Royal

Weekday mornings are boring as hell at Heathens Ink. People are at work, not here getting inked. This is why when I was setting up my workspace years ago I bought an overstuffed chair for one corner. It’s the perfect place to lounge on mornings like this while I jam out to Twenty-One Pilots and do some sketching.

“Please don’t make an-y su-dd-en moooooves.” I sing along as my hand flies over the page.

“Hey Royal,” I startle at the greeting and look up to see Madden standing in my doorway.

He’s the last person I would’ve expected to see here today. After the shooting he was a victim of recently he’s been kind of a hermit, refusing to leave the house at all. He’s smirking at me like there’s some sort of plot afoot.

“Oh hey man, what brings you by?”

“This is Thane’s buddy, Zade. He wants a tat,” Madden says gesturing over his shoulder.

I glance past him and notice for the first time the gorgeous hunk of man meat he seems to have brought me as a gift. Madden done good.

Zade is tall, at least six two, and built like a brick fucking house. His buzz cut makes me think he’s one of Thane’s Marine buddies. And, Christ, that square jaw makes me want to do so many slutty things. Zade smiles at me, his eyes roaming over my body as well.

“Why, hello there. Why don’t you step on in here and tell me what I can do for you, sexy.” I wave him in and shoot Madden a get lost look.

“Alright, I’ll leave you in Royal’s very capable hands,” Madden says, taking his cue to leave.

Zade steps into my workspace and offers me his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Royal.” Sexy and a gentleman. God, have I thanked you recently for your benevolence? If not, thank you for creating beautiful men who like other men, Love Royal. Amen. 

“Likewise.” I return the handshake, lingering on the touch a few extra seconds. 

“It makes sense now,” Zade says, looking me over once more.

“What’s that?”

“Why Madden was so eager to get me down here.”  I cock an eyebrow, waiting to hear the punchline. “He was worried I was trying to steal Thane from him, so he brought me here for a shiny distraction.”

“And, are you trying to steal Thane from him?” I ask, suddenly defensive. 

“God no. Just because we used to fuck, doesn’t mean I want him all to myself.”

“Good. Because if you do anything that causes Madden pain, I will kill you,” I inform him in a matter-of-fact tone.

It’s Zade’s turn to cock an eyebrow now.

“I’m a former Marine, I could kill you without breaking a sweat.” Fuck, that shouldn’t be hot, should it? “Why so protective of Madden, anyway?”

“Have you not spent five minutes with him? He’s like a cute little puppy that rolls over and shows you its belly. You can’t stand for anyone kicking the puppy,” I explain and Zade laughs. “Besides, Madden’s had enough pain in his life, if I can prevent any more, I will.”

“You’re a good friend,” Zade says.

“Thank you. Now, what are you looking for?”

Zade reaches around the back of his neck and tugs his shirt off. Sweet Jesus, dude is fucking ripped.

“I want the name Julie, right here,” he points to his left peck. “And, I want it surrounded by forget-me-not’s.”

“If Julie is a girlfriend, you should know I took an oath as a tattoo artist to advise you against having a significant other’s name inked on your body.”

“An oath? I didn’t realize becoming a tattoo artist was such serious business. Did they make you put your hand on the bible and everything?” Zade mocks.

“Nah, but only because it kept bursting into flames. The Tattoo Elders went through four bibles before they let me swear on the Kama Sutra instead.”

Zade snorts a laugh and shakes his head at me.

“She wasn’t my girlfriend,” he says. “I told you two seconds ago that I used to have sex with Thane,” Zade points out and I roll my eyes at his dumbass comment.

“Right, because bisexuality isn’t a thing,” I respond, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Gay guys think they face discrimination? They should try spending one week being bisexual. I’m not gay enough for a lot of gay men, not straight enough for many women. And then there are the people who don’t believe in bisexuality at all, or as I call them, the ‘pick a side’ people. I will go postal on the next person who condescendingly says some version of the phrase “yeah, but isn’t bisexuality just being too afraid to admit you’re gay?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Of course I know bisexuality is a thing,” Zade defends.

“Didn’t sound like it,” I argue and Zade bristles.

“You’re kind of an asshole, huh?”

“Most people find it charming,” I respond with a wink as I turn to my computer to start looking up images of forget-me-not's for his design. “So, who is Julie, then?”

“No comment,” Zade answers in a terse tone.

“Alright.” I print off an image and grab my sketchbook. “You have a specific font you want? You can check out this website.” I tilt my head toward the computer that has my favorite font website pulled up now.

While I sketch the flowers Zade searches through the fonts and lets me know when he picks one.

“Alright, lay back on the chair. I’m going to shave a small spot then we’ll position the design and see how you like it before I get started.”

Zade nods and hops up in the chair. My mouth waters at the expanse of rock hard muscle I have laid out before me.

Once his skin is prepped and he likes the positioning I pull on my rubber gloves and prep my needles and ink.

“So, I think I remember Thane saying that you’d decided to leave the Marines?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Fuck if I know,” Zade answers with a sigh.

I fire up my tattoo machine and wheel my stool forward to get started. Zade relaxes when the needle pierces his skin. I love a man who doesn’t puss out when it comes to getting inked. I’ve had guys in my chair who look tough as nails, but as soon as the needle touches them they’re squirming and bitching.

I do my best not to notice how good his firm pecs feel under my hands. No drooling until you’re finished working, I scold myself.

“Well, what did you want to be when you were younger?” I ask, wanting to keep the conversation going and get to know Zade better.

“It’s stupid.”

“Rodeo clown?” I guess with mock seriousness.

“Wow, nailed it in one,” Zade jokes.

I wait for him to go on, maybe tell me what the ‘stupid’ dream job was. When he doesn’t I decide to go back to flirting instead.

“You know, you’ve got great nipples. Ever think about getting them pierced?”

“Nah, I’ve already got my dick pierced, that’s more than enough,” Zade answers and I nearly fuck up the flower I’m working on.

“Don’t you dare tease me. Is your dick really pierced? What do you have? P.A.? Apa? Dydoe? Dolphin?”

“Let a guy have a little modesty, jeez.”

“Don’t fuck with me, man. I’ll pull your pants down and check right now,” I threaten, dying to know if his dick is really pierced.

“Tell you what, give me your number and I’ll tell you if my dick is really pierced.”

“Deal,” I agree, trying not to sound too eager, and failing instantly.

I stop tattooing long enough to take Zade’s phone when he offers it to me and enter my number into it. Then I call myself so I have his number, and hand his phone back.

“So, spill! Tell me, tell me.”

“No, it’s not pierced,” Zade reveals with a smirk.

“Dammit! In that case, lose my number,” I joke.

“No way, you’re not getting rid of me now.”

“Ooo, quite the threat from a big, sexy man.”

As I lean close, making sure the lines on the letters are straight and even. I feel Zade’s breath ruffling my hair as he inhales deeply.

“Um, are you sniffing me?”

“I quit smoking nine years ago, but it’s still my favorite smell. Sorry.”

I chuckle at his chagrined tone.

“Nine years? Old man.”

“Hey, I’m only twenty-nine, I’m not picking out a burial plot yet,” Zade argues. “Unlike you, if you keep smoking.”

“Ugh, alright, I get it. I’ve been trying to quit forever. My best friend, Nash, gives me so much shit about it. Quitting is hard as fuck, so it’s not going well.”

“It’s all about willpower, man.”

“Maybe my oral fixation is too strong to break,” I suggest, looking up to waggle my eyebrows at him.

By the time I finish Zade’s tat I have a sizeable crush on the man. He’s charming, smart, and did I mention hot as fuck?

I pat the blood droplets off his new ink and then slather it with my favorite ointment, before putting a bandage over it.

I do my best not to pout when Zade puts his shirt back on. When he stands up he notices my business cards on my computer desk and picks one up.

“Alright, I’m calling bullshit on this,” Zade declares.

“On what?”

“Your name is not Royal King. I was having trouble believing it was ‘Royal’ to begin with, but then I figured some parents are fucking weird. I refuse to believe your name is Royal King, though.”

“You’ve never heard of Rip Torn?” I point out.

“Yeah. I’m not buying it though.”

I shrug and shoot him a flirty smile.

“Guess it’ll give us something to talk about when I call you,” Zade says.

“I guess it will.”

 

When I get home at the end of the day all I can think about is spending the rest of the night vegging out and playing video games with Nash. It’s been two weeks since our almost kiss and neither of us have mentioned it. The next morning Nash was acting like nothing out of the ordinary had happened so I followed his cue and let it be. He was drunk and I’m sure much of that moment was wishful thinking on my part. There’s no way my straight best friend suddenly wanted to make out with me.

I need to get over this stupid crush once and for all. I deserve someone who can return my feelings dammit, and there’s a tiny sliver of hope in me that Zade could possibly be that guy.

 My breath catches when I find Nash sitting on the couch in nothing but a pair of lime green boxer briefs. No matter how much time Nash spends half naked around the house, I never get used to the sight. Miles of ripped muscles and inked skin on display at all times leaving me with an almost constant erection. And it’s not just his body that’s insane, his soulful blue eyes and long blond hair-that he often pulls up into a man-bun- make me want to do filthy things to him.

“Hey, want to play Call of Duty?” Nash asks, scooting over on the couch a few inches to make space for me.

I toe off my shoes and plop down beside him and take the controller he’s offering. Nash’s citrus scent washes over me and tempts me to lean over and lick his neck. I don’t, of course, because that’s a quick way to send straight guys running for the hills...or so I’ve heard.

“Was the shop slow today?” Nash asks as the game starts.

“Yeah, typical weekday. Madden stopped by, he seemed like he’s doing well.”

“Good. I still can’t believe he was shot like that, it seems so surreal.” Nash shakes his head sadly as his avatar blows one of my men to bits. Irony thy name is video games.

“Yeah. He brought a friend of Thane’s with him.” Something in my voice must’ve given me away because Nash glances at me out of the corner of his eye and licks his lips. Don’t ask me how I’m able to notice those minute mannerisms while still keeping my eyes glued to the television screen, it’s a special talent.

“You gonna hook up with him?”

“Probably.” I shrug and mash the buttons to annihilate some Germans. “I gave him my number, we’ll see if he calls.”

“Huh,” Nash grunts in response.

If I didn’t know any better I might think Nash was jealous. I know that’s not it though. He’s probably worried he’ll miss out on video game nights if I ever date someone seriously. Zade’s hot, but I’m not sure Nash has much to worry about. I’ve been in love with him since I was sixteen. No one else I’ve dated- guy or girl- has been enough to diminish my feelings for Nash. 

In my defense, Nash is kind of my hero. When I was seven and my old man started shoving me around, Nash told my mom and she kicked my dad out. When I was fourteen and I came out as gay (it took me a few years longer to realize I was actually bisexual), Nash put the fear of god into anyone who gave me shit about it at school. When I was sixteen and my mom was killed by a drunk driver, Nash convinced his parents to take me in so I wouldn’t have to go into foster care.

It’s also the reason I can never tell him how I feel, though. I could never risk losing Nash over something as stupid as unrequited love. So, I’ve made do over the years by lusting after him secretly and organizing threesome’s with women so I can at least have the chance to witness him in the throes of passion, even if I’m not the one who gets to give it to him. He has let me blow him a few times during a three-way, and that is my epic spank bank material.

At some point I know I’m going to have to force myself to move on. I don’t want to spend my whole life pining for a man who’ll never love me back. At least not in the way I want him to.

My stomach grumbles and I realize I haven’t eaten all day.

“You hungry? We could order a pizza or something?” Nash suggests.

“Yeah, pizza’s good. Let’s pause the game and I’ll order.”

I set my controller down and pull my phone out of my pocket. I smile when I notice a missed text.

 

Zade: Hey

 

I have to fight to suppress a decidedly un-masculine, giddy squeal when I see the text is from Zade.

 

Me: I’m sorry, who is this?

Zade: the ridiculously hot guy you gave your number to earlier today

Me: you’re going to have to narrow it down a bit

 

The next text that comes through is a selfie of Zade looking into the camera with smoldering eyes. It should be illegal for anyone to be that hot.

 

Me: I guess you sort of look familiar. Do you need something?

Zade: you’re a dick lol. I wanted to see if you want to hang out.

Me: hang out? Lame way to ask a man on a date

Zade: not a date. A pre-date hang out. First dates are awkward, so let’s get to know each other first

Me: that’s a great idea. Plus then if I sleep with you on the first date I won’t feel slutty because I can be like ‘we were friends first, it’s not like we just met’

Zade: I like the way you think ;) so tomorrow?

Me: tomorrow is good. I’ll text you my address and we can keep it low-key

Zade: perfect

 

 

I feel Nash’s gaze on me and I quickly exit out of my texts and click on my internet browser to order the pizza.

“Sorry, it was a text from Zade asking me to hang out.”

“It’s cool,” Nash assures me. Although, something in his tone still seems off. He’s not usually weird like this when I mention dates or guys I’m interested in. Maybe he’s having an off day.

I still remember when I first told Nash that I liked boys. A fact I’d realized because I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing him. We were fourteen and we were in my bedroom playing on my PlayStation. I’d known for a while that I liked boys, and in particular that I liked Nash. I was terrified to tell him, though. What if he thought I was gross? I knew, even then, that some people were not okay with same sex relationships.

 

“I like boys,” I’d blurted out, without any warning.

Nash had stopped attempting to get the cartoon bandicoot to escape the rolling boulder and turned to look at me with a scrunched face.

“What’s there to like about boys?” he’d asked.

I’d shrugged, trying to play it cool as my heart hammered in my chest.

“I don’t know, lots of stuff.”

“So, like, you want to kiss a guy?”

“Yeah,” I’d answered in a near whisper.

“Can we still be friends if I like girls?” Nash asked.

“Of course,” I’d nodded rapidly.

 

And that had been the end of that. Nash had never given me shit about liking guys. It had been funny though two years later when I’d realized I was bisexual. I chose to tell him again when we were playing video games.

 

“I like girls,” I said as casually as I could manage.

Like the previous confession Nash stopped mashing buttons and turned to look at me with confusion.

“You do? Do you not like guys anymore?”

“No, I still like guys. I like both,” I’d explained.

“Oh. Why didn’t you say that before?”

“I didn’t realize it. I like guys more, but when I see a girl like in a bikini or something I get a hard-on, too.”

Nash had smiled and nodded emphatically.

“Boobs are so awesome,” he declared.

 

“Are you going to sit there daydreaming the rest of the night, or are we going to finish this game?” Nash gives my shoulder a shove, pulling me from my reminiscence.