Tattooed Illusions (BxB)

S I X

😜 Reese Addison shown in the picture above 😜
Trace Carhart had a cigarette hanging from his frozen lips, as puffs of icy air surrounded him. A cloud of smoke engulfed him, pulling him into its embrace, and wrapping its arms around him.

Trace laughed lightly at the boy sprawled out below him. The boy held a Jack Daniel's bottle in his grasp, letting the liquor burn his throat, as he brought up a stupid moment from the past.

Ashtyn Valencia flashes Trace a smug grin as he downs the rest of the bottle.
Trace wasn't an alcoholic; he drank on occasion. But Ashtyn loved the taste of alcohol and the painful regrets that follow. He didn't believe in mistakes. While Trace believed life was full of fuckups, Ashtyn thinks everything happens for a reason and he just has to accept it.

A light drizzle of rain cascaded onto the sidewalk, painting the concrete a shade of black, almost an ebony, and littered puddles in its wake. The dead grass surrounding their school was encased in a large, metal fence, a set of handcuffs to the students, holding them hostage. Trace watched boredly through an opening in the fence. Cold droplets fell from the sky in the form of sheets, planting kisses across his skin, and leaving him in a dreamlike trance. Atop the bleachers he sat that overlooked the football field, wrapped in the blanket of his thoughts, as the sky casted down pouring rain. Icy water stained his cheeks, the weather mirroring the mood of Meadowsville's students, hanging their head with sorrow, as the drains washed away the evidence of the fears clawing at them.

Trace gazed up at the darkened sky, captivated by the puddles scattering across the uneven breaks of concrete.

"I am the epitome of a raging sea trapped inside a fucking raindrop," Ashtyn voiced, his elbow propped up on the metal bleachers.

Trace burst into a fit of laughter, his blue eyes glimmering in amusement.
"Why the hell is that, love?"

"Because I'm beautiful and graceful, but I'm fucking psychotic, as well."

Trace couldn't argue with that. Ashtyn's ebony hair fell onto his shoulders and his hazel eyes were beautiful. At least Trace saw them as such. Ashtyn's appearance literally contradicted his personality. With a glance, you'd assume he was cold and careless, a dark sky during a storm. But he was sunshine instead. With his lighthearted laughter and beautiful smiles. Cold just wasn't a word used to describe Ashtyn Valencia.

Trace painted him as falling snow in winter, captivating to gaze at and the description of perfection. Because his parents worked in Alaska for three years, Trace passionately loved snow. Sitting by the fireplace, underneath the Christmas tree, was a memory he held close to his heart.

After the brutal divorce, which unfortunately occurred on the holiday, Trace's mom refused to celebrate anymore. Leaving Trace in the care of his estranged father, his heart hardened, his melodic laughter and crooked smiles fading away. After he met Ashtyn, though, he became the person he was before, apart from the assortment of drug deals attached to his name.

A soft gasp slipped past Trace's parted lips, as Ashtyn placed his cold hand on his stomach, above the waistband of his jeans. Much to Trace's dismay, his hand didn't venture lower.

"Is it okay with you if I do this?" He murmured into Trace's ear, the mint fresh on his breath. Ashtyn's voice was intoxicating; seductive even.

"Oh fuck, Ash, that's more than okay," his voice was almost a moan. "Don't stop that." A lopsided smirk formed on the black haired boy's lips as he grazed Trace's neck with his teeth, sucking at the skin. Trace's head fell back, moaning quietly. Ashtyn left several marks across his boyfriend's neck, claiming every inch of his skin. "A-Ashtyn," Trace breathed out his name, voice hoarse. "Fuck, Ashtyn."

Maintaining eye contact, Ashtyn slowly dipped his hand into Trace's jeans, silently asking permission to venture into a territory he travelled so many times before. Anyone who says consent ruins the mood or it's sexy is wrong. Instead, consent is a basic human right. "What the hell are you waiting for?" Trace breathed out, his brows raised in query.

Ashtyn laughed quietly, a small smile painted onto his pink lips. "Pantience, baby. It's called seduction."

"No," Trace scoffed, leading Ashtyn's hand himself. "It's called purposely giving me a boner."

"Baby," he growled into his ear. "You were already sporting a boner when I started sucking on your neck. You're just irritated that I didn't choose your dick first."

"Shut the hell up," Trace grunted through the breathless moans.

On the carpeted floor the boys sat. Trace's body was littered with kisses, a path of flames in their wake. From his jaw to his shoulder blade, from his neck to his torso.

"I love you," Ashtyn whispered into Trace's ear, planting a kiss to his lips.

"Fuck," Trace moaned in response, the movement of Ashtyn's hand against the base. "I love you."

Ten minutes later, Trace sat, with Ashtyn's legs on either side of his waist, on the carpeted floor of their bedroom. The boys' hair was still damp from their recent shower. Trace shivered, his body still freezing, as Ashtyn rubbed comforting circles on his tanned back, kissing his shoulder blade gently.

"So I meant to ask you this last night," Ashtyn mumbled, his bottom lip lying between his teeth. "Why did you come back late? I trust you wholeheartedly, baby, so I wanted to ask you. Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay. I was delivering Heidi the drugs he ordered. Jaehyung, his roommate, asked me to mess up my hair, to seem as if I slept with him. He wanted to make Reese jealous. We didn't do anything, I promise."

Ashtyn nodded, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Okay. I love you, baby."

"Can I kiss you, Ash?" He nodded. Trace kissed him passionately, the loose fabric of his own tshirt, which reached his knees, in his grasp. "I love you."