Wood: A True Lover's Story

Okay then. Wood finished his shower and was sitting at the table idly eating his dinner and mulling over the new touches he’d added to his design when he heard Trent’s bedroom door open. “About time. What were you doing in there that was so—” Wood glanced up and dropped his fork, the metal clanging loudly against the side of his plate before it fell to the floor.

He caught the satisfied smirk on Trent’s face as he strolled past in a long, black silk robe and sauntered into the living room. Wood stared blankly, wondering if he’d just seen what he thought he did. Had to be because suddenly his cock was pressing forcefully against his zipper, and his mouth began to water for some meat that wasn’t on a plate in front of him. He got up and discarded the last few bites of his uneaten bites of chicken, quickly washed his hands, then came around the corner into the living room.

“How was work?” Trent asked coolly, lying on the couch with one knee propped against the back cushions and the other resting on the floor. The way his legs were splayed open left absolutely nothing to Wood’s imagination. Trent’s satiny black boy shorts didn’t have near enough material to conceal what he was packing.

Wood slowly walked around the table and sat down at the other end of the couch, deciding to play along. “Work was good. Business is picking up big-time.”

“That’s wonderful,” Trent said, watching him with an amused glimmer in his eyes like when a cat traps a mouse beneath it. “Did you tattoo anyone yet?”

“No,” Wood said, his body heat rising the more he stared at his hot lover who’d obviously gone above and beyond to get his attention. Did Trent really think he wanted to discuss work right now?

Trent leaned over and picked up one of Wood’s felt-tip markers that were scattered across the end table and popped the cap off. With his legs spread deliciously wide, Trent began to illustrate—more like tried to draw—the start of a long-stemmed rose on the inside of his thigh. Wood was engrossed with the jagged green line he was sketching down his pale skin. The color was so… was… Christ Almighty.

“New robe?” Wood asked, running his hands along the smooth material and inching it open farther to see Trent’s solid chest.

Trent grinned slyly. “This?” He plucked the material out of Wood’s hands and covered his naked skin.

Damn tease.

“I ordered this long ago and it just arrived today, so I thought I’d try it on and see if it fits.” Trent shrugged as he haphazardly drew a few leaves on the stem of his flower. Wood’s fingers tingled to grab a tattoo machine.

Trent was still playing it cool, and Wood found himself wildly aroused and very entertained. “So, you said you ordered this a while ago?”

Trent nodded. “Mmhmm. Before you even came to live here.”

“A black silk robe and some see-through shorts?” Wood licked his lips, inching his hand up the side of Trent’s thigh, his voice revealing he wasn’t buying the lie for a second.

“Y’know, I think it’s time I had a permanent one of these,” Trent said absently, still coloring and ignoring Wood’s probing. The way Trent’s fingers loosely gripped the marker, and the bold flowers he chose to doodle on his supple skin ignited a flame within Wood’s heart that’d been waiting for the perfect spark.

Wood sucked in a deep breath and clutched Trent’s hand, halting his design. He went for his black marker and began to fill in what his mind was creating specifically for the man he loved. “Do you really mean that?”

“You heard me.” Trent finally dropped the charade and met his gaze. Wood recognized the sincerity in Trent’s dark eyes as he sat up and gently cupped his beard, making him lean into the warm comfort. “You’ve been drawing on me all this time, and I’m tired of seeing it wash down the drain when I shower. I want it to be permanent, Hersch. I want your art on me for everyone to see, all the time. I don’t even have a fuckin’ idea of what I want. I don’t care.”

Wood held Trent behind his neck and leaned forward the few inches, touching their foreheads together.

“Anything you want to put on me, I’ll take it,” Trent whispered. “Proudly.”

Wood stared for what felt like forever before he could bring himself to ask, his voice rough and emotional, “You trust me like that?”

“Yes,” Trent said sternly. “Without question.”

Wood paused. He loved the man in his arms, but his pride still prevented him from voicing his truest fears. What if he’d lost his natural talent? “I haven’t tattooed on anyone because…”

“Then let me be your first.” Trent kissed his slack mouth, not insisting Wood finish his sentence. “Just like you were mine. Let me be yours.”