Back Piece

by L. A. Witt

  The artist laughed. “Could be worse. Eric’s rough, but that one?” He nodded toward his own trainer, whose back was turned. “She’ll rip you to pieces.”

  “I heard that,” the woman said over her shoulder.

  He grimaced. “Shit.”

  She turned around. “Guess who’s doing extra burpees tomorrow?”

  “Aww, damn it.”

  Daniel laughed.

  “Anyway.” The artist shook his head, then extended his hand, probably unaware of what all that ink did to Daniel’s brain. “I didn’t catch your name, by the way.”

  “Um.” Daniel shook his hand. Name. Name? Right—name. “Daniel.”

  “I’m Colin.” He smiled. “Come on. I’ll take you down to my shop.”

  Chapter 3

  After leg day, the walk from the gym to Colin’s tattoo shop always seemed ten times longer. Today was no different. His knees were rubbery. His calves, quads, hips, and ass all hurt. Amanda had really been stepping up her game lately. Which was good, of course. The results were well worth it.

  But goddamn, he was hurting tonight and he’d be sore as fuck tomorrow.

  Fortunately, as he left the gym this time, he had something else to hold his attention other than whether or not his hips might suddenly disconnect—the insanely cute sailor who wanted a tattoo.

  On the way down the sidewalk, Colin was tempted to make some sort of small talk just to get a conversation going, but everything he thought of sounded stupid. If it was that stupid in his head, it would’ve been ten times worse coming out of his mouth, so he kept it to himself. He felt like enough of an idiot for being caught—twice—stealing a look at the gorgeous man who was now walking beside him. Daniel had dark hair cut in the usual high-and-tight, which Colin loved. Something about it seemed to make a guy’s features sharper, or . . . something. For whatever reason, it was sexy as hell. Like basically everything about Daniel.

  Colin was pretty sure that at some point in his life, he’d had some semblance of grace and tact with good-looking men. Then again, he was pretty sure this was the longest dry spell he’d had in a while, and the id or whatever was taking over. Lately, when it came to men, he’d been all flailing limbs and lizard brain.

  Stealing a glance at Daniel in the window of the nutrition shop as they passed by, Colin doubted he would’ve been much more articulate with the guy even if he had been getting laid recently. He was a sucker for military men. Sometimes quite literally. And that little hint of shyness? The way Daniel blushed and averted his eyes when he tried to talk to Colin? That was Colin’s Achilles’ heel. Hot men were great. Adorable guys? Want.

  Colin unlocked the door to Skin Deep, Inc., and waved Daniel inside. As he shut the door behind them, his neck prickled. Pete, his co-owner, had been in earlier for a long appointment, and their one employee, Matt, was on vacation until Friday, so the shop was deserted. That wasn’t unusual. They all kept weird hours, and there hadn’t been a lot of walk-in traffic lately, so he had the shop to himself quite often. Which was fine—an empty shop meant no distractions.

  Usually.

  He had a feeling he’d still be distracted as hell even after Daniel left. Which he hadn’t. Because he was here. In the shop. Waiting for Colin to discuss artwork.

  “So.” Colin cleared his throat as he leaned down to pull his portfolios out from under the counter. “What are you thinking of getting?”

  Daniel chewed his lip. “I’d like to get two, actually. One on my back. A pretty big one. But I think I’ll start with the smaller one.”

  “Fair enough.” Colin set the stack of thick albums on the counter. “What and where?”

  Daniel pulled up his T-shirt sleeve, revealing toned, tanned biceps. And he said something. Didn’t he?

  Colin blinked. He had said something, right? “Sorry, what?”

  Daniel arched an eyebrow, then chuckled as he gestured at his exposed skin. “I was going to get a Navy tattoo. Something with an anchor and a carrier.”

  Nodding, Colin pushed one of the books across the counter. “This is my military portfolio. Why don’t you have a look and see if there’s anything similar to what you want?”

  Daniel opened the cover to the first page, which was an enormous Super Hornet back piece Colin had done last year. “Wow. I can’t believe you have a whole book of Navy designs.”

  Colin laughed as he stepped away from the counter to stash his gym bag. “This is a Navy town.”

  “A big one, too,” Daniel murmured, and turned the page.

  While Daniel went through the first book, Colin tucked his food log into its drawer at his workstation. Before he shut the drawer, he paused. Since he’d just been to the gym, he really needed to eat something. Amanda would have his head if she knew he wasn’t getting some protein right then, and she’d give him hell when she saw the absence of a post-workout snack in his food log, but it was only for a few minutes. He had a client, after all. He wasn’t going to stuff his face while he was discussing art with a new potential client. A new, hot, shy, potential client who’d caught him staring in the mirror and was still—

  “This is amazing work,” Daniel said, oblivious to Colin’s ever-present mental excuses to avoid putting food in his mouth.

  Colin laughed softly. “Thanks. It’s a living.”

  “I can see why.” Daniel looked at Colin through his lashes, and his smile weakened Colin’s already exhausted knees.

  “Thanks.” Colin gestured at the portfolio. “So, aren’t you a little young for a lifer tat?”

  “I just reenlisted through fourteen years.” Daniel glanced at him before continuing to the next page. “Might as well stick it out to twenty, you know?”

  “So you’ve got . . .” He calculated quickly. “Eight years in?”

  “Yep.”

  Which made him . . . probably twenty-six. Five years younger than Colin. Not bad.

  “See anything you like?” Colin asked.

  Daniel took a breath to speak, but hesitated. Then he turned back a few pages. “They’re all really cool, but none of them are quite what I want.”

  “That’s okay. Custom designs are my favorite thing anyway.” Colin pulled a sketch pad out from under the counter and flipped to a blank sheet. “So you said . . . anchor and a carrier, right?”

  “Yeah. Or, I mean, that’s a place to start.”

  “It’s a great place to start.” Colin wrote Daniel’s name and made a quick note—anchor + carrier. “So why don’t I do this? I’ll come up with some sketches for you, and we’ll go from there.”

  “How much will that run me?”

  Colin waved a hand. “No charge until we start putting ink on your skin.”

  “Really? So you do all that work, and don’t get paid if someone decides not to get the tattoo?”

  He shrugged. “If he doesn’t get the tattoo, there’s nothing to pay me for. The sketch is time-consuming, but the tattoo is the service.” With a smile, he added, “So it’s kinda motivation to sketch something the customer wants on their skin.”

  “Wow.” Daniel’s eyes flicked toward the sketch pad. “I’d . . . I mean, I’d feel bad if you put that kind of time and effort into it, and I didn’t give you any money.”

  “Relax. I’m not going to make you pay for a design you don’t want.” Colin paused. “And if you don’t like the design, say so. I don’t want to tattoo it until it’s absolutely what you want.”

  Daniel nodded, and met Colin’s gaze. “Still. If I don’t like the sketch, I think I should pay you something for your time.”

  Colin studied him for a moment. “How about this—we’ll see what you think of the sketches. If I can’t come up with anything you want tattooed? We’ll work it out then.”

  “That seems fair.”

  “Deal. Okay, now how big do you want it?”

  He asked that damn question every single time someone came in for a tattoo, and this time it had to sound like a fucking innuendo.

  They met each other’s gaze
s. Daniel’s lips were tight, like he was trying not to crack a smile or say something. Colin’s cheeks were on fire.

  Daniel broke eye contact first and put his hand up to his arm, spreading his thumb and middle finger about five inches apart. “About like this, maybe?”

  Colin nodded, grateful the awkward aftermath of his double entendre had gone away. He made some more notes on the sketch pad, including the basic dimensions of the tattoo. A few designs bounced around in his mind—he’d done plenty with ships, anchors, and various Navy symbols, so he had no doubt he could come up with something. Hopefully something Daniel liked. Not just for the money, but because he really, really wanted to tattoo the guy. And he wanted him to be happy with the ink he’d be wearing for the rest of his life.

  No pressure or anything, right?

  “So, uh . . .” Daniel drummed his fingers beside the open portfolio. “Okay, this is probably a dumb question. How much will it hurt?”

  Colin decided right then and there that nothing in the world was cuter than Daniel when he blushed, and that was exactly what he was doing. Again.

  The kid laughed softly, probably self-consciously, and stared at the blank sketch pad for a moment before he looked at Colin again. “I mean, I guess if I’m going to get inked, I should man up and deal with it, right?”

  “No, it’s a valid question,” Colin said. “Everyone has their own pain threshold, and there’s nothing wrong with being concerned about it. For what it’s worth, that”—he pointed at Daniel’s biceps—“isn’t a very painful spot.”

  “Really?”

  Colin nodded. “I mean, it isn’t going to tickle or anything, but it’s not bad.” He turned his own upper arm and pointed to the underside. “Not like here, which hurts like hell.”

  Daniel’s eyes widened. “I see you know from experience.”

  “Yep.” Colin lowered his arm and tugged his sleeve back into place. “And these weren’t fun, either.” He gestured at his neck. “Throat, back of the calf, over the ribs—some places definitely hurt more than others.”

  “Okay, that’s good to know. So, when you say it doesn’t hurt much, that’s compared to what?”

  Colin waved a hand. “Eh, it’s not bad. It just kind of burns. And I have a pretty light hand.” He touched one of the tattoos on his left arm. “The guy who did this . . .” He shuddered. “I think he was trying to get the ink into my bones or something.”

  Daniel squirmed and Colin thought he’d paled a little.

  “Trust me,” Colin said. “It won’t be that bad for you. The best way I can think to describe it is it’s like having the corner of a razor blade dragged over your skin.”

  Daniel gulped.

  “Hey, you asked.” Colin chuckled. “Honestly, it’s not as bad as you might think. In fact, when we go to do this, I’ll put the needle on your skin without any ink, just so you can see how it feels. If it’s too much? We don’t have to continue.”

  “Okay. Yeah.” Daniel let out a long breath, and seemed to relax a bit. “I mean, I think I can handle it.” He fidgeted like he was trying really hard not to fidget. “If half the guys I work with can handle it, so can I. Hell, my buddy’s got six, and he passed out getting a flu shot.”

  Colin laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He glanced at his sketch pad. “So. Um. I guess I’ll see you . . .”

  “You tell me.” Daniel shifted his weight. “How long does a sketch like that take?”

  “Couple of days, maybe. I mean, it’ll just take a few hours, but I like to step away from it for a day or so, then come back with a fresh eye. So . . . yeah, couple of days.” Could I sound more like a complete and utter tool? “Just leave me your number, and I’ll send you a text.”

  Their eyes locked.

  Yeah, I just asked for your number.

  Then Daniel nodded and gestured for the pencil. Colin handed it over, and Daniel jotted his phone number on the corner of the sketch pad. As he held out the pencil again, he said, “I work some weird hours, but I’ll come by when I can.”

  Colin’s heart fluttered because he was a dork. “Perfect. Hopefully I’ll have something for you before the end of the week.”

  “Great.” Daniel smiled, and it was the adorable, shy, blushing-a-little smile again. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Colin returned the smile, hoping he didn’t look or sound like a total idiot. “I’m looking forward to it.” He was tempted to see if Daniel wanted to go get a drink, but he hesitated. While he sometimes hung out with his regulars, he tried to be cautious about it with new people. And business had been slow lately—he couldn’t afford to alienate a potential client. And a drink meant calories and . . .

  He shook that thought away. No point in letting that mental downward spiral take over just because he couldn’t relax in front of this guy who was sweet and cute and a client and sexy and a client . . .

  Colin cleared his throat. “Right. I’ll see you soon.”

  Daniel nodded. They shook hands over the counter, and then he was gone.

  Alone in the shop, Colin looked down at the blank sketch pad.

  Why do I suddenly feel like I’ve forgotten how to draw?

  Chapter 4

  Daniel drove back to the base on autopilot. Somehow, he made it down I-264 and onto I-64 without missing an exit, and traffic was light enough this time of night that he didn’t smack into anyone on that convoluted interchange. Good thing there were multiple ways from I-64 to the base—he missed the first two, but fortunately caught himself before he’d gone too far.

  When he reached the gate, the sentry waited expectantly, and Daniel stared at him, drawing a complete fucking blank.

  The sentry stepped closer, tilting his head. “Your ID, please?”

  “Right. Right. Sorry.” Daniel shook himself. He took out his wallet and held up his military ID just like he did every time he drove onto the base.

  The sentry rolled his eyes and waved him through with a muttered, “Have a nice night.”

  Daniel pulled away from the gate and headed toward the pier. Out of habit, he almost drove down to Pier 11, but remembered at the last second that the ship was moored at Pier 9 now.

  “What the fuck?” he mumbled to himself as he drove toward the ship. Okay, so they’d been on Pier 11 before deployment, but that was the better part of a year ago. They’d been back in town—and on Pier 9—for almost a month. It had taken him all of two days to get used to that. But tonight . . .

  He pressed his elbow beneath the window and rubbed the back of his neck. He knew damn well what was distracting him. But seriously, what the hell? He’d had crushes. He’d met guys who made him trip over his feet. Usually, he could still focus enough to drive in a straight line, though. Even when he’d had to spend days working next to the man he spent nights fantasizing about, he hadn’t been completely useless.

  Maybe this was a sign that he desperately needed to bite the bullet and finally get laid. Or, well, try to get laid.

  He parked and walked down to the pier. This time, he remembered to pull out his ID, showed it to the sentry without making an ass of himself, and continued toward the ship.

  He didn’t go on board yet. Instead, he walked down to the far end of the pier. There were a few people down here. Mostly security guys smoking cigarettes and surreptitiously playing on their phones while they were supposed to be patrolling. Nobody gave him a second look.

  He stopped and stared out into the darkness. The water was a giant black void between here and Hampton and Newport News, connected only by the Hampton Roads Bridge–Tunnel, which was just a dotted string of lights right now. The view wasn’t spectacular, especially compared to some of the Mediterranean sunsets he’d watched over the last few months, but it was better than staring at the ship’s gunmetal-gray interior. Or facing the ribbing from his coworkers, who were undoubtedly taking bets on whether he’d hooked up with Colin.

  Goose bumps prickled his back and arms. No, he hadn’t hooked up with Colin. No, he wasn’t
sure if it would happen.

  And yes. Yes, he absolutely wanted it to happen. But he was also nervous about going back to that gym or the tattoo shop because Colin would be there. And seeing him again scared the crap out of Daniel.

  This was different from all the guys Daniel had lusted after before because Colin didn’t just press all his buttons. He wasn’t just fit and tattooed, friendly and interesting. He wasn’t just someone Daniel was going to pay to put his hands on him. If Daniel wasn’t mistaken, Colin had been flirting with him. How many times had Daniel caught him looking? And how many shades of pink had he seen in Colin’s cheeks throughout their conversation? Like Daniel made him nervous?

  Do I . . . do I have a shot at this guy?

  Daniel’s stomach did somersaults. The prospect of finally hooking up with someone was as terrifying as it was exciting. And would he have been nervous to the point of queasy if this had been anyone else? Or was there something about Colin?

  Well, there was definitely one thing about Colin that made him nervous—Daniel was pretty sure the guy was older than him. He didn’t have any gray or lines or anything, but somehow pinged as . . . someone who’d been around longer.

  Which meant he probably had more experience.

  Teenagers have more experience than me.

  Daniel exhaled, his stomach sinking. Colin probably had experience with guys who had even more experience than him, and God knew he was hot enough he could have his pick of men who knew their way around another man’s dick. Once he figured out Daniel’s sexual résumé started and ended with a few minutes of frantically making out with a drunk lieutenant in Sicily a few months ago . . .

  Who the hell am I kidding? Even if he’s interested in me now, he’s got better things to do than virgins.

  Besides, Daniel was quite possibly giving Colin money. It made sense for Colin to be friendly, even flirty, to draw in clients and earn their trust enough to permanently embed ink in their skin. Except how did that explain the moments when he’d seemed as tongue-tied and nervous as Daniel?

  Daniel closed his eyes, letting the cool sea breeze rush over his face and through his short hair. It would happen eventually. He’d find someone, and they’d connect, and he’d finally get to experience more than some sloppy, beer-flavored kissing in a cramped bathroom stall.