Jack was far more confident walking in through the back door of that tattoo shop than he had been the front. The back door, after hours, suited him.

Luna was waiting. He’d barely grazed the heavy metal door with his knuckles and it opened, like she’d anticipated his arrival. Judging from the expression on her face, a mix of uncertainty and disdain, she wasn’t pleased to be doing the work for him.

Why should she be? He hadn’t exactly given her an alternative.

“So. You showed up.” Her tone said she very much doubted he would. Her neon pink hair was pulled back into a flowing ponytail. She wore heavy makeup that on another woman would have been gauche but on her looked just right. Dark eyeshadow and eyeliner outlined those otherworldly, sea green eyes. She had a cardigan on, something that looked like it had been knitted by her granny, and it covered up most of her tattoos. Her jeans were tight enough to be painted on. They hugged the most beautiful, rounded ass and long legs Jack had ever seen.

“Yah,” he muttered. She held the door open a fraction wider and he pushed through. She backed up a step, reminding him that he took up most of the free space in the back. He slammed the metal door shut and clicked the lock in place.

“You can follow me. I have my room all set up.” Luna’s voice was totally professional and gave away none of the discomfort that flashed across her face before she turned and stalked down the hall.

Jack glanced around even though he had been back there only the day before. What did he expect? Someone hiding, waiting to ambush him?

He was being ridiculous. No one had stopped him from having that tattoo lasered. They weren’t going to stop him now. He was just on edge since Lion had shown up at his club the night before. Would he show up again tonight? Jack almost hoped so. It had been a good long while since he’d been involved in a good brawl. He would truly enjoy taking a swing at Lion almost as much as he would enjoy being on the receiving end of those punches.

“Are you coming?” Luna stuck her head out of the third room on the right. Her raised brow let him know just what she thought about his hesitation.

“Yes,” Jack mumbled. He was really going to do this. The tattoo, the pain, the burn, it was welcome. He just didn’t know if he could make it through all that touch. Luna’s touch. God, she’s beautiful. Why then was he so afraid? Automatic instinct? In his experience it didn’t matter if a woman was beautiful or not. He still couldn’t bear even the briefest of human contact.

He walked into the room, all false confidence, and looked around. It was all so normal. What had he been expecting? A torture chamber? He’d been in this very room just yesterday.

“I have the table all set up. I think I’ll get you to lay down on your stomach, if that’s alright?”

He grunted, a noise that passed for approval. Luna nodded. She bustled around deftly, all business. He was a little taken aback when she shoved a clipboard with forms in his face.

“I’m not going to pretend like you’re going to give me a copy of your license.” Her eyes did a quick once over. “I can tell you’re of age anyway. I don’t expect you’ll be honest about personal details either. If you wanted to be, you wouldn’t be here after hours. Just fill out the medical details. And be honest. It could make a difference when I’m tattooing.”

Jack stared at the white page with the small black writing. He fumbled with the non-descript blue pen, pulling it from the space between the clips. He ticked NO to all of the boxes. At least that was easy. As expected, he left the top part blank. He wasn’t going to give details. Not age and most certainly not name.

“Just place it over there.” Luna indicted the small desk in the far corner of the room. She busied herself setting out inks, washing her hands and gloving up.

Jack realized it was up to him to strip down. Jesus, he was glad he hadn’t worn a shirt with buttons again. His hands shook, his palms sweaty and sticky, as he fumbled with the hem of his shirt, managing to pull it over his head.

The room was warm. It was probably just his mind that felt the cold rush of air. His skin pimpled and a shiver raced up his spine.

Luna whirled, brow furrowed in the middle, right between two perfect eyebrows. Jack didn’t like that crease there. Or the realization that he was likely the cause of it.

“You can get on the table please.”

Jack eyed the thing, silently judging the odds of it holding up his mass. The thing looked sturdy enough. Luna must know what she was doing. This wasn’t exactly her first rodeo.

He slid on awkwardly, very aware of how slow and cumbersome his actions were. His limbs were heavy, like dead weight. Almost as heavy as the dread that lay coiled in the pit of his stomach.

He stole a glance at Luna but she was studying his form. She finally set it down. “I assume you want to see the drawing I made before you agree to get it inked on yourself.”

“Oh. Yah.” The truth was he didn’t care. Just as long as it covered up what was currently there. He shoved himself up on the table with an elbow under his chest.

Luna produced a stencil off the counter, just an outline. She held it up and waited. Jack didn’t smile very often. As in once a week, if that. Even then it was more a muscular reaction rather than anything with true feeling behind it.

That drawing though, the scrolling waves and beautiful koi fish, it was traditional and utterly captivating. Beautiful. He couldn’t actually imagine having that on his skin. His lips moved upwards, slightly, just a fraction. For him, it was one of those rare, genuine expressions of joy.

Luna’s eyes shone in response. She didn’t need anything further to affirm that what she had drawn was good.

Jack moved his elbow, flattening himself back down on the table. He waited, breath held somewhere between throat and lungs. Luna moved. Slowly. He let out a breath. Then another. Breathed in. Harder. Faster.

Stay calm. If you freak out before she even starts she’ll never agree to do this.

The cool spray of disinfectant hit his overheated skin. After that came the gentle suction of the stencil, glued to his back and lifted. The rasp of paper towel followed and the smudge of petroleum jelly… it was all- clinical. Professional. I can handle this.

Jack thought he could get through it, at least until the pain set in. He would concentrate on the pain, use it to ground himself. The human body could only feel one sensation at a time… he thought he’d read that somewhere. Focus on the pain so he didn’t feel Luna’s touch.

It was a good plan except that her touch came first. Her fingertips, gentle, light as a whisper of air, brushed over his upper back, right by his spine. The buzz of that tattoo gun started up, loud, filling his head, drowning out the roar that invaded his ears.

His breath came fast and hard. Raw, rasping pants that were anything but normal, made harder by the fact that he was on his stomach and couldn’t expand his diaphragm. Where was a damn paper bag when you needed it?

Jack slammed his lids closed as he struggled to block out the images. His foster father, the man who was by law supposed to protect Jack, belt raised in hand, eyes rolling, pupils large. The nameless, faceless women that he’d been with, his sad attempt at a connection. The cars he’d stolen, the night he was busted, slammed down onto the pavement.

Breathe. It was such a simple command. So completely impossible. He tried one more time.

And lost his shit completely.