31. Knox

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Knox

Elton is heavy.

He refuses to lay anywhere but on top of me, nearly suffocating me with his weight as he rubs his nose in my armpit. He says it’s because I smell good, but I think it’s fucking weird. Still, I don’t tell him to move, too cum-drunk to do anything besides pet the back of his head as he purrs.

In the last few days since the disastrous dinner with my parents, Elton and I have spent almost every moment together. It’s not like we hadn’t been spending time together before, but now it’s almost… more. When we’re not at work, we’re either at his place or mine, sometimes fucking, sometimes not, and it’s doing all sorts of weird shit to my head.

I knew that he would be different after his first time. He’s incredibly in touch with his emotions in a way others wouldn’t be able to manage, and I sometimes think to myself how exhausting it must be to always be feeling everything so much . I reason with myself that that’s why I don’t move him, or snap at him for being clingy like he usually is. I feel for the guy, is all.

That’s it.

It doesn’t matter that after sliding deep inside him, meeting his eyes as he experienced that moment for the first time, something within me shifted. That I started seeing him as more than just a quick fuck to get over his brother. A brother I only ever think about when he’s brought up. Elton, unbelievably enough, is a friend now, and I give a shit about him.

Ugh, I… care .

Elton looks up at me, propping in his chin on my chest as he plays with my nipple piercing. “Did this hurt?”

“You asked the same thing about my dick,” I snort, petting his hip. “Of course it fucking hurt.”

“Then why did you do it?” he asks curiously. Still playing with my barbell, he rolls it between his fingers in a way that makes my dick plump, regardless that I was just in his ass a few minutes ago.

I shrug. “Wanted it, I guess.”

“And your tattoos?” He traces a line across the forest scene on my chest, his fingers stilling on the falling leaves that are a splash of green amongst all the stark blackness. “Why’d you get them?”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly, thinking back to it. “I know some people get work that’s meaningful to them, but I just wanted something I liked.”

“So the wolf on your back…” He rests his cheek against my chest. “It doesn’t mean anything?”

Wolves represent strength, at least I think they do. They’re loyal and unwavering, no matter what happens. They travel in packs, always relying on each other for safety and survival. The bonds they form between them are permanent, deep, and?—

“Nope,” I say, kissing the top of his head. “Why do you ask?”

“I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but I’ve been too scared to actually get one,” he explains. “I also don’t know what the hell I would get. Something meaningful sounds nice, but that’s a lot of pressure. Maybe a badass serpent or something?”

While I can’t imagine Elton sporting a big-ass snake tattoo on his arm, I can relate to being nervous before getting inked. I sit up on my elbows, forcing his head up, and cock an eyebrow at him. “Do you want to go see my guy? He might be able to help you pick out something you like, maybe calm your nerves a bit.”

His eyes widen as he smiles. “Really? That would be awesome.”

“Want to see if he’s available now?” I ask, already reaching for my phone on the nightstand. “I can’t guarantee he’s free, but we’re not working tonight, so we might as well see if he’s open.”

Looking a bit apprehensive, he nibbles on his bottom lip, but ultimately nods. “Sure. What’s the harm?”

I shoot off a quick text to Jack, and even though Elton seems a bit skeptical, I know he’ll answer. I’ve given the guy plenty of business over the years—nearly all my body too—and he never misses a text from me.

Within a minute, I get a thumbs up emoji from him, as well as a quick message telling me he’ll be free in an hour. I smile, showing Elton my phone, and his breath catches. “So, what do you think? You want to go?”

He blinks up at me, all sorts of fucking adorable, and shrugs. “It’s only a consult, right? I don’t actually have to get anything?”

“He’ll just listen to your ideas and see if he can come up with something you like,” I explain, snickering when he still looks ready to bolt. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, but there’s a lot of crappy artists in Miami, and if you’re going to get something, I’d rather it be from someone who I know is good.”

Apparently, that’s the wrong thing to say, because a second later, he breaks into the biggest shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen. He seizes my chin, nibbling on my lip ring for a second as he smirks. “Worried about me, Knoxy? You trying to look out for me?”

“Oh, fuck you,” I scoff, shoving him away. “It’s your body. You do whatever the fuck you want with it.”

“I’m only teasing.” Laughing, he scrambles back up my body until he’s kissing the ring in my nose. “Let’s do it.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, all excited now as he rolls over and stands. “Let’s get dressed and head over there. It’s not like I’m even going to get anything.”

Elton wants everything . He can’t make up his damn mind.

As we sit at a station in my favorite tattoo shop, Elton looks through Jack’s portfolio, ooo-ing and aaaah-ing at every elaborate lion’s head and compass. It seems like he’s ready to get his entire body tattooed.

“What about this?” he asks, pointing to a realistic black and gray ship. “We live in Miami, so that fits, right?”

Jack chuckles, throwing him a fond look, because of course Elton’s managed to win over the prickliest tattoo artist in all of South Beach. “It’s not necessarily about what fits, but about what you want.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Elton mumbles under his breath and flips the page again. “I think I know what I want, but it sounds stupid.”

I shake my head, stopping him from turning the page and trying to talk himself out of his idea. “I’m sure it’s not.”

He levels me with a glare. “You’re going to laugh.”

“Swear I won’t,” I say…about as honestly as I can.

He stares at me for a beat before sighing and pulling out his phone. “So, I was looking online on the drive over here, and I found this.” He shows a picture on his phone, and I do my best to keep a straight face. “Well? What do you think?”

I’m not suppressing my laughter at what he’s shown me—he should get whatever he wants—but just at how predictable it is. I should have seen it coming.

A little pink flamingo.

Jack looks over his shoulder and grins. “Cute. We can do that right now if you want?”

“Right now?” Elton gasps, whipping his head at him. “You don’t need to schedule an appointment or anything?”

“Nah, my last booking bailed, and that shouldn’t take more than half an hour,” he explains. “Do you think you want it today?”

“What do you think?” Elton asks me, worrying the inside of his cheek. “Should I do it?”

I’m never one who’s going to tell someone not to get a tattoo—they’re awesome—but Elton doesn’t need to feel pressured to make this decision. “I think you should do what you want.”

It takes him a minute as he looks at his phone, then back at me, then back at his phone, until he ultimately nods. “Okay. Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

Jack claps his hands, rubbing them together before pulling a clipboard from his station. “Awesome. Go ahead and fill out these forms while I sketch and stencil. Then we can get started.”

Elton nods, taking the clipboard. “Works for me!”

Jack works quickly, so he’s done with the sketch by the time Elton’s finished filling out all the paperwork. When he shows Elton what he drew up, his eyes widen in excitement as he gives Jack approval to stencil it out.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Elton says as we wait, nearly jumping on his seat. “This is so cool!”

For whatever fucked-up reason, I throw my arm around his chair and play with the hair on the back of his neck. “Show me again where you’re getting it.”

Raising his arm, he shoves up his sleeve to circle the small area just under his arm. It’s high enough that even a polo will cover it, and discreet enough that even if he’s shirtless, no one can easily see it. It suits him. I used to think Elton was just one big ball of unrelenting enthusiasm and overbearing confidence, but he has a sensitive side. A side of him he keeps hidden, just like this little flamingo will be. Something just for himself.

Jack comes back and applies the stencil where Elton wants it, making sure the placement is exactly where it looks the best, and offering to change it if necessary. On the first try, Elton’s on board, jittery with pre-tattoo adrenaline.

But it’s once Jack gets all his colors and shades in line that he freaks the fuck out.

“Wait!” Elton shouts, yanking his arm away before Jack can even get anywhere near him. He looks at me, green eyes wary, and frowns. “Will it hurt?”

“You keep asking if things hurt and most things in life do,” I scoff, shaking my head. “Yes.”

“How much?”

“I don’t know? How’s your pain tolerance?”

“I cried when I stubbed my toe the other day.”

Jack and I share a look. It’s not that the area he’s getting tattooed is especially painful, and the flamingo is really small and should be done quickly, but there will be certain areas that are going to hurt more than others.

“I don’t think I can do this.” Groaning, he slaps his hands over his face. “I’m scared and healthy enough to admit that.”

While I admire just how healthy Elton is, it would be a bummer if he walked away tonight with nothing. Not because I want him to get a tattoo, but because he looked so excited at finally gathering up the courage to do it. I understand the nerves, although I can’t relate to being afraid of the pain.

I bite down on my lip ring, knowing what I’m about to do is stupid, but Elton makes me do stupid shit all the time. “How about if I get a tattoo?”

“You’d do that?” he asks on a gasp, shaking his head slightly. “No, you don’t have to?—”

“Would it help?” I snap.

He narrows his eyes at my tone. “Well, yeah. That doesn’t mean that you permanently have to alter your body for me.”

I roll my eyes at that. Unlike Elton, I don’t really care about what I get tattooed. Sure, I pick them carefully, but at the end of the day, it’s more about the experience for me. It catalogs a piece of my life and gives me a part of the person who created it. It’s a moment in time when I wanted something and I got it. Not just that, but getting tattoos is addictive. I’ve been itching to get another one anyway, and I’m here now.

“It’s really not a big deal,” I say. “I’ll get one, and then you’ll get yours. Deal?”

It takes him a moment of eyeing me carefully, but finally he nods. “If you’re really okay with it.”

I snort at his relieved expression and can’t stop myself from pecking his lips softly. “I deserve a thank-you blowjob when we get back to your place.”

“Now you’re just milking this,” he mumbles, standing and trading chairs with me. “What are you going to get?”

“Do you want to look at the portfolio and pick something out?” Jack asks. He already has my information, so all he needs is a quick signature on the clipboard he gives me. “We could also do some touch ups on your hands?”

I scribble my name on the bottom of the liability waiver and hand it back to him, shaking my head. “Nah, I’ll just get what he’s getting.”

“What?”

“ What ?”

Both of them question me with differing expressions. Jack doesn’t look shocked, just amused and a tad bit curious, but he knows better than to ask me anything else. Elton, on the other hand, looks about ready to pass out. “Knox, you don’t have to do that for me?—”

I cut him off with a sharp hand. Truthfully, it’s not a bad tattoo. Jack did an excellent job sketching it, and it’s small. Elton’s the one making this into a bigger thing than it is. So, who cares if it’s going to be on my body forever? Who cares if it’s something I’ll always share with him, no matter what happens, that connects us? Who cares if it’s such a couple thing to do?

It’s not like it’s a big deal.

“If you’re sure,” Jack says with a shrug, taking an alcohol wipe as he juts his chin at me. “Where at, man?”

I don’t have much available space open, and I’m definitely not getting a flamingo on my ass, so I point to the open space on the top of my right hand, just next to my thumb. “Here’s fine.”

“Still want it to be pink?”

“Sure, why not?”

“ Sure, why not ?” Elton repeats, completely out-of-his-mind shocked. “Knox, you’re really doing this?”

I nod, both at him and at Jack to approve the stencil placement. “I’ll show you that you won’t be on the floor writhing in pain, you’ll get yours, and we’ll both walk out of here with brand-new tattoos.”

He stares at me as if trying to read my sincerity. When he finds that I’m not fucking with him, his somewhat bewildered expression morphs into nothing but sheer giddiness. He practically throws himself at me, smashing his lips against my own, and shows me how grateful he is. I yield to his intensity, let myself get dragged into his web, and only break the kiss when Jack clears his throat. Still, Elton doesn’t immediately pull away. He presses his forehead against mine, pecking my nose ring, and smiles. “Thank you, Knoxy. This means a lot to me.”

I do not blush.

As I give Jack the final go-ahead, and he starts his work, I try to tell myself that pleasing Elton isn’t the reason I’m doing this. But when the first line gets tattooed on my skin, I realize I’m a fucking liar.

This is entirely for Elton.

It’s so I can give him just a little bit of courage. It’s so he can feel more at ease.

It’s so we can have something we share together.

The thought is ridiculously terrifying. The reality that I’m getting matching tattoos with a friend—my best friend —is something I never thought would happen. But now that the moment is here, I realize that it’s happiness that I’m feeling. Sort of like I’ve finally been picked first, even though I’m the one sacrificing my body to get it.

Elton holds my other hand the entire way through. It’s cute that he thinks I need it, and even though I barely feel a pinch as Jack starts coloring in the flamingo, I don’t dare tell Elton to let go.

Finally, Jack finishes half an hour later, and I take a moment to appreciate the quality of his work. I only get a second to do so before Elton’s yanking my hand toward him. “Let me see!” he gasps, eyes brightening as he smiles. “Oh, Knox! It’s so adorable!”

I never thought I’d get an “adorable” tattoo, but flamingos can be pretty badass. I mean, Elton told me they eat upside down, so that’s cool, right?

“Your turn, sweetheart,” I tell him, getting up and motioning for him to take my seat. It’s only then that I realize I called him that outside of the bedroom and not in a teasing manner. I really meant it.

God fucking damn it.

How did Elton Hill become my motherfucking sweetheart?

When the machine starts up, Elton looks at me, nervously nibbling on his bottom lip, but he doesn’t look like he wants to bolt. Silently, he reaches for my left hand, flipping his palm up, and I take it wordlessly.

“Don’t let go?” he asks, a tendril of vulnerability in his voice, the same openness that I’ve come to admire from him.

Bringing his hand up to my lips, I nod. “Fucking fine.”

“Even if I squeeze too hard?”

I chuckle. “Even if you squeeze too hard.”

So, I sit there, enduring Elton’s painful grip as Jack begins his tattoo. It takes him longer than mine because Elton keeps squirming, but we’re still done within the hour. Elton and I pay Jack, making sure to leave him a very generous tip for having to deal with us, and head out.

Under the lights of the South Beach night, we show each other our new tattoos, and Elton insists on taking a picture of them side-by-side, again sending it to me even though I didn’t ask.

But that doesn’t stop me from making it my wallpaper as soon as I get home.