Back Piece

by L. A. Witt

  “How do most guys take it?”

  “The part about me working in porn?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Eh.” Colin kept working on the tattoo, searing fresh lines onto previously untouched skin. “It really depends on the guy. The most common response is wanting to see the videos.”

  “Do you show them to people?”

  “Not if I can help it.” He sighed. “It’s not that I’m ashamed of them or anything. I’m honestly not. But it’s . . . The thing is, I’m not that old, but I’m not in my twenties anymore, so looking at the younger me makes me kind of . . .”

  “Self-conscious?”

  “Yep. I used to let boyfriends watch them.” He paused. “Let. Not like I can tell them not to. But I’d actually show them to guys who wanted to see them.”

  “Why’d you stop?”

  “It made things weird. Like with one of my exes, if I just wanted a quickie, he’d say things like, ‘Bet you’d be game for more if I threw five hundred dollars at you.’”

  “Whoa. Really?”

  “Yep. I’m totally secure in my past as a sex worker, but I’m not going to date someone who treats me like his own personal whore.”

  Daniel turned his head a bit. “You don’t . . . what we’re doing, it doesn’t make you feel like that, does it?”

  The needle abruptly stilled. “Why would it?”

  “I . . .” Daniel chewed his lip.

  Colin wheeled his chair around so they could face each other fully. “Even if we were just having sex, and all I was doing was helping you figure out what you like and don’t like, I still wouldn’t feel like a whore.”

  “Really?”

  “No. Because you’ve never once treated me like one.”

  Even if we were just having sex . . .

  Were?

  Daniel’s heart beat faster. Wasn’t that what they were still doing? Of course Colin was his tattoo artist. And they’d spent a few evenings sprawled on the couch watching movies. And they texted constantly. But was that really what Colin meant?

  He shifted in his seat. “I don’t really know what we’re doing. This is all totally new. But . . . I’ve never thought of you as a whore. Just for the record.”

  “I know.” Colin didn’t touch him with his hands—they were gloved and covered with ink—but his kiss more than made up for it. “For what it’s worth, I don’t really know what we’re doing, either.” He pressed another soft kiss to Daniel’s lips. “Just that I’m totally okay with that if you are.”

  “Absolutely,” Daniel whispered without hesitation.

  “Good.” Colin held eye contact for a second, then dropped his gaze and cleared his throat. “Anyway. I should keep working on this before your endorphins crash.”

  “Right. Yeah. Good idea.”

  Colin disappeared behind him, and the needle started buzzing again. The first touch burned like hell, driving a grunt out of Daniel, but gradually, he got used to it again.

  And even over the needle, he kept hearing Colin’s words over and over again:

  Even if we were just having sex . . .

  So what were they doing?

  Chapter 21

  Colin hated routines. As far as he was concerned, being in a routine was a step away from being in a rut, and that meant monotony and boredom. No, thank you.

  Fortunately, the two things that were fairly regular in his life—his job and his workouts—also varied pretty dramatically from day to day. There was no telling what he’d be tattooing on someone, or what kind of huge, elaborate design he’d be sketching out. Amanda was forever changing things up. Just when she’d start getting predictable, he’d walk in and see that evil grin, and that would signal that she was about to unleash some new form of torture on him.

  And the same went for Daniel.

  On the surface, they were getting into a routine. Their days were peppered with texts to keep them amused until they saw each other. Which they did frequently—if they weren’t meeting up to fool around or watch movies, Daniel was coming in for some more ink or they were crossing paths at the gym.

  Before their workouts, they’d exchange a few grins and at least a kiss or two before going with their respective trainers. Another kiss before they left. Then Daniel would show up around the time Colin was closing the shop, and before long, they’d be in Colin’s bed. Fuck. Cuddle. Talk. Sleep. See you tonight for more of the same. Or they’d both be tired, so they’d hang out on the couch and watch TV until they were either nodding off or turning each other on. Then it was off to bed. Maybe fuck. Cuddle. Talk. Sleep.

  But nothing about this felt like more of the same.

  Tonight, as he did most nights, Colin was lying alongside Daniel, a rumpled sheet over the top of them and the rest of the covers kicked off the end of the bed. Daniel’s clothes were folded neatly on top of Colin’s dresser. He had a drawer of his own now. A toothbrush and a razor in the bathroom. Everything pointed toward this becoming a routine, but it didn’t feel that way. It felt normal, but nowhere near boring or monotonous.

  Lying like this with Daniel in a room that still smelled like sex, Colin felt better than he had in way too long. Nothing about Daniel made him nervous. He didn’t have to hide anything from him—not the porn career, not the asshole ex, not the aftermath of that ex. With Daniel, he could breathe.

  Daniel was probably still enjoying the novelty of being in bed with someone, but Colin was getting hooked on this part as much as the sex. He’d been sleeping alone for far too long. Before that, he’d spent too much of his adult life sharing his bed with jackasses he should’ve dumped much, much sooner.

  “Man.” Daniel pushed himself up onto his elbow and rubbed his eyes. “I’m gonna fall asleep if I keep laying like that.”

  “Oh, the horror.” Colin clasped his hands over his heart. “A naked sailor, asleep in my bed.”

  Daniel laughed, but he shifted his gaze away, and Colin noticed for the first time the tension hiding in his expression. Just a hint of tightness in his lips and his brow.

  “Hey.” Colin put a hand on Daniel’s leg. “Something on your mind?”

  Daniel’s eyes flicked toward him again. Slowly, he sat up. “I, uh . . .” He sat up. “Can I ask you about something kind of personal?”

  Colin sat up. “Yeah, sure.”

  “I guess I’m just curious.” Daniel searched his eyes. “About your . . . past career.”

  “Oh.” Colin’s guard started going up, but he tried not to let it show. “What about it?”

  “Well . . . here’s the thing. You know the environment I was raised in. How all gays are going to hell, and any kind of sexual deviant is a horrible degenerate.”

  Colin nodded.

  “And I guess I’m curious to hear, right from the horse’s mouth, how it affected you.”

  “What? Being a porn star?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s a complicated question,” he said. “I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re wondering. Sometimes I regret things that happened while I worked there. And there were some . . . horrible things in my life that never would have happened.”

  Daniel straightened. “Like what?”

  Colin hesitated. This wasn’t a vein he particularly liked to open. But he trusted Daniel, and Daniel was trusting him to be honest.

  “Well.” He cleared his throat. “Most people who know about my past think that every problem in my life stems from being in porn. Or I went into porn because of problems in my life. Like clearly my dad abused me or I was molested or . . .” He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. And then actually being in porn meant I was either raping people or they were raping me.”

  “Doesn’t that happen in the porn industry, though?”

  “Unfortunately. There’s human trafficking, underage talent . . .” He shook his head. “It can and does happen. Absolutely. But I never saw it firsthand. Everyone I worked with was an adult who was there of their own free will. I can’t speak for anyone else, but that j
ob didn’t damage me like everyone is so convinced it must have.” He paused, exhaling. “To be perfectly blunt, the only reason my porn career turned into a nightmare was because of the horrible relationship I was in during the last eighteen months of it.” He chewed his lip, and his stomach knotted as the topic became unavoidable. “Most of the guys I dated were great, but that last one . . .”

  Daniel watched him silently for a long moment. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m curious, but if you don’t want to talk about it, we can do this another time.”

  Oh, that was tempting. So tempting. But Colin swallowed hard and steeled himself. “I never even want to think about that asshole, but the fact is, he affected my life. And my relationships. So it kind of seems like it’s only fair for you to know what you’re up against.”

  “Okay.” Daniel nodded. “It’s your call.”

  “Better to get it out in the open sooner than later.” Colin rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. “So, my ex. He . . . well, he was an asshole. Just the most controlling, oppressive human being I’ve ever encountered. But he always turned things around so they were my fault.”

  “Oh, that kind of person.” Daniel growled with the conviction of someone who’d been there, done that.

  “You know the type?”

  “Yep. Coworker dated one. He worked her over for two years before he finally cheated on her, blamed her, and left.” Under his breath, he grumbled, “Dick.”

  Colin shuddered. “Yeah. That type of guy. So this one . . . He was a director. We met during one of my films, and we started dating. He wanted to direct me again, which was fine. But then he started getting upset if I worked for anyone else. He wanted to direct all of my scenes. Whenever I’d try to work with someone else, he’d start telling me how that person had tried to sabotage his career, and how they’d eventually turn around and stab me in the back. Eventually, it was what an asshole I was for wanting to work with someone who’d tried to fuck him up, so I’d avoid some of these guys just to keep my boyfriend happy.”

  “That sounds exhausting.”

  “It was. And it . . .” Colin shifted uncomfortably. How far down this rabbit hole did he want to go tonight? “A few months into our relationship, our sales weren’t so hot. The Internet was killing us, and there were some new companies popping up, plus he was burning so many bridges that it was hard to get good distribution. But he decided it was my fault.”

  “Your fault? How?”

  “I was letting myself go.” Nausea crept up the back of Colin’s throat as that all-too-familiar self-loathing turned his stomach to lead. He was light years away from believing the things his ex had told him, but his body still responded to his ex’s words like he was standing right here. His therapist had described the feelings as the pain from a gangrenous phantom limb—long since amputated, but sometimes he could still feel it, like it was very much attached.

  Eyes down, he squirmed inside his crawling skin. “Every time I so much as reached for a fork, he’d give me shit. That’s why I struggle so hard with eating now. I mean, when you’re already having issues with your body and with food, and then you spend a year or so being poisoned like that, it kind of kills the ability to enjoy eating.”

  “Whoa.” Daniel breathed. “I can’t imagine.”

  You don’t want to.

  “So that’s where the eating disorder came from?”

  “Sort of. Looking back, the signs were there when I was a teenager, and by the time I was a model, I was starting to binge and purge, starve myself, you name it. Like . . . the disorder was there, but I was functional.”

  “And he changed that?”

  “Yeah. I was already obsessed with my body, but he made me hate it.” Colin sighed. “And the worst part is, the damage is done. It really isn’t ever going to go away completely.” He forced himself to look in Daniel’s eyes. “It could, but there’s always a chance of a relapse. I’m a total fucking basket case when it comes to my body. I’m not even going to lie. The minute I start getting anxious or depressed, I get obsessed with what I eat and how much I work out.” Colin swallowed. “How I look.”

  Daniel held his gaze, but didn’t speak.

  Colin moistened his parched lips. “Most of the time, I can eat. And I can work out without fucking myself up. But when I’m in a bad spot, I’ll eat just enough to work out without passing out, and then I’ll run and lift and run and lift until I pass out anyway.”

  “Jesus.”

  “My trainer kicks my ass to keep me fit, but she also watches me like a hawk. I have to keep a food journal so she knows I’m eating decently, and if I go to the gym to blow off steam, she’ll show up and read me the riot act.”

  “Wait, you can’t work out to blow off steam? That’s . . . a bad thing?”

  “For most people, it’s not. But once I start, I won’t stop until I collapse. It’s less blowing off steam and more punishing myself.”

  Daniel turned his head. “Punishing yourself? For what?”

  “For whatever my inner demons have decided I did to fuck up my life at a given moment,” Colin muttered. “And if I get to that point, I’ll hurt myself, usually badly enough that I can’t work out for weeks, which just sends me spiraling down even faster.” He laughed bitterly. “For some people, working out is perfectly healthy. For me, it’s a drug. I just have to keep it on the drug I take to stay healthy side and not the drug I’ll use until I kill myself side.”

  “Whoa.” Daniel shifted a little. “I never thought about working out as something that could be unhealthy.”

  “Everything in moderation.” Colin sighed. “In fact, even now, my trainer and my therapist would prefer it if I lost the six-pack.”

  Daniel blinked. “They want you to lose the six-pack?”

  “Yeah. You have to keep your body fat seriously low to maintain one. And mine’s already lower than they’d both like to see. But they’re not pushing me too hard because this also seems to be my sweet spot. It’s what I can maintain without going into a downward spiral. So they’re trying to keep me where I am, at least for a while, but in the future, we might look at putting some weight on.” He shuddered.

  “I didn’t even know that was a thing, to be honest,” Daniel said. “You always hear about women with eating disorders, but not men.”

  “It’s more common than people might think. And a lot of us turn into gym junkies, so people just assume we’re vain and self-obsessed instead of, you know, mentally ill.” The last two words made him cringe. Even after all this time, he still hated admitting that’s what he was.

  And somehow, Daniel was still here, looking at him and listening without a hint of judgment on his face. Curiosity, maybe. He asked questions, but as near as Colin could tell, he just wanted to understand.

  Colin took a deep breath. “What blows people’s minds is that the eating disorder and my tattoos are kind of related in a weird way. They’re about control. When I started getting tattoos . . .” He chewed his lip.

  Daniel put a hand on his arm, but said nothing.

  “Here’s the thing—I didn’t have any ink when I did porn. After I left my ex and the industry, I was in bad shape. I needed to get everything back under control. My life, and also my body. So I went to my friend—the one I eventually apprenticed for—to get a tattoo. Which turned into more tattoos. It wasn’t just because I like body art. It was a way of . . . I guess kind of marking my territory. Taking back that control. Same reason I was starving myself and killing myself at the gym. All because of my goddamned ex.” Colin shook his head, and didn’t even try to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “All those people who say it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? They obviously have no idea how much loving and losing can damage somebody.”

  “Damn,” Daniel whispered. “But . . . you seem to be in a good space now. How did you come back from all that?”

  “I hit rock bottom. Collapsed at the gym. Wound up in the hospital. The doctors basically told
me I was on an express train to multiple organ failure, and if I didn’t turn shit around, I was going to die.”

  Daniel swallowed. “Talk about a wake-up call.”

  “Yeah. So I moved here to Virginia to live with my brother, and he helped me get back on track. Found Amanda, who’s a trainer and a nutritionist. Started the shop.” He chewed his lip. “Don’t let this fool you, though. I’m in a good space right now. But . . .” He hesitated, stomach churning as fresh shame and self-loathing crept to the surface. With some effort, he met Daniel’s gaze again. “I’m not kidding when I tell you this isn’t something that’s going to go away. Ever. It might get better, but it’ll always be there. If you can’t handle it, I’ll totally understand because it’s a nightmare for me, too. But it’s a package deal—me and this fucked-up eating disorder.”

  His heart thudded against his ribs. There were guys before Daniel who’d made it past his porn résumé only to tap out after seeing this side of him, so he’d learned not to get his hopes up that it wouldn’t scare people away.

  Daniel touched his face. “You really think I’m going to bail because of something like this?”

  “You wouldn’t be the first. I—”

  Daniel pressed his lips to his.

  Colin tensed at first. Slowly, though, like Daniel had the very first time he’d kissed him, he relaxed. He wrapped an arm around him, and released a long breath through his nose as the soft, gentle kiss lingered.

  After a moment, Daniel met his gaze. “You haven’t given me crap for being a virgin and for being a grown man who’s scared shitless about what my parents might think of me being gay.” He ran the pad of his thumb along Colin’s cheekbone. “Why the hell would I give you crap for what some asshole did to you?”

  “Because I set myself up for it by being a porn star.” Acid burned in the back of his throat. “You strip, you deserve to get groped. You do porn, you deserve to be treated like the trash you are.”

  “Trash?” Daniel stared at him. “I think you’re the farthest from trash I’ve ever met in my life.”