Chapter Text
Sol slides the barbell through on the end of the needle, quickly setting the needle aside to screw the end of the barbell into place. He takes a moment to inspect his work; the barbell is perfectly centered, situated just as he meant to place it. He'd talked Edward into a titanium bar with black and gold flecked synthetic opal ends and it looks just as good as he promised that it would. "Done," he announces brightly. "You took that beautifully."
It's just patter, despite that he's been lowkey flirting with the man for the whole session, trying to draw out those elusive half smiles. A lot of guys like the pat to their ego, but here Sol really means it. Edward had been so tense coming into his studio, and now he's not.
It takes Edward a moment to respond to his words. He blinks those lovely brown doe eyes of his open, looking totally dazed. It takes him another moment longer to respond with a faint, "oh, did I?"
"Barely even flinched," Sol assures him. In fact Edward had done the opposite of flinch. A faint tremor had run through him as Sol passed the needle through his nipple and then all of the awkwardness and tension had disappeared from him.
Edward smiles at him, full and easy. Every trace of the awkward man who'd entered his studio only a short while ago is gone, replaced by this soft creature.
Sol does this because he likes it, likes to rehome people in their own bodies. But it's been a long time since he's seen anyone have this intense of a reaction to being pierced. "Would you like to see it?"
"Yes, please," Edward says, voice lazy.
Sol turns to get the hand mirror for Edward to use. When he turns back, the man is still lying there on his back with his hands at his sides just as Sol had arranged him at the beginning of this procedure. Most people sit up while he's getting the mirror. "Can you sit up for me?"
"Oh." Edward struggles up to sitting, swinging his legs off of the edge of the table.
Sol feels a little bad about disturbing his peace. Edward certainly seems like he could use it. He hands the mirror over.
Edward looks at his new piercing very intently, his expression of concentration almost comical. He reaches up to touch it with his free hand.
Sol snaps, "don't touch it."
Edward pulls his hand back without touching it. "I like it."
Sol accepts the mirror back from Edward. "You can get dressed, if you like." Sol launches into the new piercing care spiel despite it being readily apparent that Edward won't retain a single word of what he's said.
By the time he's done, Edward has his shirt on and buttoned, and his hands have gone to the fly of his trousers to open them to tuck his shirt in. He must have come here directly from work, dressed like that. Sol turns away for a moment; truly the hardest part of his job is when some sweet thing loses their brain under his needle and he can't handle them in the ways either of them want because Sol's a professional.
When he hears Edward's shoes hit the floor, he stops fiddling with his tools and turns back around. Edward still looks dazed. When he takes a step towards the door of the little room that they're in, he's not unsteady but his movements are way too loose for someone about to head out on their own.
Concerned, Sol asks, "do you have someone to take you home?"
"No," Edward says slowly, "I can—"
"You cannot," Sol says firmly. "Siddown."
"Oh." Edward goes back to the table, sitting on the edge of it. "Would you sit with me?"
Sol looks at him for a moment. He really shouldn't, but Edward asked. He sits beside him, putting their shoulders together. Edward leans into him with a soft sigh. Then he mumbles, "you're warm," and lays his head on Sol's shoulder.
He looks across them, his bare shoulder against Edward's pale blue shirt. He's not the solid physical specimen that Sol's built himself to be but attractive nevertheless. Handsome in a delicate and confused sort of way. "Yeah," Sol agrees, "I am."
Edward huffs, amused, and snuggles into him.
Sol gives up and puts his arm around his shoulders, encouraging him. He had not expected the guy who was fairly radiating discomfort coming in, the guy who had no other visible body modifications, the guy who used his full first name to turn into such a puppy when pierced. Sol is fascinated, and worse, it's made Edward even more attractive to him.
Edward lifts a hand to his own chest to poke at the piercing through his shirt. The first touch makes him jolt, which is how Sol notices that he's doing it. Edward ignores Sol's gentle, "hey!", touching himself again with possibly the lightest brush of a fingertip over fine fabric that Sol's ever seen. He makes a breathtakingly soft sound of wonder. Sol feels like he's seeing something that he definitely should not be seeing.
And he very much wants to see it. "Christ," he mutters. "Alright, I see that you'll play with it no matter what I tell you, huh?" Edward makes an affirmative sound, answering the rhetorical question. It's terribly sweet. "I don't trust your hands to be clean. Would you like me to play with it for you?"
It feels like one of the single most graceless things Sol has ever said, and he's said some pretty rough stuff. Edward blinks at him. "Yes. Please, I would like that."
"The manners on you," Sol comments. "Alright, lay back again. Unbutton your shirt while I go clean my hands."
Edward is a sight when Sol turns back around. He's sprawled loose limbed on the table, so different from his stiff posture the first time he'd laid down. His shirt is opened, half unbuttoned but not off. It's giving him some sort of a risqué air, not debauched but sated and ready for more.
Sol sits beside Edward on the table. He'd love to lay beside him but he's already far enough outside of the bounds of plausible deniability, and this is a shared studio. "Do you still want this?"
Edward nods.
Sol carefully and lightly drags a fingertip over the swollen and stiff little nub of Edward's pierced nipple. The flesh is still shocked and the nipple on his other side is pebbled up in sympathy. Edward shivers and gasps under his touch.
As he keeps gently stroking his fingertip over Edward's nipple, Edward melts. He gasps quietly when Sol taps the ends of the barbell, or catches it when he swirls his finger around it. He knows how much this should hurt and Sol is grateful that Edward is quiet; he'd love to hear him but this is very much not the place.
Edward seems to be feeling none of Sol's ministrations as pain, not even when he gently pinches at it making Edward squirm under his hands. Sol soothes him with gentler touches for a while. When Edward has fully returned to his melted state, Sol pinches him again, this time hard enough to feel the bulge of the titanium bar through the flesh and roll it about.
Christ, the sound that Edward makes. If nothing else comes of this, Sol will be hanging onto that sound for a while. He does it again, rolling the bar and Edward's nipple both between his fingertips. Edward responds like a dream.
He lets Edward lay there panting for a while, just gently teasing him with light touches. The flush in his cheeks and hiding under the patch of fur on his chest. The way his eyes are closed and his lips are parted.
Edward blinks at him. "I— we have to stop."
"Yes, we do," Sol reluctantly agrees. He taps his finger against Edward's nipple one last time, making him gasp, before he moves his hand away.
Edward lays there for a moment. "Fuck, I shouldn't have let that happen."
Sol raises an eyebrow at him. "Hey, I encouraged you. I bear the responsibility for letting this get unprofessional."
"Were you—" Edward hesitates, "flirting with me?"
"Yup," Sol says, "from the very beginning."
"Christ," Edward says, then laughs, covering his face with his hands. "Sorry."
Sol nods, "Apology accepted." It seems to release Edward from whatever place he was getting stuck in, and Sol is pleased that he guessed correctly on what Edward needed.
Edward sits up, buttoning his shirt. "Thank you."
Sol hums agreeably. "When I'm off the clock— after six, if my last client doesn't run late— would you be interested in telling me if there's anything else that turns you into a good boy like that?"
Edward glances sharply at him. "Why?"
"Well, there's only so many holes that I can put in your tits but I enjoyed what we just did and I'd like to see you, like that, again." Sol says honestly. Edward snorts. "Hey, I'll give you a minute, see me up front, yeah?"
"Yeah," Edward agrees, "alright."
Sol lets himself out. All of the paperwork is done, Edward is already paid up. Sol puts together the goodie bag with the bottle of salt wash and the card of care instructions.
Edward steps out, finally looking put together. He must have messed with his hair, too.
Sol makes a show of flipping one of the shop business cards over and putting his personal phone number on the back of it. "If you want anything, do call. I'd love to hear from you."
Edward smiles crookedly. "Alright, thank you."
Sol tucks the card into the bag, handing the whole thing over.
Edward takes it, thanks him again, and retreats.
At half six exactly Sol receives a text from an unknown number.
>> let me take you out to dinner. Whatever you want.
<< heyyy
<< there's an excellent fried chicken place down the block from here
<< client's running late ttyl
>> oh ok
The fried chicken place is tucked into the same scraggly strip of mall that the shop Sol works in is in, just down the other end. There's street parking along the front of it, although the liquor store tends to monopolize that. Everybody else gets to park around the sides or in back. Sol leaves his car behind the shop and just walks down to where the chicken place has wedged a single set of heavy beat up patio furniture onto the sidewalk in front of the shop in lieu of having an actual seating area. Nobody actually eats at the shop, so Sol picks one of the two chairs to wait out the ETA of a few minutes that Edward had sent him.
He sees Edward approach from the near side of the mall, now much more casually dressed in a black T and dark jeans. Despite the approach of evening, he's got his dark sunglasses on again. Sol waves at him.
“Hi, uh, is this place seriously named Cluck U?”
“Yeah,” Sol grins. “It’s great. Let's go in?"
The tongue in cheek chicken university theme continues inside. They even have novelty merch from the Cluck U. It's a whole shtick and Sol loves it.
Edward orders with the speed of someone who had carefully read the menu online beforehand, and Sol follows with the speed of someone with a regular order.
“On me,” Edward is insisting, trying to be heard over the El Zol that the guy behind the counter has on loud but not overheard by that same guy, “since I was so out of it that I forgot to tip you and I feel very bad about that.”
He sounds genuinely distressed by it, which Sol appreciates. He also cannot miss an opportunity. “You could slip me the tip.”
Edward makes a startled sound. “A bit more than the tip, I’d imagine.”
Sol laughs, “good man.”
Edward smiles a whole smile.
They mutually ignore the pop music and then the advert on the radio for a few minutes, collect their to-go orders, and head back out to the patio furniture to tuck in.
Now that it's actually possible to have a conversation, Sol starts it, “how ya feeling?”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“It’s worn off.” Edward sounds disappointed.
“So,” Sol says, “I haven’t had anyone respond with such intensity in years. Did you expect that at all?”
“No, it’s never been like that before.”
“Before?”
“Er, had my ear pierced for a while. I had to take it out for work. So no, I don’t know what that makes me like that.”
Sol studies him. “You really have no idea, huh.”
“I’ll do anything to feel like that again.”
Sol doesn’t have an immediate response to that, utterly unprepared for both the ignorance and the sincerity.
“I’m serious.”
“I know,” Sol agrees. “I’m thinking how to approach this.”
“Alright.” Edward says, and goes back to his chicken.
Sol does the same. He doesn’t date vanilla. He doesn’t fuck vanilla. Edward very clearly isn’t vanilla. He also seems to not know this about himself. That makes this tricky; he doesn’t want to spook Edward away. “It is possible to cause what you felt today on purpose.”
The look that Edward gives him, before he schools it into polite curiosity, is the raw interest of a hungry animal.
“Would you be interested in exploring that?”
“I would, yes,” Edward says with the care of someone balancing on a slack-line. “But as you said, there are only so many holes that you can put in my tits.”
Sol nods. “There are temporary piercings. Some people get it from being hit. Some people go to a similar place when they’re tied up.”
"You're talking about kink." Edward says flatly.
"I am." There's always the implication that he's a kinky bastard with the way he looks, but the transition from professional to personal is not one he makes often and vanilla people are remarkably bad at reading his arms. "How familiar are you?"
Edward shrugs. "Everything I've seen in porn makes my head feel like it's full of wasps."
"Wasps."
"Yup. Tend to avoid that if I can."
"No shit," Sol snorts. "Huh. Were there any wasps today?"
Edward shakes his head.
"Good, I'm glad. I'd hate to cause you wasps." Edward nods in agreement with his words but doesn't say anything, so Sol takes a different tack. "What did you expect from this conversation?"
Edward shrugs. "Er, nothing."
Sol waits for him to change his mind before lowly saying, "liar."
Edward hesitates. "I didn't expect the interview. I sorta thought we'd go back to one of our places and fuck around and like as not never see each other again because I can't go back to a place after— after that."
"Alright." Edward is right, sort of. "Well, there's nothing that I can do with my dick that you'll really be able to feel after what you've already felt today."
Edward smiles wryly. "Already figured that one out."
"Oh, good. How about your place, and you suck my cock?" Edward will crash soon and it'll be easier to get him home if he's already there. And it’s almost night; the sky is starting to turn dark over the treeline against the fort. There’s too much light pollution for the stars to ever show, but the colors are nice.
"Yes, please yes."
"One last thing. I'm transgender. Are you gonna be cool about it?"
Edward nods jerkily, "yeah. I can be cool about it. Can you still fuck my face?"
"I sure can,” Sol smirks.
Sol doesn't believe the address that Edward gave him until he sees Edward park his way too goddamn nice car in front of the strip motel converted to apartments weeks-and-monthly-lease-only shithole that the man is apparently living in. Sol pops the head off of his car's stereo and hides it under the driver's seat because unlike Edward's car, his beater won't scream about being shimmed open, and it's real fuckin easy to shim open.
Edward ushers him up the stairs to the second floor and lets him in with an apologetic smile. "It's not much."
There's moving boxes stacked up against the wall. They've been there for a while if the tracks in the carpeting and the junk accumulated on top are anything to go by. It's obviously the kind of place that comes pre-furnished, badly. But there's furniture parts stacked up against the far wall; he sees a headboard and the glass and steel for a very nice desk. This doesn't feel like a trap, but jesus. Before Edward can close the door, Sol turns back to him. "The hell happened to you?"
Edward slumps, stepping aside into the slot of a kitchenette. It is a very deliberate move that gets him out of the way so that Sol has a clear exit. "Sorry, I— medical retirement."
Sol nods. Makes as much sense as anything. "Why does it look like you've been stuck in the middle of a move for a year?"
"Because I've been stuck in the middle of a move for a year and a half. I have a place to go when I— look, disability doesn't pay for shit. Can I suck your cock."
"Yeah," Sol says, and shoves the door shut until the latch clicks, then turns the bolt.
Edward mutters, "thanks for locking it."
"I got a feeling that I wouldn't like your neighbors much. How do you want to do this?"
"Er. Want you to fuck my face. Don't want to think about it."
He decides to take a risk on putting his feet on the floor. Edward's been living here long enough. "Okay, shoes off."
Edward awkwardly leans on the boxes as he yanks his shoes off. Sol risks the stability of the boxes as well and does the same. Edward drops his trainers into the spot beside a pair of dress shoes and a pair of well beaten black service boots. Sol drops his Docs in beside Edward's boots. If he looks around, he can see pieces of the man Edward used to be. Sol doesn’t look anywhere but Edward after that.
Sol takes a step towards Edward, thinking that he'll fondle him, feel him up. Try to fish him out of the funk that the place he lives has clearly put him in. Instead, Edward goes to his knees. Not exactly gracefully but with a suggestive ease, shuffling forward to shove his face in against Sol's crotch. Sol slides his fingers through Edward's smooth hair and lets him explore the space between his hip, belt, and packer bulge with his nose and lips and his eyes closed.
Sol has never seen a man so made for subspace and so utterly unaware of it. He tightens his grip, pulling Edward's head back and away. "Let me get my cock out, hm?"
Edward nods placidly, immediately face-planting back into Sol's hip when Sol releases him. He leaves Edward to it as he opens his jeans and gets the tip of his packer out through the fly of his underwear. "Here, here you go."
Edward licks at it, so eager that he licks Sol's fingers before he can get them out of the way. Edward laps at the tip and the steel ring through it, and doesn't seem to care one bit that it's soft silicone. That's the kind of enthusiasm that would get Sol instantly hard if he weren't already. "Fuck, you're eager for this."
Edward glances up at him but doesn't hold it. He’s intent on his task.
If Edward is doing any artistry with his tongue, Sol can't feel it. But Edward has his nose pressed to him, greedily nursing at him like he’s going to get something for his efforts. That Sol can feel. He’s thrusting gently into the softly squishy pressure of his packer. God, Edward’s moaning for this.
“You’re a fuckin delight,” Sol growls at him, dragging Edward’s head back again. Edward looks up at him, mouth open and lips shining. “Get up, I’m going to ride your face.”
Sol hauls Edward to his feet, Edward helping, and shoves him back onto the bed. Edward falls back easily, staring as Sol strips. Sol fondles himself, encouraging his cock to jut out. He wants Edward to see him completely so that when he looks up at Sol, there will be no mistaking what Sol is or whose cock Edward is taking.
“Fuck, you’re hot,” Edward whispers.
“Thank you, I try,” Sol teases and good, Edward smiles. He swings himself up to straddle Edward’s mouth, very conscious of the mind-bending amount of pain that he can cause Edward by accidentally sitting back on his chest even the smallest amount. He pets the side of Edward’s head. “Ready?”
“Yes—”
And if Edward was going to say anything else, it’s too late. Sol presses his cock to Edward’s lips; Edward immediately mouths at it, hands coming up to Sol’s thighs. Just to touch him, it seems. It’s clear that Edward’s never sucked a cock like this before and words don't quite feel appropriate so Sol stays expressive, guiding Edward into figuring it out for himself like that. Soon enough, Sol is riding his lips.
Sol pats the side of Edward’s head, “good boy.”
Edward moans like he did when Sol was teasing his pierced nipple earlier.
Sol swears. "That's it, you're so good for me." He feels Edward squirm under him; he tightens his grip on Edward's shoulders between his legs. "Your mouth was made for this, hm?"
"Please," Edward moans into the upper part of Sol's thigh, " please ."
"Give me your tongue."
Edward sticks his tongue out for him. Sol spreads his labia, grabbing Edward's hair with his other hand, and ruts on him. Edward's hands clutch at him, clinging as Sol uses him.
He's been riding Edward's high all afternoon; it's made him sensitive and easy. Sol pants, "yeah, gonna make me come— "
Edward squeezes the backs of his legs. Sol lifts himself up for a moment, jerking off over his mouth with a few hard strokes before pressing back down again and letting them both feel his climax rip through him.
"Fuck, I felt that," Edward pants.
"Good." Sol touches Edward's lips before swinging off to lay beside him. He makes sure that their arms and legs are pressed together even though he's staring at the ceiling. It's smoke-dirty but Edward doesn't smell like he smokes.
Beside him, Edward whispers, "thank you."
Sol looks over at him. Edward's face is still wet with him. "Oh, you're sweet. Gonna take you to my place next time."
“There’s gonna be a next time?” The caution in Edward’s voice is excruciating.
“Hell yeah,” Sol says easily. “There are so many things that I want to show you.”
“Oh.” Edward abruptly rolls against him, wrapping himself around Sol in a full body hug before abruptly jerking back. “Ow, fuck .”
Sol pats his back as Edward resettles himself against Sol’s chest, much more careful of his own now. “Y’okay there?”
Edward shakes his head, twitchily nuzzling into his shoulder.
Sol wraps his arms around him and pretends that he can’t feel Edward silently crying against him. He doesn’t let go until Edward lets go. “Better now?”
Edward nods.
“Good,” Sol sits up. “C’mon, sit up.”
Edward follows him up, rubbing at his face with the back of his wrist. “I suppose that you have to go?”
“Do you want me to do anything for you?”
Edward shakes his head. "You've done enough."
Sol seriously doubts that. Sol seriously doubts that Edward is in a condition to be left on his own but he can't take Edward with him. He smiles gently at him. “You’re probably going to feel a crash tomorrow; don’t let it spook you. Text me when it hits. I’ll be working but I’ll respond as soon as I can.”
Edward nods jerkily.
“Edward, I want you to. I want to hear from you tomorrow.” He squeezes Edward's hands before moving to get dressed.
“Okay, alright.” Edward is watching him again and now the intensity of his gaze is slightly unsettling. Sol turns away to get his boots on.
When Sol turns back, Edward is still looking hangdog. The crying certainly hadn’t done his pretty face any favors. “See me to the door?”
Edward rises under the order. As he moves Sol the three or so steps to the door, his fingers manage to brush Sol’s wrist. Sol turns his hand into the touch, not quite holding his hand. Someone had trained this man well, possibly inadvertently. He offers quietly, “good night, Edward,” before stepping out.
Just as quietly, Edward says, “yes, good night.”
Sol walks away, letting Edward shut the door behind him. The rusted sheet metal stairs creak and ring under his boots and Sol doesn't look back until he's reached his car and thankfully Edward has withdrawn and shut the door by then. He's not sure he'd be able to stop himself from making an offer they'd both regret if Edward was still gazing after him.