“Don’t touch?” He grinned and Dray pushed from around the counter, sabotaging his flirting. He tugged on his hoodie enough for the alpha to see the outline of his stomach.
“Eh. Let me do my work. You tip what you think is fair. You get what you get or nothing at all. If it says you get a pink balloon animal made of tied-up dicks, you get that, got it?” Dray stared him down, and the utter defeat in the alpha’s eyes made Dray almost feel bad for him.
“Yeah. Go for it. Nothing to lose.” He gestured toward Dray with the token, and he guided the male to deposit it, watching as he turned the knob and it spat out the capsule. He handed it to Dray, who cracked it open to find his own artwork on a stencil.
As far as Dray knew, he’d never put art in that machine, nor had anyone loaded or unloaded it since he’d started working there. Hell, Kirk, the boss, didn’t even know where his key went to. It was a running joke.
The piece in question was a sketch Dray had done of his shifted form, a black snake wound around black roses. “An indigo snake…”
The male stared at it and shuddered. “Rules are rules. I’ll be the first rattler to get an indigo on me, I guess.”
Still, Dray stared at it, heart thumping. The machine picked mates. And Dray shrugged as if it were nothing to have the Grim Reaper of American snakes on him. “Rattler, huh?”
“Yep. Tripp Wells.” He grinned, and Dray stood in place, heart clenching tight. Would this alpha be his mate, here only to find him pregnant with another alpha’s child? Would they part never to see each other again? Or would Dray lead him into the arms of another indigo?
“I drew this. An indigo snake. I’ve drawn a lot of them, seeing as I am one.” Dray dropped the morsel of knowledge and Tripp stared him down with a half grin, eyes wandering to his hands, as if they held particular interest. Something registered, and disappointment followed. “It’s meant to be a chest piece.”
“Scary.” He chuckled nervously and eyed the depiction again, the black snake, the roses, all the intricate details. The piece could easily take Dray six sessions, considering its size.
“Only if you want it to be. The scientific name of indigo snakes means the Lord of the Forest. In dreams, it symbolizes renewal, big change.” As Dray spoke, the alpha searched up something on his phone. “Emotional healing.”
“Oof. That hits home.” Tripp followed Dray as he led him back, wondering if he’d get his tip. Money was money. The dude could afford it, and if Dray had to get a little handsy with the alpha to get the cash—so be it.
“They say it means wisdom, too, but, hah.” Dray pulled paper over his bench from the roll atop it and gestured the alpha up. Unspoken, the male unbuttoned his shirt and removed the whole thing, setting it aside neatly.
He was lickable, every inch of him smooth and golden, hairless as snake alphas were. Dray wanted to do the tattoo while straddling his lap, but that wasn’t going to happen. Tripp huffed and crossed his arms over his chest to distract Dray. “Don’t give me that look.”
“What look?” He glanced up guiltily.
“Like you want to do things to me.” Tripp scooted up the table and frowned.
“And if I do?” He rolled his eyes and pulled out the stencil transfer and antiseptic cleaner to prepare his skin.
“Don’t you have an alpha waiting back home?” He gestured toward Dray’s belly, and the omega cringed.
“No, I don’t.” He didn’t expound, but that seemed to only invite more questions as Dray cleaned the male’s chest, giving perfunctory swipes of cleaner with a paper towel.
“He ran off?” The alpha’s guilty question made Dray flinch.
“You could say that. Went into heat at the wrong place, wrong time. Brought home a party souvenir.” Most shifters understood that. Omegas in heat had less control. “It hit me early, and I’d been drinking.”
Tripp had a complicated look on his face.
“Don’t you look at me like that!” Dray glared as he popped on a pair of black nitrile gloves. Why black? They looked cooler and didn’t show blood or ink.
“What?” He held up his hands.
“Like you want to plow a pregnant omega! Like you feel sorry for me.” Dray scowled.
“S’not like you’re getting more pregnant. You’re cute, and I do feel sorry. Biology is a bitch, and alphas can just walk away never knowing what they did.” He huffed, and Dray turned away to portion out ink cups with a grimace.
“Fair. So, what’s your story?” Dray set the cups up and picked an outlining needle up, still in its disposable packaging.
“Walked in on my fiancée bouncing her ass on some other dude. In my apartment, in our bed. Took almost all the furniture. Pillowcases… Left me with the raw dog pillows.” He wrinkled his mouth as Dray hissed.
“Ouch. At least they took the mattress.”
Silence stretched, and Tripp’s lips flattened into an unpleasant moue.
