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Curly never saw himself getting a tattoo. Sure, when he was young and dumb in college he had some drunken close calls, almost daring to get something stupid, but he never quite took the plunge. If he was honest with himself, he was scared off by how permanent of a decision it was. He fought with the desire to book an appointment, creating and scrapping designs over the course of two years before he decided on something he wouldn’t mind seeing for the rest of his life— something meaningful.
Curly stepped inside the tattoo shop, surprised to find it rather empty. The walls were stark white, dressed to the nines with picture frames from flash designs to full back pieces. Each artist had their own corner to do with what they pleased, putting their work and personalities on full display for anyone to see. Metal music played quietly over the speakers, which came as no surprise.
Only one man stood by the printer behind the reception desk. He was tall, a bit on the scrawnier side of things. His long hair was pulled up into a low ponytail, some strands loose and falling down the back of his neck. Both arms were covered in various patchwork tattoos, the ink starting just below his collar bone, reaching down to both wrists. He wore a illegible band tee and black jeans torn at the knee, nothing particularly special. Curly had no idea if there was even a dress code to follow when it came to tattoo artists. The only thing that seemed important was the quality of their work.
“Hello?”
The man perked up, a handsome, yet obviously forced, grin dressing his face. “Hey. You’re Daisuke’s 6 o’clock, right?”
“Yeah.” Curly looked around. “Is he… not here?”
“He got sick and went home early. I told him I’d take you, if you are still interested.”
Curly hadn’t chosen Daisuke based on his portfolio. Honestly, a lot of it wasn’t to his tastes. He only booked because a friend had recommended him, and Curly thought his design was simple enough that anyone could do it. He shrugged it off, nodding his head. “That’s fine with me.”
“Great. I’m Jimmy.” Jimmy placed a piece of paper on the counter, plucking a pen from the holder and placing it on top. “Just fill this out, let me scan it with your ID, and we’ll get started.”
Curly cautiously stepped forward and grabbed the paperwork. “Are you alone tonight?”
“Why? You planning on robbing me?”
“No.” Curly became flustered, putting his full attention toward filling out the paper. “It was just a question.”
Jimmy laughed. “Yep. It’s just us. Daisuke is still new so he takes later appointments than the rest of the artists. He’ll usually lock up when he’s done but… he isn’t here, so… you’re lucky enough to be tattooed by the owner.”
“You own the shop?” Curly handed over his completed work, digging through his pockets for his wallet. Once he located it he shimmied out his ID and handed it over. Part of him was relieved that someone with enough experience to own their own shop would be the one tattooing him, while the other part was still trying to wrap his head around the change in plans.
“Yep. All mine.” Jimmy reached forward and took both the paper and Curly’s ID, peering down at it. “Nice to meet you, Orion.”
Curly winced. “Call me Curly.”
“Curly… that’s a new one.” Jimmy walked over to the scanner, getting a copy of Curly’s documents before handing his ID back. “Come to the back, Curly. We’ll get you set up.”
Jimmy nodded his head towards his station and led Curly over, patting the spot on the portable tattoo table in the center of the space. Jimmy’s corner was the most private of all, shielded from the full glass windows of the front of the shop with a barrier between. He had all of his art printed and framed, accented by shelves containing various animal skulls and shadow boxes containing pinned bugs. Curly couldn’t help but notice several of Jimmy’s pieces were in a more traditional style, hawks, snakes, and wolves being a focus of his. Nothing he would get, of course, but much more his style than Daisuke’s portfolio.
“Okay so, Daisuke said you’re getting some roman numerals done above your knee.” He lifted up a cut up piece of paper displaying the design. “This size look good?”
“Yep.” Curly hoisted himself up on the table. “This is actually my first tattoo.”
“Oh? I’m taking your virginity? Lucky me.” Jimmy sat down on a nearby stool. He rolled back on it, grabbing a pair of black latex gloves. He slid his hand into each with ease, giving the last a comical slap to his wrist. The man worked quietly, carefully, opening up his drawer and pulling out some supplies. “All unopened.” He set all the packaged supplies on his cart to show Curly the state of them. “Everything is fresh and clean.”
Curly slowly nodded his head, leaning back on his palms as Jimmy grabbed an unmarked squeeze bottle and a disposable razor.
“I’m just going to shave the area, and then I’m going to lay the stencil.”
“Shave me?” Curly breathed. He wasn’t sure why, but he was getting worked up at the thought. Perhaps it was his nerves— or maybe it was how pretty Jimmy was, either way, he tried to choke it down in favor of coming off nonchalant.
“Yeah. It keeps the skin sterile for the stencil… it’s also a lot easier to tattoo on a clean canvas.” Jimmy squeezed some of the substance on his leg and took the razor to his skin, dragging it up and down until the area was smooth to the touch. Curly never shaved his thighs before, but he’d let a man like Jimmy do a full job of it. He let out a pleased sigh and watched as he cleaned the area and prepared his skin for the stencil.
“You’re not about to chicken out, are ya?” Jimmy smirked, taking a thin sheet of transfer paper and placing it carefully over the area. It was seamless, almost effortless.
Curly laughed, subconsciously opening up his thighs and urging his hips forward. “Can’t scare me away that easily.”
Jimmy held his smirk, peeling off the paper and taking a good look at the placement. He seemed pleased with himself. “Okay.” He began. “Why don’t you go look at it in the mirror and let me know if you like it—if you want me to move it—whatever.” He rolled back again, busying his hands with putting together his tattoo gun.
Curly got up and walked over to the mirror, lifting his shorts from where they draped over the design. It was perfect—not too big that it was distracting and not too small that it would get lost when his leg hair grew back.
Roman numerals, he rolled his eyes. Probably as basic as he could get. Curly was sure that Jimmy did hundreds like it, a similar story each time. Death dates, birthdays, anniversaries alike. He was probably sick to death of doing tattoos like these.
Curly popped his lips and turned his leg. “Looks good to me.”
“Yeah?”
When Curly turned back around Jimmy’s shoulders had relaxed, moving skillfully around his work station. He was in his element— doing the thing he loved— and Curly was incredibly attracted to his passion. He walked back to his spot and sat up on the table once more.
“Alright, perfect.” Jimmy buzzed his tattoo gun a few times in a small plastic pigment cup, looking back up at Curly with that grin he was growing to love. “I like where you’re sitting, but you can lay down or readjust at any time… whatever is most comfortable for you.”
Curly liked this angle. He liked that he could watch Jimmy as he worked, so he briefly shook his head. “This is fine.”
“Okay. You ready?” Jimmy gently spread Curly’s legs, resting one elbow between them. He readjusted a few times before finally settling in, pressing the needle into his skin. He carefully tattooed the first line before stopping. “That okay?”
It was more than okay, Curly realized. It wasn’t as painful as he expected it to be, no more than the slap of a sunburn, but he was rather aroused by it. While Jimmy’s hand was hovering above his skin he leaned back on his elbows, trying to breathe through the possibility of becoming erect in front of a man he’d just met half an hour ago. “Mhm.”
“Good.” Jimmy smirked, lowering the needle again. “It’s not so bad once you get used to the pain. This one is small so it should be over pretty quick.”
Curly’s head was swimming, drowning in thoughts of those gloved hands gripping his thighs. He was so close Curly could feel his breath against his skin. He tried his best to stop it— he tried deep breathing, picturing something else, but it was too late. His cock twitched to life, and there was no going back. Curly furrowed his brow, his cheeks burning bright red as it began tenting his shorts.
Jimmy didn’t notice right away. He was so enthralled by his work, in his own little world, but it was only a matter of time. Curly looked down to see himself, entirely erect just a foot from Jimmy’s face, and the sight made him even more physically excited.
Jimmy finished another line and backed up to take a look, his eyes flashing towards his cock.
Curly could have died.
“I’m sorry.” His voice shook.
Jimmy’s face was expressionless, and Curly wasn’t sure how the situation could get any worse. He fully expected to be kicked out of the shop for his inappropriate behavior, left with a half-done tattoo he’d be too embarrassed to have finished by another artist. Granted, he was sure if he went with someone less attractive he wouldn’t have run into this issue in the first place.
“Don’t apologize. It happens more than you’d think.” Jimmy’s voice took on an unexpected tone. He inched closer, brushing his wrist up against his cock as he readjusted himself. It was deliberate, it had to be, and Curly melted at the brief contact. He wanted Jimmy to touch him so badly he’d almost said something, anything, but opted instead to close his mouth and breathe slowly instead.
Jimmy looked up at him and back at the tattoo, aimlessly going back to work. The silence was deafening, and Curly almost couldn’t take it. Each pass of the needle sent chills down his spine, only worsening his arousal. It was almost a relief when Jimmy finished. He wiped a ink spotted paper towel over the fresh wound and let out a sigh. “Alright, we’re all done.”
“Okay.” Curly perked up, shakily reaching for his wallet. “How uh- how much do I-”
“Wait.” Jimmy said, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes were locked on Curly’s waist, unable to be moved. Without much warning a gloved hand snuck up the leg hole of his shorts, gripping the base of Curly’s cock. “You’re lucky we’re alone.” Jimmy said softly, lightening his grip so he could slowly stroke him. Curly felt his entire body react— his thighs tensing helplessly under Jimmy’s careful hand. Jimmy set down his tattoo gun and brought his other hand to rub up Curly’s opposite thigh. His focus had turned to Curly’s body and that alone, touching him, pleasing him.
Curly let out a shaky sigh, too nervous to reach forward and card his fingers through Jimmy’s hair like he wanted to. Instead he balled his hands into fists at his side, watching Jimmy’s every move.
Jimmy raised his hand to fist the head against his palm, the sound of his gloves wet with pre-cum and some residual ink made Curly’s body hot. “Please.” Curly said without realizing how pathetic it might sound.
“You’re killing me.” Jimmy inched forward with a chuckle, brushing his fingers in slow circles around his fresh tattoo. The sensation was unlike anything else, and Curly couldn’t control the quiet moan that left his lips. Jimmy must have been encouraged by the sound. He removed his hand from his shorts and went for his waistband.
“W-Wait.” Curly stopped him, already a hot mess. “Are you sure?”
Jimmy looked irritated by his hesitation, but it didn’t deter him from helping Curly shimmy down his shorts just enough so his cock could spring out against his chin. He paused for a second, seemingly admiring him before his hand got to work stroking his cock again. “You’re a pretty little thing, you know that?”
Curly covered his face with his hand, muffling his moans. “Please don't say stuff like that.”
Jimmy leaned forward and parted his lips, tucking the head of his cock between them as he slowly ran his tongue along the slit. The sensation alone made Curly’s cock twitch in his grip. Curly removed his hand to watch as Jimmy lowered his head, bringing his cock to the back of his throat with ease.
“Fuck.” Curly finally took the plunge and gripped Jimmy by his hair, squeezing tightly.
Jimmy raised and lowered his head, taking the entirety of Curly’s cock. He held himself there, swallowing rapidly against him before pulling off entirely. Spit had gathered on his bottom lip, running down his chin as he tried to catch his breath. “I wanna make you cum.”
Curly swallowed hard, nodding his head.
Jimmy’s gloved hands moved to push Curly’s shirt up his lower belly, brushing through the thin dusting of hair by his belly button. He turned his head and pressed several open mouth kisses against his shaft, back up to the head so he could pull him into his mouth again. Jimmy was relentless with his pacing, gulping and swallowing his entire cock with ease. Each time he thrusted his head down Curly could feel him slipping deep into his throat, driving him mad with pleasure.
“You’re…so fucking good at this.” Curly’s hips moved forward, meeting each of Jimmy’s thrusts. “Oh my god.”
Jimmy’s hands pulled Curly’s thighs apart a little wider, letting his own thrusting do the work. Curly almost couldn't take it, his heart racing as he plummeted towards orgasm. He was so close, so quickly, and he didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed about it.
“Gonna cum.” Curly warned, tightening his impossible grip on Jimmy’s hair to halt his movements, slamming his hips up against his face as he took everything he wanted all at once. He barely thrusted thrice before he tore Jimmy away from him, cumming against his cupped tongue. Jimmy gratefully swallowed it as it came, eyes filled with tears but remaining locked on Curly as he finished.
“Oh fuck.” Curly trembled post orgasm, the sweat beading down his forehead starting to cool against the shop's air conditioning unit. He let go of his grip on his hair, noticing just how disheveled Jimmy looked. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for?” Jimmy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing ink and cum across his cheek. “I came onto you, not the other way around.”
“I guess.” Curly shrugged, quickly returning his cock into his pants with a sigh. “I um…”
“I’m going to give you my phone number.” Jimmy said quickly. “So you can… book with me directly next time.”
Curly swallowed hard. “Okay.”
Jimmy snapped off his gloves and grabbed a sharpie off his work station, writing down his number on Curly’s clean thigh. He snapped back on the cap and pursed his lips. “Give me a call.”
Curly smiled, awkwardly standing himself up. He took one last look around to make sure no one could have possibly seen him when he made a stark realization. He looked up into the corner of the room to see a round bulb with a flashing red light. “Fuck, The cameras.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll send you a copy if you ask nicely.”