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Max’s latex-covered hand shot out and wrapped around my wrist. I cringed, feeling the slightly tacky rubbery material of the glove. “Don’t touch it.”
“Might want to heed your own warning,” Arsen drawled.
Max rolled his eyes but pulled his hand from me, and I rubbed away the ick feeling on my wrist with my opposite hand.
“Maxi,” Wes scolded from behind.
He jerked up and looked around behind him, eyes landing on his boyfriend.
Wes smiled. “Hi.”
“Nemo,” he said, voice a lot less gruff than when he’d been talking to me.
“Prism said he was coming down, so I offered him a ride.”
“Get over here,” Max called, and Wes leaned in so they could kiss. When Wes pulled back, he said, “Now apologize to P.”
I expected a gruff refusal, but Max surprised me. “Sorry,” he said, “but you can’t touch it right now. I need to clean it up and cover it.”
I nodded. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” Arsen said, reaching for my hand. “You didn’t know.”
“I was the same way when I first saw the tattoo Max got for me,” Wes said, smiling.
My eyes flew back to Arsen’s shoulder and the tattoo he’d definitely gotten for me. Or because of me. I leaned in to look at it better, making sure to keep my hands away.
The bar of music cuffing around his upper bicep was no longer alone. Sitting on top of it was a bear. Not like the kind of bear you see in the woods, though. A teddy bear. His legs hung over the music bar, and on his feet were a pair of studded sneakers. Around his neck was a pair of headphones, and he had bracelets on his wrist. Between his ears was a tilted crown with a small heart in the middle, and in the center of the bear’s chest was the letter M.
Matthew’s bear.
Completely tongue-tied and overwhelmed in the best way, I just stood there and stared, not able to rip my eyes off the new design. The skin was red around it, and somehow, seeing the design wasn’t painless made it even more meaningful.
Like he didn’t care if being my bear wasn’t always comfortable. He was committed to it anyway. To me.
“I hope you like it,” Arsen said, voice a little sardonic. “Because it’s permanent.”
I let out a shuddering breath. “I love it.”
“We’re gonna add some more music notes and some other designs around it,” Max supplied. “Fill in his shoulder more.”
Arsen nodded. “But later. For now, it’s just the bear.”
“And these,” Max said, sitting back so I could see Arsen’s chest.
Three black music notes arched over his right pec above his pierced nipple. I knew instantly what they were for me. One, two, three. It had become a habit—or maybe a fixation—for me to tug and fidget with his piercing. The action was utterly soothing, and sometimes my fingers found themselves there without thought.
Now I had three notes to count. To tap. One, two, three. One, two, three.
I dove at him, wrapping my arms around his waist so they were trapped between him and the chair he sat in. I laid my cheek against his chest (avoiding the new ink) and sighed.
Max must have been about to scold me because Arsen’s voice rumbled overhead. “Leave him.”
The scent of disinfectant filled my nostrils, especially strong right there at his chest. I ignored it the best I could to hug him tighter and whisper, “Thank you, bear.”
He kissed the top of my head, then ruffled my hair, rubbing in the kiss.
“I need to finish,” Max grumbled, and I forced myself back. Instead of getting back to work instantly, he pushed a stool over to Arsen’s side.
