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“I’m back.” Percy stands at the door to Gwaine’s tattoo parlour, The Bedizened Blade. He fills the door, blocking out the light.
Gwaine’s breath catches. He hadn’t expected to see Percy again so soon. “So you are. Did you change your mind?”
“About the tattoo? No. At least not yet. I could be convinced though.”
“Yeah?” From the moment Percy had first entered his shop with Lance, Gwaine had barely been able to think of anything but the dirty things he’d like to do to his god-like body. Lance had come in to get inked right over his heart with a complex Celtic design reminiscent of a ‘G.’ For Gwen, of course, the sap. Percy had come for moral support, and they’d just left a few minutes ago. Gwaine had been hard-pressed to concentrate on the job with Percy standing right there with all his...muscles. He’d half-jokingly tried to interest Percy in a tattoo, but Percy resisted.
But now Percy’s back, which makes Gwaine’s temperature rise just a little. “What can I do to convince you?” Gwaine says, eyebrow raised. That impressive expanse of untouched skin is a perfect blank canvas for Gwaine’s imagination. Visions of all sorts of tats wrapped around Percy’s bulging biceps dance in his mind. Maybe a tribal band, something that would match his size...
“Well,” Percy says as he steps into the shop. “Why don’t you suggest something. Got any ideas?”
Hell, yeah. And not just about tattoos. “I’ll have to take a closer look. Come here.” Percy ambles toward him with a smirk and Gwaine swings around to the front of the counter. He can feel his heartbeat ticking up as they enter each other’s space. Gwaine finds himself tipping his head up to look at Percy’s face. Good lord, the man has a fine jaw. Blue eyes to die for. And those shoulders...
Then Percy smiles, honest and bright. And Gwaine’s stomach plummets. “Getting inspired?” Percy says in a husky voice.
Gwaine doesn’t know if he’s capable of speech. He mutely reaches out a hand to Percy’s upper arm. It skims the bottom edge of Percy’s shirtsleeve, a blue polo shirt that lets just a tease of light brown hair show at the neck. He doesn’t quite dare touch skin. Yet. “You’re quite inspirational, mate,” he says, sweeping his eyes down Percy’s long body. He can feel his cheeks heat as he takes in the flat stomach and powerful thighs. His fingers twitch and his index finger ventures from the cloth of Percy’s sleeve to the skin of his upper arm.
“I can see a dragon here,” Gwaine says, his finger tracing an imaginary line from Percy’s bicep around to his tricep. “The wings could open up here.” It would be beautiful on Percy’s impossibly big arm, where the muscle is hard under the soft covering of skin. Gwaine drags his eyes up to Percy’s as his finger draws the image, so clear in his mind, on the back of Percy’s arm. Percy’s eyelids lower slightly. “They could spread over your shoulder. Which is one damn fine shoulder, may I say.”
Percy blushes, which is ridiculous and yet somehow endearing in a man so large, and he seems to lean down towards Gwaine with darkening eyes. There’s something vulnerable and sweet in Percy, at odds with his imposing exterior, and the combination makes Gwaine’s knees weak. Or maybe that’s because Percy’s enormous hand is suddenly circling his waist, large enough to span almost half of it.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Percy says, and Gwaine can’t help the way he melts as Percy brings his other arm around his shoulders and presses against Gwaine in a full embrace. Percy doesn’t waste time; Gwaine likes that. But there’s no time to further ponder Percy’s personality because Percy is tugging him in so their hips are flush together, and dear god, Gwaine can feel everything. Before he even knows what’s happening, Percy’s mouth is on his, hot and forceful. Oh yes, Gwaine thinks, to the extent that his brain is still functioning, and he has no choice but to cling to those massive shoulders and go along for the ride.
When they finally break for air, Gwaine gasps, “I’ve got some really great designs in back. Special clients only.” Now he’s desperate to get a look at what’s under that blue polo shirt or, more accurately, get his hands on it.
Percy grins and dives in for another deep kiss that leaves Gwaine wobbly in the knees. Gwaine flaps his hands towards the back. “Sofa,” he pants.
“Gladly,” Percy says as he actually sweeps Gwaine up and carries him to the rear. Gwaine would protest this assault on his manhood, but he’s too busy devouring Percy’s tongue and exploring his pecs to bother. Oh yes, he’s got lots of ideas now.