Page 29 of Wicked Deceit
“And you must be...” the other man says, raising a brow at Seger as he shifts on the seat.
“Seger,” he grunts, holding his hand out, and they shake.
The man snorts. “I’m Matt. You must be nervous?” He asks, wiping his hand down his black jeans with a grimace. I swallow my laugh for Seger’s sake when he pales, staring at the man with wide eyes.
Seger licks his lips and gives a sharp nod. “A little,” he grunts again, sitting up straight. “But this is something I’ve always wanted, so I said fuck it. Let’s do this.”
Matt gives him a respectable nod, grinning when he walks to a cabinet next to them. He pulls out a pair of latex gloves and puts them on. Once he secures them on his wrists, he puts sterilized instruments, still in their packages, onto the counter and spreads them out.
Behind me, Carter and George talk in hush whispers, and George gets his tattooing equipment set up on a counter near Carter. Carter lays back and waves a hand for me to sit in the chair situated between him and Seger.
When I plop down, Carter twirls a piece of my hair as the buzzing of the tattoo machine goes off. Much to my amazement, George starts the tattoo free-handed like an expert. I don’t know much about tattoos and stencils, but I’d say it’s a huge feat to pull off what he’s doing without any sort of guide. I peel my eyes away from Carter’s tattoo and focus on my other poor boyfriend, who lays back on the table, sweating bullets. Seger’s wide eyes stare up at the ceiling, and his fingers clutch the sides of the bed so hard that his fingers turn white from the pressure. All the color has drained from his entire body, and even the slightest movement makes him jump out of his skin.
I furrow my brows. “I think he’s going to pass out,” I say, getting to my feet. “Seger,” I murmur, running a hand through his sweaty hair, trying to reassure him it will all be okay.
His frantic green eyes meet mine, and he nods. “I’m good, Angel,” he says in a not-so-convincing tone, sounding more frantic than calm. “Seriously, so good,” he murmurs, clutching onto my good hand with such a force I’m afraid he’ll break it, too.
“Why don’t you watch this?” George says from behind us, securing new gloves onto his hand. “I’m going to pierce him first, and then you can see it’s no big deal.” Seger swallows hard but turns his head in Carter’s direction.
“It’s a piece of fucking cake, West. So don’t be a pussy,” Carter says, putting his hands under his head. Carter takes a deep breath when George carefully places a clamp around his dick and holds it straight so Carter can’t pull away from the needle about to come. I frown at his words, and he catches my eyes and rolls them toward the ceiling. “Fucking fine! Not pussy. Don’t be a dangly bit, West! You fucking happy now?” He snarks at me, settling back into his chair, when I hum happily under my breath at his correct usage.
“Jesus,” Seger hisses, completely ignoring Carter’s tirade. Instead, he watches the clamp in horror. His complexion goes from his normal color to bright green when George pushes one needle through the head of Carter’s dick. “I’m going to die,” Seger mumbles, tossing himself back onto the bed, but he can’t peel his eyes off Carter. “I’m going to die by getting a fucking needle in my dick.” I can’t hold back the snort that slips out at his dramatics, and he glares at me.
Carter breathes through the procedure, getting not one, not two, but three separate piercings on his dick. One at the tip, another near the top, and one near the base. They all should have been painful, but he didn’t bat an eye. In fact, through every separate needle going through his shaft, he laid there like it was nothing.
“Fucking see?” Carter growls, tossing his hand up in the air. “It was no big fucking deal. Now lay back and let Matt clamp your dick and fucking pierce it.”
“Yes, Sir,” Seger fake salutes him with his middle finger and lays back, trembling.
I raise a brow, looking back at Carter, who grins up at me. George cleans off the piercings and then tattoos Carter’s pelvis, coloring in the handle of his sword. Every time I see it, I marvel at the beautiful artwork etched into his well-defined pelvis, followed by an intricate sword flowing down his entirety of his dick. It’s beautiful and colorless, except for the swirls of color now getting added by George, who concentrates hard. When I first saw it, I thought it would have hurt like hell. By the look on his face, though, I don’t think it does. Or, he’s not letting on that it does.
Seger turns into a stiff board when Matt sterilizes the tip of his dick and then puts the clamp on.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hisses, covering his eyes. “Tell me when it’s fucking over, Angel. I don’t know if I’ll survive this. Everything I have is yours."
“Now you’re being dramatic,” I say, holding tight to his hand.
He heaves a breath, not daring to look when Matt rips open the package to access a fresh needle.
“I’m going to die. Just make sure my grave says something fucking heroic. Like here lies Seger West, who sacrificed the end of his dick for a piece of metal so his girlfriend could have the ride of her life,” he hisses, gripping me harder.
Matt snorts at Seger’s declarations. “Bro, it won’t be so bad. Just take several deep breaths and stay still. It’ll be over in a minute, and then you can be on your way.”
“Fucking cool, cool, yeah. I’m good. So, fucking good,” Seger says through hyperventilating breaths. “I’m….” Seger’s eyes widen, and his entire body locks up when Matt quickly puts the needle through the tip of his dick with precision.
My eyes pop wide when Seger’s entire body slumps on the table, and his grip loosens on my hand, falling to the side. Matt quickly pushes the bar through without missing a beat and swipes away the blood, cleans the piercing, and then he’s done.
“Oh, my fucking God, West!” Carter barks out, eyeing Seger and trying not to laugh at him. His artist peers up at Seger, chuckling under his breath. “Jesus fuck, I can’t take him anywhere.” Carter runs a hand down his face but continues to watch Seger, who hasn’t moved an inch since he passed out.
“Be nice,” I tsk, swatting my hand at Carter. He grins, catching my wrist, and kisses my knuckles.
“Always fucking am,” Carter grunts, only showing his discomfort once as the artist continues to work along his pelvis, adding more designs and colors.
“Well, the worst is over. He might be a little light-headed when he comes to, but he’ll survive,” Matt says, standing and taking his gloves off. He tosses them into the trash and begins cleaning up his area by taking the needles and properly disposing of them into a red container. When Matt walks back over, he grins at me, gesturing toward the object in his hand. “This will wake him up,” he says, breaking it and shoving it under Seger’s nose.
Seger’s hazy eyes pop open in a flash of confusion in a few sniffs. He looks between Matt and me, coughing his lungs out.
“What the fuck?” He wheezes, looking around with suspicion.
