“Thank you for seeing me the way you see me,” he tells me.
I bite down on my lip. We’re still holding hands, and the flashing lights of the arcade machines dance around us.
“I was going to ask you this anyway,” I say, “but maybe it will help now? I thought it was probably time that you tattooed me.”
Rafael stands a little straighter. “You want a tattoo from me? I barely know what I’m doing. And I just told you I’m on probation. Caesar doesn’t even believe in me anymore.”
“That’s probably not what probation means. And the UFO you gave yourself next to the robot head is great,” I point out. “Plus, you’ve practiced on entire orchards worth of fruit.” I lean forward and kiss him lightly, pressing my lips to his. “You’re my boyfriend, and you’re super talented. I want a tattoo from you, Rafael.”
Rafael’s expression softens with a smile. “Wow. We’re really in love, huh?”
I laugh. “I know. It’s still kind of like, whoa.”
We kiss again. Then Rafael releases my hand and wipes away at his tears. “What do you want tattooed?”
“Well, I figure you’ll probably end up giving me a lot of ink, so I can just start small. Maybe you could pick something? All I really care is that it’s your art. Something you drew.”
Rafael blinks behind his glasses. “You mean I get to draw all over you?”
I laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.” He pulls me into another kiss. “I take it that helps?” I ask.
“I’ve still got some stuff to figure out,” he says, “but you’re perfect, Alexander, you know that? You’re perfect for me.”
“Yeah.” I grin. “I always thought so, too.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
ALEXANDER
In the shower,my boyfriend and I move together. He cleans me and nibbles at my skin, and when I stand behind him and wash his hair, he wiggles his butt back against my hard cock. We laugh and rub our hot, slick bodies together, and when I think I might come, we pull away.
Rafael is going to tattoo me. Something about it feels uniquely special. Sacred. I know that he’s ready because I know how seriously he takes his work. He might show up late sometimes or forget his bag, but Rafael is a serious talent, and with the other tattoo artists recognizing his potential, I know it’s not just the love goggles making me say that.
He takes me to his bed and dresses it with clean sheets, and I sit on the edge. We’re both naked, and the apartment is warm, holding the day’s heat even though it’s dark out the window. Rafael has glasses on, which slide when he bends to kiss me. Then we both get hard again.
“What drawing are you going to pick for me?” I ask.
He stands back to full height. “Well, I thought something simple.” He adjusts his glasses. “I’ll have years to tattoo original work, right?”
I grin. “Right.”
Rafael glances at his dresser. One of the drawers is open, and one leg of a pair of jeans hangs out. “Naked tattoo?” he asks me when he turns back, wiggling his eyebrows.
I laugh. “Naked tattoo,” I agree.
“I thought maybe a heart,” he says, answering my question. “Right beneath my initials. What do you think?”
“I love it.”
He nods, satisfied. “Good,” he says, then turns to the desk, where his machine and supplies wait.
I watch, impressed, while Rafael’s hands move gracefully. He prepares the machine and the inks as though he’s done it a million times, and I watch the movement of the muscles that cross his upper back and the careful way he considers it all.
“You’re going to be an amazing tattoo artist one day,” I tell him.
Rafael turns. “Yeah?” He pulls on a pair of black gloves, then brings the machine over to the bed, some wipes and other supplies under his arm. “Are you comfortable?”
I glance down at the blankets, then laugh at myself. “You know I’m not going to be able to do this without putting down a towel.”
