Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been a slow day at the shop. There'd been quite a few slow days recently, actually, and Barty was trying his hardest not to let it get him down too much. But the thing is, well. He was bored. He loved his job - you kind of had to, to do what he did. The trouble was, he wasn't getting to do much of it recently.

It wasn't the lack of money that was the problem - they were all comfortably rich without needing to work. Absent fathers were no good growing up, but when you're in your mid-twenties and they drop dead because the drink and the food and the drugs caught up with them and all of a sudden your bank account has more zeros than you can count, you find yourself thankful that they'd chosen a life of indulgence over parenthood.

They'd opened the shop because it was something to do to fill their days, something they all enjoyed. Evan was an artist, and there is no better canvas than human skin. Literally, walking billboards to show off his work for all to see. Regulus was an artist too, but he preferred metal and jewels over needles and ink. So he spent hours every day tucked into a workroom, making the jewellery that was displayed in the glass-fronted cabinets that lined the walls.

And Barty - he had a fondness for both the needles and the metal. So he pierced, installing Regulus' work through nipples, navels and noses. And if he got a spike of adrenaline every time he slid a needle through someone's lip, or lobe? That was just an additional benefit.

Regulus had said it best - they were in a cost of living crisis, and people were dedicating their hard earned cash to feeding and housing their bodies rather than decorating them. And he was right - of course he was. Didn't mean Barty had to like it.

So in the absence of having done anything with his time, he'd returned to his flat in a rotten mood. He'd only done three piercings today - two of which were on the same person so they didn't count. Waste of fucking time. So he was collapsed onto his sofa, takeaway box discarded on the coffee table and already mentally calculating how much time he had to load up Pornhub and rub one off before either of his flatmates returned home.

So when his phone buzzed with a message notification on the shop's Instagram account before he'd even switched to incognito mode, he decided to look at it. Usually he wouldn't - he'd let one of the others pick it up or leave it for during working hours - but Reg was out bonding with his mysterious brother that they'd yet to meet, Evan was on a date with some girl he'd tattooed the week before, and Barty was bored. It could be a potential customer who might move on to another shop if they didn't get an answer quickly enough. And sure enough, he was right.

sunshineboy.02: Hey! Wondering if you have any availability tomorrow?

Jesus Christ. Yeah - they had availability. They all had availability. But what kind of genius doesn't open with at least a little more information? Tattoo? Piercing? Where, what size. All basic fucking things that most people would lead with. He was halfway through typing a sarcastic response before remembering that actually, they probably needed them to not get offended if he wanted something to do tomorrow. So he deleted it and tried again, a bit more professionally.

snakeskinstudio: Depends! What are you looking for?

The response came quickly, Barty hadn't even swiped away from the app yet.

sunshineboy.02: duh, sorry. my nose ring fell out last night and i can't get it back in :(

Oof, that was tricky. But it happened, nose piercings are right bastards for that, mucus membranes heal quickly. Still, it was a quick and easy piercing to do, he'd done thousands at this point and his calendar was completely empty the following day. Though it wouldn't do to seem too eager.

snakeskinstudio: Damn, I'm sorry to hear that. I'll be honest with you, it will probably need re-piercing. I have some slots tomorrow, what kind of time were you thinking?

That should do. Not too desperate, and very professional if he said so himself. He'd used capital letters and everything, Regulus would be proud.

sunshineboy.02: thats fine, its what i thought

sunshineboy.02: is 3 alright

sunshineboy.02: or any time actually. im free all day i just panicked and picked a number

God, and Barty had worried about sounding desperate? Not that he was one to talk - he still made Evan make his doctors appointments for him because he was incapable of talking on the phone, so he could relate somewhat. Again biting back a sarcastic retort, he typed out a response.

snakeskinstudio: No worries! I have 3pm free, can I get a name to book you in?

sunshineboy.02: course, its james :)

Barty quickly opened the booking app and added it in. One appointment all day, it looked so lonely sitting there amongst a sea of blank white spots. It was a Tuesday, too, not much hope of a walk in. And then - because he was a professional, thank you very much - he decided he might as well send the consent form now, whilst he knew James was online.

snakeskinstudio: (1 image file attached) If you can fill this in and send it over before your appointment it will save a bit of time. See you tomorrow, James!

Barty wasn't proud of what he did next. But he was bored, and if he was only going to see one customer all day tomorrow, he could at least scope him out a bit. Just a cheeky scroll through his posts, to see if it would be worth dragging the appointment out a bit in the effort to get some much-needed human interaction.

It hadn't helped, as it turned out. Because not a single photo in his feed was of him. Or at least not of him alone at any rate. The feed was filled with photos of random dogs - all captioned "@dogstarpads this u?" - and the very occasional actual photos were all pictures of two men, occasionally a third who appeared less often. So he was either a wannabe-punk who was too clean looking to have any real personality, or a strapped gym-bro with an allergy to sleeves.

He'd take either of them to be honest - in his studio or in his bed. They were both incredibly hot, just in different ways. It looked like they were probably together, though. Barty couldn't decide if that was a shame or a blessing, because he was also not opposed to the idea of being sandwiched between them.

Satisfied that he'd at least get to have a good ogle the next day, he was about to swipe back to his browser to finish his original plan for the evening, when the shop account got another DM.

sunshineboy.02: uh, not sure why you needed this?

sunshineboy.02: (1 image file attached) looks like we're compatible though ;)

Huh? He's not sure why Barty, a piercer, needed a consent form filling out in order to permanently modify his body? The guy already had his nose pierced, surely he'd filled one out before? He worried for a moment he'd accidentally sent the tattoo consent form, but why would that make them "compatible"?

Thoroughly confused, Barty decided he needed to open the file. And fuck, he had sent the wrong file. He must have, because there was no other way to explain why a perfect stranger had sent this to him.

Clear as day, evidenced in black and white and neon green - was a set of BDSM test results. And they were telling.

Submissive   92%

Rope bunny   86%

Exhibitionist   71%

Experimentalist   68%

Masochist   53%

Vanilla   33%

Voyeur   23%

Switch   20%

Dominant   17%

So Barty scrolled back up, opened the file he'd sent and sure enough. He'd sent his own results, and yes. This guy - James - was right, they were compatible. Barty's 95% Dominant matched James' Submissive percentage almost perfectly. His 82% Rigger compared well with James' Rope Bunny. Even their Experimentalist scores lined up - Barty had 70% on his own.

But this was a catastrophic fuck up, he knew that. This was a customer and they weren't that kind of shop, despite the fact that Evan was currently out flirting with a former customer - they'd at least paid their bill before Evan asked them out.

snakeskinstudio: oh my god im so sorry

snakeskinstudio: (1 file attached) i meant to send the consent form

snakeskinstudio: i'll cancel your appointment if you want that was so unprofessional of me

snakeskinstudio: again, so sorry

Barty was ready to throw his phone across the room - maybe even out the window and he'd follow soon after - but another message came through. And something shifted.

sunshineboy.02: heh, you kind of did though

sunshineboy.02: send a consent form that is

sunshineboy.02: so are you the victorian emo, the blonde twunk or the pin cushion

sunshineboy.02: not that it changes my consent, you're all hot af

Now, he could shut the conversation down. Could cancel the appointment, block the account and move on with his life. But he was bored. Bored and perpetually horny, and regardless of which of the men this was, Barty had never been able to resist an experimental sub and he wasn't about to start doing it now.

snakeskinstudio: depends. you the himbo or the model?

sunshineboy.02: LMAO

sunshineboy.02: i mean i think im both

sunshineboy.02: definitely hot enough to be a model

sunshineboy.02: but pads doesnt have the arms to be called a himbo

snakeskinstudio: cool

snakeskinstudio: im literally the piercer, take a wild guess which one i am

sunshineboy.02: well idk you might not pierce yourself???

snakeskinstudio: i do

sunshineboy.02: thats hot. you're good with your hands then? they nice and steady?

snakeskinstudio: steady enough to keep you still when im piercing you tomorrow

snakeskinstudio: unless you need me to tie you to the chair

sunshineboy.02: fuck. could you?

Barty really wasn't sure what the fuck was happening right now, but all he knew was that this guy was hot and his dick was hard, and he'd planned for a wank tonight anyway. So he tugged down his joggers, curled a hand around his base, and began to stroke himself as he typed.

snakeskinstudio: with my rigger score? you know i can

sunshineboy.02: liking it doesnt mean you're good at it though

snakeskinstudio: that a challenge?

sunshineboy.02: depends. you rising to it?

snakeskinstudio: somethings rising, alright

sunshineboy.02: fuck. same. you're so hot you know. gonna be hard the whole time tomorrow

sunshineboy.02: hard now

snakeskinstudio: yeah?

snakeskinstudio: show me

The response didn't come right away, and Barty began to worry that he'd gone too far. Been too bold. But clearly James hadn't been playing with his test results - Submissive and Exhibitionist without a shred of Brat - because an image came through.

sunshineboy.02: (1 image file attached) im fucking leaking, baby

Holy motherfucking shit. This guy was hung. And he wasn't lying about leaking either - his tip was absolutely soaked and Barty couldn't help but pick up his pace and let a little moan slip out at the thought of what that might taste like.

Now, Barty liked to be in charge in the bedroom - and often this meant topping. It was no great chore to him to fuck them rough and fast and filthy. But his mouth was literally watering at the thought of fitting that inside him - of tying him up and riding him, using him as a sex toy to chase his own pleasure.

snakeskinstudio: all for me?

snakeskinstudio: (1 image file attached) see this? this is for you

sunshineboy.02: shit you're pierced there too?

sunshineboy.02: did you do that one yourself

snakeskinstudio: why? jealous?

sunshineboy.02: fuck yes

snakeskinstudio: aww. i could do yours. pretty cock like that deserves some decoration

sunshineboy.02: awh you think my cocks pretty?

snakeskinstudio: pretty fucking huge, yeah

sunshineboy.02: only cos you're so hot. made it so hard.

sunshineboy.02: reckon you could do anything you wanted to me actually

sunshineboy.02: fuck i need to touch myself. can i?

Fuck. Barty was well and truly fucked. He'd never had that kind of obedience from someone when he wasn't even in the same room as them, and the feeling of power it gave him was intoxicating. He was leaking now, dripping down his own fist as he sped up again. Gripped tighter, spreading his own precome along his shaft to smooth the way.

snakeskinstudio: good boy, asking for permission

snakeskinstudio: you can touch

snakeskinstudio: slowly

sunshineboy.02: fuck, ok. i can do that

sunshineboy.02: this is gonna be over real quick if you call me good boy again btw

snakeskinstudio: of course you're into praise

sunshineboy.02: wdym of course

snakeskinstudio: you just look the type

sunshineboy.02: shit its hard going slow

sunshineboy.02: imagining you tying me up and using me

God, if Barty wasn't imagining that before he was now. The red of his rope would look so fucking good against his tanned skin. He wondered if he had the patience to sit there whilst he did some intricate knotting. He wasn't sure whether his eagerness would keep him still or make him too restless.

snakeskinstudio: you'd like that?

snakeskinstudio: if i had you at my mercy

snakeskinstudio: just took my own pleasure from you and left you hanging?

sunshineboy.02: i mean

sunshineboy.02: youd let me cum right?

snakeskinstudio: if you're good

sunshineboy.02: ill be so good

snakeskinstudio: i bet you will

snakeskinstudio: speed up. show me.

A minute passed, and Barty was gritting his teeth against the orgasm that was threatening his periphery. How was this guy even real? One shared BDSM result and he was happily wanking along on the other end of the phone? He wasn't complaining - not in the slightest.

sunshineboy.02: (1 video file attached, 0:45) like this?

sunshineboy.02: its not enough

sunshineboy.02: can i go faster?

snakeskinstudio: go as fast as you want

snakeskinstudio: but you cant cum until i say

sunshineboy.02: fuck, ok. im so close

snakeskinstudio: me too

snakeskinstudio: imagining how good your cock will feel inside me

snakeskinstudio: will you just lay there and let me do all the work? or will you fuck me if i ask you to

sunshineboy.02: either. both. just wanna be inside you. i'll do anything you want

That was a lot of fucking permission. Fuck, Barty could taste his release now. His thighs were shaking, he was lightheaded from the lack of breathing and his balls felt so fucking tight that it almost hurt. He could feel it in his gut, growing and building, the crescendo picking up in volume with every stroke and twist.

snakeskinstudio: you will wont you

snakeskinstudio: you want to cum so badly?

sunshineboy.02: i do. so badly. please, can i?

snakeskinstudio: pathetic

snakeskinstudio: i want you to imagine how my mouth will feel wrapped around your cock

snakeskinstudio: my tongue is pierced too, you know

sunshineboy.02: fuck thats so hot

sunshineboy.02: idk how much longer i can hold back

sunshineboy.02: it hurts

snakeskinstudio: aww, you that desperate?

sunshineboy.02: i really am

snakeskinstudio: good

snakeskinstudio: you can do it. show me how hard ive made you cum

Another long moment passed, and Barty was panting now with the exertion of holding himself back. But he wanted to see the video that James was no doubt currently recording and finish himself off alongside it.

sunshineboy.02: (1 video file attached, 0:25)

And he was so glad he'd waited. He forced his eyes to stay open as he plunged himself over the edge, the image of James shooting rope after rope of cum across his own tensed and glistening abs burning into the back of his retinas. He'd cum so hard a bit overshot onto the sofa, Reg was going to kill him if he ever found out but that was a problem for another time, he couldn't find it in him to care right now. Especially since the chat scrolled as another message arrived.

sunshineboy.02: fuck ive never cum that hard before

sunshineboy.02: got a bit on my glasses

sunshineboy.02: ew

snakeskinstudio: yeah well

snakeskinstudio: i got a bit on the sofa. my flatmate will murder me if he finds out

sunshineboy.02: so? flip the cushion and dont tell him?

snakeskinstudio: oh yeah. genius. thanks

sunshineboy.02: cant tell if thats sarcasm

snakeskinstudio: nah. i mean it. id have just wiped it and left the stain

sunshineboy.02: amateur

sunshineboy.02: so uh

sunshineboy.02: see you tomorrow?

snakeskinstudio: yeah, see you tomorrow

No further response came through, conversation clearly over for the day. God, he hoped this man was just as simultaneously cocky and pathetic in real life as he was over text because he really wouldn't mind bringing him back here after their appointment. And he was serious about piercing his dick if he'd let him, a cock like that deserved to be adorned. Maybe he could get Reg to make a couple of custom barbells because the standard ones would not be long enough for what he planned.

He allowed himself a minute to catch his breath before cleaning up. That had been way better than the lonely wank he'd expected this evening, but eventually the cum cooling on his hand and stomach started to get uncomfortable, and he needed to clean himself up and deal with the sofa. Flipping the cushion? Genuinely genius. Might save his life.

He'd just left the bathroom - hands washed and fresh joggers on - when he heard the slam of the door.

"Bartemius Crouch Junior, get your filthy, wretched, sofa-ruining arse out here. Now!"

Fuck. It was Regulus. He must have a fucking sixth sense about that sofa because he was sure he hadn't arrived whilst he was still in the bathroom so how the fuck did he know? He was torn between fight or flight, Regulus was fucking scary when he was mad but Barty thought he could probably take him. As long as he wasn't armed. Shit, he could be armed, he liked knives.

Deciding that it was better to be murdered as he stood to face him like a man, rather than in his sleep later on, he stepped into the living room. Regulus looked livid, and Barty gulped in genuine fear.

"Reggie, hey. How was Sirius? Did you-"

"Save it, Crouch." Regulus stalked towards him, a finger pointed accusingly in his direction. "You owe me a new sofa."

Barty tugged at his collar. "Yeah. Sorry."

"And while you're at it, figure out a way to remove the memory of the last half an hour from my mind." Regulus still sounded fucking fuming, but what on earth did he mean? Barty's confusion must have shown on his face, because Regulus continued. "The fucking work account? Really? We all have it on our phones, you idiot."

Oh. Shit. That's right, they did. Which meant…

"Ev's already messaged by the way. He says you're disgusting and you're cleaning the whole studio for the next month."

Now, that was unfair. He'd given them a free show, hadn't he?

"But-"

Regulus interrupted, the venom having leaked out of his voice and settling into a kind of resignation. "Don't make it two, Crouch. I'm going to stay with Sirius for the night and when I come back tomorrow, that sofa better have been replaced."

That was a bit unreasonable too, sure he was rich but a new sofa by the morning? It was a stretch, but he knew people, he'd make it work.

Still, that had turned into an expensive fucking wank. At least he'd be able to get a few quid back tomorrow. He watched Regulus leave, flinching slightly as the door slammed again to signify his departure, as he idly wondered if it was possible to pierce someone whilst you were riding them.

Chapter Text

Barty glanced nervously at the clock for what must have been the thousandth time that hour, the flashing red "2:45" reminding him he still had fifteen minutes to go until James walked through the door. Probably. Hopefully.

He'd had a busy day. Spent the first hour after waking up desperately calling every connection he had in interior design (which was surprisingly quite a few, now that he thought about it) in order to get a new sofa delivered that day. Spent another hour wrestling with the old sofa to get it out of the building. Spent another hour labouring over whether to slide back into James' DMs but from his own account this time, only to decide against it in the end. All the while arguing with Reg and Evan - trying to get them to stay away from the shop that day. Evan had no appointments and Reg's cabinets were full but for some reason they were both insisting that they go to work today.

They definitely thought he was going to defile the studio in their absence. They were right, of course. But he was already cleaning the place for the next month, why couldn't he dirty it up a bit?

In the end it had taken a promise of another month of cleaning and removing the shop's Instagram from his phone for them to finally agree. Both of them left at lunchtime and Barty knew they'd always intended to, but neither of them could help themselves. They just had to manipulate him a bit first, the bastards.

So he was a bit nervous. A lot excited. And incredibly fucking horny because as soon as the clock hit 2pm he'd flicked the sign to "closed" so that he could hide away in his studio and finger himself until he could just about take the largest plug he owned. It was currently pressing against his prostate with every shift of his hips on the stool, and he could feel the sweat already starting to trickle down the back of his neck.

Was it optimistic? Probably, but James had been shameless last night. And unless the camera adds 10cm as well as 10lbs, he'd definitely need the prep for what he planned to do. Besides, even if James didn't want to fuck him in the cold light of day, he could still have some fun afterwards with the memory of piercing a needle through his skin fresh in his mind.

Another glance - 2:48 - and another shift in his seat, the movement sending a shiver down his spine. Fuck he should have thought this through. Was it stupid? It was probably stupid right? But then, it's not like James has to know. Not unless he's getting in his pants and by that point, well - his preparedness is a gift, no?

His phone buzzed on the counter, but he ignored it. He'd had enough of those two berating him for one day, really didn't need them riling him up now.

But then it buzzed again. And again.

Reg: Open the door, idiot

Reg: Lover boy is outside and he's messaged the page

Reg: Closed sign, really? You're confident but he thinks you're not there

Reg: Not a single brain cell between the two of you

Evan: Hurry up about it too

Evan: Every time I have to open that fucking chat I'm reminded of what you put us through last night

Evan: Emma saw the photos btw. Says your dick looks rancid x

Barty: well she would know about rancid dicks

Barty: since she sucked yours last night x

Reg: Less texting more fucking

Reg: And for the love of God, give him your private account

Oh, yeah. James was here,

Oh. James was here.

So with a final shift in his seat - and a final quiet whimper - he gathered his senses and moved to open the door. And thank God he'd closed it, because if he hadn't had the opportunity to brace himself and this guy had just walked in without warning, he didn't think he'd have been able to remain upright. He'd have fallen off his seat, probably whacked his head off the corner of the counter and would have needed to explain to some poor paramedic that his arse was currently stuffed full with several inches of silicone.

It would be a story for them to tell their friends at the pub, at least.

James was fucking hot. So hot, that as he swung open the door and took in the sight of him, he knew his jaw was hanging open in shock, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

Now, Barty wasn't short - 5'10 on a good day, thank you very much - but James was at least 6 feet. And the myth about the camera adding 10lbs? Dead. Fucking. Wrong. He was somehow more bulky in person - either that or he'd bought his t shirt at least 3 weight-classes ago because he was quite literally bulging out of it in the arms, and it was stretched so tightly across his torso that his pointed nipples were clearly on display and so were the indents of his fucking abs.

"Uh… you gonna let me in?" James' voice startled him out of his reverie, Christ even that was sexy. All deep and warm and the accent? Subtle, but if he had to guess it was Spanish. Passionate people, the Spanish. Hot-blooded. Fiery. Oh, Barty had heard stories.

In lieu of speaking, because quite frankly he wasn't sure if he was capable of it for a moment, he moved to the side and gestured for James to enter the room before closing and firmly locking the door behind him. For once in his life, he didn't want a walk-in right now.

And that question he'd asked himself - about whether James would have the same confidence in real life - well it was answered almost immediately, because James sauntered into the space like he owned it and started peering into the glass cabinets of jewellery.

"Hey, these are so cool. You make them here, right?" He was looking into the display that Barty knew housed a wide selection of the kinds of barbells typically used for navel piercings.

"Mhm. Well, Reg makes them. I put them in." Barty finally stepped away from the door to join him. He even smelled nice, that cologne was definitely expensive. "Those ones are no good for you though, not unless you want me to pierce more than your nose today."

James flashed him a bright grin. "Maybe another time. Let's see how today goes, yeah?" Fuck, that smile was disarming.

Barty needed to get control over this situation and fast because despite the fact that he'd literally seen photos of this guy, and had fucking guided him to orgasm the night before, he was so alarmingly wrong-footed by how fucking… James he was. He'd seen his BDSM test results. He knew he was submissive. Clearly, that didn't carry over outside the bedroom because he was dominating this space - Barty's domain - and that would simply not do.

But before he could get another word in, anything to prove his control, James dropped yet another surprise in his lap.

"Oh, I brought these by the way, thought it might save some time." James rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, and handed it over. Of course it wasn't the consent forms he'd sent last night, why would it be?

It was STI panel results. All clear. Dated today.

Finally, an opportunity, and Barty grasped it with both hands.

"Eager, are you? Last I checked you were booked in for a nose piercing?" Still, he circled the reception desk to open the bottom drawer where he kept his own results, pulling them out and placing them on the counter. "But as it happens, we're compatible in this regard, too. Come through?"

Without further ado, he swept into the piercing room. He refused to look back - that would be a sign of weakness and he was the one in charge here - but he was gratified to hear footsteps following him. More so when he heard the telltale sign of him tripping over his own feet.

Barty willed his voice to remain steady, and somehow he seemed to have managed it because he sounded far more confident than he felt. "Take a seat."

He gestured to the chair in the middle of the room. He'd already pulled up the footrest and reclined the back earlier in the day, so James was forced to lie down as he got into position and Barty was so thankful to his past self. Something about being able to tower over this behemoth of a man had him clenching around the plug in satisfaction.

"Left or right?" He busied himself by spraying his cart clean, and laying out the tools he'd need. Cannula needle, Q-Tips, receiving tube and gloves all lined up in a neat row atop the stainless steel surface. Several sachets of petroleum lube. But James hadn't replied, and one glance at his face revealed his confusion at the question. "For the piercing? Left nostril or right?"

"Oh, you're really… Left I guess?" Did he think he wasn't getting a piercing today? Please, Barty was a professional. He could fuck and bodily modify at the same time. He thought. He hadn't before, but he was good at both. And he did have steady hands.

"You guess? You better be sure."

"Yeah, left. My left, that is. Your right?" Oh, this was adorable. All it took was getting him flat on his back for the confidence to melt away? Barty suddenly felt stupid for feeling out of control before. He had it now, and he'd definitely be keeping it.

"Great. Mind if I freehand it?" Barty leaned in, using one hand to steady James' jaw and tip his face to the side to get a good look at him. He was so fucking warm. "I can see where it was before. Close as I can, yeah?"

"Uh… yeah, please."

"Perfect. You had a gold ring before, I wont be doing that. It'll take forever to heal." He stepped back and grabbed the tray he'd prepared earlier, some flat-backed gold studs. Internally threaded, because as he kept repeating to himself, he was a professional. "Take your pick. Choose carefully because you'll be wearing it for a few months at least."

Had he spent an ungodly amount of time scrolling through his feed last night to try to get a sense of what options he should present him with? Sure. Had he also put a few self-indulgent choices in there too? Abso-fucking-lutely.

And when James pointed out the one he'd thrown in as a whim? It was a Halloween novelty really. Didn't think he'd actually choose it. But seeing that tiny little bat being picked out did something criminal to his insides.

"Didn't have you pegged for a Halloween guy," he said, dutifully removing it from the tray and placing it on his cart, giving it a quick spritz with the cleaning spray. "You'll still be wearing this at Christmas."

"I know," James said, flashing that blinding grin again. "But it's you isn't it? That's your username. Sewerbat. Thought it'd be fitting."

Barty couldn't help but flash a matching grin, a bit more feral but no less eager. "Found me, then?"

"You're not exactly hidden, you're tagged in all the piercing posts."

"True." The tray was now set up, so he wheeled it over to the side of the chair. "You know, if you want me inside you that badly, you only have to ask."

"Oh, I know." The cockiness was returning as he was getting more comfortable, apparently. "Maybe next time. With how you're walking, I'm guessing I'm going to be inside you soon."

Shit. He'd really thought he'd got away with it. Oh well, it's not like it seems to have put James off any. Might as well own it.

"Oh, James. That depends entirely on how good you can be for me." James' responding gulp was fucking beautiful. "Now, I know I offered to tie you up yesterday but I changed my mind. I think I need to see how well behaved you can be on your own."

Truthfully, he'd forgotten his rope at home in the chaos of the morning. But James didn't need to know that. And he didn't seem to mind, either - not with the way his cheeks flushed red and his hips twitched against the chair.

"Can you do that for me?" Barty taunted, circling round to the foot of the chair and laying down an assessing gaze which drew out another gulp. "Can you be a good boy?"

James' hips twitched again and he actually whimpered. Barty hadn't even touched him yet and he was already melting so beautifully. Oh, this was going to be fun. So, because he'd finally gained the upper hand and kept it, Barty decided to up the ante by whipping his t-shirt off and over his head in one smooth motion. "I asked you a question."

James fucking whimpered again, hands twitching as if he was fighting against the urge to reach out. "Yes, I can… I can be good. I can be a good boy."

As nonchalantly as he could manage, Barty tugged his own trousers down and allowed them to pool at his feet, toeing off his shoes and stepping out of the pile. No underwear, because what would have been the point? "Get your clothes off then, sunshine boy, let's see what we're working with."

It was almost comical, how fast James complied. His shirt was off before he was off the chair and his trousers flew across the room as if they'd been pulled away by magic. The tent in his boxers was obscene, wet patch already forming and accentuating the outline of what was definitely one of the larger pricks that Barty had ever seen in the flesh. James hesitated for a moment, but they too were removed, the slap of his damp cock against his stomach echoed around the room and for a moment, Barty almost stumbled.

Because shit. That was going inside him. And he needed it now. So he licked his lips, crossed the room and pushed James back onto the chair. He landed with a soft oof, arms falling flat against his sides and legs slightly spread.

"Good fucking boy, James. Think you can stay hard whilst I pierce you?"

James didn't respond with words, just a panicked widening of his eyes and a desperate nod.

"Excellent, you wait here then and don't even think about touching yourself, understand?"

Another desperate nod. That wouldn't do, not now. Non-verbal consent was tricky at best, criminal at worst. Barty always insisted on spoken agreement.

"Use your words. Do you understand?"

"Sorry… yes, I understand. No touching." James stumbled over his words, but it was enough. So Barty stepped away slightly, and reached behind himself to remove the plug with a groan, tossing it onto the side to be cleaned later. Distantly he worried that Reg would have something to say about getting lube on the counter, but it's not like he would be cleaning it. Then, because as he kept having to remind himself - he was a professional - he washed his hands thoroughly in the sink.

"Now, you came here for a piercing. So, James, I'm going to sink myself down on that delightful cock of yours, and you're going to carry on staying perfectly still so that I can do it. If you move one single muscle, I get off. And, well. You don't. That okay?"

Somehow, James got even redder, and his cock gave a valiant twitch. How he even had the blood-flow to manage that was a shock, but fuck it was hot.

"Fuck, really? Yes, please, I want that. I need it. Fuck."

His hands were flexing at his sides, but he was so obedient. So well-trained that Barty found himself incredibly jealous of whoever had taught him. No matter - he had him now.

So he pulled the cart a little closer, double checked he had everything ready, then with no further preamble he braced one knee on the chair and swung himself up and over so that he was straddling James' lap. Grabbed a couple of the lube sachets and tore them open with his teeth.

He leaned forwards, and James raised his head to meet him clearly expecting a kiss. But Barty wasn't soft, nor was he tender, and that was for lovers not whatever James was to him right now. So he bypassed his lips, and rested his chin against James' shoulder to speak directly into his ear. "Lube yourself, then hold yourself steady for me, I can't be getting my hands dirty now, can I?"

"But… That's touching?"

Bless this man, truly. So eager to do as he's told. "It's ok. I told you to."

So - because he really was a good boy - James grabbed the sachets from Barty's hand. Reached between them and hissed as the cold lube dripped onto his burning flesh, and held his leaking cock steady. Steady enough that as Barty shifted his hips just slightly back, he felt the blunt pressure against his loosened rim.

Fuck this might have been a bad idea. That plug was big but it was nothing compared to James' girth and it fucking burned as the first inch or so slid inside. The lube was helping, though, and even though Barty could feel his eyes watering, and he could see that James had seen it by the worried expression that took over his face, fuck it felt good anyway. There was nothing - nothing - that Barty liked more than that first intrusion, where you're not quite stretched enough and you can feel every single millimetre forcing its way in, but this was a lot even for him.

"D'you… we don't have to?" James moved to pull back, which was so considerate of him that it did something strange to Barty's gut, but that would lose him the upper-hand that he'd had to fight to seize.

And there was nothing Barty liked more than a challenge.

So he gripped James' jaw tightly, looked him directly in the eye, darted his tongue out to lick his lower lip and sunk down more. Teeth grit against the pain but owning it.

"I told you not to move." He raised himself up slightly and dropped back down again, taking slightly more and wincing against the fresh round of pain that bloomed. It fucking hurt but the pain was easing with every movement, giving way to something that was almost pleasure. "I set the rules, and I'm not piercing you until you're piercing me."

James' responding groan was music to his ears. God he loved this. The power. The control. James may be the one inching inside him now but Barty was dictating their every move and James had, in his own sweet way, just issued him with a challenge. So he kept rising up, and kept falling a little further each time. Taking more and more of him, splitting himself open until the pain fully dissipated with each graze against his prostate. Pleasure growing with every additional centimetre, thighs trembling with the exertion of holding himself up.

His hisses bled into moans, joining James in filling the room with garbled sounds of pleasure and heavy breathing. They could definitely be heard from reception, if anyone was there to listen. Maybe he should have kept the door unlocked after all.

After what felt like it could have been hours of slowly easing himself down, his arse met the flesh of James' thighs and he found that they were trembling as much as his own, Barty knew intimately how hard it was to keep yourself from thrusting up into a tight wet heat as it surrounded you. He'd never been able to keep his restraint, never had a need to. Whatever James was made of, his mental resolve was clearly as mighty as his physical strength.

"Good boy, James. Lying there and letting me take you." Barty rose up a few inches before settling back down again, savouring in the feeling of being so well stretched. James' breath hitched as he ground down a little at the end, but still he did not move. "I'm going to pierce you now. Ready?"

"Fuck yes I'm ready." James' eyes were wide and his jaw was clenched, whether it was from the force of restraining himself or the anticipation of the pain that was about to come Barty didn't know, but he did look fucking gorgeous like this, his jawline even sharper than before under the stress.

Barty took a deep breath. The stretch was overwhelming, but he could do this. He'd pierced countless noses, it was all routine. He could do it with his eyes closed at this point. Whether he could do it with a cock in his arse remained to be seen but he wasn't about to back out now.

He'd always known he got a rush whenever he pierced someone. He couldn't fucking wait to experience it whilst being stretched to his limit. So with one final grind, one more drawn out groan from the man beneath him, he got to work.

Gloves on, easy. Spray the Q-Tips, wipe James' nose. One for the outside, one for the inside. No problem. Open the receiving tube, also easy.

Shit - maybe he could do this?

Open the cannula needle, slight fumble with the packaging but it wasn't because his hands were shaking, it was because James had gasped when he saw it and his cock had twitched and it hit Barty just so. Open a fresh sachet of lube, squirt a bit onto the back of his hand. Dip the end of the needle - just slightly, just enough.

Showtime.

"Head to the side, there's a good boy." James tilted his head as directed, and slid his eyes closed when Barty eased the receiving tube inside his nostril. He was shaking a little, but it could have been from being inside his piercer as much as it could have been due to the needle. "Sharp scratch."

Barty breathed deeply, and let instinct take over. One smooth push, one second of resistance, and one distant moan that he vaguely recognised he'd made once the needle passed through. Fuck this was euphoric. And so easy. Did James want the other nostril pierced? Maybe his septum, everybody suited that piercing. God, he imagined how good it would feel to pierce his nipples like this too, especially if those tight t-shirts were his normal clothing. He'd look phenomenal with those.

He'd never be able to pierce anyone ever again without remembering this feeling. He'd have to quit his job, the shop would never survive the Yelp reviews if anyone noticed their piercer popping a boner mid-treatment. That, or it could become a selling point, but it would definitely risk the sanctity of their permit.

James made a small sound of distress, and Barty realised he was only half-way through the job. So he pulled the needle out, grabbed the stud with the forceps and slid it into the end of the cannula. One more push-pull, one more obscene moan and he found himself screwing the bat into place, turning it so that it was facing the right way before wiping away the small drop of blood with another clean Q-Tip.

"All done. You did so well. Such a good boy for me." He pulled off his gloves, tossed them onto the cart and pushed it away from the chair before casting his eyes over James' face. He was panting hard, and his eyes were weeping tears, and with every movement Barty made his face was twisting and shifting. Eyebrows furrowed and jaw still tense. "I think you've earned a treat, don't you?"

"If- fuck - if you think so. Whatever you want."

"Dangerous." Barty leaned forward to lick a stripe up his neck, the salty tang of sweat spreading across his tongue. Delicious. Lips pressed against the shell of James' ear, he dropped to a whisper before continuing. "You can move now."

James didn't need to be told twice. Hands flew up to grip Barty by the waist and James began to pump his hips relentlessly, and it was all Barty could do to steady himself against the onslaught. He was right to have pierced him like this, because the few minutes that the job took had given his body time to adjust to the intrusion. There was no pain anymore, only sheer unadulterated and blinding pleasure as his prostate was hammered ruthlessly with every thrust upwards.

"Yes, James. Just like that. You're doing such a good job." James' eyes rolled to the back of his head at the words, garbled moans falling from his lips with each stroke. "Fucking me so good. Such a good boy. My good boy, aren't you?"

"Yeah, your good boy - pant - all yours, fuck, thank you, thank you, tha-"

"Fuck, you're so welcome." Barty was fairly close, and he could tell James was too, but even a cock like this wasn't going to be enough to send him over the edge. So he leaned back so that he was upright, cock jutting out in front of him. "Touch me, James. You can cum when I do."

James was so eager to please, and so fucking good at doing what he was told. So in the time between one breath and the next, he already had a slick hand wrapped around Barty's cock, tugging and pulling and catching against the ring that was pierced through his head with every upstroke. His grip was firm and unwavering, and when Barty looked down at him he saw that his eyes were staring unblinkingly at the spot they were joined.

God, he'd like that view himself. Maybe he could pierce James' cock one day, then lie back and let him go for a ride.

"Do you like that? Looks good doesn't it." James' attention snapped back up to his face, and Barty keened with the strength of his next thrust. "Feels even better. Want one? I can do it, you know. I can do any piercing you want."

"Fuck, yeah. You can. Anything." Jesus fucking Christ. This man was a dream. An actual dream. If it weren't for the stretch in his arse and the heat that was radiating from the man under him, Barty might have thought it was a dream. But it was real - and James really was fucking perfect. And he'd look so damn good decorated a little more.

"Anything?" Barty moved his hands to James' chest, and took his nipples between his fingers, giving each a harsh pinch. "Could I do here, too?" No verbal response, but a desperate nod and a falter in his pace. So Barty moved one hand up to trail along his neck, then his jaw, settling on his lower lip and gripping it between his thumb and forefinger. "How about here? It would feel so good against my cock."

"Shit, yeah. Anywhere you want." James was barely comprehensible now, every other word broken by a moan or a grunt, eyes closed again and so obviously close to his peak but determinedly holding back. Being obedient.

"Good boy." James cried out at the praise, and his thrusts became erratic and the motion of his hand was sloppy and Barty was so fucking close. His toes were tingling with the urge to let himself fall over, his chest was tight and he was leaking so much that there was barely any friction left at all. "Look at me. I want you to see what you've done to me."

James' eyes shot open, and that moment of eye contact was all that it took. All that Barty needed to fly over the edge was to see the look of awe in James' face as his arse clenched tightly around him and he shuddered and shook through his release, painting James' stomach and chest so thoroughly that he fucking glistened under the studio lights. And because he'd been told he could, James too finally let go, releasing a pained sob as he pressed in impossibly deep and his hips stilled, filling Barty with warmth.

"Shit," James said, between laboured breaths as he held Barty through the aftershocks. "Fuck. Do all your customers get this treatment?"

"Only the good ones." Barty felt James' softening cock give another small twitch inside him, cum leaking out and dripping down his thighs with the movement. "Again?"

"God, I wish." James leaned up slightly, eyes glancing over his own dampened chest. "This can't be hygienic."

Barty simply shrugged, then lifted himself up and off the chair to stand on slightly shaking legs. Fuck he needed a sofa in here or something because he was about to collapse under his own weight. That had been… something else. But he was starting to feel filthy now, with cum leaking out of him at an alarming rate, so he grabbed a roll of paper towels and ripped a few off before tossing the roll in James' direction.

There was nothing sexy about cleanup. But it had to be done, he needed to get home after this and he didn't fancy walking through London with a damp patch on his trousers. So he wiped between his legs as thoroughly as he could, before locating his jeans and slipping them on.

James hadn't moved, he was still laying on the chair, watching him with glazed over eyes and a stupid fucking smile on his face.

"Well, get up then. Unless you're staying here for the night."

James chuckled. Chuckled. What on earth was so funny about that?

"Hmm, nah." James finally sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the chair. "But I would like to take you to dinner."

"Dinner?" Barty was… shocked isn't really the word. Confused, maybe. What about either of their interactions had led James to believe he was the dating type? Though, he supposed he hadn't exactly outright told him he wasn't. Dating was a tricky thing for him - he hadn't really done it. He'd fucked, plenty. Been fucked plenty, too. But it never went deeper than that, nobody ever wanted to stick around long enough when they found out he was just as feral and possessive outside of bed as he was in it.

But then, James seemed a little feral too. And he hadn't baulked when Barty had called him his - he'd agreed. And what was the worst that could happen, anyway? James would leave? It's not like Barty wasn't used to that, he'd survive it.

"Yeah, dinner. You know, a meal? Typically enjoyed at the end of the day?" Bloody hell, it didn't take James long to get his confidence back, did it? Barty would have to work harder next time, really wear him down.

James had finally stood from the chair, and was busy gathering his clothes from where they'd been strewn. One of his socks had landed in the sink, it looked like. How unfortunate.

Barty pulled on his shirt, and began the process of discarding the used supplies into the appropriate bins. "I know what dinner is, prick. You're asking me out?"

"Yeah, sure." James tugged on his jeans then stepped behind him, wrapping him into an embrace and dropping his lips to Barty's ear. "Then if you're up for it, you can take me home and you can sit on my face for dessert?"

"Now that's an offer." Barty turned in his hold, James' smile was wide and open and he was hit by the overwhelming urge to kiss it off him. He didn't - that would be fucking stupid. He did recognise the weakness in his own logic but something about kissing before the first date felt an awful lot more intimate than what they'd just done. So he pushed him away. Gently, no aggression in the move at all, but just enough to create some space. "Help me clean up and I'll even let you choke on my dick."

James had picked up a spray bottle of disinfectant before Barty had even finished speaking, and was already wiping down the sweat-soaked chair with vigour.