Warning: Explicit sexual content, extremely rough sex, size kink, intense dom/sub dynamics, pain/pleasure mix. 18+ only.
The Appointment.
Sam had been staring at Dickson's Instagram for three months before he finally booked the appointment.
@InkAndSteel...the portfolio was incredible. Dark, intricate designs that seemed to move on skin. Geometric patterns that hypnotized. But it wasn't just the art that kept Sam scrolling late at night.
It was him.
Dickson Vale. Thirty-five years old according to the bio. Covered in tattoos from neck to fingertips. Arms that looked like they could break someone in half. Dark hair, darker eyes, and a smile in his photos that was equal parts welcoming and dangerous.
And Sam...twenty-six-year-old graphic designer Sam who'd never done anything remotely adventurous....wanted him with an intensity that scared him.
The appointment was for 7 PM. Evening slot. Private studio. Just the two of them.
Sam had chosen a design for his ribs...something intricate that would take hours, require intimate positioning, and give him an excuse to be shirtless and vulnerable with this man.
He knocked on the studio door at exactly 7 PM, his heart hammering.
"Come in!"
Sam pushed open the door to find Dickson setting up his station. The man was even more devastating in person...tall, broad-shouldered, moving with a confidence that made Sam's mouth go dry.
"Sam?" Dickson looked up, and his eyes traveled over Sam's body in a way that was absolutely intentional. "Right on time. I like that."
"Hi," Sam managed, his voice embarrassingly breathless.
"Come here. Let me see what we're working with." Dickson gestured to the leather chair in the center of the room.
Sam walked over on shaking legs and sat down.
"The design is for your ribs, right?" Dickson asked, pulling on black latex gloves. "Gonna need you to take off your shirt."
Sam pulled his shirt over his head, and he didn't miss the way Dickson's eyes darkened as they traveled over his exposed torso.
"Nice," Dickson murmured, stepping closer. "Good canvas. This is gonna look incredible on you."
His gloved hands touched Sam's ribs...ostensibly to feel the placement...but the touch lingered longer than necessary. Exploring. Testing.
"Nervous?" Dickson asked, his voice low.
"A little."
"Don't be. I'll take good care of you." His thumb brushed across Sam's nipple, and Sam gasped. "Very good care."
Dickson smiled...slow and predatory...and Sam realized this appointment was going to be about much more than just ink.
"Gonna need you on your side," Dickson said, pulling his stencil. "Face the wall, left arm up over your head. Get comfortable...we're gonna be here a while."
Sam positioned himself as instructed, acutely aware of how exposed he was. His ribs were stretched, vulnerable, and Dickson was so close Sam could feel his body heat.
"Perfect," Dickson murmured, applying the stencil. His hands smoothed it onto Sam's skin, the touch firm and possessive. "You have any other tattoos, Sam?"
"No. This is my first."
Dickson's hands stilled. "Your first? And you chose ribs?" He laughed, the sound dark and amused. "Baby, that's one of the most painful spots. You sure you can handle it?"
"I can handle it," Sam said, more confidently than he felt.
"We'll see." Dickson peeled off the stencil, revealing the outline. "Beautiful. Now, fair warning...this is gonna hurt. A lot. Ribs are nothing but bone and nerve endings. Most people need breaks. You need to stop, you tell me. Understand?"
"I understand."
"Good boy."
The tattoo gun buzzed to life, and Dickson leaned in close. "Deep breath."
The needle touched Sam's skin, and he gasped. The pain was sharp, intense, exactly as advertised. But underneath it was something else...a strange, buzzing pleasure that made his cock start to harden.
"You okay?" Dickson asked, his free hand resting on Sam's hip.
"Yes," Sam breathed.
"Good. Because I'm just getting started."
Dickson worked in focused silence, the gun buzzing steadily, the pain building into something almost hypnotic. His hand on Sam's hip was constant, grounding, occasionally squeezing in a way that felt more intimate than professional.
After twenty minutes, that hand slid lower.
"You're doing so well," Dickson murmured, his hand now resting on Sam's ass, squeezing through his jeans. "Taking the pain like a champ. Makes me wonder what else you can take."
Sam's breath hitched.
"I can feel you shaking," Dickson continued, his hand sliding around to the front of Sam's jeans, cupping his very obvious erection. "And I can feel this. You getting hard from the pain, baby? Or from my hands on you?"
"Both," Sam admitted, his voice wrecked.
"Honest. I like that." Dickson set down the tattoo gun and turned off the machine. "I think we need a break. You need a break, don't you, Sam?"
"Yes," Sam whispered.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir."
"Fuck." Dickson's hand tightened on Sam's cock through his jeans. "You have no idea what you just did to me."
He pulled Sam up from the chair and spun him around, backing him against the wall. His mouth crashed against Sam's...hungry, demanding, claiming.
Sam moaned into the kiss, his hands coming up to grip Dickson's heavily tattooed arms, and Dickson growled, pressing his body fully against Sam's.
"Been wanting to do that since you walked in," Dickson muttered against Sam's mouth. "Watching you strip off your shirt, seeing that pretty body, hearing those little gasps you make when I touch you. You want this?"
"God, yes," Sam breathed.
"Good. Because I'm about to ruin you." Dickson's hands went to Sam's jeans, unbuttoning them with practiced ease. "Finish your tattoo first, though. Can't leave it half done."
"What?"
"Back in the chair, baby. I'm gonna finish your ink. But this time...." he pushed Sam's jeans and boxers down to his thighs "...you're gonna sit there half-naked and hard while I work. And if you're a very good boy and don't come until I'm done, I'll give you exactly what that desperate little hole needs."
Sam's legs nearly gave out.
********
The next hour was the most exquisite torture of Sam's life.
Dickson worked on the tattoo with calm professionalism, but his free hand never stopped touching ...stroking Sam's hip, squeezing his ass, occasionally reaching around to stroke his aching cock just enough to keep him desperate.
"You're being so good for me," Dickson murmured, the tattoo gun buzzing steadily. "So patient. So obedient. Gonna reward you so well when I'm done."
Sam was shaking, leaking precum, barely able to focus on anything except the need building in his body.
"Almost done," Dickson said finally. "Just the shading left. You still with me?"
"Yes, sir," Sam gasped.
"Perfect boy."
Dickson finished the tattoo with careful precision, then turned off the machine and set it aside. He cleaned the fresh ink gently, applied protective wrap, and then helped Sam sit up.
"Look," he said, holding up a mirror.
The tattoo was stunning....intricate geometric patterns that flowed across Sam's ribs like water. Beautiful.
"It's perfect," Sam breathed.
"You're perfect." Dickson set down the mirror and cupped Sam's face. "Now. You ready for your reward?"
"Please."
Dickson pulled Sam off the chair and walked him to the large window at the back of the studio....floor to ceiling glass overlooking the dark alley below. He positioned Sam facing the window, hands on the frame.
"Hold on tight," Dickson commanded, kicking Sam's feet apart. "And don't let go no matter what."
He dropped to his knees behind Sam and spread his cheeks.
The first touch of his tongue against Sam's hole made Sam cry out. Dickson ate him out with devastating skill....licking, sucking, tongue pushing inside, getting him wet and loose and desperate.
"Please," Sam sobbed. "Please, I need...."
"I know what you need." Dickson stood, and Sam heard the sound of a zipper, then felt something massive pressing against his entrance. "You need this."
He pushed inside.
Sam screamed.
Dickson was huge...easily fourteen inches, thick and veiny and unforgiving. The stretch was overwhelming, bordering on too much, and Dickson just kept pushing, forcing Sam's body to accept every brutal inch.
"Holy fuck, you're tight," Dickson groaned, bottoming out. "Virgin?"
"Y-yes," Sam sobbed.
"Fuck. Should've told me, baby. Would've been gentler." But he didn't pull out, didn't give Sam time to adjust. Just pulled back and slammed in again. "Too late now. Gonna fuck you like I've been dreaming about all night."
He pounded into Sam with brutal force....each thrust driving Sam forward against the window, the glass cold against his flushed skin. His hands scrabbled for purchase on the window frame, and he could see their reflection in the glass...Dickson behind him, huge and dominant, destroying him.
"Look at you," Dickson growled, one hand fisting in Sam's hair, yanking his head back. "Taking my cock like you were made for it. Crying and begging and still pushing back for more. Such a desperate little slut."
"Yes!" Sam sobbed, tears streaming down his face from the overwhelming pleasure-pain. "Yes, please, more...."
"More? Baby, I'm gonna give you so much more you won't be able to walk tomorrow."
Dickson fucked him harder, faster, each thrust hitting that spot inside that made Sam see stars. The window was fogging up from their breath, and Sam was crying openly now...from pain, from pleasure, from the sheer intensity of finally having what he'd been craving.
"Gonna come," Sam gasped. "Please, can I..."
"Not yet. Hold it." Dickson's hand wrapped around Sam's throat...not choking, just controlling. "You come when I say you can come."
He pounded into Sam for another five brutal minutes, and Sam was sobbing, begging, completely wrecked.
"Now," Dickson finally commanded. "Come for me now."
Sam came with a scream that probably carried through the whole building...his ass clenching tight around Dickson's massive cock, his untouched dick spurting against the window.
"Good boy," Dickson groaned, still fucking him through it. "Such a good fucking boy."
But Dickson wasn't done.
He pulled out....Sam whimpered at the loss...and carried him to the leather tattoo chair, sitting down and pulling Sam into his lap.
"Ride me," Dickson commanded, positioning Sam over his still-hard cock. "Show me how badly you want it."
Sam sank down onto him with a broken moan, taking all fourteen inches in one smooth descent. This angle was deeper, more intense, and Sam was already oversensitive from his first orgasm.
"Move," Dickson ordered, his hands gripping Sam's hips bruisingly. "Fuck yourself on my cock."
Sam tried to lift himself up, but his legs were shaking too badly. Dickson laughed darkly.
"Weak already? Let me help."
He gripped Sam's hips tighter and started pounding up into him with inhuman force. Each thrust lifted Sam completely off the chair, only Dickson's grip keeping him from flying away. Sam could only hold onto Dickson's broad shoulders and take it, crying out with every brutal penetration.
"That's it," Dickson growled. "Just a toy for me to use. My perfect little fuck doll."
"Yes!" Sam sobbed, tears streaming again. "Use me—please—fuck—"
The pounding was relentless. Sam's cock was hard again, slapping against his stomach with each thrust, and he was going to come again, couldn't stop it....
"Come," Dickson commanded, and Sam did, screaming, his whole body convulsing.
Dickson still didn't stop.
Chapter 3: Complete Ruin
Dickson stood, still buried inside Sam, and walked them across the studio. He bent Sam over his work desk...rough wood against Sam's sensitive tattooed ribs...and grabbed his hips.
"Doggy style," Dickson said, his voice rough with lust. "Gonna fuck you so hard you feel me for a week."
He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in.
Sam's scream was ragged, broken, absolutely desperate. This angle was devastating...Dickson's cock hitting his prostate with every thrust, the brutal pace driving him insane.
"Please!" Sam sobbed. "Please, it's too much..."
"No such thing as too much. You can take it. You will take it." Dickson fisted his hand in Sam's hair, pulling his head back painfully. "Say you love it. Say you love my cock destroying you."
"I love it!" Sam cried. "Love your cock...love being destroyed...please don't stop..."
"Wasn't planning to."
Dickson fucked him with animalistic intensity....the desk shaking, supplies falling to the floor, Sam's cries echoing off the walls. This was the best sex he'd never had, never imagined, and he was completely addicted.
His third orgasm built impossibly fast, and this time Dickson didn't make him wait.
"Come," Dickson growled, and Sam did, his vision whiting out, his body going limp.
Dickson caught him before he collapsed, still pounding into him, chasing his own release.
"Gonna fill you up," Dickson warned. "Gonna pump you so full of cum it leaks out for days. You want that?"
"Yes!" Sam sobbed. "Please...fill me...mark me..."
Dickson slammed in one final time and came with a roar...hot spurts flooding Sam's abused hole, so much that it immediately started leaking out around his still-buried cock.
They stayed like that for a long moment, both gasping, sweating, wrecked.
Finally, Dickson pulled out carefully and turned Sam around, pulling him into his arms.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.
Sam could only nod against his chest, completely spent.
"Come on," Dickson said, lifting him easily. "There's a couch in the back room. Let's get you cleaned up and comfortable."
He carried Sam to a small back room with a leather couch, setting him down gently. From a mini-fridge, he pulled out water and snacks, helping Sam drink and eat slowly.
"Your tattoo okay?" Dickson asked, checking the wrap.
"I think so," Sam said, his voice hoarse.
"Good. You were amazing, by the way. Took everything I gave you like a fucking champion."
Sam blushed. "I've never... that was my first time."
"I figured. Virgin ass that tight?" Dickson smiled and pressed a kiss to Sam's forehead. "You're not a virgin anymore, baby. You're thoroughly fucked and absolutely mine now."
"Yours?"
"Yeah. Mine." Dickson pulled Sam against his chest possessively. "This wasn't just a hookup. You're coming back. For touch-ups on the tattoo. For more sessions. For me to fuck you on every surface in this studio."
Sam's exhausted cock gave a valiant twitch. "I can do that."
"Good boy." Dickson kissed him deeply. "Now rest. When you can walk again, I'm taking you home. And then tomorrow, you're coming back here, and we're doing this all over again."
Sam smiled against his lips. "Yes, sir."
He'd come for a tattoo.
He'd gotten so much more.
And he was never letting this go.
*******
Six Months Later.
"Hold still, baby. Almost done."
Sam sat in the tattoo chair....shirtless, covered in fresh ink that had slowly spread across his ribs, stomach, chest, and arms over the past six months. All of it done by Dickson. All of it an excuse to spend hours in this studio.
Though they didn't need excuses anymore.
Dickson finished the line he was working on and set down the tattoo gun. "Perfect. Want to see?"
Sam looked in the mirror Dickson held up. The new piece on his shoulder blade was stunning...a geometric pattern that connected to the rib piece where it all started.
"It's beautiful," Sam breathed.
"You're beautiful." Dickson pulled him in for a kiss. "My masterpiece."
"Your boyfriend," Sam corrected with a smile.
"That too."
They'd been official for four months now. Boyfriends. Partners. Sam had practically moved into Dickson's apartment above the studio, and they spent their nights tangled together, exploring every fantasy, every kink, every possibility.
"You know the rules," Dickson said, his voice dropping to that commanding tone that made Sam weak. "Fresh tattoo means I have to check it thoroughly. Make sure everything's... healing properly."
"Is that what we're calling it now?" Sam teased.
"Get on the couch, smart ass. And take off those jeans."
Sam obeyed with a grin, and Dickson followed, already unbuckling his belt.
Some things never changed.
And Sam wouldn't have it any other way.