Messy [MxM]

Chapter 5: Responsible

A/N: Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts and mention of self-harm (but not on-screen self-harm).

Tyler knew without a doubt that he'd made a huge mistake playing with Dakota. Two days afterward, while he was coloring in some roses on a customer's hip, he was still thinking about it. Usually, he disappeared into pure focus when he tattooed. But today, the day before...

He couldn't stop picturing Dakota blissed out and covered in his cum, tears drying on his cheeks, pleas on his lips. It didn't help that he had that photo of him post-fuck, right there in his phone whenever he wanted a look. He had thought about deleting it but couldn't make himself.

The customer hissed as Tyler went over a petal near her hip bone.

"You're doing great," he said. "Just a few more minutes."

When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he couldn't check it. That would be unprofessional and unsanitary, but now, his mind focused on that. It probably wasn't Dakota. Nine times out of ten, it was a new email to his Dirty Wings Tattoos and Piercings business account or a notification from social media. But two days after a scene was the time a lot of people experienced sub drop. Maybe...

Tyler mentally scolded himself as he dipped his tattoo needle into the red ink. He was working on something that would be on this girl's hip for the rest of her life. He had to focus.

Not to mention, it was pretty fucked up to wish sub drop on Dakota.

About twenty minutes later, Tyler rolled away from the tattoo table and pronounced the piece done. Once the customer was looking at her finished tattoo in the mirror, a smile stretching her lipsticked mouth, Tyler peeled off his black nitrile gloves and checked his phone.

A text message had come from an unknown number. Nerves stabbed Tyler in the gut as he read it.

I wanna die, and I want you to kill me.

It was so wrong, but satisfaction bloomed in his chest. He knew it was wrong, and yet immediately, he imagined Dakota curled up in bed all teary-faced, needing him, and it was as heady as if he'd had him on the floor in front of him, begging for Tyler's cock in his throat.

Tyler licked his lips as he texted back. Kill you? Not my kink. I can come on you, though.

Either is fine. Dakota followed that up with another message. Wanna hurt myself.

"I love it, Tyler." The customer pulled Tyler's attention back to his work. "Thanks so much," she said.

"You're welcome. Glad you like it." Hurriedly, he typed out a response to Dakota. Don't do that. Finishing up with a client. Then I'm all yours. "Come back to the chair, and we'll get it bandaged," he told the girl still standing in front of the mirror. His heart beat hard as he washed his hands, put on fresh gloves, and smeared petroleum jelly over the tattoo. His fingers shook as he placed the bandage and taped it down.

Pain during a scene was one thing; self-harm was another. The idea of Dakota doing something to himself made Tyler feel sick, but he put on a smile for the client.

"You know the drill, right? Antibacterial soap after 24 hours, then—"

"Yeah, yeah." The girl waved her hand goodnaturedly. "As you can tell, I'm a tattoo veteran." It was true; in addition to the tattoo Tyler had given her, she had a full sleeve and a geometric design on one calf.

The bells on the shop door clanged as the girl left.

Tyler reached for his phone and dialed Dakota's number.

"Hey," came Dakota's rough answer.

"Where are you?"

"Why? Gonna come save me?"

Tyler glanced around the shop. A few feet away, Munro, Dirty Wings' piercer, was chatting with a client. Munro was in the scene, as was Jordan, Tyler's other House brother who was also a tattooer. But it was best not to say what he was going to say around clients.

"One second, Dakota," he said. As he passed Munro, he let her know he was stepping out for the day. Usually, he stuck around even when he didn't have any appointments in case of a walk-in, but given that he owned fifty percent of the shop, he could leave when he wanted—even if it was irresponsible.

In his truck, he resumed his conversation with Dakota. "Still wanna hurt yourself? It'll be safer if I do the hurting."

Dakota grunted softly. "You can't come here." Even the petulant tone did a little something for Tyler, sending a rush toward his groin.

"Where are you?"

"My friend's place. It's just a studio, and she'll be home soon."

"Then I'll pick you up and take you back to BBoK." Tyler dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. "Would you like that, whore?"

An exhale sounded over the line. "Yeah, I guess."

Tyler narrowed his eyes even though Dakota couldn't see him. "You 'guess'?"

Dakota was silent.

"Did you find it difficult to contact me?" Tyler asked. "I understand if—"

"No. You forced me to take your number, remember?"

"I mean was it difficult emotionally."

More silence. The heat in the truck became stifling, and Tyler started the engine and blasted the air conditioning.

"Are you coming or not?" Dakota asked at last.

"Yeah. Send me your address." Tyler hung up, agitated energy coursing through him. As he waited for Dakota's text, a stern voice in his mind told him that he shouldn't be doing this. A phone call or a short chat in a public place would have helped Dakota through the drop and been best for them both. Cleanest. Then probably a couple days later, Tyler's little obsession with him would have passed.

What Tyler was thinking of doing...another scene... It was wrong. They should talk about the first scene. They should just talk.

Tyler's phone buzzed with the message from Dakota. He thought about replying and letting him know now that they shouldn't scene—wouldn't be scening—but Dakota's threat to harm himself was fresh in Tyler's mind. Dakota didn't need him to be wishy-washy right now. He needed a strong, sure hand.

Tyler put the address into his phone's navigation app before fitting the phone into the mount he had on his dash. Then he took a deep breath and scrubbed both hands down his face.

Strong. Sure. Responsible.

It was painfully clear that even a year after Justin, he wasn't ready to do the type of play he and Dakota had engaged in the other night. What he had to do now was clean up the mess. Then he could go back to having his shit together, and Dakota could—

Fuck. But he'd told Dakota he should text him whenever he missed his ex, and a good Dom followed through with promises. Plus, it would bother him to know that Dakota would be walking around kink clubs begging for violent sex when there were predators out there. Even at the strictest parties, they sometimes managed to slither their way in, and with Dakota willing to proposition people in parking lots, someone bent on trapping a victim wouldn't even have to supply a FetNet username.

Tyler sighed at the interior of the truck before finally starting on his way.