tattoo-artist glances at Max
knowingly, before looking back at Theo.
“Really?” he says, getting up from his
stool and beckoning Theo closer. Theo hesitantly obeys, and the man looks at
him.
“Always nice to meet a friend of Max's,”
he says, holding out his hand. “Gavin.”
Theo glances at the outstretched hand,
before shaking it. He doesn’t say anything. Honestly, he’s intimidated by this
man, but then again, who can blame him? Even disregarding the tattoos that seem
to cover pretty much every inch of his arms and neck underneath that shirt, and
the general roughness of him, there’s a certain sharp intelligence about him
that Theo can’t quite put his finger on. He’s sure it’s nothing bad, though;
even Max used to intimidate him like that. He’s just not used to this kind of
people.
Gavin keeps his eyes on Theo for another
moment, as though observing him, before stepping away.
“Right, then,” he says, turning to Max.
“Have a seat.”
Max locks his arms behind his back for a bit,
stretching, rolling his neck and loosening up his joints and muscles, and Theo
just looks at him, confused. Then he remembers Max telling him that this will
take several hours, and he realizes that it’s probably so he won’t get too
stiff, sitting there for so long.
Gavin starts making preparations, and Theo
tentatively sits down on a nearby stool, while Max takes his shirt off. And as
Max does, Theo feels himself involuntarily tense up at the sight of it,
shifting slightly in his seat. He’s pretty sure that his jeans are doing a
decent job of hiding the fact that he’s suddenly getting hard, but it still
makes him fidget a bit.
It’s a complete surprise, honestly; he
can’t remember reacting so strongly and so suddenly to anyone but Max, before,
and it’s started happening more and more lately, even in public, like this.
That can’t be good.
He knows that it doesn’t show, but when
Max looks over at him, that teasing smirk on his face says that he knows. And
of course he does. He knows exactly what kind of effect he has on Theo, and he
likes it. He has made that abundantly clear.
Max turns to the chair, but rather than
sitting in it, he straddles it and leans his chest against the backrest,
leaving his bare back completely exposed, and Theo watches as Gavin preps the
already tattooed skin with disinfectant.
“Ready?” he says, and Max grunts in
confirmation.
“Just get it over with,” he says, and
Gavin chuckles, before getting started.
It’s rather fascinating to watch, Theo
realizes. The wings on Max's back are already in place, and all that’s left to
do is shade them, so that they look more like they have actual feathers.
Theo watches as the loudly buzzing needle
traces the skin, Gavin wiping away a mixture of blood and black ink every now
and then, with paper clutched in a white-gloved hand. It looks rather morbid,
not to mention painful, but Max's expression barely shifts, and when he catches
Theo looking at him, he frowns.
“What?” he asks, and Theo glances at his
back.
“Doesn’t it hurt?” he says, and Max cocks
his eyebrows.
“It does,” he admits casually. “A lot. But
it only lasts for so long, right?”
Gavin glances up at him, a small,
approving smile on his face.
“The pain’s worth it,” Max continues, and
Theo has to admit he has a point. It’s only temporary, after all, while the
artwork stays on forever.
It’s after an hour or so that the bell
above the door jingles, and they all look up, only to see a woman enter. She
looks to be in her late thirties, clean-cut and with a kind face, her auburn
hair pulled back into a loose bun.
“There you are,” she says, sounding
exasperated, and Gavin stills his hand to look at her. “Is your phone off, or
something? I’ve been trying to reach you.”
Gavin seems to consider that for a moment,
glancing away, an expression on his face that looks oddly soft and innocent,
for a man like him.
The woman by the door
knowingly, before looking back at Theo.
“Really?” he says, getting up from his
stool and beckoning Theo closer. Theo hesitantly obeys, and the man looks at
him.
“Always nice to meet a friend of Max's,”
he says, holding out his hand. “Gavin.”
Theo glances at the outstretched hand,
before shaking it. He doesn’t say anything. Honestly, he’s intimidated by this
man, but then again, who can blame him? Even disregarding the tattoos that seem
to cover pretty much every inch of his arms and neck underneath that shirt, and
the general roughness of him, there’s a certain sharp intelligence about him
that Theo can’t quite put his finger on. He’s sure it’s nothing bad, though;
even Max used to intimidate him like that. He’s just not used to this kind of
people.
Gavin keeps his eyes on Theo for another
moment, as though observing him, before stepping away.
“Right, then,” he says, turning to Max.
“Have a seat.”
Max locks his arms behind his back for a bit,
stretching, rolling his neck and loosening up his joints and muscles, and Theo
just looks at him, confused. Then he remembers Max telling him that this will
take several hours, and he realizes that it’s probably so he won’t get too
stiff, sitting there for so long.
Gavin starts making preparations, and Theo
tentatively sits down on a nearby stool, while Max takes his shirt off. And as
Max does, Theo feels himself involuntarily tense up at the sight of it,
shifting slightly in his seat. He’s pretty sure that his jeans are doing a
decent job of hiding the fact that he’s suddenly getting hard, but it still
makes him fidget a bit.
It’s a complete surprise, honestly; he
can’t remember reacting so strongly and so suddenly to anyone but Max, before,
and it’s started happening more and more lately, even in public, like this.
That can’t be good.
He knows that it doesn’t show, but when
Max looks over at him, that teasing smirk on his face says that he knows. And
of course he does. He knows exactly what kind of effect he has on Theo, and he
likes it. He has made that abundantly clear.
Max turns to the chair, but rather than
sitting in it, he straddles it and leans his chest against the backrest,
leaving his bare back completely exposed, and Theo watches as Gavin preps the
already tattooed skin with disinfectant.
“Ready?” he says, and Max grunts in
confirmation.
“Just get it over with,” he says, and
Gavin chuckles, before getting started.
It’s rather fascinating to watch, Theo
realizes. The wings on Max's back are already in place, and all that’s left to
do is shade them, so that they look more like they have actual feathers.
Theo watches as the loudly buzzing needle
traces the skin, Gavin wiping away a mixture of blood and black ink every now
and then, with paper clutched in a white-gloved hand. It looks rather morbid,
not to mention painful, but Max's expression barely shifts, and when he catches
Theo looking at him, he frowns.
“What?” he asks, and Theo glances at his
back.
“Doesn’t it hurt?” he says, and Max cocks
his eyebrows.
“It does,” he admits casually. “A lot. But
it only lasts for so long, right?”
Gavin glances up at him, a small,
approving smile on his face.
“The pain’s worth it,” Max continues, and
Theo has to admit he has a point. It’s only temporary, after all, while the
artwork stays on forever.
It’s after an hour or so that the bell
above the door jingles, and they all look up, only to see a woman enter. She
looks to be in her late thirties, clean-cut and with a kind face, her auburn
hair pulled back into a loose bun.
“There you are,” she says, sounding
exasperated, and Gavin stills his hand to look at her. “Is your phone off, or
something? I’ve been trying to reach you.”
Gavin seems to consider that for a moment,
glancing away, an expression on his face that looks oddly soft and innocent,
for a man like him.
The woman by the door
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