“Oh, noooooo!” Dray covered his mouth and fought a snicker. “Did you sleep on it?”
“Fuck, no. I slept in the bathtub, drunk as hell until a new one and furniture could be delivered.” He laughed with such self-depreciating ease. “At least I have webcomics.”
“Good choice. What if they fucked in the shower?” Dray waved his tattoo gun as he mounted the needle.
“I smelled the guy, and he did not shower.” He shuddered and Dray slapped the stencil on before focusing on not laying it crooked. Though, Dray knew he could do the tattoo freehand and blindfolded.
“Is it going to hurt?” Tripp met Dray’s eyes, genuine worry in his expression.
“Isn’t that the point? Nobody gets tattoos because they feel good… Unless it’s women. What the fuck is up with that? Gals sleep during it!” Dray shook his head and fanned the stencil before going in with a pen to correct any spots the stencil didn’ttransfer well. “Want me to give you a little buzz somewhere without ink?”
He held up his arm, and Dray leaned over with his gun, giving a few strokes that made him frown but not wince. “Tolerable.”
“Good job.” Dray held the gun and dipped it into the ink. “You sure?”
“Sure, as I’ll ever be!” He took a deep breath.
“You sure, you’re sure?” Dray buried his guilt. It could be any indigo snake. And besides, even if they were mates, Dray wasn’t…fit. Rattlesnakes were assholes about indigo snakes and cobras. Anything that ate other snakes, really.
“Go for it! Want me to pick where you start?” The grin that stretched over Tripp’s face made Dray’s heart clench.
“Do it.” Dray glanced as he pointed to the snake’s face.
“Right on the boopable snoot.” Tripp offered a peek of fang in his grin. “You can’t boop a rattlesnake’s snoot.”
“I can.” Dray reached over and tapped Tripp’s lower lip, an ordinarily dangerous proposition with rattlesnakes. Tripp jerked back, whipping his head away with a panicked glance. “Dude, don’t risk that!”
Dray flinched as Tripp’s hand snatched out, pressing to his belly almost protectively. “You’re playing with more than your life, here.”
“I’m not playing with anyone’s life.” Dray rested a hand over Tripp’s and didn’t push it away. The gentle touch was something he’d not had before, not even from friends. Everyone viewed his pregnancy as a misfortune, something to apologize over. The comfort of an alpha touching him made every inch of Dray relax until he fought tears. “Indigos are immune to rattlesnake venom.”
“Oh.” Tripp pulled his hand back, but he didn’t apologize, and Dray appreciated it. “Is it weird that I liked that? I mean not in a weird sex way, but in an it-was-nice, way.”
“Yes.” Dray put his pen down and drew the first line to trace the little snake’s face, and if he made the lip line a little tilted, almost smiling, none would be the wiser.
Chapter Three
Tripp
Something about the omega smelled lonely. No alpha scent touched him, not even a kind brush of fingertips over a shoulder, a lingering hug, nothing. Tripp could confidently say there was no father in the picture for the little one, so when Dray reached out to touch his lip near his teasing fang, it was all instinct and protective nature to lay a warning on Dray.
Immune to his venom? It made sense. Dray had no fear when he touched him. Not like Shelby, who had to ask before they kissed, despite knowing Tripp was careful. Tripp wanted to bite Dray so badly, put a mark on him like he could with another rattler. And in a blink, their banter died and Dray focused on his work, starting right on the boopable snoot.
Once Tripp accustomed himself to the sting of the needle buzzing over his flesh, he found the sensation almost relaxing. Sure, it hurt, but like Dray had told him, that was the point. He watched as Dray focused, unsure of where to put his hands but deciding they did well with his thumbs hooked in his chino pockets. “Mind if I take my shoes off?”
“Do your feet reek?” Dray glanced over and raised a beautiful, pierced brow. Tripp wanted to lick it.
“I don’t believe so, but if they do, I’ll put them right back on.” Tripp hooked the toe of one shoe under the heel of the other, ready to toss them.
“Go for it.” Dray shrugged before leaning his head back down, focusing closely on his work. With each pass of the gun, he wiped the surface clean to track the lines of his work so carefully. With his head down, working over his chest, Tripp could almost imagine the omega going down on him.
“Fuck.” Tripp closed his eyes and Dray halted.
The gun turned off, and his mouth opened, a smack of lips and tongue barely audible. Dray’s breath sucked in, and before a word could come out, the breath halted.
Cloth rustled, Dray’s scent flushing around him as a soft, warm weight went across Tripp’s lap. Dray stifled a huff of laughter and went back to work. The soft scent of interest, almost sexual, floated between them. The gentle weight there made Tripp realize he was hard. “Sorry.”
“Not uncommon.” Dray went back to work, gun buzzing away.
