Chapter 21
PD
The walls of the break room at the Ink Well were covered in artwork, but today, instead of being soothing and interesting, it was all trash I wanted to throw out.
I’d been in a shitty mood since I’d left the hospital with a healing, stitched-up wound, plates and screws nestled against my femur—thanks to a fracture from one of the bullets they’d dug out.
Not to mention, an annoying, stiff brace.
At least it wasn’t a cast, I guess. My leg hurt basically all the time unless it was propped up on pillows.
For extra fun, I’d hit the point in recovery where my doctor was sending me to physical therapy.
I got why Will had bitched about it so much.
It hurt like hell.
I rested my forearm across my face and breathed. The heavy-duty pain pills were off the table while I was at work because I didn’t trust that I would do a good job with the tattoo gun while swimming on opioids. Ink was forever.
Soft lips brushed mine, and I hummed, dropping my arm to stare into Will’s deep brown eyes.
He set down a mug of cappuccino sludge he’d made using the packets I kept here.
Grunting, I sat up, then hissed as Will grabbed my fucked leg below the knee and helped me put it on a chair.
The pain was a constant annoyance, but Will never really complained about his, so I refused to do it.
He sat down next to me at the table with a knowing amusement sparkling in his eyes. It wasn’t that he was happy I was injured, it was simply that this was the most giant fucking How Do You Like It? to ever exist anywhere. It wasn’t lost on either of us.
Will tapped my mug. “These drinks are so bad.”
Huffing, I blew across the top of the drink, then sipped the too-sweet liquid that didn’t mask the bitterness of tragically terrible instant coffee. “Maybe I love bad things.”
He smirked and waggled his dark eyebrows. “You must. Bad boys. Bad coffee.”
Groaning, I crossed my arms over my face and tilted my head back, which helped a little with the kink that had developed in my neck while I’d been bent over tattooing a frog smoking from a bong onto the back of a seventy-year-old man. He’d talked nonstop about how this was on his bucket list.
He’d almost gone on my fuck-it list because the talking had grated on every last nerve I had.
Maybe the headache pounding behind my eyes was his fault, maybe it was from lack of caffeine. I’d never know for sure.
Will tickled the underside of my bicep, and I raised my arms just enough to give him a halfhearted glare.
“You promised you would only stay for four hours. It’s been six. Time to pack up.” He grinned, the fucker.
“This is your revenge.”
He slid a palm along my arm, and I let my hands fall into my lap.
“Nah. If this was revenge, it would be a lot bloodier.”
I rubbed my face. “We’ve been so busy. If I hang out, I could probably take another walk-in today. Faye has been working twelve-hour days for weeks. She’s saving up to go to some music festival, but she can only work this way for so long.”
“She’s fine. And if she isn’t, you could get someone else in here for a while. You know people who would kill for a spot.” He tugged on the brim of my bowler hat.
I rolled my eyes.
“We’re going home.”
“Fine.” I stood, which had me scowling at my right leg.
At least I could shower now. For the first two weeks after the hospital, I’d been stuck with sponge baths, and my dick hadn’t even cared about Will touching it.
Thank fuck, over the last week that problem had started going away, probably because I was avoiding the pain meds.
Will carefully handed me my crutches. I wasn’t supposed to avoid putting weight on my leg, in fact, I was supposed to use it as much as I could stand to do it, but it fucking sucked. I breathed heavily through my nose as I started toward the front of the shop.
“Don’t you want your cappa-whatsit?” Will asked, gesturing at my abandoned mug.
“Nah. It’s bad.” I shrugged, but it made my crutches wobble.
He snorted out a laugh that made all this a little better. “Why do you keep the packets here?”
“They’re easy.”
Will ran a hand along my back, then pressed a kiss to my neck in a sneak attack that had my cock sending me an urgent memo that it hadn’t been played with in way too long.
“So, you like bad and easy?” he asked.
I pecked him on the lips. “You know it.”
He glanced down my front and cleared his throat. “Let’s get home so you can see how easy I am.”
“Are you serious?” My breath caught. He’d been helping me a lot, which couldn’t be doing his ribs any favors. He only shot me an are you dumb or what look, so I hobbled toward the front of the tattoo parlor as fast as I could with his laughter chasing me.
Idling at the curb outside was KC’s orange Jeep Recon, which was big enough for everyone to fit in and then some. He hopped out and opened the door for me.
“Hey, buddy. How did you get suckered into this?” I asked, hop-shuffling forward.
He frowned as I maneuvered slowly into the Jeep, then lifted in my right leg. The pain wasn’t as bad as I’d worried it might be. He was tense, probably because he could’ve lifted me into the seat ten times faster than I’d moved, and he had the muscles from football to make it easy.
“Well, it was Barber’s turn to pick you up,” he said.
“Funny, you don’t look like Barber,” Will growled out. He got into the back. KC jogged around to the driver’s side and jumped in while we shut our doors and buckled.
The sun glinted in KC’s red hair as he popped on his sunglasses. “You know how Barber is. He means well, but—”
“There’s always a but with him.” I shook my head.
“I don’t have practice this afternoon, and I’m here.” He gave us a pleading smile. “Let him slide?”
“Did he pay you for this?” I asked.
He pulled the Jeep out into traffic. “Noooo.”
“You tell him I said he owes you a hundred bucks, and if he doesn’t pay up, I’ll tell King, and who knows how much it will be then.”
He snorted and gave me a mock salute. “Should I hope he pays or not?”
“Spoken like a future King. You should prospect.” Will leaned forward to smack KC’s shoulder.
I laughed while KC grimaced. We all knew his dad, Quain, would murder us before that ever happened.
“How’s football going?” Will asked.
I tuned out their small talk. As much as I’d been prepared to stick out a full day at the tattoo parlor, I was mentally worn down.
Once we reached my house, KC was there, ready to help me inside, but I forced myself to walk my ass in, then collapsed on the couch.
Will was right behind me and closed the door.
I wanted to get up, do something, work on my bike—anything—but my ass was welded to the couch.
It was so frustrating.
“I’ll order food for dinner,” Will said, stealing my hat as he walked past, then dropped onto the armchair. He flung my hat on the coffee table.
My head fell back against the couch and might as well have weighed as much as a bowling ball. “I’m sorry I got so mad at you for being pissed off all the time. I’ve barely had a taste of what you went through, and I’m fucking over it.”
“Good.” Will smirked at me.
“Good? Good!?” I poked his leg with my crutch.
“Yeah, good, asshole.”
I grunted. “Why aren’t you telling me to man up?”
Will kicked my crutch away. “I love you, so I’m here.” He came over and sat beside me, and I scrunched down until I could rest my head on his shoulder.
“Want me to order food?”
“No.” I yawned and closed my eyes.
I had no idea how much time had passed, but I felt groggy when I opened my eyes. The shadows were longer in the room. Will was playing a game on his phone with one arm looped around me. Butterflies had a mosh pit in my stomach. He’d stayed with me.
A hiss snuck out of me as I shifted. My leg hurt, sure, but the bigger problem was the hard-on, which was getting strangled by my jeans and throbbing in time with my heartbeat.
“What were you dreaming about?” Will’s voice was smoky from disuse, and when I glanced at him, he was fixated on the same problem that had ninety-eight percent of my attention. He had the rest.
“You.”
He tossed aside his phone, and I almost passed out from joy when he firmly gripped my cock through my jeans and squeezed. “Maybe you should stretch out on our bed?”
The hunger in his eyes had me nodding. He teased me with his rough fingers until I batted his hand away and struggled to my feet. Collecting my crutches took about three seconds longer than an eternity.
“Get naked.” I started toward our room at the end of the hall—it used to just be mine, but Will slept with me now. I didn’t know what I would do if he ever decided to go back to his. Hopefully, I would never find out.
“Why should I follow orders?” I could hear the mischief in his tone as he hustled ahead of me, already pulling off his T-shirt as he disappeared into our room.
“Because you want to get fucked,” I called.
I half expected my dick to take a vacation on this journey, since it hurt to walk, but it was still alive and kicking, probably because I was practically salivating at the mental image of getting my hands on Will’s naked body.
It had been too long.
When I made it into the room, I almost fell over.
Will was spread out on the bed, his furred thighs parted and his cock standing at attention as I got closer.
I struggled out of my shirt, but when I could see again, Will was scraping his teeth over his bottom lip as he lightly teased his cockhead with his thumb and forefinger.
My cock assured me if it got any harder in my jeans, it would snap right off, so I tossed down my crutches, popped my fly, and pulled it out—then was left with a real dilemma.
I whined, and a sexy, low laugh from Will filled the air.
“Between my leg and this stupid brace and your ribs, how the hell do we get my cock in your ass?”
Will stroked his shaft, and I leaned forward and grabbed his thigh, doing my best to reel him in.