Steve never imagined himself as a tattoo kind of guy. But back in ‘85 after the mall fire, he ended up getting a small matching tattoo with Robin. Just a simple little ice cream cone on his inner wrist - Robin’s idea really. Something about almost burning to death together in a fire really seemed fitting for matching permeant ink on their skin.
It opened Steve’s eyes, changed his perspective, widened his horizons if you will on the whole idea of a tattoo.
Even just a dumb ass ice cream cone that bystanders see on his wrist, that they probably assume means jack shit but in reality it means the whole world to Steve - is pretty fucking cool.
So, Steve hears about this really talented tattoo artist in Chicago and knew he wanted this guy to do his next piece.
The shop is smaller than Steve expected, smack dead in the center of the city and Steve arrived 30 minuets early to his appointment because he was pretty damn nervous.
This tattoo is not as… innocent as his matching ice cream cone with Robbie’s. It isn’t as meaningful either…
Well, okay, it still has meaning, but only to Steve. He isn’t the kind of guy to get a tattoo just because. Tattoos are expensive first of all, and he doesn’t want his entire body covered in ink. That just isn’t his style. But a peek of a tattoo here and there? Yeah, that’s not bad, that what El would call bitchin’.
“Steve? Eddie is ready for you.” The petite blonde at the front desk smiled, her warm bubbly aurora feeling so oddly displaced in a shop like this, so far from what Steve was expecting.
“Chrissy.” She brushed her bangs out of her eyes before pushing back the black beaded curtain leading to the back room.
“Thank you, Chrissy.” Steve hoped this girl couldn’t see just now nervous he was as he ducked between the beads. He was just starting to let his eyes roam around the gothic decor of the room when the hottest fucking man Steve has ever seen walks in, taking thick chunky rings off his pale fingers and putting them in the pocket of his skin tight black jeans.
Once his rings are safely put away, he tugs the thick dark curls off of his shoulders and tied it up on his head in a knot, some strands poke out framing his face.
“Steve, right?” The sexy man speaks, apparently. His deep voice sounded like honey and pure bliss to Steve’s hears. A smile stretches across his lips making the dimples - of fucking course he has dimples - poke out on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”
Steve apparently broke at the sight of this man, because seriously who the hell does this guy think he is coming in looking like THAT?! His voice cracked when he tried to speak making his cheeks turn rosey shade of pink and he had to clear his throat before properly speaking.
“U-Uh, yeah, me is Steve. I-I mean, I am Steve.” He would smack his own forehead with his hand if Eddie wasn’t busy holding it, giving him a nice firm handshake. Steve’s face was burning.
Scratch smacking face, Steve wishes he could just bash his head in on the brick decorative wall in the corner. Put him out of his misery. He’s doing a mighty fine job at humiliating himself already.
“This your first time?” Eddie smirked, his voice somehow dropping lower than it was before.
“Huh?” Steve blinked, clearly confused, no lights on in his brain as his eyes darted between Eddie’s huge brown eyes to the tattoo peaking out under the v-neck of his black long sleeve shirt. God he wished he could see what that tattoo actually was, maybe lick it.
“Your first time getting a tattoo.” Eddie clarified, the smirk never leaving his face as he finally let go of Steve’s sweaty palm.
“Oh, no actually. I’ve had - “ Steve cleared his throat again, trying his dammed hardest to chill the fuck down. “Had got another tattoo before this one.”
“So, you’re not a virgin then?” Eddie winked as he slid on his rubber gloves, covering up the black inked tattoos on his broad hands that Steve suddenly wished he looked at before they were gone from his sight. Then he realized what Eddie just said and his head snapped up to the playful look on Eddie’s face.
Shit. Is Eddie actually flirting with him? Is this how Eddie speaks to all of his clients? Or has Steve finally lost his marbles?
“Nope, defiantly not a virgin.” Steve watched Eddie’s movements closely as he finalized setting up his supplies, grabbing the stencil of Steve’s tattoo. “Not a virgin with tattoos either.”
Eddie’s eyes snapped up to meet his own, something gleaming in his dark eyes that makes Steve’s levi’s suddenly feel a little too tight. The grin on Eddie’s face is down right sinful. “Well, Steve, as long as the sketch looks good to you and you are still good with the placement, we can get started.”
Steve leans over and looks down at Eddie’s sketch of what he had requested sitting in Eddie’s gloved hands. Just looking at the two words, at the way Eddie wrote the font knowing it was his work that will be forever on Steve’s body has Steve’s blush refusing to go away.
“Uh, cool. Okay. Yeah it looks good, really good.” Steve had to lean over Eddie’s shoulder to fully see the entire page, not that it was really necessary.
“Lay down on the bed, on your stomach.” Eddie gestured with his chin to the left, where the tattooing bed was. “Make sure you get those jeans off first,” Eddie huffed out a laugh as Steve was about to settle down on his belly, his face turning beat red in embarrassment feeling idiotic.
“You do want your ass tattooed still, right?” Eddie asked, his voice smug at the flustered look on Steve’s face.
“Well, yeah. Obviously. That is why I am here.” Steve scoffed, wondering why the hell he is blushing like a teenage girl in this sexy ass man’s presence. Usually Steve is the one making people blush, not the other way around.
“I don’t usually undress my clients… but I would for you.” Eddie nibbled on his bottom lip, making damn sure that Steve’s face stayed tomato red as Steve swore he saw Eddie look at him from head to toe.
He had to take a deep breath to get his damn body to cooperate downstairs before unbuttoning his jeans and tugging down his fly so he can scoot the denim and his grey briefs down over the curve of his ass leaving them just barley covering his junk in the front and staying on his legs.
He couldn’t bring himself to say anything as he climbed on the bed on his stomach, not trusting his voice whatsoever as his eyes said more than enough, keeping them planted on Eddie’s.
“This good?” He rested his chin on his hands, his entire bare ass out in the open, wondering why the hell Jonathan Byers failed to mention how damn hot his favorite tattoo artist was.
Eddie for once seemed a little lost for words. He doesn’t stay in the room when his clients undress, it’s unprofessional. He never ever offers to take their clothes off for them either. But for some reason his feet stopped working the second Steve’s fingers went to unbutton his jeans.
“Absolutely perfect, pretty boy.” Eddie damn near purred, wondering how he lucked out, to be the one to tattoo this angels ass. Getting fucking payed to touch his ass. To tattoo the words Bite Me on his juicy round cheeks.
It isn’t Eddie’s first rodeo tattooing someone’s butt cheeks. He’s done almost every body part at this point in his tattooing career. But fuck, no client has ever affected him, not like this.
“Skins sensitive here.” Eddie licked his lips as he stepped close to the bed, wishing he wasn’t wearing gloves so he could really feel Steve as he ran his fingers over the exposed skin before putting the shaving cream along his ass, shaving the light colored peach fuzz right off his literal peach. “Need numbing cream, sweetheart?”
“No. Don’t need numbing cream. Wanna feel it.” Steve hummed, looking over his shoulder at Eddie. Steve’s red face has faded to pink, finally calming down a bit trying to sit still so he isn’t wiggling his ass in Eddie’s face - not that he thinks Eddie would really mind too much if he did.
Eddie muttered something under his breath, his hands stilling over his ass from where he was wiping the shaving cream away with surprisingly soft hands.
It’s funny, Steve came in set on only getting one tattoo. But as he laid here on the bed, the tattoo gun buzzing as the needles push against his ass, all he can think about is coming back, getting more ink on his body, all over his tan skin as an excuse to come back and see Eddie.
To come back and get Eddie’s hands on him.
But when his appointment was over - much sooner than Steve would have liked - turns out he didn’t need to come back here.
Because Eddie invited him to go home with him.
