#big scary bad boy is NERVOUS whewwww...

[lostwcnderlands]

“ i told you it was going to hurt. “ josiah murmured, the words were delivered quietly, now that their faces were only a few hair lengths apart, a smirk pulled deep over his lips as he felt bryce tense up beneath him. a ripple of muscles, the twitch of his arm - so acutely aware of every little movement the other made, like his body an extension of the gun pressing to his skin. it almost had josiah in trance, he’d never felt the physical reaction of his craft like this before.

as much as josiah tried to concentrate on the art, his mind was insistent on lingering on everything but. it was a good thing he had steady hands, and trusted his fingers, the image slowly coming to life as he etched the careful outline. though he knew this was part of the initiation, and there had been times in the past that he’d done poorly on purpose as a twisted form of punishment to a recruit that got under in his skin in ways that made him seethe, that wasn’t the story he wanted to write for bryce. not when the sins that had inspired it were so rooted in sickness, so shocking against the image presented to him. betraying the tingle of nerves that had started to simmer under the surface, josiah’s breath hitched at the sudden compliment. part of him wanted to be annoyed; he didn’t laugh much anymore, and it wasn’t for the benefit of the man trapped under his thighs. it hadn’t even been on purpose. this wasn’t supposed to be a laughing matter. most recruits cried as they let their secrets drip with regrets and hesitation from their lips. hardly ever had they been delivered with the smile bryce gave, the confidence of an army.

the gun paused over his chest, josiah having to exhale slow to clear his mind. but damnit - he kept talking, mouth always fucking running, like he truly didn’t have a sense of stopping. the artist lifted his head, an eyebrow raised, as if he knew there was an angle being played. maybe it was all just a game - a thought that irritated him, bringing heat up from his neck to tint the tips of his ears red. this close from the other, and josiah felt he had nowhere to hide. not now, with the lamp shone directly on them both. he’d given up the comfort of the shadows without much second thought, finding himself precariously placed in a position that felt foreign to him now. shoulders curved above the other, his taller frame sending a shadow onto the wall that almost encompassed bryce’s own, yet josiah couldn’t shake the feeling that in that moment, he was the one with someone to lose.

part of him panicked, wondering if he’d already lost it. that sweet upper hand, the power he reigned. it should be enough, to have the dirty secrets in his grip- but it felt like so little, with bryce smirking defiantly just under him, not a flicker of fear in those ocean eyes. josiah doesn’t laugh - he doesn’t feel amused, just sickeningly confused. this wasn’t the right script, and he hadn’t been taught the rules of this game. “ you think you’re special because you get turned on by pain? “ the words came out cold, josiah now trying to defend against the unknown, the curl of desire that was twisting a storm in his core. “ that’s pretty par for course around here. “ dismissive, haughty - relying on what he thought would keep him in control. but even if bryce’s attempts to illicit a reaction didn’t go as planned, it brought out something from the man. his free hand came to rest on bryce’s chest, fingernails grazing against the exposed skin. a steadying anchor as he pressed the needle in harder, going deeper. focusing on the whiz of the machine, the power it gave. this was josiah’s shop, and he’d not fall victim to anything. especially not his own weakness, rearing its head && making its ugly presence known in the quickening of his heartbeat, thundering against his ribcage. beads of sweat, surely from the heat of the lamp and nothing else, appeared across josiah’s brow, and he let his gaze flick up as he dragged the needle down in the arch of the paw, wanting to watch the pain play out. if bryce liked receiving, he was in good hands; josiah was a gleeful giver, in pain && otherwise. and without meaning too, his legs tightened around the others thighs. like his body needed grounding.

The moment he feels the weight on his thighs he becomes aware that the line he is pressing on slides much further than he originally thought. He likes the way it feels, the heaviness of another body in his proximity, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. No one person feels the same, there's always something different to note. The weight, the height, the posture, the energy in the air, the scent of it. He can smell the ink and Josiah, a smell he doesn't quite recognize at first, but sinks in as bergamont. It's the kind of smell that makes Bryce want to sink his teeth into his shoulder to see what kind of sound he would make. He doesn't really have time to open his mouth and say anything particular one way or another when the needle touches into his skin. He feels his body tense, no doubt Josiah can feel that well enough.

Bryce sucks in a breath through his teeth as he adapts to the sensation, it's not that much better or worse than the one on his leg at least for now. The proximity is certainly a good distraction. Up close with him leaning forward he can catch more of the tattoo hidden under the collar of his shirt. Flames maybe?

Every time he looks he seems to find some new little drawing or word or scribble somewhere on Josiah. He reaches out to grab his necklace pulling it over his shoulder to drape along the top of his arm out of the way, but makes no move to take it off.

Bryce watches him, observing the way his eyes go sharp with focus. Don't tattoo artists use stencils usually? Apparently not Josiah. There's a tightness in his jaw as he leans closer working at a line, it's interesting to watch it appear on his skin, watching the ink bead up until it's wiped away. A new permanent fixture.

"Anyone ever tell you, you got a sexy laugh?" He asks, which is the truth. It's a good laugh, the kind that isn't too high or low, that seeps itself in self-satisfaction and a hint of surprise. It really was an attractive sound. Bryce wants to hear it again, he shoots for another joke, pressing on that line harder.

"I really feel enlightened right now, like totally spiritual. I mean something is headed up." He jokes, but in truth his body doesn't respond, he's too well controlled to let himself slip up and show his hand like that. Sexuality is a tool in his tool belt, not something to embarrass him.