Work Text:
The sound of tattoo guns whirring is like white noise in Thrain's ears. He's been at the shop for nearly twelve hours when someone walks in. He hears the bell on the door and his eyes slide to the front as he pauses his work on the last customer of the night.
"No more walk-ins," he calls.
"Really? You can't make an exception?" a deep voice drawls.
That takes Thrain by surprise. Usually it's a group of girls coming in late after a few drinks, giggling and squeezing their arms together to accentuate their cleavage in hopes he'll change his mind. But it never works on him. This man that has just sauntered into his shop, though…
He's tall, at least six feet, maybe more. Blond shaggy hair, strong shoulders, trim waist, and thighs that strain the limits of his jeans. Fuck, Thrain wants to keep looking. But he has to finish his work, clean up, and then he gets to go home.
The man leans against the front counter, back arched a little and pushes out his ass. There's a twinkle in his blue eyes and Thrain knows this guy has figured him out.
"Depends on what you want," Thrain responds finally. "Nothing big I hope."
The man's eyes rake over Thrain's form, sending a shiver down his spine and heat bubble in his gut.
"Got a flash sheet?" the man asks.
"On the left side of the desk," Thrain tells him and turns back to his current customer.
He's only got a few more lines and some coloring to do. Then he can clean up this station. He hopes this walk-in won't be trouble, but in his heart he knows he's done for. What he wouldn't give to get his hands on that man and put his art on his skin, branding him forever.
The girl in the chair looks to Thrain and then her tattoo and he rolls his eyes. The rest won't take long. His wrist is stiff but he can handle something small from the flash sheet.
Within the next half hour, Thrain finishes with his customer, takes a picture of the new body art for his Instagram, and takes her payment. She's gone within minutes, leaving Thrain to cleanup while a heated gaze watches his back.
"Sorry about the late arrival," the guy says, not sounding sorry at all.
"Did you find something you like?" Thrain asks, discarding his gloves after cleaning the station.
Vibrant blue eyes look him up and down. "I think I did."
He hates when customers are like this. The set of his jaw is hard and disapproving as he looks at the guy.
"The name's Varka, by the way."
There's a long pause as they assess each other. Finally, after releasing the tension from his shoulders, he reaches out a hand. "Thrain."
Varka grins. It's lopsided, pulling to the left a little more and revealing a dimple on his cheek. There's dark blond stubble on the lower half of his face, but instead of looking unkempt, Varka has a rugged nonchalance about him that is attractive.
"Why don't you get set up in the chair and we can talk," Thrain says, walking to the counter to grab the flash sheet. It also serves as a way to distract himself for a few moments.
He's tired from a long day and not in the mood for a flirty walk-in. Still, if the guy is willing to pay, Thrain can manage one last appointment.
"So, what are you thinking?" he asks, settling onto his stool next to Varka.
The man points to one of the designs on the flash sheet. It's a mountain landscape with a small amount of shading but mostly line work. Thrain honestly thought he'd go for something else but maybe the guy likes the great outdoors.
"Where?"
Varka sits up and pulls his shirt over his head. Inch by inch, hard abs and a broad, chiseled chest are revealed. Thrain holds his breath, inner voice screaming to maintain his professionalism.
Fingers run along Varka's ribs, "Here is good."
Thrain raises an eyebrow. "That's a tender spot. Most people would prefer—"
"I'm not most people," Varka says, voice low and rough.
Thrain nods. "If you're sure." He begins to setup the station again. "Any additions?"
"Nah, I like it as is."
"I don't see any other tattoos. If this is your first, I'd really advise you pick a different spot to—"
He trails off as Varka sits up and turns his back to him. There are at least ten designs, all varying sizes. Most are colored, but a few are simpler. The ink looks faded, like they're older.
"Fair enough."
"I'm no stranger to a bit of body art," Varka laughs. "I'm fact, I enjoy it. The sting of the needle is just what I need to relax."
Thrain has met these types before — people who enjoy a bit of pain, though to them its relaxing and not uncomfortable. As for Varka, he's still unsure if the guy truly does enjoy being under the needle or if he's all talk. Only time will tell.
When he pulls on his gloves, they snap against his wrist and Varka sucks in a short breath. Thrain looks at him but sees no change in his smug expression. Maybe he imagined the sound.
With ink and gun ready, Thrain scoots closer. He lays his hand against Varka's skin. It's impossibly warm, the heat burning through the latex gloves as if there's no barrier between them.
"Going to begin now," he announces just before he puts the needle to Varka's skin.
To his credit, the man barely flinches. In fact, he groans low through his nose but the sound isn't one of discomfort. It makes heat rise in Thrain's face and he swallows to keep himself from saying something stupid.
After only a few lines, Thrain is going crazy at the sounds slipping from Varka's lips. He's about to tell the man to quit messing with him when he notices it's not a joke. Varka's blue eyes are half-lidded with lust, lips parted in another moan. There's a generous bulge in his jeans where his cock strains against the denim.
Thrain tries to ignore it, but his focus is continually pulled to Varka's crotch. He can feel his own groin tightening in response, getting turned on by this beautiful, ridiculously horny man.
"Feeling alright?" he asks as he pauses to wipe away a few dots of blood and excess ink.
"Fucking amazing." Varka shivers as the needle touches his skin again.
A smirk tugs at Thrain's lips. He's come across a few tattoo enthusiasts who have a kink for the pain but never has he met someone like Varka, who openly shares their eroticism.
He gets back to work, adding more lines and letting Varka's moans wash over him. He's just starting the shading when the burly blond man grips the chair arm hard.
"That one hurt?" Thrain asks, but when he looks up, Varka's face is twisted with pleasure. There's a wet spot darkening his jeans, his cock twitching against the fabric.
"Oh fuuuck," Varka chokes on another moan. "Keep going."
The wet spot spreads out, darkening the area around Varka's zipper. His breaths rasp in shallow bursts as Thrain continues to put needle to skin. The tattoo is nearly finished when Varka cries out. His knuckles are white against the chair arm and his toes curl in his shoes as he comes.
Thrain is fully hard now, watching his client experience pure ecstasy. His own cock pulses with interest and he knows once he gets home, he'll have the perfect images flashing behind his eyes to help him get off.
"Done," he says, voice husky as he wipes Varka's skin one last time. "Only took twenty minutes and I charge by the hour, so minimum is one hundred."
"Perfect," Varka says, still catching his breath.
"Did you want to use the bathroom to clean up?"
The blond shakes his head, arching a little to pull his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. He chuckles, eyes fixated on the bulge in Thrain's pants as he hands over a hundred dollar bill.
"How's about a different kind of tip?" he says, nodding toward the tattoo artist.
Thrain knows it's a stupid idea but he also owns this shop and can do whatever the fuck he wants. Including accepting sexual favors from clients.
"I'll lock the door," he says, voice low and raspy at the thought of being in this man's presence for longer. To have Varka's hands on him. His mouth.
When he returns, Varka is leaning forward, elbows on his knees and a lackadaisical smile on his face. That single dimple is visible again and Thrain reaches out to cup the man's chin, thumb tracing the dip in his cheek.
Varka chuckles and turns his face to bite Thrain's thumb before sucking it into his mouth. His tongue glides over the pad of his thumb and makes his cock twitch with interest. There's a tug at his belt. Eyes flashing down, he sees Varka undoing it and already reaching for the zipper of his pants.
With the man still sitting, and him standing, it puts his crotch directly at eye level with Varka. Not wasting any time, his cock replaces his thumb in Varka's mouth and Thrain grips the man's shoulder to steady himself. Tight, wet, hot— it's perfect.
Those deep blue eyes look up at him through long, pale lashes and there's so much conveyed in that single gaze that Thrain groans and thrusts his hips forward, forcing Varka to take his cock into his throat. The man groans low, eyes rolling back and cheeks hollowing as he sucks.
"Fuck, you're good at that," Thrain grunts. He thrusts his hips in little motions, pushing his cock deeper until Varka's nose is nestled in a patch of dark, wiry hair.
His hand tangles in shaggy blond locks and tugs hard. If Varka likes pain, then he'll give him something to really moan about.
"Hold onto me," Thrain tells him and Varka grips the backs of his thighs.
Gripping Varka's hair, Thrain begins a rough pace of short but deep thrusts. The lights are still bright, allowing his to see the tears gathering in blue eyes and the way the man's throat bulges each time his cock slides down it. It's intoxicating— from the feeling of hot, tight walls fluttering around his length to the pleasurable moans rattling from deep in Varka's chest.
Thrain doesn't want to hold back. So, he doesn't.
His pace quickens and soon, he's fucking Varka's throat with abandon, chasing his release like a man on fire. His hold on the back of the man's head tightens and Varka moans long and low, his fingernails digging into Thrain's thighs. Tears run freely down his ruddy cheeks but those eyes implore him to keep going.
Thrain cups Varka's jaw and thumbs the seam of his lips, feeling the way his cock slides in and out. His fingers trace lower, over the man's throat to feel the bulge there and Varka moans. The vibrations nearly send Thrain over the edge. "You take me so well," he says in awe.
And then his ass his being grabbed and his balls fondled by deft fingers. Thrain throws his head back and groans. He's so close to the precipice. Heat burns in his gut, shooting up his spine like a live wire. Varka takes him deeper than before, holding him in place to swallow around the head of his cock and Thrain can't hold on anymore. His fist twists in Varka's hair as he comes with a growl.
Cock pulsing hard, he spills down Varka's throat and jolts through the aftershocks as the man continues to swallow around him. Thrain has to wrench him off by yanking his hair.
"How was that?" Varka asks, his voice raw and hoarse.
Thrain catches his breath, tucks his cock back into the pants and zips up. He bends at the waist so he's eye level with Varka and uses his thumb to wipe away the rest of the evidence of the most incredible blowjob he's ever received.
"You want any other tattoos, you come to me," Thrain says low, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I'm your personal artist now."
Varka barks out a laugh, blue eyes twinkling with satisfaction. "No complaints here," he says, licking the rest of Thrain's cum from his thumb with a dimpled grin.