pick your poison Barty x Rabastan - nsfw - 18+ - 1734 words
for @forced-conforming bc they got a real cool tattoo today. special shoutout to @four-toast for making sure the treat is grammatically correct.
pt 1 - technically fits into the offline wip where Evan is in the nypd and Barty drives him insane, but it's unrelated to the story, tattoos, needles, mild sexual content, gets really nsfw in part 2 tho, be warned, Barty has ADHD, brat taming, kind of?, Rabastan is older, everyone has a crush on him, under negotiated kinks (but I’ll be adding the proper nsfw tags in pt2)
“Okay,” Rabastan rolls back on his little stool and gives Barty some room. “Stencil is on, you can take a look in the mirror and I’ll get everything ready.”
Barty turns to the big mirror behind him and checks out the four black letters on the side of his torso at level with his ribs. The stencil isn’t as deep black as the ink will be, but it sits nicely against his pale skin, perfectly finding a place between his other tattoos. Once he’s decided he’s happy with it - not that Barty ever gave much thought to perfectionism when it comes to changing his appearance - his eyes drift to Rabastan. He’s crouched over the table next to the tattoo chair, preparing his tattoo gun carefully. He’s focused on his craft and, honestly, it looks really good on him.
Rabastan has always been a stunner. Who is Barty kidding, both Regulus and him had an awful crush on him back when Bas used to do stick and poke to the other private school kids. High like a kite and hiding under the bleachers.
He’s tall, well built and rocks beautiful dark curls that fall into even darker eyes. He quickly went from being a popular teenager to a smoking hot adult with a little more edge and a whole lot more ink on his skin. But it’s not just because of his features and the tattoos. Maybe a big part of his charm is actually his attitude. Barty kinda hates him for it. He likes to think that he himself has quite the nice bravado, the carefree attitude and the ability to enter a room and draw attention.
But other than Rabastan, Barty pretending he doesn't care about stuff truly is just pretending. He 100% buys it from Rabastan everytime he says he doesn't give a fuck. He said he doesn’t give a fuck about his social circle being snobs and did something that's not snobby. He said he doesn’t give a fuck about his parents being doctors and started doing tattoos instead. Here’s to Barty saying he doesn’t give a fuck about his dad, too, and still he’s mainly here to ragebait him.
For Rabastan, it all worked out. He's also not once cared for a person romantically, he just gets with whoever he wants to and doesn’t spare much thought about it.
"Okay Gremlin, lay down. No fidgeting or the stencil will smudge."
"You say this everytime," Barty snorts and climbs onto the tattoo chair. It’s reclined all the way and Barty lays down on his back. "But you forget I have ADHD, I wish I could stop fidgeting."
"Okay and are you not on meds?”
"No, they kill my spark."
"Your spark?" Rabastan chuckles. "You mean they kill your libido."
"Same thing," Barty snorts.
"Sure baby," Rabastan says casually, Barty ignores it. Just as much as he ignores the short pang of tension in his stomach when he hears the word. "Roll on your side."
Barty does as he's told and Rabastan sits behind him, pulling on black gloves.
“And you’re sure you want ACAB tattooed on your torso?”
“I am certain I want ACAB tattooed on my torso, Bas.”
“Alright,” Rabastan huffs out a laugh. “Isn’t your new boyfriend a cop?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Barty says, he’d much prefer they don’t talk about the lack of reciprocation of his feelings from Evan so he can focus on enjoying Rabastan being close instead.
He’s not entirely sure why he’s suddenly so on edge around Rabastan. He’s been here more times than he could count and they’ve known each other for years. Barty chooses to blame the fact that he’s only been into Evan lately. And that Evan vehemently refuses to hook up with him again.
“Sure thing,” Rabastan nods and turns to his little cart where his ink and gun are laid out. “Ready?”
The humming noise of the tattoo gun sounds and Barty can feel Rabastan’s gloved fingers on his side. He tenses at the touch and the anticipation of pain.
The physical proximity has Barty inhale Rabastan’s smell. Something musky, maybe a hint of vetiver. It mixes with the scent of cigarettes, sanitizer and that cream he always gives Barty to take care of the tattoos. And for some reason, the combination is really good.
“Nah,” Barty turns his head just enough to wink at him. “It's fine, I’m into it.”
“‘Course you are.“ Rabastan chuckles and lowers his gun. Barty means what he says but still grits his teeth the first time the needle punches his skin.
Barty exhales through his nose. The pain of the needle hammering again and again is something he can take. Even if this is one of the body parts where the skin is thin and it’s prone to hurt a little bit more. He feels sensitive everywhere and closes his eyes.
But when Rabastan takes his gun back a bit and wipes the skin once he’s done with the first letter, the pain makes Barty press his teeth together. In his defence, it’s not just four scribbled letters in handwriting. No, it's blackletter, and that requires a whole lotta ink.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Barty insists.
“Sorry,” Barty exhales and closes his eyes again.
“You’re good,” Rabastan says calmly and lets his left hand slide down Barty’s waist, squeezing a bit. “Relax, okay?”
Barty nods, but it does nothing to help him relax. Something else is added to the discomfort of the new tattoo. A weird tensing sensation in the pit of his stomach. Rabastan’s warm breath on his skin only makes it worse when he leans in and the tattoo gun hums again.
Barty tries to stay still until the second letter is finished and Rabastan once again sits back to wipe Barty’s skin. The irritation is worse than it was before and unfortunately, Barty enjoys the sensation. His legs tense when Rabastan pulls his hand back and he can feel his lungs deflate.
“Barty?” Rabastan asks, almost sounding a bit amused. “What’s wrong with you today?”
“Then lay the fuck back,” Bas chuckles. “Why can’t you stop moving for one minute? You’re always jiggling your legs or some shit.”
“Sorry,” Barty rolls his eyes and takes a deep breath.
“You’re so unrelaxed today,” Rabastan cracks his neck, which unfortunately, looks super fucking hot. What’s next, cracking his knuckles and daring to punch Barty in the face? “Do I need to restrain you so you stop fidgeting?”
“Haha,” Barty says dryly. But in a very humiliating manner, he can feel his cock twitch at the thought. Barty tied to the tattoo chair, unable to move so Rabastan can do whatever he wants to him. Yeah, Barty takes a deep breath and decides he has to stop thinking about it. “It’s okay, just go on.”
Rabastan doesn’t go on. Barty can hear him sigh heavily. “Do you need to relax a bit?”
“Hm?” Barty hums, eyes closed again and pulling his leg a little higher to hide whatever arousal might be visible.
“Barty, baby,” Rabastan huffs and Barty can hear the noise of the latex gloves being pulled off - almost sounds like a slap, great - and thrown on the table. “Are you restless because your cop doesn’t fuck you right?”
“What?” Barty tears his eyes open and turns a bit.
Rabastan is still sitting there, gloves off, and grins. “Are you fidgety because you need to get off?”
Barty’s lips part and he’s about to shrug it off and crack a joke when Rabastan nods toward his crotch. Which isn’t necessarily giving it all away, he’s half hard, barely. But Rabastan caught it anyway.
Rabastan shakes his head. “Don’t bother being embarrassed about it.” He insists. “I’m just asking if you want me to get you off.”
“Yeah, sure,” Rabastan shrugs. “‘S not a big thing.”
Maybe not for him, but for Barty? Part of him thinks he shouldn’t do it because of Evan, but Evan still refuses to go out with him. Whatever is going on between them, it’s fully one sided.
And God, Barty really does need to get off. And the prospect of Rabastan being a part of it makes him swallow. He sits up properly and furrows his brows.
“I mean," he bites his lip. “Yeah, please.”
“Please?” Rabastan laughs, whole-heartedly and even with a little throw of his head. It makes his curls bounce. “So coy all of a sudden, huh? Take off your pants.”
“Are you giving me orders?” Barty snorts.
Rabastan gets up from the little wheeled stool and kicks it to the side with his foot. “Do you not want them?” He asks when he towers over Barty a bit.
“Fuck you,” Barty murmurs, pulling the zipper of his pants down. He’s shirtless anyway so he just wriggles out of his pants and lets them slip from the tattoo chair.
“Good,” Rabastan nods. Barty watches as he unbuckles his belt and the button of his pants flies open too. He can’t help but stare at the bulge in his black briefs when he gets rid of the pants somewhere on the floor.
“Take your shirt off,” Barty says and his body automatically leans in a bit.
“Tsk, Barty,” Rabastan sighs like he’s talking to a kid. “I’m trying to teach you something here. Language?”
Barty lets out an annoyed huff and rolls his eyes. “Would you please take off your shirt?”
“Better,” Rabastan says and pulls his shirt over his head. Fuck, the way his body is plastered with tattoos and the way his skin stretches over muscles makes Barty’s dick twitch again.
His mouth waters when Rabastan climbs into the chair and straddles Barty. A groan slips from his lips when Rabastan settles onto his lap and his body pushes against Barty’s half hard cock.
Barty can’t help but buck up against him, growing harder and searching for friction. His hands fly up to touch Rabastan somewhere, anywhere. But Bas catches them and holds Barty by his wrists.
Barty struggles for a moment and frustration paints itself on his face. “Let me touch you,” he whines, unexpectedly desperate already.
“Nope,” Rabastan shakes his head, his expression is firm but there’s the hint of a smirk. “You lay down and stop moving. We’re gonna practice staying still.”
ps: I only gave it this title bc in the og story Rabastan asks Barty "pick your poison gremlin, tattoo or piercing?" ugh love him.
noon, you're tattoo is hot af, you're the coolest, ily
