knew my mom, I don’t have kids, and regardless of what happens, I will always love Shea,” I pointed out, “so let’s do this.”

  “Alrighty then, just let me go draw something up for you and we’ll go from there,” he said, as he walked to the door. After he left, I bent down to pick up the binder marked number one. It was filled with Shea pre-tattooed. I almost felt guilty looking at them. His back, under his collarbone and both upper arms were cruelly marked with what looked like slashes and burn marks. Even though I knew the damage had been done five years prior to the tattoos and the photographs were three years old, each scar still appeared fresh, raw and red. What I was looking at reminded me of burn victim photos. The scars were pronounced and raised against his then paler skin. None of the photos had his face, thank God, because the anguish coursing through my body was making my eyes tear up. I went to the second binder, where production on covering up Shea’s scars began. Each page represented the progress of doing the artwork. The third and final binder was after its competition.

  I quickly wiped away tears as Rory walked back into the room. In his hands were several pieces of tracing paper. He set the papers down on a table as he picked up the binders. He knew I had gone through them, our eyes silently acknowledging what we both knew about Shea. He grabbed the papers and rolled his chair close to mine.

  “Okay, so these are just some ideas,” he said, as he handed me the papers. “If it’s not what you want, just let me know and I can do some changes.”

  All three drawings were incredible. They looked identical to Shea’s tattoo, but with his name added. It would be hard to choose. I continued to look at all three, but my eyes focused on the third one. Shea’s name would be on my upper arm, and the lettering would wrap around my bicep. The way Rory had stretched it; it would be pretty and very feminine. I handed him the third sheet.

  “This one,” I said, without a shred of doubt.

  “Did you want color, or just the black and gray?” he checked, as he began gathering his tools together.

  “Just like Shea’s. I want it to match.” I watched him as he put out the tools of his trade.

  “Are you comfortable in that chair? I can get you another,” he said, as he continued adding supplies to his tray.

  “This is fine.”

  “Do you have anything to change into?” Rory didn’t look at me when he asked. I hadn’t even thought about that. If needed to expose my upper left arm and my shoulder. This was no big deal. I was used to having to being scantily clad in front of people, taking acting classes and going on interviews for jobs. Disrobing and changing in front of people was all part of the business. It was no big deal to me, but Shea would be pissed. I stood up and took off my coat, hanging it on the back of the door. I pulled my sweater over my head, leaving me in my bra; at least I’d worn a pretty one. If Rory was surprised, he didn’t show it. I’m sure he tattooed and pierced quite a few women daily. He snapped on black rubber gloves as I sat back down. He sprayed by upper arm and shoulder with spray, and then wiped it down.

  “I’m going to place the transfer paper on your body, so we can see if you like it where it’s positioned. Make sure you tell me if you want it differently, because once I start actually tattooing, it’s pretty much set in stone,” he advised. He pressed the transfer paper to my arm and shoulder, and then peeled it back. I stood up and looked in the mirror. It would be about seven inches down from the top of my shoulder. Shea’s name was wrapped delicately around my left bicep.

  “It’s perfect,” I said, as I sat back down.

  “Last chance to back out,” he chuckled, as he dipped the needle in ink. I shook my head.

  Chapter TWENTY-FIVE

  Discomfort, bullshit . . . it hurt like hell. I felt like I was getting an injection every second. It was non-stop. Rory told me the outline would probably be the worse part. Probably. I tried not to look out of the corner of my eye when I watched as Rory swiped my arm with paper towels to catch the blood. I can’t imagine what Shea went through doing this for an entire year. About two hours into it, my arm felt numb and I hardly felt the pin pricks anymore. Two hours later, I looked at the clock and it was 6:00 p.m. already. I had been sitting for close to four hours.

  “It’s going to be at least another two hours. I can take you home now so you can come back tomorrow to finish it, or we can take care of it all tonight.”

  “Fuck no,” I grumbled. The thought of repeating this tomorrow wasn’t even on my radar, “No, let’s finish it. Just let me pee and call Trina.”

  Rory laughed. He probably had to relieve himself too. When he left the room, I called Trina and told her I was catching a ride with Rory and I would talk to her tomorrow. I also sent a text to Shea, telling him I was going to bed early and I would see him tomorrow. He had worked all day, and then went to school, and I knew he needed to tend to things at the apartment. I’m sure Pandora missed him. I peeked at my arm and shoulder in the mirror. Even though my arm was red and puffy, I could see the detail pop. It was be
autiful. Even the small tale of the piece that tastefully lay at the top of my back looked very pretty. I hoped that Shea wouldn’t freak. It had not occurred to me that doing this might be too much. It was a gift he couldn’t take back or exchange.

  Rory strolled back in with two bottles of water. He handed one to me as he took a sip. “You know, Shea used to talk about you all the time,” Rory said, as he recapped his bottle of water. Shea had even mentioned me three years ago? He hadn’t lied when he said he’d carried a torch for long time. Rory slipped on fresh latex gloves and prepared for the next round of my tattoo torture, “Ready for the shading?”

  “Too late to turn back now,” I groaned, trying to psyche myself out. I took my place in the chair. It ended up taking another three hours. I don’t think I mentally prepared myself for the finished product. It was so detailed, and just like Shea’s it appeared to be almost a finely woven tapestry of material. The only difference was Shea’s name had been entwined within the lines on my bicep, and the tattoo itself had more of a feminine flair to it. Black and gray tribal lines swirled on my upper arm, and along with those colors, white had been added to Shea’s name as the lines wrapped around my left bicep. I felt my arm pulsate as Rory covered it in anti-bacterial ointment and wrapped it with plastic wrap. On the ride home, he gave me a bag filled with tattoo lotion and an aftercare instruction sheet, and then carefully explained everything and what I should expect from this procedure.

  The minute I got home, I flopped down on the sofa, exhausted. This had been one long day. At least I found a gift for Shea. It had cost me a small fortune, but I figured I would have it forever. He was worth it.

  *****

  I woke up early the following morning because Fridays were always a workday. Since Christmas was Sunday, everyone had four days off. Of course, both Shea and the doctor were on call for emergencies. I decided I’d better get cracking on cleaning up the house, so I swept up the floors, dusted the furniture, and vacuumed the rugs. It had been decided that we would all do Christmas Eve at my house and Christmas Day at Evie’s house. Trina and Quinn had double duty that night because they had to go to his parent’s too.

  There were quite a few gifts under my tree since we had all decided to exchange on Christmas Eve to make it is easier on the newlyweds, since they had to be present at two Christmas dinners. I had purchased a few small things for Shea—a couple of sweaters, a pair of satin pajamas pants and some cologne. I figured those things were pretty benign, since I was still dragging my feet about acknowledging our relationship in front of Shea’s mom.

  It was a constant battle between us. He assumed that three months was long enough now and that avoiding the inevitable was bullshit. I already knew and feared at some point we would get caught or our relationship would trickle down the grapevine to Evie. I was truly shocked that Carrie hadn’t already told her, since I had no doubt they still spoke to each other.

  Shea had called me at lunchtime to let me know he was on his way over. I heard him as he pulled up.

  “Damn, it’s really cold,” he muttered, swearing under his breath as he walked in. I came over to him, standing on my toes so I could brush my lips against his.

  “Your face is freezing,” I said, undoing his coat.

  “Uh, that would be the snow, ice and the ass freezing twelve degrees outside, baby,” Shea said, laughing as he collapsed on the love seat. As I hung up his coat, he reached over and pulled me on his lap.

  “I missed not sleeping with you last night. How come you were so tired?” he asked as I coiled my body, pressing into him.

  “That would be your twisted sister—pun intended. Fuck, she dragged me from one mall to the next. Her batteries just wouldn’t run out,” I said with a slanted smile. I didn’t want to get Shea too wound up because I needed the tattoo to be a surprise. I had removed the plastic wrap earlier this morning, right after I’d gotten up. Most of the redness and puffiness had gone down. I applied some goo that Rory had given me and put on a long sleeved sweater. I suppressed a giggle when I finally came up with my anti-sex plan.

  “What are you smiling about?” he asked, curiously.

  “Just happy and content.”

  Shea wrestled me around on his lap. His erection was pressing against my core.

  “Baby, I don’t think so,” I whispered. Shea’s happy smile crumbled into a frown. “It’s that time,” I said in a hushed voice. I watched his nose scrunch up as he contemplated the hundreds of other things we could do. I almost snickered because it seemed odd to me that he was so adventurous when it came to sex, but the thought of a little blood freaked him out.

  Okay, so I wasn’t actually was on my period, but I couldn’t think of any other excuse to keep him at bay. I just had to keep him from getting me naked for another twenty-four hours or so. I was hoping his Christmas gift would be worth it to him. Even though he thought I was on my period, it did not deflect from his cock pressing tightly into my underside. I slid off of his lap and knelt on the floor, resting my head between his legs. I quietly unzipped his pants as he patiently watched me, never saying a word as I took him into my mouth and sucked him into ecstasy.

  Chapter TWENTY-SIX

  Christmas Eve was a day of baking and making snacks for tonight. I had also baked a birthday cake for Shea after sending him a birthday text in the morning. He would be here by five and everyone else at six. I had the tree lit, the fireplace going and had made non-alcoholic eggnog. I thought an alcohol-free evening would be the best way to go since Evie would be here. I was beginning to feel tiny scabs on my tattoo, but I kept it nice and smooth with the ointment. With every passing hour, it became more beautiful, more vivid. I couldn’t wait to see Shea’s expression.

  I decided to wear a long-sleeved dress I had found at one of the many malls Trina had dragged me to. It was stretch velvet and clung lovingly to every curve of my body; it was so light and comfortable that I almost felt naked. I finished my look by putting my hair up in a French twist, accenting it with rhinestone bobby pins.

  I heard the front door open and the rustling of bags. I leaned up against the doorjamb in the hallway and just watched Shea. He was bent over, putting more gifts under the tree. When he stood, I could see his long legs dressed in dark slacks, which tapered to his strong thighs as they cupped his tight ass. As if he could sense me watching, he turned around, smiling. He had worn a cobalt blue sweater with a white shirt underneath. The color of the sweater set off his eyes, making them look a startling sapphire. I sucked in a breath as our eyes met.

  “Every time I see you, I wonder how I got so lucky,” he said in amazement, moving towards me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into him. He smelled so good, and I felt a little selfish because I wanted this night to be ours alone. All I could think about was tearing off his pants, pulling that sweater over his head and fucking him until Christmas day. I reveled in the feeling of his arms around me as he groped my ass with both hands.

  “It’s your birthday, so it’s lucky for both of us. How does it feel to be an old man of twenty-two?” I asked, giggling.

  “Yeah, it’s my birthday, and I know exactly what I want. I want you tonight, and I don’t care about your monthly deal. I need to be inside you,” he growled. I suppressed another giggle, hoping he wouldn’t be too upset with me when he found out I told a little white lie in order to protect his Christmas gift.

  “I want you too. I want to wake up tomorrow morning in your arms,” I said, as I looked up at him. He kissed me so passionately that I began gasping and panting. It suddenly felt a little too warm in the room and I could feel dampness between my thighs. We broke our embrace before we lost control, and I moved towards the kitchen to get the stemware and napkins. I had Shea put the platters of snacks out on the coffee table as I got some holiday paper plates. He turned on Christmas music, much to my horror of cheesy holiday favorites, as he grabbed a cup of eggnog.

  “Hey, is this virgin?” he asked, cringing as he took another sip.


  “Of course, you and I can celebrate with the real stuff after everyone leaves. I thought it best not to serve booze, you know, with your mom here,” I said, sitting on the sofa, pulling him down with me.

  “I was thinking that we could talk to my mom tonight . . . about us.” He stared at me intently, and I’m sure he was trying to gage my reaction since we’d had this conversation so many times in the last month.

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand what the rush is. I told you I’m not looking forward to that conversation, and really, with everything your mom is going through, I’m not so sure telling her about us is a smart idea,” I’m sure I sounded frustrated, but I was just tired of arguing my point.

  “Wouldn’t it be better just to get it over with? I mean . . . Jesus . . .” Shea ran his hand through his hair a few times, and his expression was full of disappointment. “What, we’ll just wait until we’re married or pregnant?” He sounded exasperated.

  My eyes snapped open wide. Married, or pregnant? Shock waves rolled over me one after another. Shea had thought about us like that? I’ll admit I had even fantasized about it. I couldn’t see myself being with anyone else, but marriage . . . kids? Wow, I did not see him thinking that far ahead. I had kind of shelved any long-term plans with Shea because I wasn’t sure if there would be a future after I told him about Garrison. It all depended on how forgiving he was going to be. I jumped up off the sofa and bolted into the kitchen, pretending to get more food. Of course, I heard him behind me—I knew he had followed my quick escape.

  “I’m sorry, I probably just freaked you out with the whole marriage and kids deal,” he apologized as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not that I’m in some huge rush, but I’m tired of keeping us a secret. I love you, Ryan, and fuck whoever doesn’t approve. I don’t care. I’ll never want anyone but you. You’ve always been the one.”