Chapter 33 #2
I need more time to catch up on sleep after driving two thirds of a continent.
If you count both ways.
But this is no ordinary client.
Time to pull out all the stops.
We have the entire studio to ourselves.
But I want to make Marco feel as comfortable as I can.
Velvet couch instead of a chair.
Lights dimmed.
Candles lit along the shelves.
Folding screens arranged in a curve to create a more intimate vibe.
Sparkling grape juice on ice.
Champagne flutes nearby.
Are the roses too much?
Shuffling through the songs on my laptop, I hand-pick a playlist of his favourites.
Bluetooth speakers connected.
Tools sterilised.
Table laid out the way I like it.
And butterflies in my stomach, just like the first time we met.
It was right here in this room.
Ten minutes to one.
I circle the room slowly.
Have I remembered everything?
Lamp. Towels. Ink caps.
Needles. Gloves. Wipes.
Skin balm for aftercare.
Mr Adams, you’ve morphed me into a checklist diva, I smile.
My pocket vibrates.
It’s a message from Dad.
Dinner at seven?
I send a quick reply.
Sounds good xx
Marco arrives a few minutes early.
I switch everything to airplane mode.
As a VIP, he shall receive nothing less than my full undivided attention.
Opening the door, I discover an enormous bird's nest on the back seat of his car.
“For the dragon eggs,” he explains.
He reaches underneath.
“It glows?”
My nephews are gonna go wild over this.
“Thought it might add a little magic. I should give my prop hire guys a raise.”
“I’m so impressed, baby. You're a natural at this uncle thing.”
◆◆◆
His smile fades as we pass through reception.
The formality of the waiver can be intimidating.
But he signs willingly.
“You’ve done this before, right?” he jokes anxiously.
“Once or twice,” I tease.
“Where do you want me?”
Anywhere. Everywhere. As often as possible, I answer silently.
“Over here in the chair?” he suggests.
“Chairs are for peasants,” I muse, reaching out a hand. “Close your eyes.”
Leading him around the corner, we walk toward the couch.
“Now open.”
My utmost desire is to be the cause of this man's smile.
And in this moment, I am.
Candlelight reflects in his eyes.
“Amos…” is all he can say.
I have to admit, I’ve outdone myself.
Standing behind him, I loosen the collar of his shirt.
“Do you woo every client this way?”
I kiss below his ear.
“Only you.”
Releasing the cuff around his wrist, I slide my hand inside the sleeve.
Fingers graze the skin from palm to elbow.
Up and down.
A feather light kiss on his lips.
Then two more.
Marco uncurls a green silk tie from his pocket.
He loops it around his neck to form a knot.
The same one he wore the first time we dared cross the line.
He’s making his intentions clear.
Green light.
Consent given.
◆◆◆
A hand grips me by the belt.
Leaning back against the brick, I relinquish control just for one moment.
That hunger is a look I know all too well.
Guess I’m willing to make the sacrifice.
Anything to help my client relax.
“Lay on the couch,” I whisper.
He lowers himself onto the pillows.
“Nervous?”
“A little.” His breath hitches. “A lot.”
“Don't be… I’ve got you,” I soothe. “Pleasure before pain.”
Reaching for the zipper, I ease his nerves with a helping hand.
A mouth fuck to take the edge off.
“Let me devour you,” I say.
And I do.
Every inch, all the way down.
My tongue is greedy.
Without a doubt, I will never get enough of him.
That swollen cock collides with the back of my throat.
Then the soft wetness of my cheek.
“Gold star customer service,” he gasps breathlessly.
I slide a finger inside him.
Nice and steady, caressing the spot that always drives my baby feral.
He grips my hair every time a wave hits.
Damn that river boy moan.
I live for it.
Sometimes on my lunch break, I still listen to that ‘couch orgasm’ video he sent. Headphones in, of course.
His hand seeks mine as I please him.
He utters a euphoric whimper, trying to arch his hips.
But I won’t let him.
“I’m not gonna last. I’m edging so bad.”
“Then let go for me, baby. Give me something to swallow.”
“Ohh… ohhh fuck…”
My beautiful angel.
Soon I feel that warm salty sensation on my tongue.
I love the way he tastes.
Resting my head on his stomach, I raise his hand to my cheek.
“Better?”
“Better.”
“That’s not usually part of the service,” I grin.
◆◆◆
Shuffling closer on the couch, I lay his arm across my thigh.
And… fuck, that’s gonna be a distraction.
His glossy half erect penis, delectable as ever.
Pants pulled down around his hips like that.
I spread a towel over him.
“Am I making you blush, Mr Vale?”
Shyness gets the better of me.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I say.
Gloving up with a stretch and a snap, I guide his hand toward a padded side table.
Wiping the inside of his wrist with antiseptic, I pause.
“Ready?”
He leans his head against my shoulder, bracing for the sting.
“I'll just do the first line, bub. So you can see how it feels.”
His inhale is steady.
He gives a quiet nod.
And in that stillness, I begin.
The needle comes to life, penetrating with a low hum.
Ink enters skin like a memory, artist and lover huddled in close proximity.
Faded stars revive beneath my fingertips, mapping themselves in a gentle curve.
Slow, deliberate lines darken as they set into place.
His hand loosens its grip as he yields to the searing heat.
This galaxy has always been part of Marco, just waiting for me to make it visible.
His story unfolds on skin, an echo of that precious night.
Love was declared beneath this sky.
Our love.
I offer a tender kiss whenever he grips the velvet.
Marco’s body presses hot against my side, seeking refuge from more than just the ache.
“Need a breather?” I ask.
“I'm okay,” he says.
“Promised you I'd be gentle.”
“I know,” he confesses. “I'm just wincing so I can get a kiss.”
Cheeky boy.
“Almost done,” I laugh.
“Take it slow,” he says. “Let me savour this moment with you.”
◆◆◆
Every minute of closeness with him makes me want more.
A faint halo of pink rims each line, sensitive to the touch.
He admires my handiwork with a look of wonder in his eyes.
“Like?”
“Love.”
I place my needle on the tray.
“Hold still for me…”
A cooling balm eases the heat, fingers moving in slow circles.
Clear film stretches over his arm, sealing the design beneath.
Then I lay my wrist next to his, inking a twin cosmos of my own. A sprinkling of stars between the memories that have shaped me.
When I’m done, we curl against the pillows.
Two heartbeats in tandem.
He tousles my hair in his fingers.
“Now my starry night and your ink are with us both, wherever we go.”
I kiss him gently on the mouth.
“Always.”
“And you know this won't be my last.”
“No?”
“May as well get another, now that I've crossed the line.”
“Brave boy.”
“Your body tells a story. And I have so many stories to tell.”
“Many more stories to live, too.”
“Side by side, I hope.”
“Side by side,” I promise.
And the words echo deep.
For this is a love more indelible than ink.
More eternal than the stars.
A love that has overcome the darkest night, the deepest fear.
Everything I want, everything I need, is here in my arms.
Only this.
Only him.