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"Ghost?" A Scottish accent accompanied the jingling of the front door. Simon looked up into startlingly light blue eyes and a wide smile. He nodded belatedly and the smile widened. "I"m John, your, ah, 4:00 PM appointment."
Ghost grunted and collected his paperwork, pushing it over the desk to John. "Read that and sign it. Once you"re done you can meet me in the last room to the left."
"Aye Sir, thank ye Sir." Ghost rolled his eyes, turning his back to the Scot and starting towards his work space. He offered discounts to vets, anyone who could work a computer could see he used to be a Lieutenant, he just wished the honorifics stayed behind.
He pulled up the file labeled J. MacTavish and reviewed his work one more time before printing. It was a Webley revolver framed by thistle branches and, inexplicably, a bar of soap at the forefront. It wasn"t the worst he"s ever designed, but far from his favorite.
He heard John approach as he hit print on the design to prepare a stencil. He trimmed the edges down and handed it to John, who had been standing with his hands clasped in front of him.
"Show me where you want it."
The Scot made a quiet, strangled noise before clearing his throat, face pink. "Here." He held the design up to the nape of his neck. Ghost clicked his tongue in distaste.
"That placement is awful."
John looked at him, annoyance playing on his face. "What"s wrong about it?
Simon held up a hand, ticking off points. "Too small for good detail, constantly exposed so it"ll fade in the sun, you"ll never be able to see it yourself," he smirked beneath his mask. "And it makes you look like a boot."
John squawked and Simon knew he had him nailed down. Some men loved the valor of their veteran status, some would rather have a quiet memory inked on their skin. When he was younger Simon was the former, now he"s the latter.
"Says the man with an entire sleeve of military stereotypes."
"You wanna be better than me. "Sides I got this when I was 19, didn"t know any better." John watched him consideringly, worrying his lip.
"What do you suggest then?"
Simon held up a finger, tapping on his tablet for a moment before he printed a resized stencil. The revolver was much closer to realistically sized and the detail he"d drawn in had more space to really come through. The frame of thistle looked less like a smattering of branches and more like the plant John had asked for. He trimmed down the edges and handed it to John.
"Place it on your hip like you would front carry."
The Scot stared at him for a moment before lifting his shirt and pressing the stencil against his hip bone. He turned to look in the mirror, twisting his hips in a way that made Simon"s mouth water.
"Not gonna pretend I don"t like the way that looks," John murmured. Simon hummed in victory.
"Wanna see it fully applied before you decide?" John nodded and Simon coaxed him back to the table. He leaned over to his cart as he nodded at John, "Trousers off, denim is hard to work around."
John started to strip them off, chuckling softly. "Interestin" way to get into my pants," he mused. Simon"s face burned hot. He risked a glance at the now nearly-naked Scot and his embarrassment was replaced by amusement. "Interesting skivvies."
It was John"s turn to blush. He was wearing a pair of light blue briefs with rubber ducks and pink, bubbly bars of soap. "Wasn"t expectin" to get a tattoo below the belt." Ghost raised an eyebrow in question and John answered, "They were a joke, when I passed selection they called me Soap because of how I cleaned up. Hence—" he wiggled his hips to show off the pattern.
"And this?" Ghost peeled the stencil away and tapped at the bar of soap.
"Aye, and that."
Simon patted the man"s thigh, motioning for him to look in the mirror again. He watched John smile to himself as he looked at the outline and nodded his approval.
"The picture you showed me was more detailed than this." John murmured as he watched Simon show him the unopened needle before opening the package and screwing it in place.
"I freehand about three quarters of my work, only stencil the most basic outline." He nodded to his tablet on the stand beside him. "But I like the complete image and all of my layers in front of me so I know what to do at every step."
"Yer talented."
"I know," Ghost smirked behind his mask as Soap rolled his eyes in playful exasperation. "Ready?"
"Aye." Simon pushed him to lie on his back and settled in his stool next to the Scot.
John was a good client. He didn"t jump when the needle touched his skin, the only indication he felt something was a sharp gasp of breath. They quickly fell into a companionable silence, the only sound in the room was the monotonous tone of the machine.
After…Ghost checked the timer on his tablet…only 15 minutes? Soap started squirming, not enough to jostle Ghost from his careful lining but a subtle shift, clenching and relaxing his muscles as if the Scot was fighting a reaction.
"Sit still, Johnny."
"Oh, it"s Johnny now huh?" The Scot"s voice had a breathy quality to it. "Must be special to get a nickname like that."
Simon didn"t respond verbally, but maybe he did swipe at the excess ink with a more aggressive touch. Johnny"s hips stuttered a bit under his hands.
"Sorry," he muttered. Not really all that sorry.
"S"okay," Johnny slurred, "Just feels weird."
"It"s needles punching in and out of your skin, "course it hurts."
"Didnae say that." Simon chanced a look up at the Scot"s face. He was flushed, chest heaving with his teeth digging sharply into his lip. Right above where his forearm rested Johnny"s cock was straining in his briefs. He had been so focused on lining he hadn"t even noticed.
"Oh."
Johnny"s head snapped back, hitting the cushion with a quiet thump. "I"m so fucking sorry."
Simon wasn"t sorry at all. He said as much and Johnny groaned beneath his hands.
"It"s normal for some people, if you want a break just let me know. But I can keep going too."
Johnny whined high in his throat. "If you keep going I"m gonna cum."
Simon chuckled, gut churning with anticipation. "I— I kinda wanna keep going. Can I keep going, Johnny?"
The Scot’s head flew up as he stared at him with an incredulous expression. “You… want that?”
Simon shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “Ya sayin’ you don’t want to cum?”
Johnny grumbled, dropping his head again, “Dinnae say that.”
“Do you want me to make you cum, Johnny?” Ghost didn’t know what had gotten into him, but to be honest, his professional demeanor had slipped the very second Johnny’s pretty blue eyes met his. He felt a shudder roll through Johnny’s body under his fingertips at the question, Simon tightened his grip on his hip.
Johnny’s answer was a grumbled affirmative, an arm flung over his eyes.
“What was that? I need you to speak up.”
The Scot groaned and swallowed thickly before speaking. “Yes, I want you to make me cum.”
A devil’s grin spread across Simon’s face. “Good boy. Now look at me.” A genuine whimper escaped Johnny’s lips as he pulled his arm away from his face. Ghost loosened his hold to let him prop himself up on his elbows. “Ready for me to start?”
Johnny nodded, much too quickly, and Simon huffed a laugh at his eagerness. The buzzing of the gun filled the room once more and Ghost carefully started on the linework closest to Johnny’s twitching cock.
“Fuck,” Johnny whispered under his breath and Simon watched his cock twitch violently in his briefs.
Simon smiled wolfishly as a very bad, awful, no good idea bloomed in his mind. He was already drawing up a few longer branches of thistle in his mind as he slowly nudged Johnny’s briefs to the side, exposing thick brown curls and the barest glimpse of his beautifully thick cock. With a sharp glance to Johnny, who was watching with his mouth hanging open in overwhelmed pleasure, he veered the path of his needle towards the man’s surely aching cock. He drew dangerously close to the base of his prick and pressed down lightly, enough for Johnny to get the bone-deep sensation of pleasurable pain.
Johnny sobbed at the unexpected move and Simon watched the light fabric of his briefs darken as the Scot’s hips twitched underneath his hands. He pulled the gun away to let the man writhe and cry to Simon’s heart’s content.
Sensing that the tattoo session was over for the night, Ghost cleaned up the new ink and applied the protective film. He smiled behind his mask as Soap looked at him with a hunger lurking beneath the ocean blue of his eyes.
“Let me suck your cock.” Johnny reached for Simon’s hand, the Brit allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. As he moved to stand near Johnny’s head the Scot moved to slide to his knees. Ghost stopped him with a heavy hand over his chest.
“Lie back, baby.” Johnny’s eyes rolled back into his head as he let it drop against the table again. With a harsh yank Simon slid Johnny’s body towards him until his head hung off the edge of the padded table.
Ghost sighed in relief as he freed his neglected cock from his trousers. He was treated to the sight of Johnny’s expression as the Scot observed the six barbells along the length of Simon’s cock, inches from his face. Simon chuckled meanly as he tapped the sensitive head of his prick against the man’s lips. Johnny flicked his tongue out to drag along the body-warm piercings, groaning as Ghost pulled back.
“Open,” he knew Johnny would obey, yet he still squeezed the man’s jaw harshly, forcing his mouth open wide. Simon guided his cock inside the slick, warm heat of the Scot’s mouth, a low, rumbling moan bleeding from his lips. He felt Johnny’s hands slide up to his hips and he expected a push, a tap, anything to tell him the man was at his limit. No sign came, instead Johnny hummed happily as Ghost’s cock slid into his throat, further still, until his chin was pressed firmly against the space between Simon’s hips.
“Christ, baby. You take cock like it’s all you’re good for.” Johnny whimpered, hips bucking up against nothing as Ghost gently stroked his fingers along his Adam"s apple.
He pressed his palm against Johnny’s neck, groaning in disbelief as he felt his cock buried deep in the Scot’s throat. Johnny whimpered again and Simon pressed down, feeling his throat tighten around him as Johnny choked on a sob. He moved slowly, ready for the Scot to tap out at any moment but Johnny took everything Simon had to give.
“You could suffocate on my cock and die a happy man, couldn’t you, Johnny?” Soap made a tiny, pathetic noise that shot through Simon’s cock and up his spine. “Fucking hell you’re so good. Darling, you are like no one else." He was getting so fucking close. Simon pitched forward, catching himself with his hands on either side of Johnny"s hips, barely attentive enough to avoid the fresh tattoo. His thrusts were harsh now, unable to stop chasing his pleasure.
"Gonna cum," Simon warned and Johnny made a wet choking noise around his length, nails leaving burning trails around Simon"s hips and lower back.
He came with a shout, rutting into Soap"s mouth like he couldn"t bear to give up any piece of the pleasure he was given.
"Christ." Simon pulled away and dropped back on his stool, fixing up his pants and flicking the mask off of his flushed face. Thankfully, Johnny didn"t make any mention of the removal of the mask, nor the scars underneath it.
"How much?" It felt…improper to accept any form of payment at the moment, like he was paying for the best head he"d ever gotten. He came up with an excuse on the fly.
"I don"t take full payment until the piece is done. Your deposit will hold until I"m done."
"That"s gonna need a second session, aye?" Johnny stood up, redressing in his jeans.
Ghost chuckled, "And a third. A fourth maybe."
Johnny"s eyes lit up and his smile softened before he shook his head as if dislodging a too-hopeful thought. "Great. I"ll…ah…call for an appointment." With a soft wave the now-clothed Scot disappeared down the hallway.
Simon was moving before he realized his feet were under him, following the man to the front of the shop.
"Johnny," Soap turned around, eyebrow quirked in a question. Simon realized then that his mask was still lying on the table in the back room. He smiled, a crooked and underused thing, but the grin he got in return told him maybe it wasn"t that hard to look at.
"Wanna go for a pint?"