We stare at each other. I know what he’s thinking. He’s wondering why in the hell I’m suddenly pushing this, trying to figure out if I’m rushing him out the door.
I sigh. “You’ve got to head back sooner or later. And the sooner you get shit taken care of, the sooner you’ll make it back here for a visit, right?”
The skepticism on Drew’s face melts, and his playful smile slowly rises up to replace it, comprehension dawning. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess that’s right.”
“Good.” I stand. “Let me get some shit together. Meet me in the studio in ten?”
It’s easier just to leave it right there, like everything is that simple, instead of facing what I don’t want to face, the possibility that this thing between us ends when he leaves. And it’s easier, too, just to insist on driving him back, instead of watching him leave.
The studio is stuck on the back of my house, a squat wooden room with a stereo system built into the wall and my favorite old art pinned by the window. It’s my space, not part of the shop or my old man’s legacy, and I only bring trusted and dedicated clients here.
Inking Drew up at the house instead of the shop is much more intimate, at least to me, so I go through the ritual of cleaning and preparing the space with extra devotion.
The door creaks behind me as I’m setting out the inks. “Whoa,” Drew says with a pleased hum. “When you showed me in here before, I don’t think I noticed the action figures.”
I wave my hand dismissively at the dusty toys, displayed on a high shelf that runs the back wall. “Just some crap. I liked the design.”
Drew laughs. “I’m learning more and more what a dork you are.”
I grab his side and pull him in for a kiss. “Careful. I’m about to stab you repeatedly with a needle.”
Drew winces. “Can we not describe it that way?” He kisses me again, then steps back, leaning on the long chair. “I am excited, though,” he admits.
I nod. “Good. Then pop that shirt off, yeah?”
Drew smiles and pulls the Blade shirt off, then hops back on the chair. I’ve seen him naked plenty of times, but his slim muscles and the light hair growing on his chest still distract me.
“I’ll just finish up the shading and the design we started. Should take about an hour.”
“What about the extension you drew?”
I pull up a seat next to him, then take his bicep to pose him. “You decided you want that? I can’t do it all this session.”
“I’ll come back, right? And you’ll finish it then.”
Our eyes meet. Drew’s smile confirms everything I’m hoping it would. We’re making real plans together, commitments.
Fuck, he’s a handsome man.
“We’ll finish it then,” I agree.
Drew settles back in the chair. “Do whatever makes sense to do today. I’m excited to watch you work more.”
I find the cleaner and paper towels, and Drew smiles lazily while I wipe his arm. “Just remember to breathe,” I remind him.
“Last time you did this, I barely knew you, but I felt this energy the whole time you were working on me. Does that ever happen to you?”
I set his arm down and look him in the eye. “Sometimes. But not often, and never like it was with you.”
Drew’s smile gets so wide, it creases his cheeks. “Cool.”
I turn on the needle, which vibrates in my hand. “Ready?”
“Whenever you are.”
I steady myself, and before I actually push the machine against his arm, I take a second to sink into the energy Drew is talking about. Inking up a person always creates a kind of charge. You mark a body for life, and that means something. But whatever surges between us is different than that.
It’s living, breathing, erotic, but so much more than that, too. And when I finally press the needle to Drew’s skin, the energy erupts, sparking across our bodies.
