19. Merrick
Merrick
The last person Merrick expected to walk into Ink and Ember was Wilder, but there he was, dressed for work with a wild kind of look in his eye that made Merrick wish they were anywhere besides his place of employment.
He sat Wilder down in the chair and set up his station, ignoring the way his fingers weren’t as steady as he needed them to be.
“I left work early today,” Wilder offered without being asked. “Went and had lunch with some friends of mine who are eager to meet you.”
“Oh?”
It had never occurred to him that Wilder would have friends. It made sense, of course. Everyone had friends, not counting himself, who pretty much only had Bryce, but Merrick understood why that had been his experience.
“I’ve known them a long time. They’ve never…I’ve never talked about anyone the way I talk about you, apparently.”
“Apparently,” Merrick repeated, glancing up beneath the fan of his lashes. His sketchbook was open, and he’d been flipping through to find the piece he wanted to put on Wilder.
Merrick realized that, save for the music playing overhead, the shop had gone completely quiet.
He looked away from Wilder to find Holden staring at him, tattoo machine in one hand, other still stretching his client’s skin.
On the other side of the room, Riggs watched him too, green soap and paper towel raised in midair like he was frozen in time.
“What?” Merrick asked.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Holden asked.
“Why would I introduce you to a client?”
“He’s not a client,” Holden countered.
Merrick narrowed his eyes, his expression completely counter to the happiness that sparked to life in his chest. “This is the most you’ve talked all day. Is my brother rubbing off on you?”
Holden gave him the finger, but didn’t go back to work.
“This is Wilder,” he said, loud enough for Holden and Riggs to both hear, and then a little quieter, “my boyfriend.”
They’d talked about being committed to each other and they were definitely in a relationship, but it was the first time Merrick had used the word for Wilder, let alone in front of Wilder—or anyone else for that matter.
He steeled himself for some commentary from Holden, but thankfully the old version of his personality took over.
Holden raised a brow, then returned to work.
The sound of his tattoo machine drowned out Merrick’s nerves just enough to suck him back into the moment.
“I take it you’ve never brought a boy home before?” Wilder teased.
“No, I’ve…” He huffed out a breath. “Let me go make this into a stencil. I’ll be right back.”
Merrick grabbed his notebook and jumped up from his station, heading to the small prep room in the back of the shop.
He had just cut the stencil out and confirmed the size against his own wrist when Riggs stepped into the room, leaning casually against the doorway like he wasn’t as big as a refrigerator.
“Boyfriend?” Riggs asked.
“Yeah,” he said, and then Merrick launched into a watered-down story of how they met—at a bar—and a summary of their relationship to date.
Riggs watched him while he spoke, eyes sparkling the longer Merrick went on.
Eventually, he stopped himself short of confessing Wilder was the reason Merrick had come into work asking Riggs if he knew any leads about galleries that might want to host a show.
“Happy is a good look on you,” Riggs said when he finished. “And on Holden.”
“And you,” Merrick added.
Riggs nodded and went back to work.
Merrick finished cleaning up his scraps and returned to his station. Wilder was in the chair still, phone in hand. He looked up when Wilder returned, a slow smile spreading across his face. He set his phone down on his thigh.
“What’s the verdict?” Wilder asked.
Merrick patted the covered armrest between his chair and Wilder’s, and Wilder obediently put the inside of his wrist on display.
“Do you want to see it first?”
“No.”
“What if I’m tattooing a jackalope eating a watermelon on you?” Merrick asked.
“Are you?”
He shook his head.
“Then we’re good,” Wilder said.
Merrick took Wilder at his word, applying the stencil exactly where he wanted it on the first try. Wilder watched him the whole time, eyes locked on Merrick’s face. He could feel the weight of Wilder’s curious stare every time he moved.
“Do you want to check it?”
“What did I tell you?”
Merrick picked up his tattoo machine. “Alright, then. Ready?”
“Very.”
Neither of them spoke after that, Merrick focused on the tattoo and Wilder focused on Merrick. He didn’t think Wilder even looked down at his work once, and that was some level of trust Merrick didn’t think possible.
It took him no time to get through the linework and then he did some soft black shading before rinsing the needle and going in with dark orange.
He nitpicked the coloring more than he would have on a client he didn’t know, but for what this tattoo represented, it had to be perfect.
After a quick pass with some white highlights, Merrick set down his machine and wiped Wilder’s wrist clean.
“What do you think?” he asked.
Wilder finally looked down and it was Merrick’s turn then to watch him, and he was glad he did. Seeing the emotions wash across Wilder’s face as seamlessly as Merrick had washed the color gradient of a perfect sunset across Wilder’s wrist was something he’d remember for the rest of his life.
“Merrick.”
“I was fighting with that sunset when I met you, and then once I knew you, it all made sense. It seemed like a fitting tattoo. I hope you like it.”
“I love it,” Wilder said simply. “I love you.”
“I love you.” Merrick gave another wet wipe to Wilder’s wrist. “Let me get you bandaged up.”
He laid a strip of Saniderm down on Wilder’s wrist, pressing the edges down to make sure it properly adhered, but also letting his fingers linger over the delicate lines and to the pink to orange shading of the sky.
“Are you sure you like it?” he asked again.
“Don’t start with me again or I’ll make you regret it,” Wilder warned.
Holden’s tattoo machine went quiet, but Merrick didn’t dare look across the shop at his brother’s boyfriend. Merrick waited until Holden went back to work, scratching the corner of his eye as he nodded his understanding.
“Do you want me to tell you how to heal this?”
“You can talk me through it when you need to.”
“I need you to stop being so hot at my work,” he muttered under his breath, sliding his stool back.
“Walk me back to my car?”
“Of course.”
The air outside was a warm blast against Merrick’s face, and it did nothing to calm the excitement of unexpectedly tattooing Wilder. They walked around the corner and as soon as they were out of sight of the shop, Wilder shoved him against a wall and notched his leg between Merrick’s thighs.
“I need you,” Wilder breathed the plea against Merrick’s neck. “How can I have you right now?”
Relief rolled over him, because for a while he thought he was the only one who’d been on the verge of arousal over the tattoo, but Wilder’s pressing want for him proved that was anything but true.
“Back seat,” Merrick managed to say. “Do you have lube?”
“No.”
“I’ll suck you.”
Wilder cursed under his breath and yanked Merrick away from the wall.
The next thing he knew they were both in the back seat of Wilder’s car and Wilder’s fly was undone, his leather belt pulled open.
He pulled his cock out and dragged it across Merrick’s mouth, leaving a trail of salty precum across his lips and chin.
Wilder smacked his hands out of the way and pinned them together at the small of Merrick’s back, hips lifting off the seat.
Wilder did not go easy on him, pushing his cock right into the back of Merrick’s throat on the first thrust. Without his hands, Merrick couldn’t stop himself from sinking all the way down into Wilder’s lap, and he choked and sputtered around Wilder’s dick.
Merrick’s cock throbbed against his leg, leaking and desperate for its own attention.
“Everything you do is perfect,” Wilder whispered, the words almost lost behind the wet, slurping sounds of Merrick’s mouth.
This blow job was rushed and impersonal.
It was just like their first night together when Wilder had walked into that room and took Merrick’s cock like he’d been born to do it.
There was a sense of urgency between them, but also understanding. And tears streamed from the corners of Merrick’s eyes while Wilder used his mouth to chase after his own pleasure. This was what they both wanted, what Merrick needed.
“Your hands, your cock, this mouth.” Wilder held Merrick’s head down and pushed against his face with shallow thrusts. “This throat.”
Merrick’s muscles constricted around the head of Wilder’s cock and Wilder came so deep that Merrick almost didn’t taste it.
“Swallow it,” Wilder warned. “Every drop or I’ll take it out on you later.”
Merrick wasn’t sure if he loved or hated the idea of letting Wilder down in that moment, his ass still sore from his most recent punishment.
Widler must have sensed his hesitation because he brushed his fingers across the back of Merrick’s head and said, “I’ll make it worth your while anyway. You’ve been so good and you deserve it, right?”
“Sir.”
Wilder pulled him upright, swiping his thumb across the corner of Merrick’s mouth and pushing it back past his teeth so Merrick could lick an errant drop of cum from his skin.
“You didn’t come in your pants, did you?” Wilder asked.
“Close.”
“Save it for me.”
Merrick’s eyes rolled back a little and his hips spasmed, thrusting toward friction Wilder was absolutely going to deny him.
“Save it for me,” Wilder said again. “I’ll go home and put a plug in. Come over after work and fuck me. Come inside of me.”
“Sir.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “If you don’t stop talking like that, I’m going to come right now.”
Wilder reached down and grabbed Merrick’s aching cock, squeezing to the point of pain, which did nothing to squash Merrick’s arousal. “Don’t.”
Merrick gritted his teeth and blew out a long, shuddering breath.
“Yes, Sir.”
“When you go back to work, they’re all going to know.” Wilder took Merrick’s face in his hands, brushed his thumbs beneath Merrick’s wet lashes. “They’re all going to know I used you to get off and left you unsatisfied.”
A sharp flare of embarrassment burned at the base of his spine, and he hated that he liked it.
Hated that he would get off so hard later knowing he’d been denied now…
that everyone else would be able to read his need on his face.
Wilder leaned in and softly pressed their mouths together, smiling against Merrick’s swollen lips.
“Put my cock away,” he whispered.
And he kept kissing Merrick while he did it, stroking their tongues together, clashing their teeth until Merrick had managed to fight Wilder’s still half-erect and sticky cock back into his pants.
“Are you going to use the same plug as before?”
“Maybe. Maybe a bigger one so my hole gapes for your cock as soon as you get home. Maybe I’ll leave you lube by the front door so you can be wet and ready for me.” Wilder groped him again, groaning when Merrick’s breathing stuttered and hitched. “I have a secret to tell you.”
“Anything.”
“I’m just as desperate as you,” Wilder whispered. “I need you just as much, maybe more.”
“Wilder.” Merrick hated the way tears stung his eyes whenever Wilder was kind to him.
“So much.”
Wilder kissed him hard again, then shoved him against the door.
“I love my tattoo,” Wilder said. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
He had no idea how he was going to go back to work, drunk on Wilder, and get through his three pm appointment without messing it up.
“Go,” Wilder murmured. “Before I end up making you late.”
Merrick didn’t want to go, but he didn’t want to disobey.
He forced himself out of the car, adjusting himself while Wilder watched.
He hadn’t even had time to process the fact he’d given Wilder—his boyfriend, his Dom—a tattoo.
And not just any tattoo, one Wilder hadn’t even wanted to see first. He trusted Merrick so completely, Merrick didn’t think Wilder had ever even looked at his wrist once.
“Can I tell you why I picked that for the tattoo?” he asked.
“After work,” Wilder promised.
“Okay,” he agreed. “After work.”