Chapter Text
***
Growing up, Charles always swore that he would only date a certain type of person; clean-cut, flawless skin, respectable profession. He kept this ideal all the way through college, dating a myriad of frat boys that would go to graduate in the top ten percentile, just like his best friend and himself. Throw in a few girls too, but only because he wanted to make sure that it wasn’t just a ‘phase’ that he fancied men more than women. He went into the workforce, and found himself gravitating towards powerful businessmen, all who he was more than happy to bottom for. So, imagine his surprise when he walks into the shop that his best friend’s lover owns, and sees a man behind the counter that he knows is not someone he would ever look twice at, but as soon as he sees his golden eyes lined with black eyeliner, his heart stops in his chest.
“Charles?” His best friend looks over at him, wearing a concerned expression on his face. “Are you alright?”
Pale white hair frames this man’s face, his asymmetrical haircut is one that he would normally cringe at. But on this man’s face, it suits him. Charles sees small plugs in his earlobes, and a few cartilage piercings, and glancing downwards, he can see tattoos poking up from under the collar of his tight black t-shirt. Those aren’t the only ones, though. He sees that he has what looks like different types of snakes coiling up both of his forearms - a white one on his right forearm, and what looks like a milk snake on his left forearm. There’s chipped black nail polish on his fingers, which looks like gets repainted on, rather than a fresh manicure. A studded black belt sits at his waist, holding up what has to be the tightest pair of leather pants Charles has seen on a human - male or female. Even though this man is behind the counter, he can see the top of his boots, which hug his thighs. Bracelets jangle on his wrists, as he takes money from a customer purchasing a bouquet, and he can see that the man’s tongue is split. What. The. Fuck.
He looks at his best friend, and gives him a nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. Look, are you going to go find your boyfriend?” He looks at his watch, afraid of looking back up because he wants to look at that man again.
“Yes, I’m going to go check the back.” His best friend, also named Charles, fixes his tie, and heads over to the counter. He sees him speak to a cute girl, who giggles and nods her head, nodding her head back towards the door which he assumes leads to the back of the shop. Leaving him to fend for himself.
The shop has quite a few customers in it, more than he imagined. His best friend has been dating this shop’s owner for only a few weeks, but he knows he’s been coming here quite frequently. Only at the insistence of him did Charles manage to finally get up the nerve to ask this Finny guy out. He touches one of the bouquets, impressed by how beautiful the blooms are. He steps to the side, and finds himself standing in front of the man who had been behind the counter when they walked in.
“May I help you find something?” The voice that comes out of this man’s throat makes Charles want to fall to the floor and weep. No one should have such a beautiful voice, when their skin is all tatted up, and pierced with multiple holes.
Pushing his bangs off of his face, he feels himself start to fidget a little. “No, I’m great. I don’t need any of your help, thanks.”
“If you decide to change your mind, I will be over by the register.” The man gives a little salute with his fingers, then turns and heads back towards the register. Charles watches him walk away, eyes lingering a little too long on how the man’s ass seems to scream at him.
Since Charles doesn’t seem to be returning yet, he decides to walk over to the register. Or rather, his feet just decide to take him there, his brain finally catching up when he’s standing right in front of this strange man. “Do you work here?” He blurts out, the question sounding as ridiculous as he feels for asking such a stupid question.
“When it’s slow at my shop,” the man pushes his hair behind his ears, revealing all the piercings to him that he noticed before. “Finnian is a close friend of mine.”
“I’m close with Charles.” What the hell? Why did he just say that?
A smile appears on the man’s face. “Oh? Finnian’s quite taken with your friend.” He leans over the counter, Charles following his lead and leans over to be close to where he is. He ignores how good the man smells, whatever cologne he has on doing things to him. Or maybe it was all of him that was doing this. He bites his lip, as he feels the warm breath of this complete stranger against his ear. “I think Finny might actually love him.” The man whispers conspiratorially.
Charles bursts out laughing, then quickly covers his mouth in embarrassment. The man stands up straight, a smirk on his face. He tries to calm himself down, but fails miserably, his heart still beating too fast. “If you own your own place, why aren’t you there?” He asks, the question he should have asked before his stupid reply about his best friend.
“My shop usually stays open really late, so I head over there when this shop closes up.” He helps out a customer that comes up, leaving Charles to wonder what the hell sort of shop does he own that would keep such absurd hours. When the customer leaves, this man leans over on the counter, his elbows balancing on the counter, head now sitting on his palms that rest just beneath his chin. “Don’t you want to know what sort of shop I own, Mr…?”
“Charles,” he tries not to stutter, but it’s difficult. Oh, lord, is it difficult.
“Mr. Charles? That’s your last name?” The man chuckles low, the sound making Charles’ cheeks become flushed. “What’s your first name?”
He shakes his head. “No, my first name is Charles. My last name is Grey. And please, don’t ever call me Mr. Grey.” He tries to keep the groan out of his voice, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by this man, who gifts him with another low laugh.
“You must really hate E L James.” The man extends his hand out, palm up. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Snake.”
“That’s your name??” He reaches for the man’s hand. When their palms touch, he feels a jolt go through his body. Fuck.
There’s a playful smile on Snake’s face. “I used to have another name, but I didn’t like it that much. So, I had it legally changed to be Snake.”
“Just Snake? No surname?” He still can’t wrap his mind around his concept. “Are you like Cher?”
A full blown laugh leaves Snake’s mouth, as he pushes his hair back with his hand. “I suppose I would be. Or like…. Madonna.”
“Shakira.”
“Beyonce.”
“Seal.”
A rose appears in front of his face, Snake holding it out to him. “I was hoping you’d say his name.”
“W-What’s this for?” He stutters out, face no doubt beet red.
The petals touch his cheek, before sliding towards his lips, then into his hand. “Now you can say you’ve been kissed by a rose.”
“Oh my god.” He laughs, taking the rose from Snake. “Did you just…?”
White bangs seem to fall on his face, but a few strands stick up in the most adorable cowlick. “I’m afraid that I did.”
“You’re too much.” He shakes his head, holding onto the rose with a tight fist. “I thought you were going to ask me for a kiss.”
Snake leans over the counter, and speaks softly into his ear. “Don’t tempt me.”
The door to the back swings open, a flustered Charles stepping away from the counter when he sees his best friend walking over to him, a flushed look on his face. “Sorry to take so long, Charles,” he says. “I was helping Finnian out with some items that were a bit out of his reach in the back storage room.”
“R-Right.” He nods, then looks at Snake. “Thanks for this.” He holds up the orange rose.
Finnian walks out, a large smile on his face. Snake looks over at him, then back at Charles. “Don’t you want to know where my shop is?”
He starts to walk towards the door, as Charles has already made his way out of the shop. “Does it matter?”
“It’s the tattoo parlor down the block. Joker’s Circus.” Snake gives a small wave of his hand. “Hope to see you again, Mr. Charles.”
Giving a sharp nod of his head, he heads outside, and sees Charles is getting into the car. “What the hell took you so long??” He asks, getting settled into the passenger seat. “I had to make small talk with that…. That freak.”
“Freak…?” His best friend turns the car on, and gives him a strange look.
“You know, that Snake guy.” He sets the rose on his lap, being as careful as he can so that he doesn’t bruise the petals.
“Oh, right. He’s nice, Charles. Don’t judge him just because of his tattoos and piercings.” They make their way towards where he’s left his car. “Not all people that are like that are bad people.”
Acutely aware of how this isn’t the case with this person, he can’t help but cling to the thought that he wants to be with someone who is cleancut and normal looking. “He’s got snakes tattooed on his arms, Charles. Snakes!”
“And he goes by the name of Snake? So?” They arrive at Charles’ work. “Anyway, thank you for tolerating your time with him. I’m sorry it took so long.”
“No, you’re not.” He unbuckles his seatbelt. “I know you two were probably fooling around back there.”
There’s a sly smile on his best friend’s face. “I won’t admit or deny that statement.”
“Gross, Charles.” He shakes his head, and gets out of the car. “So, are we on for dinner next week? Drinks? Both?”
“Both sound doable. I’ll let you know.”
“Got it.”
He slams the door shut, then walks over to where his car is parked. He sets the rose down on the passenger seat, and starts his car. He hits his head on the steering wheel, lips still tingling where the petals of the rose had touched him. He turns on the radio, and the dulcet sounds of Seal emit from the car’s speakers.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” He shouts to no one. Groaning, he buckles in and heads back to his apartment, trying to not freak out at the strange coincidence.
When he gets home, he puts the rose into a bud vase, filling it up two-thirds of the way with room temperature water. His best friend had taught him that trick, which had been told to him by the florist he was in a relationship with. Untying his tie, he unbuttons the top button of his shirt, and goes to sit down at his desk, which he wakes up from its sleeping state, and launches the Chrome browser. He starts to type in ‘Joker’s Cir-’, Google autocompleting it to ‘Joker’s Circus’, which he hits enter for.
The shop comes up at the top of the page, and then on Yelp and FourSquare. He sees that on Yelp, the parlor has multiple five star reviews, as well as quite a few glowing reviews. He opens one up, and sees that it’s about a man named ‘Dagger’. “Dagger’s hand is the steadiest I’ve ever seen, and his artwork is sublime! Check out this ink I got from him four years ago! Still looks fresh! Five stars! Joker’s Circus is the BEST.”
After the tenth review, Charles finds one about the owner. “Snake has a gift for intricate tattoos. Not only is he a great artist, but is a master at piercing. Got my Prince Albert done by him, and my girl got her clit hood pierced too! Sex has never been better!” His face burns as he reads the review, wondering just how many genitalia that man has seen, if this review is any indication of the kind of work he does. Shaking his head, he finds another one about him, and this one is accompanied by a full back tattoo of a highly detailed tree. “I walked into Joker’s Circus knowing I had a certain idea what I wanted, explained it to the owner Snake, and he was able to come up with this design on the spot. I could not be happier with it, and the price was out of this world. Joker’s Circus is the real deal.”
He’s never set foot in a tattoo parlor. He doesn’t know what sort of people frequent a tattoo parlor, but it can’t be good. Hooligans. They must all be delinquents and hooligans. Quickly closing the Yelp page, he sees the actual webpage for the shop. The layout was rather nice - it reminded him of an actual circus, the background a large big-top tent. There’s a list of the artists on one side, which links to their portfolio. He clicks on Snake’s, and sees quite a few different type of pieces in his repertoire. The fact that he does each one so well meant that he really knows his craft - as he would expect an owner to be like.
His mouse clicks on the x at the right corner of the tab, closing the window. No, he won’t be setting foot in that shop. If he goes with Charles to see his precious Finnian, he’ll just hope that maybe it will be a slow night for Snake, so he’ll be helping out there. Pushing away from his desk, he gets up and grabs a beer from the fridge. His eyes go to the orange rose, as he takes a swig from the beer.
Maybe he’ll see if Charles wants to go see Finnian again the day after tomorrow. Can’t seem too eager to see this strange man again so soon.
At least, that’s what he tells himself.
***
Purple neon outlines white lights, Charles standing underneath the sign for the tattoo parlor ‘Joker’s Circus’. His best friend was too busy for the rest of the week, so he finds himself standing in front of this tattoo parlor on Friday night, because he can’t take it anymore. He wants to see Snake again. Besides, he had told him where he worked, so it would seem that the man wants to see him again. He hopes that’s the case, because really, he has no desire to be in this establishment.
Blue jeans cover his legs, a white button up shirt is on his chest, sleeves rolled up on his forearms. He’s got a grey vest on, which he decided not to button up at the last minute, and black and white Chucks on his feet. With a deep breath, he pushes the door open, and walks into the tattoo parlor.
“Evening, sir!” A voluptuous woman stands at a long counter, filled with different types of piercing jewelry. “Do you have an appointment?”
He shakes his head, feeling like a complete idiot. “I do not. I was hoping to see the owner?”
“Snake?” She asks, breasts jiggling in her tight bodice. “He’s currently piercing someone at the moment. Would you like to wait?” She looks down at the appointment book. “Looks like his next client isn’t for another hour.”
Looking around, he sees a bench. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.” He goes and sits down, feeling like he’s going to vomit. He can hear the noise of the tattoo guns being used, four out of the five chairs occupied right now. He sees a girl getting a tattoo on her lower back, another girl getting a tattoo on her ankle, a big burly man getting a tattoo around his bicep, and another man getting a tattoo on his shoulder. He wonders just what the person Snake is working on is getting. He really hopes it’s not a genital piercing.
Ten minutes pass, and a young girl walks out from a room that’s kept private by a black curtain hanging over it. She’s got on a midriff, and Charles can see that she has a belly button ring, which looks brand new, as her skin is irritated around it. Snake follows her out, and stands with her at the register, going over instructions on how to clean it, take care of it, and that if she ever wants to change it and doesn’t feel comfortable doing it on her own, to come back to him and he’ll do it for 5 quid. Her flirtatious behavior makes Charles start to feel something akin to jealousy. His eyes narrow, as she tosses her head back with laughter, Snake rubbing his hand on hers. She pays for her piercing, then slips what looks like a 50 pound note into his pants pocket. He can feel his blood boiling, watching this gratuitous exchange. When she leaves, he sees Snake’s entire demeanor change, the charisma that he had just been exuding disappearing almost completely.
“Oh, Snake?” The woman with the big tits says to him, as he starts to walk away.
“What is it, Beast?” Beast? First Snake, then Dagger, now Beast? What the hell? Does anyone have a normal name in this shop?
“There’s a man here to see you.” She nods her head towards where he’s sitting.
The owner of the tattoo parlor turns around, and the smile that appears on his face makes Charles feel like melting into the floor. What the hell? How is that even possible? Snake walks over to him, a large smile on his face. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Charles.”
He quickly stands up, feeling more nervous than he’s felt in his entire life. “You remember.”
“How could I forget the man who has been on my mind since we met a few nights ago?” Golden eyes stare into his, making him move forward without thinking. As if Snake has put him under a spell, and his body is obeying just what this man wants. “I’ve been wondering when you’d walk through my door.”
Blushing, he gives a shrug of his shoulders, his voice stuck in his throat. A hand touches his, and he’s pulled behind the counter. “W-Where are we going?”
“My office.” Snake says, then looks over at the woman he called Beast. “If my appointment arrives early, just tell her I’ll be with her soon.”
“You got it, Snake.” She nods her head, then turns back to the computer that doubles as a register.
Charles follows him, as they walk up a short flight of stairs, and head into a room that’s covered in framed artwork, with papers upon papers piled up on the man’s desk. He walks over to the chair that’s by the desk, and takes a seat, as Snake closes the door, giving the two of them privacy. He pushes his hair back, his mouth going dry as he takes in Snakes’ appearance.
Unlike the night he met him, tonight Snake has on a black button up shirt, sleeves rolled up just like his own are, showing off the two snakes on his forearms. Black jeans cover his legs, and instead of those boots he had seen him wearing, he’s got on a pair of black trainers. He takes a seat on the edge of the desk, crossing his arms over his chest, a smile on his face.
“I am rather happy that you’re here, Charles. I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve been thinking about you.”
He doesn’t know what to say. “I hope not while you’re piercing someone’s dick.” He blurts out, before covering his mouth in horror.
“I see you’ve done your research.” Snake’s loud laughter makes him feel lightheaded. “No, I’ve done no piercings like that this week.”
“I couldn’t help it,” he admits. “I looked up your shop the moment I got home.” More truths roll off of his tongue, his eyes widening at his honesty.
A smirk appears on the man’s face. “Is that so?” He leans back on the desk, crossing his feet at his ankles. “I’m glad that I made such an impression on you.”
“I don’t know why I’m here.” Charles meets his golden eyes, feeling that pull return. “I just… I wanted to see you again.”
Snake pushes himself off of his desk, and straddles Charles’ lap. No one has ever done something so brazen to him, and it catches him off guard, as he leans back against the chair he’s sitting on, looking up into the man’s liner-lined eyes. “Tell me, Mr. Charles,” Snake speaks in a quiet voice, “have you ever kissed someone with a split tongue before?”
“No,” he whispers, heart accelerating at an abnormal rate.
Hands touch his shoulder, as Snake begins to lean towards him. One eyebrow raises up, as the tongue in question licks Snake’s bottom lip. “Would you like to…?”
“Fuck.”
He couldn’t remember the actual word to answer Snake’s question, but it seemed that the man understood him perfectly. Closing his eyes, he parts his lips, and feels Snake’s lips touch his. The press of Snake’s lips against his feels like what the music artists sing about kisses. No fireworks, but it just feels….right. He groans, slowly parting his lips for him, wanting to know just what it will feel like. He feels Snake’s tongue push through the small opening, and then, his brain shuts down.
The split tongue rubs against his first, then teases the top of his tongue with each pointed edge. He’s moaning, hands going to Snake’s waist to anchor himself to this reality, afraid that if he touches anywhere else, it will wake him up from this dream. His jaw drops, exchanging his breath with Snake as their tongues keep caressing one another, Snake’s split tongue feeling like a gift from heaven. They get so lost in their kisses, that they lose track of time, only becoming aware of it when there’s a knock on the door.
“Snake? It’s 10:30. Your client is downstairs.” Beast’s voice comes through the door.
Their kiss ends abruptly, Charles’ lips gravitating towards Snake’s throat, touching the raised skin at the base of his throat. “Thank you, Beast. I’ll be right down.” His voice comes out sounding more normal than Charles expects it to.
“Okay, thanks!” She replies, and then the sound of feet on the staircase let them know she’s gone.
Charles pulls away, and looks up. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”
“I don’t either.” Snake leans forward, and presses another kiss to his lips. “Go out with me on Monday night?”
Staring into his eyes, he nods his head. “Yes. I want to. What’s your number?”
Snake gives it to him, Charles putting it into his phone as it’s told to him. “Text me your address. I’ll come pick you up,” Snake starts to slide off of his lap.
He grabs onto his waist, and pulls him back towards him, lips connecting with a rushed kiss, tongues touching in a wild manner. The two frot against one another a few times, Snake just as aroused as he is, before he tears his mouth away from him. “Please tell me you don’t ride a motorcycle.”
“And if I do?” Snake slips off of his lap, adjusting himself. Charles licks his kiss swollen lips, groaning low at the small action. “Are you not going to ride with me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Don’t worry - I drive a car.” Snake teases him, a smile on his face. “Text me your address. I’ll see you on Monday.”
He stands up, and walks over to the door. He gives Snake another quick kiss before leaving the office. “See you on Monday.” He walks down the stairs, and then walks through the shop, heading outside.
When he gets home, he collapses on his bed, and sends a text to him. “Here’s my address. 1889 Victoria Street. All I can feel is your tongue in my mouth.”
“All I can feel is how your cock felt rubbing against mine. Sweet dreams, Mr. Charles. See you on Monday.”
He stares at the ceiling for a minute, before rolling over to bury his face into his pillow, and then lets out the loudest scream he can muster up. What the hell. This was never supposed to happen to him. He only hopes he can get through the weekend, because right now, it feels like Monday is a year away, and not two days away. He’ll get through it. Hopefully.