Matching Tats

Vic Braunson had a plethora of tattoos inked over much of his muscled bulk—barbed wire wrapped one beefy thigh, a colorful Oriental dragon snaked up one arm. A smattering of Chinese characters peeked out from odd spots: the small of his back, inside his left ankle, behind his right knee, at the base of his neck. Celtic knots crisscrossed his pale skin. His latest piece of art was a black tribal tattoo that curved around his right temple to frame his face. It enhanced his shaved scalp, accentuated his eyebrow piercing, and lent an air of meanness to him that was so incongruous with the man his lover Matt diLorenzo knew. He loved Vic’s tattoos. They made him look fierce and cruel, and nothing could’ve been farther from the truth. Though Vic had discussed the facial tattoo with Matt before he had it done, seeing it still came as a bit of a shock. It was the first tattoo Vic had gotten in the year and a half since they’d been together, so it was the first tattoo Matt ever saw up close while healing. The glossy black design on his lover’s face was the first thing he noticed when he entered the small apartment they shared after a day at the gym, where he worked as a swim instructor. Vic had had the day off from his job as a bus driver for the city and had decided to get the tattoo. He sat at one end of the couch, flipping through television channels in search of something to watch. The tattoo stood out like thick paint, the pale skin around it ruddy with pain. Matt stared at the inked design, fascinated, as he leaned down to plant a quick kiss on Vic’s forehead. “So that’s it?” he asked. Vic caught his waist before he could stand and pulled Matt into his lap. With a faint smile, he stared into Matt’s dark green eyes and countered, “What do you think?” “I like.” Kneeling on either side of Vic’s thick legs, Matt laughed as he sat down on an uncompromising bulge at his lover’s crotch. He wriggled his hips a bit, settling himself comfortably on the budding erection. “What’s this? Thinking of me, I hope?” Vic’s hands laced together in the small of Matt’s back to keep him close. “Getting inked always turns me on,” he admitted. Then, pulling Matt to him, Vic sat up to bury his face behind his lover’s ear, his breath tickling Matt’s skin just below the thick black curls that crowned his head. Silently, he added, ::I was waiting for you before I did anything about it.:: The thought passed between them easily—to Matt, Vic’s mind lay open like a well-read book, the pages curling from overuse, the covers lovingly worn. Every thought Vic had, Matt could read in his mind as if it were his own. And the mental connection worked both ways; Vic knew everything Matt felt, everything he experienced, everything he thought and saw and did. Yes, they could keep things hidden from each other, but Matt was persistent and hated secrets. Sooner or later, every part of Vic lay bare beneath him, mind and body and soul. Nothing kept them apart.