67. Kaden
Kaden
I don’t have any more bookings today. And there’re no drop-ins. Kit didn’t put the sign out this morning. But I haven’t left the studio since I finished my last customer.
I don’t trust him—Jude. And no, I don’t really have any reasons not to, he seems like an alright guy, or whatever. But I’ve stayed here, keeping an eye on him, and Seth, since he got here.
They’ve been talking non-stop. And laughing, and Jude can’t keep his eyes off Seth. He looks at him, roaming his eyes all over him, and smiles every time Seth looks back.
I don’t trust him. And Seth’s my best friend. I need to look out for him, is all.
When they’re done, and Seth’s cleaning the tattoo, Jude says something to him, and Seth’s hand pauses as he mumbles something before he glances my way.
I drop my gaze to the blank page in my sketchpad, and don’t look up again until the door closes behind Jude, and Seth goes back to his station, cleaning up.
I stretch my arms over my head, stand and walk over to him. Dropping down on my chair beside his, I watch him spray down every surface with disinfectant and wipe it off.
“Isn’t it hot?”
“What?” he mumbles, spraying the surface again, and wipes it clean.
I snort. “The scarf.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“So, take it off.”
He drops his shoulders, and turns towards me. He narrows his eyes a little, biting his bottom lip. “Did you do it on purpose?”
I raise my brows. “What? Why would I do that?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says, scratching his eyebrow, before he turns around again. Picking up the ink caps and throwing them in the bin. I lick my bottom lip, turning my phone over in my hand.
“So, how’s Jude?”
“Good,” he nods. “He asked me out.”
I push my tongue to my cheek, and that awkward feeling comes back. The one I got when Jude asked for Seth’s number.
Because I don’t trust him.
I don’t even know what he does for a living, he could be an axe murderer for all I know. Or a psychopath. Probably a psychopath, what with the way he’s been acting around Seth lately. Seth’s funny, but he’s not that fucking funny. You don’t need to grin like an asshole whenever you look at him.
“So,” I say as I scratch my nose, clearing my throat. “What did you say?”
He shrugs, and at first, I don’t think he’ll answer me, and why the fuck isn’t he answering? Isn’t that something you tell your best friend? Like, heads up, you might find me dead in an alley in a couple of weeks ‘cause I’m going on a date with a serial killer. Call my parents.
I slide my chair forward, and turn it around to face him, raising my brows at him. He looks up at me and then drops his eyes to the table again. So, I pull his chair closer to mine, and he drops his head back and finally looks at me.
“What do you even know about him?”
“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “Hence the fucking date.” He goes back to look at the table again.
“So, you are going on a date with him?”
He turns towards me, brows drawn low. “No, I’m not. But I told him I’d like us to be friends.”
I scoff. “Okay?” I shrug. “Why?”
“What do you mean why?” he asks, turning back around again. “‘Cause he seems like a great guy?”
“Okay, but why would he wanna be friends with someone who’s like fifteen years younger?” I shake my head, frowning.
“He’s thirty-two.”
“Oh, is he now?” I nod, leaning back and cross my arms.
Seth turns to me again, frowning. “What are you doing?” He shakes his head, shrugging.
And I don’t know how to answer that question without sounding like an asshole. But maybe I want Seth for myself. He’s my best friend for fucks sake. And also, the potential murderer thing.
I drag a hand down my face, sighing. “Nothing. You’re right. You should be friends with him.” I nod. And then I lean forward, pointing at him. “But fuck you if you trade me for him. I’m your best friend, Seth.” So fucking petty. I’m a sad excuse for a human.
He snorts, shaking his head. “He’s not taking your place. He’s too friendly, I could never—”
I smack his shoulder and he laughs.
“You watch it, or else I might give you another one of those.” I nod to his neck.
He presses his lips together, biting back a smile. I pull down the scarf, running a finger over the hickey, and goosebumps appear on his skin. And maybe I don’t hate seeing it there. The hickey. I think it suits him. And I don’t know why.
“Looks a little uneven, you know. Might need to balance it out.”
He shakes his head. “Asshole.”
I went home after work. Threw a couple of punches on the punching bag in the basement before I took a shower and went back to Seth’s.
When I walk through the door, Seth’s hidden halfway inside the closet in the hallway, ass in the air. There’re clothes scattered everywhere. I knew he had a lot of clothes, but the sheer number of garments laying around shocks me. But it’s the box labeled Anal toys that catches my eye.
Interesting. Might have to check that one out later.
“What are you doing?”
“I was… fucking… fucking… ‘cause… packed shit!” is all I hear.
“What?”
He peeks his head out, scowling. His cheeks are a little flushed, and his hair mussed up. It’s starting to get longer, his hair. I don’t think he’s cutting as short as he used to. I think it suits him.
“I said, I was trying to find my fucking ski-pants, but I can’t find a fucking thing in here, ‘cause it’s fucking packed with shit!” he snaps.
I cross my arms, lean against the wall, biting back a laugh.
“Mm-hm,” I nod. Thinking about telling him to clear out some shit, but I know better.
“Shut up!”
I snort. “I didn’t say anything?”
“I’m not clearing out my clothes.”
“I wasn’t gonna say that.”
“Yeah, you were, you big dick!” He stands, and that’s when I clock his pants. Black tight jeans. They fit him like a fucking glove.
I think it’s the same pair that he wore that day, when he basically freaked out when I got here. I push myself off the wall, grab his arm and turn him around. Yep! Those are the ones. His ass looks fucking amazing in these. He should wear them more often.
Or maybe not, because they make my hands itch with how badly I want to take them off him. Fuck, I know what that ass feels like. Under my hands, and with my—
“Kaden?”
I whip my head up. “Huh?”
“I said, what are you doing?” He shakes his head, a small frown between his brows.
“Nothing. I was just—” I turn him around again, biting my lip as I palm his ass.
Squeezing his cheeks, and take a step forward.
I rest my chin on his shoulder, and fuck!
He’s wearing that face cream thing again.
My dick immediately perks up. I press my nose to his neck, inhaling deeply, and squeeze his ass again.
“Fuck, Seth,” I mumble. “You’re killing me. Do you know how fucking hot you look in these jeans?”
“Oh, I forgot I was wearing them,” he says, voice low before he turns around, wrapping his arms around my neck. “Do you really mean that?”
“Are you serious? Have you seen this ass?” I snort, squeezing his cheeks again. He lets out a small chuckle, before he leans forwards and kisses me. Slowly, more grazing his open mouth over mine, kissing the corner of my lips, and smiles while pushing his hands through my hair.
When we pull back, he looks at me with that lopsided smile that makes his dimple appear. I press my thumb to it, and there’s a stupid grin on my face that I don’t really recognize. Like a stupid cartoon character. I don’t know.
“So, what are we doing tonight?” I ask as he goes back to deal with the clothes situation.
“I was gonna watch a movie.”
“You were gonna watch a movie?” I raise my brows.
“Yeah?”
“Wow, you really hate me.”
He turns around, chuckling. “I thought you were jamming tonight.”
“Yeah, no. Ollie got caught up in something, so we canceled.”
It’s become a routine that we get together and jam once a week. And yeah, I’ve got Seth to thank for that. I probably wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t for him pushing me. But I’m glad he did. I’ve finally started to feel like myself again.
“Well, then…” He squints at me. “You wanna watch my favorite movie?”
“The Hobbit?”
He shakes his head. “I have another one.”
So that’s how I find myself later that night curled up on Seth’s couch, basically bawling my eyes out when the circus people sing about being brave and bruised, glorious and whatever. It’s a great fucking movie. I love Hugh Jackman—Wolverine was my favorite when I was a kid.
I glance at Seth, who’s smiling from ear to ear.
“Did you like it?” he asks, eyes gleaming.
I squint at him. “Not cool, man. Not cool.”
“What?” He laughs.
“Who gatekeeps like this?” I smack his arm. “This is your favorite movie, and you’ve waited six years to show it to me? That’s fucked up.”
“I didn’t know what you’d think of it,” he shrugs.
That’s a lie. He didn’t know what I’d think of him, if I knew a musical is his favorite movie. And I fucking hate that. That he thinks I’d think less of him if I’d known.
Sometimes it hits me, what he told me about high school, and the bullying. And I get this rage fit, like I want to hit something. And sometimes, I go home and down to the basement and punch the bag down there so hard, my knuckles go all red and sore.
“So, that box out there,” I say, nodding at the hallway. “What’s in it?”
“What box?”
“The anal toys box.” I cock a brow.
“Oh,” he says, glancing down, scratching his eyebrow. “Uh, not anal toys?” He makes it sound like a question, and I don’t know if he’s shy about it—he shouldn’t be. I’m curious as hell. But something set him on edge all of a sudden.
“So, what’s in it?”
He bites hit bottom lip. “Remember I told you I’ve got a box full of clothes? Like, these pants and… Stuff?”
“Yeah?” I press my tongue to my cheek. He raises his eyebrows, glancing towards the hallway.
“Can I see them?”
“The clothes?” he clarifies with a frown.
“Yeah? Or whatever else’s in the box.”
He scratches his eyebrow again. Like he’s debating with himself. Then he takes a deep breath. “Okay.”
He gets up to get it, putting it on the floor in the living room and hesitates a second before opening it up. It’s not even half full. Like, two pairs of pants, some tops, and a photo album or something. He takes the album, putting it behind him. So, that’s off limit, I guess.
“They’re old. I don’t know why I’ve kept them really,” he says, shaking his head. “They probably don’t even fit anymore, and I don’t—”
“So, try them on.”
“What?” He glances up at me from the floor where he’s crouching over the box.
“You should try them on. See if they still fit.”
“I don’t know. It’s not really my style anymore.” He shrugs. But then he picks up a top, or a hoodie of some sort.
“Try that one,” I say, nodding at it.
He bites his bottom lip, dragging his fingers across his forehead. “Okay, but… Like, don’t laugh at me, or some shit.”
I drop my shoulders. “Don’t even say that shit to me.”
“I need to grab shoes too, or it’ll look stupid,” he says, taking the hoodie and walking towards his bedroom.
When he comes back out, his jeans are tucked into a pair of Dr Marten boots, and he’s wearing the hoodie.
But it’s not a regular one—this one’s open in the front and cropped.
And he’s a fucking liar, because he’s got abs.
I know he does—I’ve seen them before. They’re not super protruding but they’re there.
And then his slim waist and gutters all covered in fucking sun-kissed skin.
I just stare at him, jaw slack, mouth gaping. He looks all self-conscious, and shy and I don’t get it because he’s hot as fucking hell. Those clothes were fucking tailormade for him.
“You used to wear that?”
He shrugs. “Sometimes.”
I clasp a hand over my mouth, dragging it down. “Fuck! That’s really hot, Seth.”
He frowns. “You think so?”
I raise my brows. “You kidding? I’m sporting a semi.”
“Fucking liar,” he says shaking his head and snickering.
“You wanna feel?”
He looks down at himself, and then up at me through his lashes, and that lopsided smile across his face, and my heart does something crazy, like it skips a beat or beats a little harder or something.
I rub a fist across my chest as he picks up another shirt from the box, holding it up in front of him.
It’s some kind of see-through thing. Mesh maybe.
It’s black, short-sleeved and cropped, too.
“Try it!” I say, leaning back on the couch, watching him pull the hoodie off and put the top on. It hugs his shoulders, and chest, and I can see his nipples through the fabric, and yeah, that makes my dick take notice, too.
I clench my fist, moving it up to my mouth and drag my eyes all over him.
And maybe he can see it all over my face, that I’m barely holding it together because he bites back a smile and with a little more confidence, he pulls out another shirt from the box.
Mesh again, but this one is sleeve-less and the hem reaches down to the waist of his jeans, and it has a hood that he pulls up over his hair.
Look, I love black clothes. That’s my MO, but Seth in black?
In tight, black clothes? With his nipples right fucking there and his ass, and legs, and arms, and mouth…
I’m obsessed. I can’t decide if I should whip out my dick and jerk off to the sight of him, or if I want to rip the clothes off him, and have my way with him, so I just stare.
“Can’t believe they still fit,” Seth says, fidgeting with the hem.
I just nod. And then I get up and walk over to him. Running a hand over his chest.
“You look like a model,” I mumble.
“Get outta here,” he laughs, shaking his head and his cheeks blushes a little.
“Yeah, no, but you do.” My eyes are darting all over him, taking everything in and my throat is a little dry when I swallow. “I like your usual style, but this?”
“What about it?” he asks, voice low.
What about it? Everything. I really, really like how they mold to his body. How you can see his every shape and form. I love how the fabric hugs his arms, pecs, waist, ass, thighs… Everything. It’s sexy and hot and it just… Looks right. Like he was meant to dress like this.
He shouldn’t hide this spectacular body in baggy clothes, but I’ve never told anyone how to dress before and I won’t start now, so, I lock my eyes with him, and tell him the only right thing.
“You look incredible.”