Page 167 of Forbidden Hockey
Then I spend a little time, teasing and stroking his desperate cock. “Remember to be quiet, you don’t want everyone to hear you, do you?”
“No,” he breathes, swallowing. “Fuck.”
Having this much of his anatomy on display is overkill, but it’s so he can feel exposed, vulnerable. I want him to enjoy this. “You wanna see? Or you wanna be surprised?”
“Surprised,” he says.
“Mhm. No peeking then.” I dip the needle into the black ink. The machine hums to life like an angry wasp against a window, not very sexy, but the vibrations will feel good. The first prick is always the sharpest, and then the pain will dull into background noise.
Dirk’s eyes flutter closed, and he licks his lips. He’s still rock hard.
“You like that?”
“Yeah. It hurts, but it feels good. Is being addicted to tattoos a thing? Because I might get more of these.”
“Um, hello.” I hold up my arm.
“Right.”
I give him a break anyway, so I can stroke him some more and toy with his balls. His back arches.
He pants. “You’re not gonna let me come, are you?”
“Good guess.” I leave his dick alone for the next little while, returning to the piece. The silence fills with the buzz of the machine, Dirk’s breath, and his restraint as he holds off beautifully, suffering for me.
I wipe it clean a final time, shut off the machine, and remove the gloves. His eyes are glazed over, cheeks pink.
“Do I get to look now?”
I pass him a mirror, with a few nerves lighting up my gut. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think I’d do a good enough job, but what if he hates the font I went with?
His pretty blue eyes stare as he moves the mirror at different angles. A smile breaks free—a full one.
“Pretty boy,” he murmurs. “I love it. You did a kick-ass job.”
I made the letters masculine for the most part, but with a touch of gentle prettiness, just like Dirk. I sit back and admire my work, my personal brand on him, and also his gorgeous, miserable cock. I make him lie back again, so I can clean the tattoo one more time and cover it.
Without warning, I swallow down his cock and slide a lone finger inside him. He scrambles, hands clawing the chair as he pushes into my mouth. “Shhhh … No noises,” I whisper. “Or I stop.”
I’m at the side of the chair, so I’m able to slap a hand over his mouth to help him. His abs twist and contract as I suck hard. He’s so close, it doesn’t take him long to come down my throat, and I pull my head off, so I can see how ruined he is.
“You’re such a bastard,” he whispers as an easy smile spreads onto his face, eyes half-lidded, still returning to this realm. I help him get dressed, careful of his new ink, and pull him off the table.
“But was it a good surprise?”
“It was a kick ass surprise. Don’t know how you got them to let you do this.”
“I did them a favor a while back.” It was a long while back when I first moved to the part of the city where I live now. Back when I still used fists and a baseball bat to solve most of my problems. They were having trouble with break-ins, and the police weren’t doing a whole lot to help them. So, I did. I never cashed in on the favor.
I catch his lips in a kiss. “A tattoo will have to do until I can make you a Nolan.”
His face lights up, and he wipes a thumb over my lips. “You’re adorable when you pout.”
“I do not pout.”
“You do. I love you, Travis.”
“I love you, pretty boy, and I’m already the luckiest fucker alive, but?—”
