Hematoma Ch. 05

I went with Yorick to his home the same way I was headed to my own; on foot, in silence. He had donned the aviators again, leaving the hood of his jacket down as the sun dipped down below the roofs of buildings in front of us. The sidewalks were drenched in shadow and the late autumn chill swept over me as I followed Yorick's tall black boots. By the time we reached a long row of well-kept rowhomes on a pretty and quiet street, the sun had almost disappeared.

"You live here?" I asked, looking around. These rowhomes were all three story houses, and the rent here wasn't cheap, I knew that for a fact - I had tried to get an apartment here a few years back. They were tall, slender Americana homes made of brick with wrought-iron accents, all clean and well-kept, some sporting mini gardens beside their stoops.

Yorick looked back at me from the front door. "Of course," he replied. "Please, come in."

I did. And I was very nearly floored by the interior. I knew these rowhomes were nice, but none of them were THIS nice.

I felt as if I had just walked into an Ikea showroom. The floors were wood, of a very light color and with a slight shine to them, nary a scratch or speck of dust. A modular black leather sofa and two armchairs framed a polished glass and steel coffee table, which sat on a rug of some gray high-pile fiber. On the dark gray walls hung a number of paintings: some ink, some watercolor, others clearly original oil paintings which caught the light from the track lighting above. In the middle of the left wall was mounted a widescreen television, beneath which sat a credenza packed to the brim with leather CD cases.

"Come in, take your jacket off. Stay a while, won't you?" Yorick chuckled, having seen my open-mouthed reaction to this room.

"This place is incredible," I said dryly, shoving my tongue back into my mouth. I looked around as I slipped my jacket off, then glanced at the CD cases in the TV console. "What's in those?"

"Movies," said Yorick simply, having already hung his coat by the door and collecting mine from my hand. His t-shirt was clinging to his muscled frame pleasantly, I saw. "I'm quite a movie buff, and when I ran out of room for my DVDs I moved onto these cases. Each one probably has fifty or so in it. I've built up quite a collection."

I counted maybe twelve of these cases offhand... "That's a lot... Shit."

"Oh, that's nothing," he chuckled, returning to my side with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I have a bookcase upstairs for my VHS tapes, and a VCR too. I couldn't give them up, I'm afraid. Too many to throw away."

"VHS?" I choked. "I seriously don't know anyone who still keeps VHS tapes, Ricky."

He gave me a grin. "There are some I simply can't give up. Very old, or very rare, or just my favorites. Do you remember when they had Titanic on a two-tape set?"

"You really have that? That's old as fuck."

"Yes, and nostalgic. I couldn't give it away. But we aren't watching movies tonight. Not right now, anyway. Come," he added, walking to a spiral staircase by a large archway, to what I assumed was the kitchen. "I want to bring you to my workroom."

Workroom? I wondered if his workroom here was anything like his room at Inkjet, all red paint and outdated band posters. Yorick seemed to be the sentimental type somehow, with his band posters and VHS tapes. I was surprised he didn't have vinyls everywhere.

I followed Yorick up the stairs to the second floor, where the hallway's floor and walls got the same treatment as downstairs plus a small rug here and there. There were three doors up here, one of which must have been Yorick's bedroom - but I wouldn't get to see it yet, it seemed. He led me instead to the door at the far end.

Whatever I was expecting, it wasn't there. This was just a small studio room, with the same wood flooring as the living room and a single window facing the street. In one corner stood a black leather dentist chair and a matching leather table; the walls were plastered with blacklight posters, all depicting tripped-out patterns, dragons, and other mythical creatures in neon rainbow. I hadn't pegged Yorick as a stoner. In the other corner of the room was a tilted drafting desk, on which were scattered different types of pens and pencils surrounding a large black-and-white drawing. Filling with curiosity, I walked over to take a closer look.

The drawing was entirely ink and extremely elaborate, a mess of thin and intricate lines and broad strokes all forming the figure of a massive, eight-legged horse reared back on its numerous hind legs, surrounded by a brocade of delicate patterns that melted into a dripping mess at the bottom. The horse's plaited mane and tail flew amidst the sea of ink, its eyes black and lifeless, and its muscles weaving throughout its many tossing limbs.

"It's Sleipnir," Ricky said over my shoulder, catching my unbridled staring. "The eight-legged horse that carries Odin in Norse mythology."

"it's incredible," I said in awe. I turned to look at him. "Did you do this?"

"Of course," he replied. "I very rarely get to use my own art in my work. Lots of people coming in asking for butterfly tramp stamps or cartoon characters." He grimaced and stepped over to the drawing. "This was for you."

"You... drew this for me?"

"For your back, actually," said Ricky. "I would like to tattoo this on you."

It was a beautiful piece, and without much hesitation I decided I wanted nothing more than to bear Yorick's beautiful artwork on my shoulders. Was this why he brought me? "You mean... right now?"

Ricky laughed and shook his head. "No, no, not right now. This isn't quite done, and it needs more planning. No, today I thought I'd pierce you again, just to test the waters."

I watched him as he walked away from the drafting desk and over to a tall standing metal toolchest near the leather furniture. He rolled one of the smallest drawers at the top open and fiddled with it. "What kind of piercing did you have in mind?" I said waveringly, trying and failing to hide my excitement.

He chuckled, no doubt at my failure to contain myself. "The nape of your neck," he said smoothly, pulling open a drawer at the top and fishing through it for who knew. "It's rather bare and I thought you'd look beautiful with some titanium lining that neck of yours."

His words were taking me over again, just like in the coffee shop. I felt gently at the back of my neck, where my bleached hair was most closely cropped and shaved. I had never thought of a tattoo there, much less a piercing. But I trusted Ricky completely... and if he said it would be beautiful, then I wanted it. In the back of my mind, close to where he wanted to pierce me, I began to think that I wanted to please him... badly.

"Do you want that, Shay?"

My eyes fluttered and I chewed on the side of my lip, teeth clattering against my snakebite ring. "Yes," I said breathlessly.

My eyes met Yorick's again, and he smirked. In his hand were two small sealed packets: one contained a pair of metal beads, the other a sort of minute plastic tube with a bulb on one end. "Take off your shirt. Get up on the table, on your stomach."

The stomach in question was quivering with apprehension. I lifted my arms and pulled my shirt off, in every way unlike the last time I did so for him; without hesitation, without shame. Each muscle in me was twitching eagerly as I turned and clambered onto the leather doctor's table, near identical to the one in Yorick's room at Inkjet. Cold leather held up my quaking body and sparked sensation into my still-healing nipple rings. Behind me, I heard the familiar snapping of nitrile gloves.

Ricky's fingers probed at the nape of my neck, gently, teasingly. I heard the tear of a packet and a cold swab rubbed at my skin. My nose tingled with the smell of iodine.

"I won't be giving you breathing instructions or warnings anymore," Ricky said calmly. "Not now that I know what you like. Be still."

No warnings, just plunging in... I shuddered despite his order. Not a clamp but fingers pulled at my skin and squeezed hard.

"Relax."

Hard pressure, pricking, sting. The needle drove into my skin without mercy, without restraint. Only this was different - the needle was incredibly thick, but didn't feel cold like the metal ones normally did. The strange sensation of skin pulling from flesh rippled through my body.

But, for all the sensuality and wanton buildup to this scene... It didn't hurt.

I laid quite still as Ricky painlessly fitted the new piercing, a teflon thread bearing two titanium beads. His fingers pressed at my skin, pushing the piercing into place with some soreness. Barely any at that.

A pause.

"Well, that was quite anticlimactic," said Ricky. "Not what I expected, really."

"It didn't hurt," I muttered, sitting up awkwardly.

"Truly?" He seemed surprised. "So close to the spine, I thought it would. But then again, with the thick skin there, the scruff of the neck... I suppose I'll have to experiment with you more, won't I?"

Experiment... But why wouldn't he know this didn't hurt? He did this for a living... My eyes traveled over his fair and unblemished skin, not a freckle or scar to be seen.

"Still," he continued, and he reached behind my head to play with my new bearing, "It's a beautiful piece. It suits you wonderfully."

Ricky's fingers on my neck felt wonderful. Still I was left wanting, disappointed from my lack of agony.

The wanting didn't last. I felt pain like white noise shoot down my back in streaks and I gasped aloud. Ricky had dragged his long fingernails down my shoulder ferociously, leaving trails of stinging heat.

"I suppose I'll have to hurt you some other way," he crooned.

Pain! Incredible pain. No warning, no explanation. I groaned and shuddered as his nails scraped down my back again, both hands this time. "Fuck!" I hissed out. "Ricky... god, please..."

"Please?" he purred.

I shook and strugged to turn to him, still feeling the tingle of his scratches on my spine. His gray eyes were ablaze and his smile broad. My apprehension and shyness melted under his stare. Without knowing what I was going to say, I blurted out whatever was inside me:

"Hurt me!"

"As you wish," Ricky said smoothly, his shoulders up in a slight shrug as if I had only just asked for a beer from the fridge. His hand went out and he hooked his little finger into my week-old nipple ring, and he pulled me to my feet by it. Not enough to rip it, but enough to tug so that it caused me an indescribable pain. I howled as I struggled to keep up with his pulling, staggering up from the table and stumbling in his wake. As if my chest was a leash Ricky led me only by this tiny steel ring in my flesh, with a pulsing pain radiating through my breast. "Fuck, fuck, oh SHIT that hurts!" I yelled.

"Good," Ricky chuckled.

God... He was serious. And it excited me.

Ricky steered me down the hall to the door at the far end, pushing it open with his foot. Bedroom... I took note only that a bed existed and that I was being pushed onto it, and the pain in my nipple went through me in a final wave as the ring was let go. I gasped and groped at my chest, trembling. No longer distracted by the erotic pain spreading through me, I became overwhelmingly aware of my hard cock pressing into the seam of my fly. One act from Ricky and this was my body's reaction. This had never been done to me before.

"That was quick, hm?" Ricky smirked, taking note as well. He reached for me and gripped the bulge in my jeans, eliciting a loud gasp from me. The sensation of his strong fingers squeezing my erection was enough to send sparks up my back. He wasn't playing around... "Now, what will I do with you?"

As Ricky let go of my hard-on, I caught my breath and took in more of my surroundings, though by now they were doused in the darkness of early evening. The bed was curiously enveloped in a thick black canopy that hung from the ceiling, completely encircling the king-size mattress on which sat an incredibly soft gray comforter... My hand sank into it. Down comforter. As if this wasn't sexy enough, this may have just been the best bed to do the dirty on, ever.

Interrupting my thoughts, Ricky mounted my lap and straddled my hips, one hand threading itself into my hair and pulling hard. The prickling of my follicles straining from my skin sent a fresh, subtle wave of pleasure over me and urged out a faint moan. Ricky's face was over mine and I could do little else but stare endlessly into those cold, gray eyes. He smiled.

"This will be very fun, I think," he whispered. "I'm going to experiment with you a little."

"Anything," I found myself whining.

Ricky chuckled and drew his face closer to mine. His lips parted and his teeth bared. My eyes fluttered and then sprang wide as he bit into my lip. No blood was drawn but it hurt so wonderfully... So much better than kissing. I groaned against his upper lip, feeling my cock straining against my waistband. A wet spot was beginning to spread in my boxer briefs. I lifted a hand from the bed and pushed it clumsily into my jeans, rubbing at the ache between my legs that had begun to grow inside me as Ricky continued to chew my bottom lip. He pulled back, his teeth clamped around my lip ring. The metal circle tugged hard in its hole and stung me, eliciting another gasp of pain. Ricky's teeth released and he let out a low growl of laughter against my cheek, scraping his nails down my chest.

Plunged into almost complete darkness, I fumbled with the fly of my jeans. My hands felt numb and ill-suited to pulling a tiny piece of metal. Ricky shook his head with a chuckle and moved my hands aside. The zipper came down effortlessly. Taking his lead, I reached forward for Ricky's jeans too and...

"No," he said calmly. My hands were pushed away. "Not yet. Not tonight."

Not tonight? What not tonight? Why not yet? I wanted for him so much. But Ricky left it simply at that and turned back to undressing me. He slid off of my legs and knelt on the floor in front of the bed, pulling down both my jeans and boxers around my knees and to my ankles. My now freed sex pulsed against the cold air. I groaned and looked from it to Ricky, whose eyes were glimmering with amusement.

"Incredible," he mouthed, "what this does to you." He sliced his nails down my thighs as he spoke, leaving white trails that quickly turned to red. I let out a breathy moan and shuddered, my cock twitching in response. "How long has it been since someone has pleasured you, Shay?" Ricky mused.

How long? I didn't even know. Did the thing with Jade count? Probably not. And never, never like this, not with anyone. "Never... Not this way," I said raspily.

"I see," said Ricky with a quiet smirk. "Am I your first pain partner?"

I paused, then nodded mutely.

"I'll do my best to make it special," he murmured. Without another word or warning my sex disappeared into his mouth, buried with his lips against my base with his tongue sliding along the whole length. I gasped loudly and let my breath out in a groan of arousal. His tongue... It was all I could do not to grab Ricky by the back of his head. The thick, wet muscle of his tongue massaged my length as he withdrew and pushed his mouth back onto me, his nails digging hard into my hipbones. The combination of this and the insane sensation of his skilled mouth on my cock was almost unbearable. My entire body began to shake, My eyes sliding out of focus as the pleasure shot throughout my limbs and made tremors in my belly. Time came undone. Within no time I was at my limit.

"Fuck... Ricky... Ah, fuck," I gasped. "I... I'm gonna..."

He didn't slow down, didn't look up, and the constant motion of his thick tongue down my length brought me to my edge and his teeth, Ricky's teeth! The sudden and unexpected feeling of Ricky's teeth bared against my cock tipped me over and I cried out loudly, shaking as my body was racked in orgasm. I came hard, unhindered, head back and every muscle tensed in me. That mouth, strangely lukewarm mouth swallowed me up and I melted into him. Oh, god... I shuddered and groaned out breathlessly, and my body fell limp back onto the bed.