Savior: A Tattered Club Story (Tattered Social Club Series Book 1) (6 page)

“Thanks for the insult, but a guy like me can handle more than you could ever know.”

Niko didn’t turn around. “Sit down and eat.”

Damn the guy to hell, but he was hungry and this might be the last chance he’d get to eat a full meal for a couple of days. “Fine, but I’m going to pay you back for the food. I don’t want anyone’s handouts.”

Now that made Niko give Ethan more than just his back. “Neither do I, so do me a favor and let me put my art on you. Don’t pussy out on me because of money. Here’s the deal. You wear my tat and tell your friends, the guys you work with, hell anyone you talk to where you got it and we’ll consider it even.”

Ethan stopped unwrapping the sandwich. The foil warmed his palm. His stomach growled and heat burned his face. Being desperate didn’t look good on anyone, but he wasn’t in the position to argue. “I can do that, but I’m still paying you back for the sandwich.”

Niko walked to a long wooden desk and picked up a bright green neon can. Ethan never understood how people could stand the taste of energy drinks. He turned up his nose at the cough medicine flavor. “What?” Niko took a long sip.

Ethan didn’t mean to be rude. He focused on the grilled chicken sandwich and took a bite, almost choking as he frantically chewed. Niko looked away and, back to organizing the equipment on the small metal table next to the massage table.

Scarlet came through the door with a can of soda in her hand. “Sorry, I forgot to drop this off.”

“It’s for him.” Niko tipped his head toward Ethan.

Ethan rubbed his palms on his jeans and flinched. The cuts were still fresh. “Thank you.” He waited for Scarlet to shut the door then turned his attention to Niko. “So, what did you come up with?” He stuffed several fries in his mouth at one time. “This sandwich is amazing.”

Niko spun the stool around and rolled over to the drafting table. “You’ll see. Trust me.”

“But, don’t I get to see it first?”

Niko grabbed a bottle filled with green liquid. “No.”

With nerves already sparked from the ordeal of needing to find a place to live ASAP, the last thing he needed was getting a tattoo he might not like. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Niko finally looked up. Ethan stopped chewing. The fine layer of dark shadow on his cheeks meant Niko had been running late this morning. The last time they’d met, the smooth contours of his face had accentuated the pink tones on his cheeks, but not this time. This Niko was rugged, handsome—not quite so intimidating.

Sliding their lips together would leave evidence on Ethan’s face. With such sensitive skin, he’d wear the burn as a reminder every time he looked in the mirror that Niko’s mouth had been on him. Ethan wiggled in the seat. His Aussie Bum underwear had been already snug, now they were downright tight. The bulge pushed against the zipper of his shorts.

“You ready, skinny jeans?”

Ethan looked up from where he’d been studying his growing cock. Shit. “Um...”

Niko rolled the chair back around. “Ethan, get you and that hard-on in your pants on my table. Now.”

“Jesus, you can’t see—”

He spread a white towel on the cushion and patted the table. “Come on, stud. And, yes, I could see you adjusting your junk under the table.”

Crawling under the chair seemed like a better option than standing and letting the hottest guy he’d ever seen check out his bulge and say something embarrassing again. “Fine,” he grumbled and pushed the chair back. Trying to act casual, Ethan let his hands hang in front of his crotch as he walked to stand in front of Niko.

“Take your shirt off.”

Shit. No.
“Can we do it on my—”

The grey and black shades of curves and scrolling lines on his neck stretched when he shook his head. “Naked, topside, now.”

Ethan’s heart burst back and forth in his chest. He wasn’t muscular like the beefcakes most gay guys went for. Being pretty meant he usually attracted older men who thought he could be a plaything. The last time he had a guy his age show interest it ended in a one night stand. And the fact he liked to top just didn’t work with the big guys. They saw his lean frame and instantly thought he was a weak bottom.

He snickered. When had he ever had a weak bottom?

“Now, Ethan. Stop pussying out. Get your shirt off.”

Where in the hell was the tattoo going on his skin? God, this could end badly. Shame wasn’t the only reason he hated taking his shirt off in front of someone. The embarrassment kicked him in the gut every time. He didn’t know which was worse, the fact that people really didn’t care or they were shocked and disgusted. The guys he’d been with considered the cuts a hiccup in the end result. They just wanted his ass.

He didn’t want to tarnish Niko’s opinion. Why? He had no idea, but somehow it was important.

“Listen, Niko, please...can we put it on my arm or something? Maybe my calf?”

Niko grabbed the loose T-shirt and tugged. Before Ethan could get ahold of the soft material, the shirt popped off his head. Niko’s expression was serious as he pressed his hand against the healed scars on Ethan’s stomach.

“Turn to the side.” That was it? That was all he had to say? The pink slashes on his abs had healed months ago, but the scars were embedded in his brain and standing naked in front of someone who had already judged him made him want to run the hell out of the room and never come back. Screw the tattoo.

Ethan hugged his torso and turned. “Lift your arms,” Niko said as he spun his chair and slipped a piece of parchment paper from the table. “I’m putting it on your side.” His warm fingertips sent a ripple across Ethan’s ribs. For looking like someone you wouldn’t want to meet in an alley, Niko’s touch was light, almost gentle.

Guess that’s why he had a steady hand for this craft. Ethan studied the wall, not sure where to look—anywhere but down at the crown of soft, dark hair below. For a moment, Ethan pretended to run his fingers through the tasseled strands, clutching them tight as he pulled back to kiss those firm, full lips.

“Ethan, try to not poke my eye with that monster. I need my sight to put this ink on you.”

Damn, the bulge in his pants was twice the size it was before. “S—Sorry. I’m um... I’m just—”

“Turned on,” Niko casually wiped something slick on Ethan’s side. “A lot of guys get hard when I do this. Don’t worry. I won’t punch your lights out. I knew you were gay the moment you stepped in wearing those skinny jeans. You’re too pretty to be—”

Silent. The big bad wolf went silent.

“Too pretty to be what?” Ethan poked the wolf. “If I’m too pretty”—he peered down waiting for Niko to look up, but he never did—“then you’re too tough. Right?”

“Put your arms at your sides. Relax your shoulders.”

“Okay, do I get to see it in the mirror before you get started?”

“Lie down on the table.” He rolled the chair to the metal stand. “No.”

Ethan’s nerves screamed. What if he was putting a laughing skull on his side or some gnarly tree? Obviously, he didn’t mind hardcore tattoos, but Ethan wasn’t that kind of guy. He was more of a colors and koi fish kind of guy.

Ethan lay down on his back. Willing the tent in his shorts to go down was useless. Every time Niko moved the cuff of his T-shirt tightened. God, he loved a man with strong forearms. “This looks perfect. Put your arms up and relax. Keep breathing. The pain is worse in the beginning. If you need a break, let me know.”

Fear pieced through Ethan’s brain and while, yes, he desperately wanted the tattoo, he was terrified for Niko to get started. “Don’t…don’t let me pass out, okay? I’m nervous.”

The way Niko’s lips tipped into a grin didn’t help the hard-on rocking in his underwear. “Breathe.”

Ethan nodded and turned to stare at silver metal tiles on the ceiling. The flashes from the overhead light spread across the embossed design. So beautiful. The mattress was so comfortable, he almost forgot he was about to get poked a million times with a sharp needle. He thought of the razor. Would this feel the same?

His eyes drifted closed. “Mmm...” A warm hand caressed the sensitive skin above the waistband of his pants.

“I’m gonna need you to...” Niko’s voice barely hummed as a callused fingertip rubbed back and forth. Slowly, tempting. Ethan felt the tip of his cock pulse. “You have to...” The tender strokes slid up...up until the rough tip of his finger skimmed over one of the long raised strips on Ethan’s stomach.

Panic tripped through Ethan as chest levitated and crashed. “Please don’t.”

The warmth seeping through his torso drew away. “Roll onto your side. Unzip your shorts. I need the top of your hip.”

Ethan moved onto his side, grateful to hide the scars Niko had been touching. No one had ever touched his stomach. For one, the scars were usually in various stages of healing and, two, no one cared to.

He tugged on the zipper and shimmied his hip a little to pull the waistband of his shorts down. “Is that far enough?”

“Jesus Christ,” Niko mumbled before the hum of the gun sputtered on and off. Jay Z played softly in the background as the gun fired up again. “Relax and breathe. Let me know when you need a break. Lift your head.”

A pillow was shoved under Ethan’s head. “Thanks,” he said, closing his eyes then opening to focus on the bright artwork. Had Niko painted the pictures or had someone—“Holy shit!”

Niko grunted and laughed. “The first bite is always the worst. Talk to me. It helps.”

Ethan did his best to breathe like Niko had said, but the tiny piercing spikes took the air out of his lungs. “I never...took you...for the talking type.”

“Yeah, well.” Ethan felt the drag of a paper towel skim across his heated skin. “I’m not. Sometimes I’m a therapist and shit when people are in here.”

“I don’t need a therapist. Is this supposed to hurt this bad?”

“Yeah, I’m sticking a needle in your skin.” The hum of the gun slowed. “It hurts this bad. It gets easier.” Waiting for the easier, Ethan sank his head deeper into the pillow. “So, you going to tell me about the old guy in the car or am I gonna have to imagine why in the hell he’s got you by the balls? I know who he is. I’ve seen him in
Monthly Business Journal
. The Professor keeps issues in the lobby. What is a nineteen-year-old kid doing fucking the biggest married real estate asshole in the city?”

“Separated real estate asshole,” Ethan said, annoyed that Niko would bring it up at all. The needle scraped across his skin, sending stinging ribbons along the top of his hip. “Next subject.”

*****

Niko rinsed the gun in a cup of clean water. How in the hell did the kid get himself in such a shit situation? The way he’d snapped was clear he must’ve been pretty desperate. Most guys wanted up after an hour for a smoke or stretch, but not Ethan. Niko was impressed. Not a slight movement. The three hours that had passed in what felt like a second.

Niko hung his head. After the bonehead comment, Ethan had clammed up and his opportunity to get to know him was shot out the fucking window. Why did he care? It wasn’t like they were friends. Hell, they barely knew each other and now he was going all pussy ass wanting to know the guy.

Fuck. That.

“You can get up. We’ll stop for today. That’ll need two weeks to heal then we can put the color in. The lines and shading are done.”

Ethan sat up, stretching his arms when he scooted to the edge of the mattress. “That wasn’t so bad. You were right, after a while it didn’t sting so badly.”

The rim of his shorts hung loose as he slid off the table. Ethan’s hands disappeared when he zipped his pants. Damn, what did that cock look like? From the way his shorts had given the hi-how-are-ya, the kid had nothing to be ashamed of.

Niko popped off the black latex gloves and tossed them on the rolling side table. His fingers were vibrating, and it had nothing to do with the gun he’d just held for three hours. As Ethan turned to grab the T-shirt half draped across the chair, Niko fought the urge to punch the wall. The red and pink strips on Ethan’s flat stomach broke the contrast of an otherwise perfect canvas.

Instead of beating the shit out of the counter, he studied the tattoo on Ethan’s side. The tip of one of the anchor’s hooks hung down barely touching the front of Ethan’s slim hip. The creamy color of his skin took the ink just as Niko had imagined it would, and the feel...the dip of that lean waist curved as his gun had glided to where the design was laid out.

Even through the thin glove, heat had radiated through his fingertips. His cock had been stone hard as soon as Ethan rolled onto his side and the red elastic of his underwear peeked out.

Niko shook his head forcing the dark thoughts to escape. Trying to focus on the cleanup, his gaze gravitated toward the delicately defined muscles of Ethan’s back. The guy was all lean sinew leading to a tapered waist. Niko had to work out to get the six-pack lining his abs, but with a metabolism like Ethan’s, it obviously came naturally.

Niko fought the urge to rip the T-shirt from those slender fingers and toss it in the trash. Those fingers needed to be wrapped around a cock, not a flimsy shirt. A hard, long, thick—

“So, how do we do this?” Ethan asked, breaking Niko into a thousand pieces when the thought ripped out of his head. He imagined filtering his fingers through the guy’s soft light-brown hair, messing the strands as if the guy had just rolled out of bed. “I mean—”

“See Scarlet on your way out and she’ll set you up for two weeks out. Keep the area clean.” Niko grabbed a tube of ointment from the plastic container on the shelf. “Put a thin layer of this on it once a day for a couple of days. Keep it out of the sun.”
Get out of here before I donkey punch my brain.

Ethan nodded. “Can I look in the mirror now?”

“Yeah.” Niko headed back to the desk, hoping the raging thud of his heart would calm down the farther Ethan walked away.

“Oh my God, Niko. It’s beautiful. Perfect. Even without any color it’s...it’s perfect. Did I already say that?” His soft laugh echoed against the white walls. “I love the hummingbird. You’re so talented. No wonder your waiting list is so long.”