Savior:A Tattered Club Story(16)

He snickered. When had he ever had a weak bottom?

“Now, Ethan. Stop pussying out. Get your shirt off.”

Where in the hell was the tattoo going on his skin? God, this could end badly. Shame wasn’t the only reason he hated taking his shirt off in front of someone. The embarrassment kicked him in the gut every time. He didn’t know which was worse, the fact that people really didn’t care or they were shocked and disgusted. The guys he’d been with considered the cuts a hiccup in the end result. They just wanted his ass.

He didn’t want to tarnish Niko’s opinion. Why? He had no idea, but somehow it was important.

“Listen, Niko, please...can we put it on my arm or something? Maybe my calf?”

Niko grabbed the loose T-shirt and tugged. Before Ethan could get ahold of the soft material, the shirt popped off his head. Niko’s expression was serious as he pressed his hand against the healed scars on Ethan’s stomach.

“Turn to the side.” That was it? That was all he had to say? The pink slashes on his abs had healed months ago, but the scars were embedded in his brain and standing naked in front of someone who had already judged him made him want to run the hell out of the room and never come back. Screw the tattoo.

Ethan hugged his torso and turned. “Lift your arms,” Niko said as he spun his chair and slipped a piece of parchment paper from the table. “I’m putting it on your side.” His warm fingertips sent a ripple across Ethan’s ribs. For looking like someone you wouldn’t want to meet in an alley, Niko’s touch was light, almost gentle.

Guess that’s why he had a steady hand for this craft. Ethan studied the wall, not sure where to look—anywhere but down at the crown of soft, dark hair below. For a moment, Ethan pretended to run his fingers through the tasseled strands, clutching them tight as he pulled back to kiss those firm, full lips.

“Ethan, try to not poke my eye with that monster. I need my sight to put this ink on you.”

Damn, the bulge in his pants was twice the size it was before. “S—Sorry. I’m um... I’m just—”

“Turned on,” Niko casually wiped something slick on Ethan’s side. “A lot of guys get hard when I do this. Don’t worry. I won’t punch your lights out. I knew you were gay the moment you stepped in wearing those skinny jeans. You’re too pretty to be—”

Silent. The big bad wolf went silent.

“Too pretty to be what?” Ethan poked the wolf. “If I’m too pretty”—he peered down waiting for Niko to look up, but he never did—“then you’re too tough. Right?”

“Put your arms at your sides. Relax your shoulders.”

“Okay, do I get to see it in the mirror before you get started?”

“Lie down on the table.” He rolled the chair to the metal stand. “No.”

Ethan’s nerves screamed. What if he was putting a laughing skull on his side or some gnarly tree? Obviously, he didn’t mind hardcore tattoos, but Ethan wasn’t that kind of guy. He was more of a colors and koi fish kind of guy.

Ethan lay down on his back. Willing the tent in his shorts to go down was useless. Every time Niko moved the cuff of his T-shirt tightened. God, he loved a man with strong forearms. “This looks perfect. Put your arms up and relax. Keep breathing. The pain is worse in the beginning. If you need a break, let me know.”

Fear pieced through Ethan’s brain and while, yes, he desperately wanted the tattoo, he was terrified for Niko to get started. “Don’t…don’t let me pass out, okay? I’m nervous.”

The way Niko’s lips tipped into a grin didn’t help the hard-on rocking in his underwear. “Breathe.”

Ethan nodded and turned to stare at silver metal tiles on the ceiling. The flashes from the overhead light spread across the embossed design. So beautiful. The mattress was so comfortable, he almost forgot he was about to get poked a million times with a sharp needle. He thought of the razor. Would this feel the same?

His eyes drifted closed. “Mmm...” A warm hand caressed the sensitive skin above the waistband of his pants.

“I’m gonna need you to...” Niko’s voice barely hummed as a callused fingertip rubbed back and forth. Slowly, tempting. Ethan felt the tip of his cock pulse. “You have to...” The tender strokes slid up...up until the rough tip of his finger skimmed over one of the long raised strips on Ethan’s stomach.

Panic tripped through Ethan as chest levitated and crashed. “Please don’t.”

The warmth seeping through his torso drew away. “Roll onto your side. Unzip your shorts. I need the top of your hip.”