2. Ian

CHAPTER TWO

IAN

“Thank you for calling Boner Buzz. Have a bonerific day.” I hang up on my last call and officially log out of work for the day.

You would think that working as a customer service rep for a sex chat line was interesting, but somehow I have managed to make that boring. Perhaps if I had someone to tell the funny stories to, it might make it a funnier.

Having no one sucks.

Maybe I should buy a pet? A pet would stave off the crippling lonliness.

My eyes automatically slide over to the half dead Christmas cactus sitting on my kitchen windowsill.

Maybe not.

I can’t cope. I don’t want to spend yet another night in my apartment by myself. I need people in my life I just don’t know how to get them.

I want the last person to have touched me to be someone who knows my name and not a cashier at the grocery store giving me my change.

Before a thought has fully formed, I am grabbing my jacket and keys and heading out the door.

My apartment buiding is two blocks over from main street where the best bakery in all the whole state stands. I doubt they’ll have any pastries left but maybe I can get a coffee and sit in the corner looking approachable. Plus, Kelsey the owner is always nice to me.

When I got the job as the customer service rep for Boner Buzz, they said I just needed to live within a five hour drive from Boise or Portland. I chose this town because it was less than that to get to both, and it was adorable, but with an edge. Like a kitten. Cute, with sharpe claws.

Maybe I should get a cat?

Though they are notorious assholes and I don’t think I can take being rejected by an animal.

Moving to this town was the right decision. I can feel it in my bones. I will make some friends…eventully.

I didn’t have anyone in Portland and city life wasn’t for me. I aged out of foster care years ago and while my foster parents were nice and never treated be poorly, we weren’t close. My birth parents surrended me to the state whe I was a day old. I looked them up when I turned eighteen. Their rap sheets were were so long the rapid scrolling on my laptop was making me feel queezy.

So here I am, alone in the world, but determined to not stay that way.

Maybe I should hire a sex worker?

Before the thought fully forms into a mental pro/con list, I am distracted by pretty bright lights. Tat’s The Way blinks at me, making me snort. A smaller sign in the window announces that walk ins are welcomed and flash tattoos are only $50.

I step closer and look beyond the signs into the actual store. There is a partitioned section where I’m guessing the tattooing happens, and a small but cozy reception area where a couple of guys all wearing matching leather jackets are talking and laughing.

This must be the tattoo shop run by The Fallen Gargoyles.

Being a gay man, I was a bit nervous about moving to a town with a motorcycle club, but when I googled them and saw all the queer charities they support, I immediately felt even more excited to move here.

Maybe I should get a flash tattoo?

I’ve never particularly wanted one, but I’ve watched Tattoo Heroes before. There is a lot of touching.

My body hums in excitement at the thought of skin on skin action.

And flash tattoos are small so really it’ll be a good test. If I like it I can get something bigger that takes many many sessions. I could make friends with these people.

This is the best idea I have ever had.

Mind made up, I pull open the door and walk into the shop. As I do, the most perfect man in existence steps into the reception area and I immediately fall in love.

I am a perfectly respectable 5’8” and he has to have at least half a foot on me. He has the classic long on top hairstyle which looks amazing with his caramel brown hair. He has tattoos peaking out from his shirt and I’m nearly positive he has a nipple piercing.

“Hey there, how can I help you?” I drag my eyes away from the adonis to the biker behind the desk. His smile is so big, it shows off a couple of cute dimples.

“I’d like to flash- no, I’d like you to flash. Damnit, no.” I take a deep breath and exhale. “I’m sorry. Please can I get a flash tattoo?”

The guy raises an eyebrow. “Have you been drinking?”

“Sadly, no,” I chuckle awkwardly. “I’m just a bit nervous.”

His eyes light up. “Are you a tattoo virgin?”

I just smile and nod, my gaze sliding back over to the adonis. I wonder if you’re allowed to request who tattoos you? The thought of his hands on me in any capacity makes my body light up brighter then the signs in the window.

“Excellent. I’m Booker and I’ll be happy to give you your tattoo once we go through some paperwork.”

“I’ll do him,” my dream man says in a gruff voice that sends my blood heading south.

Yes, please. Please do me.

I don’t say that out loud, but judging by the smirk Booker gives me, my face says it for me.

“I bet you will.” Booker wags his eyebrows at me. How am I meant to respond to an eyebrow waggle?

I salute him.

I salute him?

My face heats yet again, but thankfully no one says anything about my idiocracy.

“Okay then, I will leave you in Rex’s capable hands.”

Rex.

It suits him. He’s huge like a dinosaur and I’d be happy to let him gobble me up.

“Thank you,” I say and then follow Rex to his station. It’s a spotless space with fresh lemony scent.

“Here’s the binder. Pick a flash and we’ll get you started.” Rex holds a binder out to me and I take it.

He really is quite gruff. I have to say; I like it though. I wonder if he’s that rough in bed. Grabbing my hips with those big hands and pounding into me, taking what he wants.

I meet Rex’s gaze and his eyes darken like he can read my thoughts. Or I’m looking at him like a total horndog.

I look back down at the folder and smile when I realize that I wont even have to open the folder. On the front is a cute yet fierce tattoo of a T-Rex. It’s a simple line tattoo with a few details.

I know that this is the tattoo for me.

“Can I have this one, please?”

Rex looks down at the book, and his eyebrows disappear into his hairline.

“That’s my brand.”

Huh. I didn’t know tattoo artists have logos but I guess it makes sense.

It doesn’t change my mind, though.

“I’d really like it.”

He cocks his head. “The brand belongs to me. As does anything I put it on. Permanently.”

Does he think I want him to tweak it? Maybe he’s worried I might want to change it one day. I know I’ve had the idea to have a tattoo for all of ninety minutes and this particular tattoo for ninety seconds, but I know who I am.

When I decide I want something, I don’t change my mind. That doesn’t mean I get what I want, unfortunately.

“That is completely understandable. I really want your brand, Rex. I feel an affinity with it.”

He looks at me intently for a moment, before a slow grin spreads across his face. It’s like all the air is sucked from the room as I stare at him.

Rex looking grumpy is sexy as sin.

Rex smiling is like the first sunny day after a long winter.

Beautiful.

“Okay, then.”

“Oh, can I pick the color?” He nods, so I continue. “I’d like green please. A mossy green if you have it.”

The exact color of his eyes. In for a penny and all that, I guess. I might as well commemorate the moment I had my first tattoo to the fullest. And hopefully the moment I made some friends. Booker seems nice and Rex is obviously perfect.

He nods again and we sort the paperwork and all the stuff I assume is boring to him, but is kind of fascinating to me. Getting a tattoo is a lot more involved than I thought it would be.

“Where do you want it?” It takes a second for me to realize he’s talking about the tattoo and not where do I want him to make me his. My mind really needs to stop sliding into the gutter.

“My wrist. I want everyone to see it,” I say, smiling up at him.

“Fuck.” It comes out so quietly, on a breath, I’m almost unsure if Rex actually swore.

“Roll your sleeve up.” He commands.

I go to but then I realize if I get hot halfway through I will be stuck. I start taking my sweater off and it isn’t until it’s around my head that I feel a breeze on my stomach.

Damnit.

My shirt lifted with my stupid sweater.

“Um, I’m really sorry. Could you maybe-”

I feel his fingers ghost along my side, making my breath hitch.

Rex is touching me.

I want to lean into it, but as quickly as it started, he stops and pulls my shirt down. I quickly whip my sweater off and Rex is still standing there in my space.

He smells like a mixture of motor oil, leather, and apples.

I want to bottle the scent and rub it all over me in the shower as I jerk off staring at the tattoo he is about to put on me.

“Sit down, wrist up.”

Wordlessly, I do as he asks.

He snaps on black disposable gloves, and I manage to hold in my gasps as he starts cleaning the area. It doesn’t feel as amazing as if he was touching me skin to skin, but it’s close.

Another human being is touching me.

For the first time in years I feel settled.

And then he starts the actual tattooing.

I’ve seen a lot online about people’s first tattoo experiences. Some say it feels like an inch, some like it’s a thousand needles stabbing you, some say it feels raw, but why has no one said how erotic it feels?

My nipples harden and my dick plumps as I watch the concentration on Rex’s face as he marks me with his brand.

This is the hottest experience of my life and it’s not even meant to be a sexual one.

My dick is definitely getting a beating later tonight.

Soon enough it’s over and I am simultaneously happy and sad about that. Happy I’m not going to cream my pants, but sad that this means my time in Rex’s presence is over.

“I want to keep a close eye on your aftercare,” Rex says, as he cleans my wrist up. It looks all red and swollen right now, but I know it’s going to look amazing when it’s all healed. “Put your number in my phone.”

He hands me his cell and I quickly enter my number and text myself so I have his.

Rex snorts. “You saved yourself as Branded Ian.”

“So you’ll remember what Ian I am,” I say, smiling at him.

“I’m not going to forget you.” He doesn’t elaborate and I don’t care. His words warm my heart.

He leads me out front where I go to pay, but he doesn’t let me.

“You got my brand. You’re not paying me for that.”

“But-”

“No, Ian.”

I swallow. Fuck, my name sounds good coming from his lips.

“I’ll text you about aftercare.”

I just nod and, with a quick goodbye, I make my way home in a daze.

Rex is absolutely everything I didn’t know I wanted in a man. I wish he wasn’t out of my league. Keeping my dirty thoughts to myself is going to be priority number one if I want to become his friend.

UNKOWN NUMBER

Text me your address. I will come by after work tomorrow. About 8pm

I squeal at the message from Rex. I quickly save him to my contacts before I text back.

IAN

That sounds great. Can I make you dinner as well, please?

DINO DADDY

Sounds good.

IAN

Great!!! Do you have any special requirements?

DINO DADDY

No.

IAN

Awesome. See you tomorrow!!!!!

I might have gone a tad overboard on the exclamation points, but I don’t even care. This is the first text message I’ve recieved from someone who isn’t a delivery driver in eons and that is exciting.

Rex, you just got a new bestie.