Ink & Flowers by J.K. Pendragon Page B

excited.
    He shut the window impulsively and stared at the desktop, his eyes glazed. Well, it had been good to have that chat, actually. Talking to Brody—or talking at him, more like—had helped him figure out his feelings a little. There was nothing wrong with doing what Cooper wanted as long as it was what Luke wanted too, and Cooper wasn't trying to force him into it. Maybe Cooper wasn't a perfect lover, maybe Charlie was right and he was self-absorbed, and maybe Cooper was right and he was fucked up, but Luke wanted him. He wanted him so badly, and it was time he started doing what he wanted, without feeling guilty.
    For a moment he wondered if maybe that was what Cooper needed too—to be himself without feeling guilty. Luke wished he could help him with that. Because as much as he wanted to be with Cooper, he didn't want to be with the "asshole" that Cooper wished he was. He resigned to tell him that—if he ever saw him again that was. His stomach lurched with worry.
    Luke opened the internet again and, being careful to avoid going back to Facebook, searched for Cooper's name. He was unsuccessful, but then he had the brilliant idea of searching for "liam cooper tattoo." If Google was anything to go by, he'd once had a website, but it had since been shut down, his portfolios removed. However, there were still a few remnants. A bit of digging revealed several personal blog posts with photos of Cooper's tattoos, and they were beautiful. Luke didn't know the first thing about tattoos, but he was an artist, and it was obvious that Cooper knew what he was doing. Most of them were very cartoonish and blocky, but with obvious technical skill behind them. Luke wondered if Cooper had studied art professionally. Why had he never asked him?
    *~*~*
    But Cooper wasn't home to ask when Luke got there. He'd rushed home and breathlessly ran up the stairs, only to open the door to a deserted apartment. He slumped into the living room, his excitement dissipating, and dropped his bag onto the floor. It landed with a muffled thump.
    "Cooper!" he yelled, even though he knew there would be no reply.
    There was no note. Nothing was out of place. No sign that anyone had been in the house. What if Cooper never came back?
    He had to distract himself. He went into the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head as he did so, and slid his pants down. It felt good to take his clothes off, like removing armour. His reflection blinked back at him as he leaned forward to examine it. What did Cooper see when he looked at Luke? Was it his brown, skinny body, plain face and slanted eyes? Or did he like the smooth darkness of his skin, the lithe muscles and curves of his body, the full cupid's bow of his lips, and the inky blackness of his eyes? Maybe Cooper didn't mind that. Luke had spent so long hating how he looked, barely glancing in the mirror unless he had to. Maybe he had forgotten to look for the good things.
    He wondered how he'd look with tattoos like Cooper's. Stupid, probably. Maybe with not as many as Cooper, but ... he frowned at his reflection, his eyebrows knotting into a puzzled, dissatisfied expression. He looked ... he looked boring. Especially when compared to Cooper, with his warm eyes and his decorated skin and his earrings. Cooper looked like someone interesting, someone scary and off-putting, maybe, but someone with a story. Luke just looked ... blank.
    Well, that was enough of that. He stepped into the shower and let the warm water run over his body, lulling him into some semblance of peace. He ran his hands over himself and his body reacted to the feeling. He swallowed back the automatic guilt. Nothing wrong with feeling good. He slid his hand down to his cock and began to run his fingers over himself. Thoughts of Cooper flowed into his mind. Face, muscles, hands ...
    He couldn't help but laugh at himself when he nearly lost his footing. The shower was for getting clean, not jacking off. He could continue that in bed.
    He dried