Chapter 8 #2
“That’s…nice.” Scott slumped. He pointed at a chair in the corner. “You can watch from there without the treatment if you want.”
Thomas glanced at the chair, then the bed Scott was going to lie on. “I think I’d rather be at the head end…”
“My arsehole is feeling a little self-conscious right now.”
Zara stepped into the room. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Scott, everything off, face down on the bed.”
Scott didn’t hesitate to start undressing.
“And Thomas,” Zara said. “If you’d like to do the same, except your boxers can stay on.”
Scott hung his hoodie up on the peg by the wall. “Thomas is good, actually,” he said. “He’s only here to see me hiss in pain. He finds my agony more relaxing than a massage.”
Zara snorted. “Are you sure about that?”
When Scott turned around, Thomas was down to his boxers and lying face down on the massage bed.
He snorted, strolling over. “Now you’re making me look bad.”
“I’ll get Thomas set up first,” Zara said. “Then we’ll sort out your self-conscious little arsehole…”
“Little?” Thomas questioned. “With the action he’s seen?”
Scott groaned. “You’re the biggest dick I know.”
“Perfect for a little arsehole.” Zara sighed.
Zara ripped off the waxing sheet, Scott hissed and gripped the bed, and a slow, low chuckle leaked from Thomas’s lips.
Scott eased out a breath, glancing at Thomas on the next bed. The hot stones were along Thomas’s spine, relaxing his muscles so by the time Zara was done torturing Scott’s crack, he’d be ready for his massage.
Thomas sighed. “You’re right, Scott, this was a great idea. I haven’t laughed this much in months.”
“Sadist,” Scott muttered.
Thomas grinned. He had his head turned towards Scott to get a good view of his pained expression.
“I’ve never seen you looking more like a snake,” Scott told him.
And it was true, Thomas looked content, basking beneath the heat of the rocks.
“Last one,” Zara promised.
Thomas leaned up, and one of the rocks slipped from his back onto the bed. “You missed a spot,” he said. “I think he needs at least two more strips, three to be certain.”
“Ha fucking ha – owww!” Scott gritted his teeth.
Thomas chuckled again and lowered himself back to the bed.
“If you’ve got an erection over there,” Scott warned with venom, “I’ll take two of those rocks and smash them on your dick.”
Zara pinched him.
“What the hell was that for?”
“For threatening one of my customers.”
Scott narrowed his eyes at Thomas.
“I’m bringing Jade in to do your brows and lashes while I massage Thomas,” Zara said, moving to the sink to wash her hands.
Scott rolled over until he was on his back.
Zara shook her head. “You can get dressed…”
“Oh right.”
Scott put his clothes back on except his hoodie. Zara left the room to fetch Jade.
“Are you sore?” Thomas asked.
Scott clenched his arsehole, testing. “No, I’m good.”
“Shame.”
“You’re horrible to me, you know that?”
Thomas’s lips spread into a big, relaxed smile. “I would’ve offered to rub cream on you when we got home if you were.”
The door opened before Scott could a) ask Thomas if he was serious and b) question him using the words we and home in the same sentence.
Zara led Jade into the room. They were both frowning and exchanged a puzzled look.
“Now, where were we…”
Jade, Zara’s twenty-year-old daughter, glanced at Thomas, then looked at Scott, horrified. Her mouth popped open, and her big brown eyes shimmered as she approached.
“What the hell happened to your lashes?”
Scott tilted his head towards Thomas. “This idiot threw glue at them.”
Thomas bristled. “You wanted me to.”
“I wanted you to throw something like glue, not actual glue.”
Zara removed the rocks and began oiling up Thomas’s back.
“I…I regret nothing.” Thomas sighed in bliss.
“Bastard,” Scott muttered.
“Language,” Zara warned. “Jade pinch him –”
“Wha – ow!”
Thomas chuckled again, slow, and deep, and Scott fought the smile attempting to break out on his face.
Jade fixed Scott’s eyelashes, and his brows, and thanks to Zara, he had a super smooth back, crack and sack.
Thomas left the salon in a happy daze, sighing contentedly every so often. Scott was beyond pleased with that and kept sliding his eyes to Thomas and relishing in the warm glow it gave him.
“Russell,” Thomas hissed, freezing.
His wide eyes were on the tattoo and piercing shop across the road. Scott frowned, and sure enough, he could see Russell’s green mullet. When Russell turned, the sun reflected off the piercings in his cheeks and nose. There were two other guys with him, both pierced.
“Let’s go say hi,” Scott suggested.
Thomas scoffed. “That’s a terrible idea.”
Scott smiled, glancing up at Thomas.
Thomas didn’t look back at him; he was too busy staring.
“He’s going to notice soon,” Scott said. “Either we go over and say hi, or we keep walking.”
Thomas didn’t appear to have heard, and when Scott tried to get him moving, it felt like Thomas had concreted his feet into the pavement. Russell predictably turned and saw them through the window.
Scott sighed. “We only have one option now…”
He linked his arm with Thomas’s and dragged him across the street.
“Scott…”
“Trust me,” he whispered before throwing on a dazzling smile. “Act like you’re into me.”
“What?” Thomas hissed, trying to pull away.
Scott styled it out by pretending to trip on the kerb. “You’re really into me. That’s the brief, now help me sell it.”
He pulled a reluctant Thomas into the shop and smiled at Russell and his two friends.
They didn’t smile back.
“Which one?” Scott asked, pointing at the examples of tattoos covering the walls. He shot Thomas a flirty wink. “And where do you want me to get it?”
Thomas looked as if he wanted to strangle Scott there and then.
“Hey, pretty boy.”
It wasn’t Russell who spoke but his friend with the red mohawk and biker jacket. His ears were more metal than flesh, and one of the piercings in his lobe appeared to be weeping yellow fluid.
Scott turned to him. “Glad you noticed.”
“I think you took a wrong turn; the beauty salon is across the street.”
The three of them exchanged smirks and nudges.
“Oh, I know,” Scott replied, fluttering his lashes. “We just came out of there. My crack is now ready to be used as a slip and slide.”
All three men grimaced.
“Zara is an expert on waxing,” Scott said. “She’ll be able to sort your monobrow out in no time.”
“Monobrow,” Mohawk replied, slapping a hand up to cover his forehead.
“That’s the least of your problems. Your ear appears to be infected.”
“You’re infected.”
Again, it wasn’t Russell who had spoken. It was the other man, shorter, skinnier, with piercings down his nose. He wore demonic red contact lenses and wrinkled his nose at Scott like he was the shit he’d stepped in – because there definitely was an odour in the air to suggest he might’ve done.
“Yes,” Scott agreed. “Infected with love for this guy.”
He squeezed Thomas’s arm.
Thomas gave him nothing back.
Scott carried on regardless. “And what better way to express my love than a tattoo?”
He dragged Thomas over to the books of designs on the table and started flipping through.
Thomas remained as stiff as a board, but he was breathing harder, and faster from his nostrils, like he inched towards detonation.
Scott knew he didn’t have long until Thomas bolted, and he needed to wrap things up quickly.
“There really are so many to choose from,” Scott murmured, flicking through the twenty pages of skulls. “Shall we go home, find a design online?”
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Thomas said through his teeth.
Scott slammed the book shut and turned around.
Russell blocked the door. “Tell you what, pretty boy, you pick a design today and I’ll pay for it.”
“That’s kind of you, but –”
“I knew it.” Russell laughed. He sucked in his cheeks, and his piercings scraped against his teeth. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle a little pain.”
“Pain?” Scott replied. “I just had my arsehole waxed…”
Russell’s glare softened when he looked at Thomas. “What the hell are you doing hanging around with someone like that?”
“Like that?” Scott spat.
“Yes,” Russell replied. “Like that.”
“Wow.” He looked at Thomas, then whispered, “This is where you defend my honour.”
“Scott is…Scott.” Thomas said.
Scott raised his eyebrows. “Consider me defended.”
“Come on, pretty boy, one teeny-tiny tattoo,” Mohawk mocked. “Prove you’re not a total pussy.”
“I really think your ear is infected.”
“He is a total pussy.” Russell laughed. “You can tell just by looking at him.”
Thomas opened his mouth to reply, but fearing he might agree, Scott jumped in.
“Fine.”
Russell frowned. “Fine?”
“Yep.”
He stepped up to the counter and tapped the bell.
Thomas crowded into him, murmuring in his ear, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Wait until we’re alone later, you dirty dog,” Scott replied, lightly slapping Thomas’s arm.
“What?”
Scott slipped his phone out from his pocket and tapped out a message.
A man appeared at the counter, nodding his respect at Thomas’s full facial tattoo before looking at Scott with a frown.
The man had a tattoo across his cheek in typewriter font that read ‘too tough to cry’, which Scott didn’t agree with in the slightest.
Only psychopaths were too tough to cry.
He sniffed. “Are you wearing perfume?”
“I am,” Scott said, then gestured behind him. “And you’ll soon wish they all were because one of them – maybe all of them – has stepped in something that came out of a dog.”
The tattooist’s nostrils flared. “My elderly poodle is under this counter…”
“Oh.” Scott blinked. “The smell is coming from her. I’m sorr –”
“Does he need to use the bathroom or something?” the tattooist asked Thomas.
Scott narrowed his eyes. “I’m not a pet or a child.”
The tattooist looked back at Scott. “What do you want then?”
“A tattoo.”
Scott slid his phone onto the counter and darted his eyes down to it.
Say you’re busy, and I’ll have to come back another time. Thank you.
The tattooist read the message, then lifted his narrowed eyes. “Sure. I can fit you in right now.”
“Really?” Scott’s eyebrows twitched. “You’re looking kind of busy.”
“I had a cancellation. What is it you’re after?”
Scott shot a panicked look at Thomas and blurted, “A snake.”
“Okay, we’ve got plenty of options for a snake,” the tattooist replied, reaching beneath the counter and grabbing a book of designs. “And where do you want this ink?”
“His ribs,” Russell called. “A nice big tatt on his ribs.”
“Scott…” Thomas murmured.
“Ribs.” Scott nodded. He pointed to the outline of a cobra with its mouth open and fangs out. “This one.”
“Let’s go straight through to the back room then,” the tattooist said, lifting the hinged part of the counter.
Scott strolled through with Thomas hot on his heels.
“Enough,” Thomas hissed.
“Later,” Scott replied with a flirty wink.
“For Christ’s sake, Scott.”
“I’m looking for the ideal time to back out,” Scott whispered to him.
“It was ten minutes ago when we were outside on the street,” Thomas hissed.
“Hoodie and T-shirt off, then on the bed,” the tattooist ordered.
Scott gripped the bottom of his hoodie and T-shirt and pulled them off in one fluid motion.
“Scott…” Thomas said.
Scott nodded, but when he turned, he saw that Russell and his friends had followed them into the back room.
“On the bed,” the tattooist said again.
Scott swallowed and lay down. Thomas shook his head.
“Does it hurt?” Scott asked.
“Yes,” Thomas replied. “Especially on the ribs.”
Scott eased out a slow breath. “Did you at least like the design?”
“No.”
“I’m going to clean the area,” the tattooist explained. “Stencil the design on, then I’ll get the tattoo gun and needle ink into your skin, how does that sound?”
Russell sniggered by the door.
“Sounds great,” Scott replied. He curled his hands to hide the fact they were trembling. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering how his plan had backfired so spectacularly.
“Enough,” Thomas growled. He pulled Scott off the bed and held him close. Scott gasped at being pressed up against him. Scott didn’t argue. The sniggering stopped. The tattooist backed off, eyeing Thomas warily because Thomas vibrated with rage.
“Touch him, with so much as a cleaning wipe, and we’re going to have problems.”
“He wanted it,” the tattooist whispered.
“Well, I’m goddamn stopping it.”
Thomas grabbed Scott’s hoodie and his T-shirt, draped them over his shoulder, then took Scott by the wrist.
“Get out of my way,” he hissed to Russell and his friends.
Russell frowned, sliding his gaze from Thomas to Scott. He stepped aside. Scott registered his look of intrigue.
Thomas dragged Scott out of the shop and up the road until they were back at the car park. He spun Scott around and pushed him bodily against the passenger door.
“What the fuck was that?”
“I went a bit rogue, I’ll admit –”
“Rogue? You humiliated yourself, and me.”
Scott shook his head. “That’s not what I was trying to do –”
“Well, it’s what happened.” Thomas took a step back. “Would you really have gone through with that?”
“I knew you’d swoop in to save me eventually, that’s what I was waiting for, but you sure did take your time.”
Thomas squinted, shaking his head. It was rare that Scott ever saw Thomas truly angry. Even when he’d eaten his last Twix out of desperation during a lockdown, Thomas hadn’t looked at him like that, like he was disappointed and disgusted with him all at once.
“He’ll text you,” Scott whispered. He swallowed, avoiding Thomas’s gaze.
“What?”
Scott yanked his hoodie from Thomas’s shoulder. “The guy you like, Russell. He’ll text you.”
“He’s not going to speak to me again after that.”
“He will…”
“Whatever,” Thomas murmured. “Let’s go back to the house.”
No longer home, but house.
Scott nodded glumly.
“I was right…” Thomas mumbled.
“Right?”
“I was right not to contact you after we left Brixton.” He strolled around the car to get in the driver’s side.
Scott blinked at the unexpected sting in his eyes. The floodgate he prided himself on, the one that kept a hold of how he really felt, took a hit, allowing a small amount of emotion to leak out. One inside the car, he stared at the passenger window to stop Thomas from seeing.