Chapter Text
An electric buzz saws into the air. Jihoon is almost jittery enough to convince himself it’s the audible sound of his own nervous energy.
It’s not.
Laid out on a solid black chair is a shirtless man. Jihoon can just see him through the gated partition and into an open back room. Hunched over the shirtless man is another man - bespeckled, untidy black hair falling into his face - a tattoo gun held firmly in his grasp slowly inking art into the shirtless man’s side.
Jihoon looks away before his late lunch ends up on the lacquered cherry wood floors. The tattoo parlor is surprisingly cheery. Evening sunlight spills in through clean windows comprising the front of the shop. The sitting room is home to various mismatched chairs and love-seats - some baroque, some modern, some a little too kitschy for Jihoon’s taste - all overstuffed. A long desk separates the front room from the back, a wrought iron gate interrupts the desk right in the middle.
Rationally, Jihoon knows that the gate allows people into the back rooms to receive their tattoos and piercings. Right now, all it does is allow him too much of a view of a needle repeatedly piercing someone else’s skin - an unfortunate reminder as to why he’s here.
He leans back in the love-seat he’s sharing with Seungcheol. The bitter scent of ink and disinfectant doing wonders for his roiling stomach.
“You look a little green, Jihoonie,” Seungcheol says, and Jihoon swears he can hear the smirk in his voice. Shit, he can practically taste it.
“Shut the fuck up, you brute,” Jihoon says. He’s counting his breaths now: in for four counts, hold for four counts, out for four counts, pause for four counts, and repeat.
Seungcheol chuckles and slouches further into the love-seat. “It’s not my fault you lost our bet.”
And, yeah, that is fair. But, in Jihoon’s defense, he was drunk. Well, they were both drunk. But, at the time, a push-up contest seemed like the best idea in the world. Jihoon had bulked up - gone was the pink-haired, lanky florist. Jihoon had matured, locks now a soft caramel color, had gained muscle and mass.
One could argue Seungcheol also boasts a considerable amount of muscle. But, in Jihoon’s defense, Seungcheol hadn’t been to the gym in a month. Jihoon goes daily. Four bottles of soju in and his odds seemed wonderful.
Equally, wonderful was when Seungcheol’s boyfriend, Mingyu, pitched the idea that the loser had to get a piercing of the winner’s choice; he even volunteered to give them a discount at the shop he worked at.
It was all wonderful until Jihoon’s arms gave out just short of two-hundred push-ups, and Seungcheol being the bastard that he is, eked out just one more than Jihoon.
“You’re still a stupid fucking meathead,” Jihoon grumbles, shoving at Seungcheol where he’s slumped on the younger’s shoulder.
“Aww, Jihoonie,” Seungcheol coos. He nuzzles further into Jihoon’s space, then delivers a sharp pinch to his right nipple.
Jihoon yelps. It’s not a manly yelp, not by any means, nor is the frustrated whine Jihoon gives when he punches Seungcheol in the soft planes of his stomach. But, then again, Seungcheol’s answering whine to Jihoon’s punch is not manly either, and Jihoon can live with that.
“I leave you two alone for five minutes and you’re fighting like little kids,” Mingyu says. He’s smiling though, and he props open the wrought iron gate splitting the front room from the back room.
Jihoon fidgets and ignores Seungcheol’s whimper of ‘he started it’. He stares through the open gate. It’s funny how a flimsy barrier like a gate can give the illusion of safety, of exclusion, of separation between this side and that side. But that’s all it is - an illusion; gates are easily open and walls are easily torn down.
Now, Jihoon is left staring into that side, which is really this side, or no side because the gate is open and he can now see the small minute twitch of muscles from the man lying on the black bed and a needle repeatedly striking in and out of his skin.
Fingers snap in his face and Jihoon jerks to see Seungcheol staring at him with a thick eyebrow raised. “You good?” He asks.
A firm ‘no’ is on the back of Jihoon’s tongue, but instead a choked noise wheezes out of his throat and he bobs his head in a hesitant nod.
“Good,” Mingyu chirps from his place by the gate and gestures for them to follow him to the back room.
Jihoon’s legs feel wooden as he follows Mingyu past the gate and further into the parlor. He tries to use Seungcheol as a shield to block his sight of the man receiving a tattoo, tries to focus on the pull of Mingyu’s thin t-shirt across his shoulder blades rather than the incessant sound of the ink gun.
Mingyu guides them down a long hallway and ducks into a small, private room. A pent up breath shudders from Jihoon’s lungs; the buzzing of the ink gun doesn’t quite reach this far, nor does the bitter scent of ink.
For a quick moment, Jihoon wishes he was ensconced in the warmth of his own shop. The evening sun hitting off the colorful displays of perky marigolds, delicate iris, and vibrant lilies; the rich scent of sweet honeysuckle and freesia, somber jasmine and sweet pea.
Instead, he’s here: trapped in a small room with too much black, the sharp scent of antiseptic with undertones of bleach, and too bright florescent lights glinting off wicked metal.
Jihoon startles as Mingyu places a soft hand on his shoulder. “Sit on the bed, hyung.”
Jihoon jumps on the bed, the smooth faux-leather crinkling under his weight; his feet miss the ground by a good dozen inches.
“Go ahead and remove your shirt,” Mingyu says.
“Why?” Jihoon asks numbly, eyes fixed on the sharp needle Mingyu is fidgeting with.
“So you can get your nipple pierced, dumbass,” Seungcheol says, voice carrying too much giddy excitement for Jihoon’s liking.
If Jihoon was anywhere else but here, he would have parried Seungcheol’s statement, would have thrown a well-placed blow to a sensitive bit of Seungcheol - his gut, upper thighs, lower back, his ego.
But Jihoon is here, in this tattoo parlor watching Mingyu’s deft fingers prep his fate.
So, with a distracted hum, Jihoon slides his thread-bare, yellow sweater off. The cold of the shop’s A/C is like an afterthought in Jihoon’s mind, only manifesting in the ripple of goosebumps across his skin and the hardening of his dusky nipples. Even with the interruption of the removal of his shirt, his focus is still fixed on Mingyu ministrations - specifically on the cold metal of a sharp needle and the small metal barbell sitting innocently by its side.
“Jihoon, you okay?” The warm weight of Sunegcheol’s hand bleeds through Jihoon’s jeans and onto his thigh. “Look, if you really can’t do this, we don’t have to.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” As if to prove his point, Jihoon gives a rough shake of his head, squeezing his eyes shut to jog his mind onto a different track of thought, one not preoccupied with needles. “Just not the biggest fan of needles.”
“Which is why this is a punishment,” Mingyu says. He has a cruel smirk on his lips, but his tone is soft, some care for his hyung buried in the statement. “Seungcheol’s right though, if you’re really not up for it, let us know. We don’t have to go through with this.”
“I’m fine. I can do this.” I am fine, I can do this. The mantra feels a bit paltry, even in the confines of his own mind. But Jihoon keeps at it, determined to repeat the words until they feel like the truth.
“Well, then, that’s good. I’ve got an appointment now, so Soonyoung will be in soon to give you the piercing,” Mingyu says.
“Wait, what?” Jihoon gapes. All thoughts of encouraging mantras derail at the news that Mingyu - his dear, lovable dongsaeng, Mingyu - won’t be the one to give him his piercing. His nipple piercing. On his nipple .
Mingyu drops his fiddling with the needle and takes advantage of Jihoon’s shocked gaping. He pops a loud peck on Jihoon’s check, then swoops to place a longer kiss on Seungcheol’s lips before hustling out of the open doorway.
“S-Seungcheol, Seungcheol,” Jihoon croaks.
“You’re fine, Hoonie,” Seungcheol soothes. “I’ve met Soonyoung before, he’s a good guy. And Mingyu wouldn’t let just anyone pierce you. You’re okay.”
Jihoon takes a deep breath, then lets it hiss out slowly through clenched teeth. “Right, cool, of course.”
Right, cool, of course , turns into Jihoon’s new mantra. He rubs the soft cotton of his sweater between two fingers, focuses on the textured zing that develops on his skin.
Jihoon is on his seventeenth round of ‘ Right, cool, of course ’ when a cheery voice pops in: “Jihoon-ssi?”
He turns slowly and spots a man standing in the doorway. The man’s wide, broad-toothed smile is the first thing Jihoon clocks, that and the scrunching of round cheeks. His smile pushes his eyes into happy, horizontal slits. Like the hands of a clock, Jihoon thinks.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Jihoon says. His voice is a bit strained, but it’s strong enough to carry throughout the room. “Soonyoung-ssi?”
“Yup!” Somehow, Soonyoung’s smile grows even more. “You’re getting a nipple piercing, right?” Soonyoung asks as he walks into the room.
Jihoon doesn’t think before he speaks, just spits out the first thing that comes to mind. “I am sitting here with my shirt off, so, yeah.” His tone has more bite to it than he intends, more than he would put into it with a stranger. A stranger who is in charge of piercing his nipple.
Soonyoung pauses midstep, his smile slips and he cocks his head to the side. Jihoon freezes, caught in Soonyoung’s gaze, dark brown eyes too discerning as he flickers over Jihoon’s form.
Jihoon can only imagine what he sees - it’s what everyone sees when they look at him: soft features painting him in too youthful an image, pink lips pinched into a thin line, pale skin, and short . He is acutely aware of the distance between the ground and the bottom of his feet.
Before Jihoon can entertain the idea of covering his exposed chest with his shirt, Soonyoung’s smile splits across his lips again. “You never know, you could just be a weirdo who snuck in here again.”
Jihoon shoots a quick glance at Seungcheol, brows raised at the ‘again’ part of the sentence. Seungcheol shrugs with a wry smile and pats his knee in a quick effort to comfort the younger man.
“Anyways, it’s nice to meet you Jihoon-ssi, and good to see you again Seungcheol hyung.”
“Good to see you too, Soonyoung,” Seungcheol replies, charming smile in place. “It’s been a while.”
“For you,” Soonyoung snorts, hands busy soaking a cotton ball in an antibacterial cleanser. “Mingyu doesn’t shut up about you. I feel like I know too much about you hyung, too much .”
Seungcheol has the grace to blush and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “Yeah, I can talk to him about that.”
“No worries, hyung,” Soonyoung laughs, “it always keeps things lively, and it’s good to know you’re that flexible.”
Seungcheol chokes on his spit and Jihoon knows his own grin has reached shit-eating proportions. “Flexible, huh?”
“Shut up,” Seungcheol groans, slumping further against the wall.
“Okay, Jihoon-ssi, which nipple are we piercing?”
“Right.”
“Right nipple, and horizontal, correct?”
“Yeah,” Jihoon says, voice scratching against the confines of his throat. He thinks about asking for a cup of water, or some fresh air, maybe a quick pep talk. Anything to beat down the bubbling of apprehension that’s cloying thickly in his lungs.
“Right, horizontal - gotcha,” Soonyoung says. He offers a small squeeze to Jihoon’s shoulder and Jihoon leans into the touch, focusing on the pressure of Soonyoung’s grip. “Okay, Jihoon-ssi, I’m just going to give you a quick rundown of how this will go: I’m going to run a disinfectant wipe over your right nipple, mark out the planned placement for the piercing, and if it looks good, we’ll go ahead and pierce your nipple. Sounds good?”
At Jihoon’s nod, Soonyoung steps forward and runs the disinfectant soaked cotton ball over his right nipple. Jihoon tries to hold back his shiver at the cold, wet press of the cotton, the warm brush of Soonyoung breath against the base of his throat.
As quickly as those sensations are there, they’re gone. Soonyoung steps back to throw the cotton ball away, and Jihoon allows a quick shiver to ripple down his spine.
Soonyoung returns, a small marker in hand. “Can you lean back a bit, Jihoon-ssi? Just so I can have a clearer sight for marking out the piercing.”
Jihoon acquiesces, falling back to lean against his hands. His legs part slightly, without forethought and Soonyoung his slipping between them before he can think of closing them.
Soonyoung’s hand is warm where it presses into his side, cupping Jihoon’s ribs and steadying his own hand as he marks quick dots on Jihoon’s nipple. Their proximity allows Jihoon a close-up view. Soonyoung’s choppy black hair hangs into his kohl-rimmed eyes, numerous piercings gleam on his ear - from thin, dangly lobe piercings, to ornate cuffs curling up the shells of each ear.
He steps back to judge his markings and bites into his lower lip, the thin metal ring looped through the bottom left corner of his plush lower lip catches the light and Jihoon’s attention.
Jihoon is not an idiot - at least, he doesn’t generally consider himself to be one. And, anyone with a modicum of taste can see that Soonyoung is attractive. He’s tall - not quite Mingyu tall, perhaps closer to Seungcheol tall - with a good build: on the slimmer side, but with defined muscles, broad shoulders, and wide chest, and thick thighs (and so what if Jihoon entertains the fleeting idea of sitting on those thighs, of grinding against the clear definition of muscle - he’s only human, with basic human desires).
Suffice to say, Soonyoung is attractive, and Jihoon is grudgingly attracted to him. Grudgingly only because Jihoon fears admitting complete attraction may lead down a path of too vivid fantasies. The last thing he needs is ill-timed squirming while getting his nipple pierced.
“Okay, Jihoon-ssi, I think this is okay, but why don’t you take a quick look in the mirror and see if you like the placement?” Soonyoung says, offering a large hand-held mirror for Jihoon to use.
“Uhh, yeah, sure. Thanks,” Jihoon grunts, breaking away from admiring Soonyoung and takes the mirror. He checks the placement of the dots - a dark purple against the dusky rose of his peaked nipple. He’s not completely sure what he’s supposed to be looking for, but the dots are well centered and Jihoon supposes that’s good enough.
“Looks good.”
“You sure?”
Jihoon nods, not quite seeing the point of verbalizing his agreement. He’s as sure as he ever will be when it comes to his nipple piercing.
“Aha, that’s good!” Soonyoung’s smile doesn’t slip, even as he takes the mirror from Jihoon and start to prep the needle and the piercing. “Go ahead and lay back on the bed, Jihoon-ssi.”
Jihoon lays down, grip tight on his sweater. He exhales, his breath pushing out like the sharp edges of his pruning shears.
“So Jihoon-ssi, what do you do for a living?” Soonyoung says from off to the side.
Jihoon recognizes the question for what it is - a diversion. He jumps on it, either way, anything to distract him from what he knows is coming.
“I’m a florist.”
“Really?” Soonyoung’s tone pitches up with what Jihoon thinks is a genuine hint of curiosity.
“Yeah, Hoonie owns the flower shop just a block over, facing out on Daehak-ro,” Seungcheol pipes up from his spot in the corner. “Not sure if you pass that way or not, but it’s a good location.”
“You own that shop?” Soonyoung asks, and this time, Jihoon is sure he’s picking up on a tone of surprise.
“Yeah, I own Today’s Flowers.”
Soonyoung pops back into Jihoon’s line of sight, his eyes sparkling just so, before they slit into thin lines of joy. “I pass that shop every day on my way to work. I even bought my mom flowers from there a couple of times: daylilies for Mother’s Day and pink roses and yellow tulips for her birthday. She loved them, even managed to plant them in her garden - said she never had flowers take to the ground quicker than yours did.”
Jihoon can’t help the wide smile that spreads across his lips, full of brilliant teeth and dimples, nor the swelling of gracious pride in his chest. There are few things that Jihoon is truly proud of, but his small shop and his flowers are nearly at the top of his list.
“Thank you,” Jihoon says, his voice soft with gratitude. “That - that really means a lot to me.”
“Of course,” Soonyoung says, blinding smile in place. “You deserve to hear the praise. Now, are you ready for your piercing?”
Jihoon means to say yes, means to have unwavering conviction in his voice. Instead, he whimpers out a breathy ‘not really’ and squeezes his eyes shut.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Soonyoung coos.
He must lean down further, Jihoon can feel the warmth of his breath on his bare skin, the fresh scent of mint on his breath.
Jihoon takes a deep breath and cracks his eyes open. Soonyoung is leaning over him, dark brown eyes gentle, face relaxed into a welcoming smile. “There you are,” Soonyoung murmurs, voice tender. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to start until your ready, and I will talk you through this, okay? Just focus on me. Can you do that?”
Jihoon nods, struck voiceless. His chest feels tight with fear and the bloomings of a small crush. Soonyoung is too gorgeous and generous to be real and Jihoon focuses on his soothing words, takes deep breaths in and out as instructed, allows his eyes to wander over silver piercings, over vibrant art inked into honeyed skin -- two full sleeves of traditional tattoos and a traditional style tiger clawing up the skin of Soonyoung’s neck.
“You’re doing so well, Ji,” Soonyoung says, and no one comments on the dropped formality or the sudden nickname. “Just keep breathing, I’m going to position myself and you tell me when you’re ready.” Soonyoung dips down closer, close enough that Jihoon can feel the heat of his skin, can smell the spicy scent of pine and soap. But he doesn’t touch Jihoon, just holds ready.
Taking two deep breaths, Jihoon shores up his resolve and nods. “I’m ready.”
“Good,” Soonyoung says, voice just a grating murmur against Jihoon’s ear. “Now take two deep breaths in and out. On the second exhale, I’m going to pierce you. I just need you to keep breathing through it, okay? The piercing will feel tight, like a quick-burning pinch, but just breathe and focus on me.”
Jihoon nods. He takes a deep breath in, feels the nudge of his chest against Soonyoung’s arm, a quick pressing of skin; then, he lets the breath out, focusing on the decompression of his ribs.
“And in,” Soonyoung prompts, eyes flickering upwards for just a moment, just to hold Jihoon’s gaze. “And out.”
Jihoon breathes out, focusing on the concentrated lines of Soonyoung's face. His breath stutters when he feels the sharp pinch of the needle going into his nipple. He knows enough not to jerk at the burning pressure, but he can’t help letting his fall back against the bed, a sharp hiss of discomfort breaking past his lips.
“You’re doing so well, Ji,” Soonyoung says, “we’re almost done.”
“Keep talking,” Jihoon groans, “please.”
“Of course, anything you want. You’re doing so well, it looks so pretty, so good, Ji. Almost done.”
Jihoon zones in on Soonyoung’s praises, soaks up the brush of hot air against his skin, a wonderful juxtaposition from the cold of the needle and the metal barbell.
“There, all done,” Soonyoung says, pulling back with a satisfied grin.
The cold of the room pools into the space that Soonyoung vacated and Jihoon shivers, wanting Soonyoung back over him, shielding him from the press of chilly air.
Soonyoung must notice his shiver. He offers a slight smirk at the smaller man’s action, but says nothing.
“Go ahead and sit up, Jihoon,” Soonyoung instructs, his light touch shifting to grip and guide Jihoon into a sitting position. “You may feel a bit of throbbing around the piercing and your nipple may feel a bit warm, but that’s perfectly normal.”
Jihoon most certainly feels a bit of throbbing and heat, but it’s not necessarily centered around his nipple. He swallows thickly and fidgets in place as Soonyoung turns to get the hand-held mirror for Jihoon to view the piercing.
He can feel the sharp gaze of Seungcheol boring into the side of his head, but he refuses to look. He refuses to pay attention to anything but controlling his breathing and willing his body into a calmer state, one less attuned to the warmth of the tattooed man next to him.
Soonyoung gives him the mirror, and Jihoon takes the time to look at his new piercing. He has to admit that it looks nice. The barbell is centered well, it glints brightly - never failing to catch the light as Jihoon moves and twists - and looks, well, pretty set against the dark flush of his nipple and the pale expanse of his skin.
“What do you think?” Soonyoung asks after a moment of Jihoon moving the mirror around to catch the piercing at different angles.
“I love it. It looks really good, better than I expected.” Jihoon looks up just in time to see Soonyoung’s smile grow across his face.
Jihoon can’t help smiling in return as he hands the mirror back to Soonyoung. He’s never known someone who smiles with their whole face, but Soonyoung does; his mirth spread from his plush lips to his apple cheeks, to the sharp slants of his eyes.
“Beautiful,” Jihoon breathes.
“Thank you! I’m glad you like it. Now, we do have printed instructions on cleaning and healing time, but I just want to take you through them quickly and any warning signs of too much swelling or infection - in which case, you may want to come and see us for the former or a doctor for the latter.”
Jihoon knows he should pay attention to what Soonyoung’s saying, knows it’s important information on how to clean and maintain a healthy piercing. But he’s stuck on the curve of Soonyoung’s lips as they form words, on the glimmer of his lip piercing.
“...and if that happens, then you really need to see a doctor asap. Got it?”
Jihoon jerks at the sharp dig of Seungcheol’s elbow in his side. He shoots the older man a wide-eyed gaze because he most certainly doesn’t have it .
Seungcheol’s answering gaze is a bit smug and a lot amused, but he turns to Soonyoung with a polite smile and accepts the printed instructions on Jihoon’s behalf. “Sounds good, Soonyoung. Thank you for your assistance and hard work today. I’m sure Jihoon’s got a handle on it, but he can always swing by if he has any questions.”
“Of course,” Soonyoung agrees, moving his warm gaze to Jihoon. “You’re always welcome to swing by or give us a call if you have any questions.”
“Right, thanks,” Jihoon says awkwardly. Although, perhaps curtly is a better descriptor if the dropping of Soonyoung’s smile is any indication.
Jihoon mentally wants to hit himself, because of course, he can’t just be welcoming and friendly when speaking to the man who just pierced his nipple. It is, undoubtedly, too much to ask for to be natural when it comes to basic human interaction.
Granted, Jihoon’s natural state is reserved mixed with a dash of awkwardness and a hint of sarcasm for spice. It is yet another reason why his friend group is so small and he prefers the company of his flowers to that of most humans.
He tries for a smile - it feels too stretched on his lips - mutters one last thank you and heads for the door.
“Uh, Jihoon,” Soonyoung’s voice stops him just at the threshold. Jihoon turns halfway and cocks a quizzical brow. Soonyoung points to the bed. “Don’t forget your sweater.”
It’s only after Jihoon has settled into the passenger seat of Seungcheol’s car that the elder says anything.
“So, when are you planning on getting the left one done?”
Jihoon’s trying to keep the seatbelt from brushing against his new piercing, trying to ignore how his nipple throbs with a tight pressure to the steady beat of his heart. He pauses his fidgeting, squinting at burnt orange sunlight flooding the narrow street. “What? I’m no-,” he cuts himself off as he catches Seungcheol’s impish smirk from the corners of his eyes. “You smug prick.”
“No, really, Jihoonie, I’m honestly thinking of getting mine done. You made the whole experience look so... good .” There is a deliberate emphasis on the last word, something Seungcheol brings up from the depth of his chest. It makes Jihoon squirm - not in the same way it’d make Mingyu squirm had he heard Seungcheol’s tone - more so in mild mortification than moderate arousal.
“Get your dick pierced, you bastard,” Jihoon grunts.
Seungcheol laughs out loud, a sharp staccato of boisterous sound. “Who knows, maybe that’ll be the next thing we bet upon? Think your pain tolerance can withstand it?”
“Oi, fuck you, who says I’ll lose?”
“Life lesson number one Jihoonie, you’ll always lose to hyung. Plus, you seemed to really enjoy this one. You think Soonyoung will be up for piercing your dick?”
Jihoon chokes on his next swallow, his breath sticking in his lungs at the thought of Soonyoung piercing his dick. His stomach is a weird mix of roiling nausea and low burning arousal at the idea. He likes the idea of Soonyoung touching his dick -- the involvement of a needle or piercing, not so much.
He slouches against this seat, hoping the leather will miraculously absorb him so he can escape this conversation, and barely swallows a whimper when the fabric of his sweater rustles against his piercing. His nipple gives a hot throb and Jihoon fidgets again, trying to escape the rub of fabric over his sensitive skin.
“You okay? You’re fidgeting over there. I really didn’t peg you for such a masochist.” Seungcheol’s voice is steeped in self-satisfied amusement.
“Fuck you, Cheol. Just brushed against the piercing, and it feels weird.”
“Oh, a bit sensitive, is it? Maybe you should call Soonyoung; I’m sure he has some advice on how to deal with the new sensitivity - maybe he could even show you a trick or two.”
Jihoon doesn’t answer for a good few seconds, simply stares out the window, directly into the sinking sun. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“No. Never.”
Jihoon groans. “Fuck you.”