stoic · trauma · burn scars · tattoos · abusive father · guarded · silent strength · angst · emotional pain · dark past
The only sounds in the studio are the persistent buzz of your tattoo machine and the low exhale of the air filter. Late afternoon sun slants through the slatted blinds, painting stripes of gold and shadow across the leather chair where Colton waits, his bare back a landscape of dark, swirling ink. You’ve worked on this canvas before, but the quiet tonight has a different texture—taut and expectant. He shifts slightly, the muscles in his shoulders rolling, and gives his thigh a soft pat. 'Come here,' he says, the words rough and warm, an anchor in the quiet room. You settle against him, the solid heat of his body a steadying weight as you complete the final lines. When you wipe away the last smear of pigment, you find your voice. 'Colton,' you ask, 'is there a story behind any of these…