Masked & Miserable: A Novella of the Sacred Hearts MC (Book 3.5)
Read Masked & Miserable: A Novella of the Sacred Hearts MC (Book 3.5) Online
Authors: A.J. Downey
Masked &
Miserable
A Sacred Heart’s
MC Novella
(Book 3.5)
by A. J. Downey
Text Copyright ©
2014 A.J. Downey
This is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either
the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely
coincidental.
All Rights
Reserved
To
Jacqueline Denn & Lia Rees for trying to cut me out of
the snarl of formatting issues in order to get this series and all my other
works into paperback in addition to the e-reader format. Thanks for liking my
work enough to want to share it with more people, and thank you even more for
having a generous spirit to help me out. Squick’s story may be small but it has
a lot of heartfelt sentiments to it, like I do for all your help and support.
And to all my enterprising heterosexual male friends who
read this for me. Some of you couldn’t get past the sex scene without blushing,
laughing and getting real uncomfortable, and some of you couldn’t get past the
sex scene period, but you all tried and you all gave me the feedback I needed.
Thank you all for being open minded enough to give it a real shot. I know it
wasn’t your thing but you did it anyways because you love me. I love you too.
Squick…
“Andy, do you have time for a late consult?” I looked up
from my inventory and squinted at Ashton. It was close to closing time.
“Yeah! Yeah. Hold on just a sec.” I hurriedly put things
away in my tool drawers and stood up. I followed Ashton out into the lobby area
and blinked.
Holy shit.
“Hi.”
He was fucking… Holy shit!
“Squick are you okay?” Ashton’s voice snapped me out of it.
“Yeah! Hi, what’re you looking at having done man?” I
stuffed my hands in my pockets and rocked back and forth in my worn black All
Stars.
He was amazing. Exquisite. Just… wow. He was shorter than me
by a head but that’s not surprising. I’m like six foot five, which made him
like five-nine or so. He was slender in that way… that just…
shit,
turned me the fuck on. I didn’t like guys that were overly built out. He had
that willowy look to him, muscular, sure but more of a whipcord over bone kind.
His hair was black, except for the front where it was on fire. Either he or
someone he knew, had helped him dye the front shock of his hair in reds,
oranges, yellows and even whites so it looked like a fire burst in front, over
his brow. The locks of hair brushing his pale forehead made me want to reach
out and smooth them away.
He had these liquid, deep brown eyes behind a pair of wire
rimmed oval glasses that fit his face, making him more handsome, not less. His
hands were stuffed into comfortably worn light jeans. I couldn’t see much skin.
He had on a thin, long sleeved, army green v-neck sweater, a white crewneck tee
peeking out at the throat. The jeans were scrunched over a pair of black Doc
Marten shoes and the backs of ‘em were frayed from too long stepping on them.
This guy was my kind of hot and my mouth was suddenly dry just looking at him. I
realized I hadn’t been listening to a damned word he’d said so far and so I
quickly tuned in.
“I’m a musician,” he was saying, he pulled his hands out of
his pockets and pushed back the sleeves on his sweater to his elbows and I was
mesmerized by his hands. Large with long fingers.
“Okay,” I said.
“I wanted a line of music from here to here.” He held up his
arm and indicated from his wrist to his elbow on the outside blade of his forearm.
He was fucking phenomenal! Whipcord over bone, just as I’d suspected. I
followed the delicate tracery of his veins which stood out on the backs of his
hands. I nodded.
“Should be doable. You have any other ink?” I asked. He
blushed and his kissable lips pulled into a smile.
“No, this would be my first,” he said.
“No problem man. So you said you were a musician, was there
a specific line of music you wanted? Were you thinking just some random notes
or did you want something like sheet music, lines and all?” his smile
broadened.
“Actually,” he dug a piece of folded paper out of his wallet
and handed it to me. I unfolded it and found a perfect line of music across the
page, I held it up landscape style and said.
“C’mere, let me see,” he came forward and held up his arm. I
held the paper against it and went into work mode. I sucked my teeth and
contemplated.
“Gimme like five minutes?” I asked. Ashton beamed at me and
returned to her spot at the front counter.
“Sure!” he said and brightened.
“What was your name?” I asked.
“Aaron.” Aaron… wow. Even his name was hot.
“Hey Aaron, I’m Andy, most people around here just call me
Squick,” I stuck out my hand.
Touch me, yes, please touch me.
Aaron shook my hand and smiled, “Nice to meet you Andy.”
I felt my cock twitch in my jeans just at the sound of my
name on his lips. I let his hand go abruptly. It had been warm, his skin soft,
fingertips calloused. Holy shit. This was bad. Like
really
bad.
“Be right back Aaron,” I put on my best smile as I said it
and I went for the Thermofax to see about making a stencil, sure, but more to
calm my shit. It’d been a while since I’d had such a visceral reaction to
someone. Aaron was fucking attractive as hell! I cringed, leaning on the table
that supported the machine and took a deep breath. I couldn’t do this, I
couldn’t let Trig see…
“Andy?” I turned and looked at Ashton.
Fuck. That obvious?
I wondered. She shut the door
behind her and sighed out.
“You okay?” she asked, her sunlit eyes clouded with concern.
“Yeah, just needed a sec to make a stencil,” I feigned
innocence. She smiled gently.
“You need to stop hiding,” she murmured, “It’s tearing you
up inside.” She hugged me and I was too stunned to hug her back for a second. I
wrapped my long arms around her narrow shoulders and back and smiled, acutely
aware of the touch of sadness it held.
“I’m fine,” I said and felt queasy at the lie. She smiled up
at me a little sadly and nodded after carefully considering my face. The woman
read me like a book.
“Okay. See you later then, Ethan and I are heading home.” She
let me have the lie for now, didn’t push and I smiled with a little less
sadness and a whole lot more guilt.
“Okay I’ll close up after I’m finished with Aaron,” I
promised. She nodded and slipped out, shutting the door behind her. Coward that
I am, I gave myself two or three more minutes before heading out. Trig and
Ashton were at the door to the shop. He pulled the cord on the open sign and it
winked out.
“Night Bro, see you tomorrow,” he said and I nodded.
“Night Trig,” I called out, waving absently and with one
last lingering look from Ashton, they left. It was just me and Aaron. Zander
and the rest of the guys had left an hour or more ago, thank fuck. I felt the
tension in my neck and shoulders ease marginally.
“Ashton get your ID and have you fill out the paperwork?” I asked.
“Yeah, yeah! Right here,” he handed me his stuff as he spoke.
“Cool, great, come on back.” I led him back to my station
and motioned for him to have a seat.
“Can you take off the sweater?” I asked and swallowed hard.
He smiled and pulled the long sleeved shirt over his head. My breath caught
when the tee underneath rode up over his stomach, flat with a light dusting of
dark hair, a happy trail leading down into his pants. Jesus H. Christ… I wanted
to lick him.
“Hold your arm out like this,” I showed him what I needed
and he complied. I held up the stencil and nodded before setting to work. I
sprayed down the area with green hospital soap, holding a handful of paper
towels underneath to keep from dripping all over his lap. Aaron was smiling,
his liquid deep brown eyes watching me from behind his sexy as hell lenses.
“How long have you been doing this?” he asked.
“Going on six years now. Started my apprenticeship early,
about sixteen, with the drawing and the cleaning and the general scut work.” I used
a safety razor to shave the light dusting of hair from the area, more
precautionary than anything.
“Yeah? I thought you had to be eighteen to even set foot in
one of these places,” he mused.
“You do. I lied my ass off. Had my first tattoo done when I
was sixteen too.” I smiled and lifted my pant leg, pointing to a black and
white cartoon comic book guy, Johnny the Homicidal Maniac on the inside of my
right leg midway between ankle and knee.
“Is that Johnen Vasquez!?” he exclaimed and I startled. Most
people knew Invader Zim, not a whole lot of folks knew Johnny the Homicidal
Maniac or Squee and even less knew who the hell Johnen Vasquez
was
, let
alone that he was the creator of the characters.
“Yeah,” I said and eyed Aaron speculatively.
“I
love
Nny and Squee!” he exclaimed. I carefully
laid the stencil along his arm but I was shaking some and it folded in on its
self. I sniffed, washed off his arm and tried again and failed again, the
damned lines weren’t straight, the treble clef higher at the elbow than the
notes at the end towards his wrist.
“I have Nailbunny and the Doughboys on me too,” I said and
tried the stencil for a third time.
“That’s awesome!” he laughed and his eyes danced with happy.
I suppressed a groan and hung my head. God damn. Failed the stencil again.
“Problem?” he asked concerned.
“Just having a tough time getting it straight. Stencil is
the most important part of the tat.” I licked my lips.
Wait
, did he just
follow that a little too closely?
“Yeah, no, I get it,” he said startled. We were silent and
finally I got the damned thing on straight. I held up a hand mirror.
“Good?” I asked. He inspected it in the glass and nodded
slowly after a minute.
“Yeah good,” he declared, all smiles.
“Okay, cool.” I got one of my liner needles installed on my
very favorite gun and tapped the pedal experimentally. Aaron jumped slightly at
the loud buzz of the gun.
“Does it hurt much?” he asked dubiously and I smiled.
“Ever do any stupid shit when you were a kid?” I asked. He
smiled a one sided smile, and I think my fucking heart stopped.
“Didn’t we all?” he asked. I grinned.
“Fair point,” I conceded. “Okay, more specifically, did you
ever stick a nine volt battery on your tongue?” his eyes widened and he blushed
the hottest shade of pink. I laughed and he cracked a grin.
“Yeah,” he said finally laughing with me.
“Feels pretty much
exactly
like that,” I told him. He
leaned back and huffed out a breath.
“Okay, that sucked but it didn’t suck too bad.” He was
still; thoughtful for a second then he nodded having apparently psyched himself
up enough to go through with it.
“You ready?” I asked anyways and he gave a curt nod.
“Ready,” he affirmed, and so I dipped the needle, smeared
some A&D over where I was starting and dug in. He hissed out a breath that
carried with it the scent of spearmint and I smiled, laying in one long line,
where the notes were gonna rest. I let up.
“Not too bad right?” I asked. He looked a little pale.
“Nope,” his voice was a little strained, breathy in that way
that said he was either going to hurl or keel over. I quirked a brow.
“Not gonna get sick on me are you?” I asked. He may be
pretty but I think my boy Aaron might be a bit of a wuss.
“Nope, I just… I don’t like needles,” he confessed lamely. I
burst out laughing.
“Well too late now. You’re in it to win it my friend!” he
smiled at me and nodded nervously. I went to work. This was an easy piece once
the stencil was in place. I just needed to get it done. I worked in silence for
a minute or two. I glanced up at Aaron’s face and smiled. Yep. Endorphins had
kicked in, he was getting into the zone a lot of people went into when they had
ink done.
“Not so bad is it?” I said softly.
“No, nuh uh, not once you really get going,” he agreed.
“So what do you play?” I asked.
“Cello,” he said.
“Get the fuck out!” I leaned back and looked him over to see
if he was serious. He blinked.
“No I’m being serious. I play the Cello and the Violin,
Guitar sometimes too,” he smiled faintly.
“Never in a million years would have pegged you for a
classical type. So what do you do for a living?” I asked getting back into the
tat.
“I play for the philharmonic orchestra,” he said and my
eyebrows went up.
“No shit!? You’re that good?” I asked.
“Mmm hmm,” he nodded and it jostled his arm I pulled the gun
away and looked. I was on a note, no harm done.
“Try not to move,” I said.
“Sorry,” he said. If he were any other guy I would have been
a dick and said, ‘it’s your tat’ and shrugged it off but I was liking Aaron,
probably way more than I should.
“No worries, I just want it to look good for you man.” I
glanced up into a startled expression. Aaron’s face softened and he smiled and
I swallowed hard… just something in his eyes…
“Thanks,” he said.
“No problem.” The buzz of my gun filled the ensuing silence.
It took about ten minutes to finish him up. I slathered on the A&D and
taped him up.
“You should leave this on for two hours. If the bandage is
stuck, wet it. If you take a shower, avoid putting the tat directly under the
spray for the first couple of days. Use Aquaphor to keep it moist…” I ran
through aftercare instructions with him and he stared at me wide eyed and
nodded. I handed them to him on a slip of paper and he smiled appreciatively.
“How much do I owe you?” he asked.
I stripped off my gloves and shrugged. What can I say, I
wanted beautiful Aaron to remember me… That and I was tired and feeling saucy.
Wasn’t like I was ever going to see him again…
“You know what, it’s your first tat, it’s late and I think
you’re pretty. On the house,” I told him and smiled big.
He laughed and grinned, “You think I’m pretty?” he asked
incredulously. I quirked a brow and raised a shoulder in an indelicate shrug.
If he were straight he could take it as a joke, I’d used the right tone for it
to be one but my heart seized in my chest at his next words.
“You’re not so bad to look at yourself,” he said and his
voice had dipped, become husky with a lust of his own. I swallowed hard and
stilled, eying him to see if he were fucking with me. His expression read stone
cold serious.
Fuck. Me.
“Can I at least buy you a drink?” he asked carefully. I
blinked and found my traitorous body was on its own fucking program, my head
nodding.
Too late for my mouth to deny him now.
I thought to myself. Not
that I would deny Aaron my mouth, fuck, the exact opposite. I wanted to put my
mouth anywhere and everywhere on his body that he’d let me.
What the fuck
was wrong with me!?
“Yeah. I’d uh… I’d like that Aaron,” he smiled wide and
stood up, pulling his sweater over his head.
“I know a great bar a few blocks over. Walk with me?” I
nodded dumbly.