Back Piece

by L. A. Witt

  Of course he was attracted to men, and women didn’t interest him at all, but did he really know? Could he know when he’d never touched a man?

  It was stupid and he knew it was. But it didn’t stop his brain from wondering—usually in the middle of the night when he needed to be sleeping—if maybe he was just delusional.

  After that drunken encounter with Lieutenant McEnroe, the voices had quieted a little, but a whole new chorus had started up.

  It was kind of hot, but I didn’t like it that much. So maybe I’m not.

  I was almost as shitfaced as he was. It doesn’t mean anything.

  If I was really gay, it wouldn’t have stopped at kissing and groping.

  In the present, those thoughts made him shudder. He gripped the wheel tighter, wondering how long he would’ve second-guessed himself if he hadn’t met Colin.

  It was no mystery where those stupid voices came from. No one escaped eighteen years of anti-gay indoctrination without a few scars, and one of his was the constant worry that his church was right. That those voices were onto something. That homosexuality was a choice, a perversion, a sickness. That he really was being misled by a devil he didn’t believe in to defy a God he wasn’t sure about. That maybe this was some horribly elaborate subconscious rebellion after eighteen years of homophobic propaganda.

  That was over now.

  From the moment he’d found himself naked in Colin’s bed, the voices had vanished. Maybe they’d find a second wind later on and remind him he needed to pray himself straight, but for now they were silent. He was definitely gay. Whether he’d gotten that way by nature or nurture—particularly the nurture of men’s fitness magazines and some mind-blowing porn—didn’t matter. He was, without a doubt, gay.

  The tattoo had been a relief as well, but in a different way. It hadn’t been an act of rebellion in the sense of a teenager doing something to piss off his parents. The bird hadn’t been for his parents at all. Chances were, they’d never see it anyway.

  No, it had been for him. An act of independence. Even now, three weeks later, every time he caught a glimpse of the swallow in a mirror, he had to stop and look at it. He’d really done it. He’d really gone and gotten inked. And tonight he’d get his first look at the design that represented the stories that had given him hope and kept him sane until he’d made his escape.

  He’d worried about sleeping with his tattooist. After all, if things went sour, he’d still have the ink. A permanent mark from a man he wanted to forget, even if right now he couldn’t imagine ever wanting to forget Colin.

  The funny thing was that the tattoo didn’t make him think of Colin. Yeah, it had been Colin’s work, and even Colin’s idea, but it had been Daniel’s decision. Something he finally did for himself.

  And now, he was ready to get the tattoo he’d been dreaming about.

  To say the least, he was nervous about this one. Though Colin had convinced him that most of the back tattoo would be significantly less painful than the one on his pec, he was dubious. If it turned out Colin was wrong, or the pain was still just this side of bearable, there was a hell of a lot more surface area to cover. Gritting his teeth through an hour and a half was one thing. Colin had guessed this one would take twelve to fifteen hours. A minimum of twelve to fifteen hours.

  When Daniel walked into the shop, Colin appeared to be hunched over a tattoo-in-progress, except he didn’t have a client. Instead, he was guiding the needle along his own arm.

  As the door banged shut behind Daniel, Colin looked up, and a grin spread across his lips. The needle stopped vibrating. “Hey, you’re early.”

  “Yeah, I was—wait, are you seriously tattooing yourself?”

  Colin held up his forearm, which was partially wrapped in plastic and had some very fresh ink smeared across one of his existing tattoos. “Yep. Touching up a faded design.” He nodded toward the chair where Daniel had had his first session. “Come on back. Have a seat. I’ll be done with this in about twenty minutes.”

  Daniel took a seat and watched in disbelief as Colin dipped the needle in a tiny cup of bright red ink, then pressed it to his own skin without flinching.

  “How do you concentrate? Doesn’t that hurt?” He grimaced at his own stupid question. “Okay, obviously it hurts. But . . .”

  “But how do I do it to myself?”

  “Yes. That.”

  “It’s easier than it looks.” Colin dabbed a paper towel on the tattoo, then dipped the needle in the ink again. “There’s some places I can’t do. My back, obviously. Even if I could use a mirror to do my throat, that hurts way too much.”

  Daniel shuddered.

  Colin glanced up, cheeks coloring slightly. “I’m not helping your nerves, am I?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “It’s honestly not that bad.” He focused on the shading he’d been working on. “It hurts, but concentrating on what I’m doing sort of pulls my attention away from it. In fact, the worst part about this is my neck and back get so stiff.” As if for emphasis, he sat up, rolling his shoulders and tilting his head from side to side.

  From behind the divider, a voice called out, “If you’d sit up and do it right, you wouldn’t fuck up your spine.” Then a muttered, “Idiot.”

  “Hey.” Colin glared at the divider. “Nobody asked you.” Under his breath, he added, “Insubordinate bastard.”

  “I heard that.”

  “You were supposed to.”

  Daniel laughed. “You’re his boss?”

  “In theory,” Colin grumbled, shooting a playful glare at the divider.

  “Man, I’d go to mast if I talked to my boss like that.”

  “Mast?” Colin glanced up.

  “Yeah,” Daniel said. “Captain’s mast. It’s a . . . basically a step down from a court-martial.”

  “Whoa. Hey, maybe I should start doing that here. Send my guys to artist’s mast.”

  “Oh whatever.” The guy behind the divider stepped out. He was a little taller than Colin, and obviously fit but not quite as broad. Good-looking guy. And of course, he had a shitload of tattoos. As he wiped something off his hands with a blue shop towel, he said to Colin, “I don’t think Virginia allows tattoo artists to court-martial each other.”

  “They should. Oh, and by the way.” Colin nodded toward him. “Daniel, this is Matt. Matt, Daniel.”

  “Oh, you’re Daniel?” Matt’s eyes lit up as he extended his heavily inked right hand.

  They shook hands, and Daniel said, “You’ve heard of me?”

  “Are you kidding?” He gestured at Colin. “He hasn’t shut up about you.”

  Daniel’s face burned, and Colin’s turned a little red as he glared up at Matt.

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be tonight?” he asked.

  “Nope.” Matt flashed his boss an I know I’m being a pain in your ass grin. “I was going to hang around here for a few hours.”

  The look Colin shot him was right on the border between good-natured and venomous. Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes and kept working on the tattoo.

  Matt chuckled. “Okay, I’m off to find some food. Either of you want me to bring you anything?”

  “No, thanks,” Daniel said.

  Colin didn’t look up from his tattoo. “I’m good.”

  Matt hesitated, humor fading slightly. “You sure?”

  Colin eyed him again, and this time there was something a lot less good-natured in his expression.

  “Right. Okay.” Matt pocketed his keys. “I’ll be back in a while.”

  Colin nodded. A moment later, Matt was gone, and it was just the two of them in the shop. Daniel wasn’t sure what to make of that exchange, but it didn’t seem like any of his business, so he let it go.

  He cleared his throat. “So do you do your right arm and someone else does your left?”

  Colin shook his head. “I’m ambidextrous. I did have someone else do this one”—he gestured with his chin at his upper left arm—“because I liked his work.�
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  “Wow, you’re ambidextrous?”

  “With tattooing, yes. Don’t ask me to use scissors or a can opener with my left hand, though.”

  Daniel snorted. “Don’t ask me to do anything with my left hand.”

  Colin arched an eyebrow. “Nothing?”

  “No, I . . .” The innuendo finally caught up with him, and his cheeks burned as he laughed. “Fine, maybe a few things.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Colin chuckled. “Okay, okay. Seriously, being ambidextrous is nice because it means I can work longer.” He dipped the needle in ink, twisted his arm a little, and continued on the shading. “If my left hand gets tired, I can switch to my right. So basically, I can tattoo for as long as a client’s skin can handle it.”

  “How often does your client tap out before your hand does?”

  Colin laughed without looking up from the tattoo. “Depends on what they’re getting and where. The absolute max I can do without a break is maybe six hours, and that’s switching hands every hour or so. I haven’t had many clients who last more than four.”

  Daniel shuddered. “And I thought an hour and a half was a lot.”

  “It is for a pec tat. But for a sleeve, it’s not so bad.”

  “What about a back piece?”

  Colin’s hesitation spoke volumes. He looked up from his own tattoo. “It’s not going to be fun. I won’t pretend it will be. But you did well with the one you already have. You’ll be fine.”

  Daniel gulped. “Guess we’ll have to see.”

  * * *

  A half an hour or so after Daniel had arrived, Colin was done. He cleaned and wrapped his fresh tattoo, then sanitized his work area.

  “All right,” he said finally. “Let’s have a look at your design.”

  Daniel’s heart sped up. “Can’t wait.” Over the past two weeks, Colin had shown him a variety of preparatory sketches so they could settle on a style. Everything from anime to watercolor. Black-and-white. Color. Finally, a few days ago, Daniel had made up his mind. The sketch—Athena and Thor—had been so photo-realistic, it’d nearly blown his mind. The entire design would be black and gray with some minimal color here and there to bring out the details, and if Daniel wanted full color later, they could figure that out down the road.

  Now that they’d agreed on the style and tone, Colin had gone to work on the full piece, and if Daniel had to wait one more minute to see it, he was going to go crazy.

  Colin pulled a rolled-up drawing out from under the counter. He slid off the rubber band and unrolled the sheet on the counter.

  Instantly, Daniel’s throat tightened. “Whoa. This is . . .” He stared at it. It was all he could do not to run his fingers over the lines, but they were pencil and ink, so he didn’t want to smear it. “This is amazing.”

  Wasn’t it just. It was like a small poster–sized collection of Marvel Comics characters, though with a much more realistic style, and the main players of both pantheons came together seamlessly. The more he stared at the image, the more subtleties came out. Apollo wore a breastplate with symbols relating to Horus. Athena’s owl was eyeing Odin’s raven as it flew past. And how Colin had managed to make Zeus and Thor look like they belonged together, or worked a hint of Set into Loki, he had no idea, but it was incredible. All of it. It was . . .

  “This is perfect.” He breathed. As he looked over every line and curve, his eyes stung a little. Which definitely came out of left field. This tattoo meant more than he could put into words, but he hadn’t expected the sight of it to make him this emotional.

  “So, you like it?” Colin asked.

  “Oh my God, yes.” Daniel turned to him, grinning. “I’m not exaggerating—it’s perfect.”

  Colin smiled. “That’s what I was hoping for.” His smile fell slightly, though. “There is, um, one small drawback.”

  “Which is?”

  “It’s probably not going to take fifteen hours.”

  Daniel groaned. “How long are we talking about?”

  “Twenty-five or more. Easily.”

  Daniel nearly choked. “Holy shit.”

  Colin put up a hand. “I mean, I can take the detail down a notch if . . .”

  “No. No, I like it just like it is.” Daniel swallowed. “But we can spread it out over time, right?”

  “Oh yeah. Yeah. Absolutely. We’ll have to because your skin needs to heal in between, and my hands can only do so much.”

  “And my wallet . . .”

  “Don’t sweat about the money. We’ll work something out. It’s mostly a matter of what you can physically handle.” He scanned over the drawing. “Basically, I’ll block out an entire afternoon, and we’ll just see what your threshold is.”

  Daniel tried not to shudder. “How long do you think that’ll be?”

  Colin shrugged. “Most people tap out around three and a half or four hours.”

  “Okay.” Daniel shifted his attention to the drawing. “But how do you break it up? Do I just have chunks of unfinished tattoo for a while?”

  “Kind of, but I drew it in a way that I can do it in pieces and not have it look terrible in between.” He leaned over the drawing like they were a couple of generals forming a battle plan, and Daniel tried not to think about how Colin’s shirt was pulling up just slightly. “It’s designed to be one big finished piece, obviously, but it’s also kind of . . . modular, I guess.”

  Daniel leaned over the drawing, too, focusing like hell on the lines and shadows and not the man whose body he was getting to know as intimately as his own. Especially not when those slim fingers would be on his skin. Not that he’d notice when the tattoo needle was touching him, but . . .

  Who was he kidding? He’d noticed before, and they hadn’t even fucked yet then.

  “What do you think?” Colin prodded gently.

  “Uh . . .” Hoping Colin couldn’t hear his inner thoughts, Daniel focused intently on the drawing and tilted his head. “Modular? How so?”

  “Basically, it means I can finish it in sections.” Colin pointed at the lower right corner, where Zeus and Thor rose up from a set of storm clouds. “I can do this part. Finish it. Shade it. And if you don’t want to continue, you’re good to go. But as you come back, I can keep adding more”—he pointed at the other gods, goddesses, and symbols—“until the entire piece is finished.” He looked at Daniel. “I can also outline one section. Then at your next appointment, we’ll shade that section and do the outline for the second part.”

  “Or just outline the whole thing, and then do the detail work at the next appointments?”

  “Well.” Colin pursed his lips. “That’s an option, but it means having a lot more skin covered in fresh ink. Which means instead of a small area that’s sore and itchy, it’s your entire back.”

  And having your hands on more of my skin during one session. Dear God.

  Daniel shivered and hoped it came across as a shudder from someone dreading that much pain and itching. “Maybe not.”

  “So, smaller sections. Which works because it give us the advantage of not waiting a month between appointments. While one section is healing, I can work on another one. As much as we can, I’d like to keep the appointments fairly consistent, and not spread it out over too much time, otherwise it might not fade evenly.”

  “Fade?”

  “Yeah, the ink will naturally fade over time, and if you’ve got tattoos that are years apart, it can be really obvious. The closer we can do them together, the better.”

  Daniel frowned, glancing at the drawing. “I’m not sure if I can afford to do them too close together, though.”

  “Like I said, we’ll work something out. Don’t worry about it.”

  Daniel fixed his gaze on the design for a long, quiet moment. Yeah, this was going to hurt. And yeah, it was going to get expensive. But it wasn’t like he had a lot of expenses right now. Just his truck, his phone, and a credit card he’d nearly paid off. And wouldn’t this be worth it when it was done?

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nbsp; He looked from one god’s face to the next, and . . . yes. It would be worth it. Ignoring how much Colin’s touch drove him wild, the tattoo itself would absolutely be worth the money and the pain. Those stories had kept him sane when his own life had threatened to drive him out of his mind. The way they were drawn here? Flawless. Cash was replaceable. Pain was temporary.

  Finally, he nodded and looked at Colin. “I like the idea of starting and finishing one section, then moving on to the next. Let’s do that.”

  “Okay. We will. When do you want to start?”

  “As soon as possible.” Daniel paused, clearing his throat. “So, uh, payday.”

  “I’ll put you on the calendar.” Colin grinned. “And then we can get out of here for the evening.” His playful wink underscored what he had in mind for after they left.

  Daniel grinned back, and he didn’t know what he was more excited about—his tattoo, or spending some time in Colin’s bed tonight.

  Either way, bring it on.

  * * *

  “Today’s the day.” Colin grinned at him as he came into the shop a week later. “You ready?”

  Daniel took a deep breath as he tucked his keys in his pocket. He was definitely nervous, but he smiled. “I’m ready.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Damn right he was. It had been a week since they’d agreed on the design, and he’d been coming unglued with anticipation.

  “Good. Before I make the stencil, though . . .” Colin laid out the drawing on the counter. “I’m thinking our best bet is to start at the bottom right of the design and work our way up.” He gestured at Zeus and Thor in the lower corner. “The whole image kind of moves in that direction, so it’ll work much better if we start at the ‘beginning’ and follow it.”