Ty looked at him in surprise. “My turn for what?” he asked.
Amused with himself, Zane laughed lightly. “To ask an off-the-wall question. It"s a game, baby. Get with the program. I thought you were bored.”
Ty snorted and looked over Zane carefully. “Why"d you switch over to guys?” he asked.
Zane"s nose wrinkled. That wasn"t a question he"d expected, but he didn"t mind answering. “It came up during a long-term assignment.
Tried it, liked it, stuck with it. And it reminds me less of the past.”
Ty nodded and looked away. He seemed like he wanted to ask something more, but he remained silent, idly playing with the ring on his finger that he hadn"t been able to get off.
“You can ask, too, you know,” Zane said after watching him for a minute.
Ty sighed heavily and looked up at him with a small smile. He held up his hand, displaying the silver ring. “Got any tricks for getting these things off?” he asked. It was painfully obvious that it was not the question he"d wanted to ask.
Zane fought the urge to frown and growl at him to just ask the damn question already. Instead he rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Go soak your hand in cold water and then use some soap under it,” he said quietly.
“I already tried that. Tried the Astroglide too. Useless,” Ty mumbled as he looked down at it. He sighed and stood again, pacing away from Zane.
After watching him walk back and forth, Zane did finally growl at him. “For f**k"s sake,” he said tiredly. “Ask the damn question. I"m not going to take your head off for it.”
“I know,” Ty answered immediately, not at all surprised that Zane knew he had something more to ask. “I just… I don"t think I want to know the answer,” he admitted.
Zane considered that silently and decided there was nothing he could say. He crossed his legs at the ankles and waited. Ty would either ask or move on to something else, and he would have to let it go.
Ty just nodded at him. He ran his hand through his bleached hair in a nervous gesture Zane rarely saw, and then he turned away and moved toward the balcony again. He seemed drawn to it, like it represented freedom or something equally nebulous. Zane kept his head turned to watch him and, after a couple minutes, shifted to pull his legs up on the chaise so he could lie down and still see Ty. It made him wonder: what could the question be that would make Ty so nervous?
Something to do with what he"d asked Zane? Maybe he was afraid Zane would ask him the same question. It had crossed Zane"s mind.
The muscles of Ty"s back and shoulders tensed as he stood there.
It was weird to see him without the dark hair and the tattoo on his arm.
It was also weird to see him in those clinging linen pants, but Zane would never be complaining about those.
Zane blinked. Tattoo. “Feel like some coloring?” he asked, deciding a change of subject would help Ty relax.
“Huh?” Ty asked as he turned around and looked at Zane like he"d lost his mind.
“Coloring. My tattoo,” Zane prompted. He was surprised by how taken aback Ty was. He must have really been lost in thought.
“Oh,” Ty murmured as he turned around and moved closer. “Hell, I"ll try anything at this point,” he agreed easily.
Zane told himself to forget about the unasked questions and focus on what could possibly be coming. If he played his cards right, he might be able to seduce Ty into topping him. Ty hadn"t broken character in the entire week they"d been here, and Zane missed being f**ked. With Ty it was always an incredible thrill. “The pens are in my dopp kit on the vanity,” Zane told him.
Ty moved to get them without another word. Zane got up off the chaise, shrugged out of his shirt, pushed down his pants and briefs, and climbed naked onto the bed, settling comfortably on his belly. He"d hoped Ty would emerge from the bathroom without those nicely fitted linen pants, but Ty either wasn"t thinking ahead or Zane would have to try harder.
A moment later Ty ran his fingers up Zane"s spine, barely touching the skin as he sat down on the bed next to him. Zane shivered and closed his eyes. He didn"t know what it was about Ty"s touch, but it was electric every time.
“Better a pen than a pocket knife this time,” Ty murmured to him.
He pressed a kiss to Zane"s shoulder before uncapping the pen. “Ooh, these are the smelly good ones,” he said with an obvious grin.
Zane chuckled. “So easy to please,” he teased. “Be sure to color inside the black lines, not the white ones, please,” he requested, referring to the pale criss-cross of scars and pock marks already decorating his back. Some of those marks had come from said pocket knife when Ty had scraped glass and metal shards from an exploded computer monitor out of Zane"s back.
“Hey, I know my ink, okay?” Ty said in an offended voice. “It"s got a lot of curly things, huh?” he mumbled as he ran a fingertip over the design. He then put his free hand on Zane"s shoulder, letting his fingers slide across Zane"s scarred skin as he bent and pressed the tip of the pen to his back. He moved the pen in slow strokes, unconsciously moving his face closer and leaning more of his weight against Zane as he worked.
Closing his eyes, Zane focused his will on not twitching. The pen was almost a tickle, just barely firm enough to keep from triggering an unfortunate reaction of wiggling and helpless laughter. So he tried to think more about Ty"s weight on him and how he hadn"t been f**ked for too long.
Just as he"d started on that line of thought, Ty began to blow on the pieces of the tattoo he"d drawn in already, and God help him, Zane squeaked.
Ty raised his head to look up at him. “Okay?” he asked in confusion. “It doesn"t burn, does it?” he asked dubiously.
Zane cleared his throat. “Ah, no, it"s okay. Just caught me by surprise.”
Ty shifted to his other knee, patted Zane"s bare ass, and then continued with the drawing. He moved slower on what Zane assumed were the thinner parts, his hand sliding across Zane"s skin in graceful arcs and curls, following the lines of the tattoo. And then he would stop and blow gently. Each time Zane inhaled sharply as his gut clenched and dug his fingers into the duvet.
“Almost done?” Zane asked through gritted teeth. He thanked God that the ink dried in about fifteen seconds—the woman at the spa had likened the pen to a Sharpie—and wouldn"t smear when he rolled over on it.
“One more curly thing,” Ty muttered. He blew on it carefully and then sat up and put the top on the pen with a snap. Zane almost made it, but that last flicker of breath across his skin sent a tremor through him, and he gasped quietly.