The Lies we Steal (The Hollow Boys Book 1)

Alistair

“What is this place?” She asks as I shut the door of the shop behind us. 

Her Converse squeak against the hardwood floor as she spins in a short circle, snow chapped face making me smile. 

“It’s called Spade One.” I tell her, “It’s a tattoo shop I apprentice at.” 

She gasps, “You jerk! You let me shove tattoo shop applications down your throat for a week and you didn’t tell me?” 

I admired that about her. 

How even though it seemed impossible to anyone else, she believed that I deserved the best out of everything. Stealing my sketches and hanging them up in her dorm room, showing them off to Lyra. 

It felt nice to have someone believe in you. 

“I’ve been working here for a while now.” I lead her up the steps, where my table is already set up. I’d come by earlier, cleaned it up, got everything ready for this today. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” 

“No one knew.” 

“Not even the boys?”

“Not even them.” I say honestly, sitting down in the swivel chair near the tattoo bench, “This was the only place I had to myself.” 

When she’s done looking around, she makes her way towards me. Sitting on my lap, the chair rolling backwards with her weight. 

“So why tell me? I know all about how protective you are over the things that are yours,” She pushes my hair out of my eyes. 

My hands sitting right above her backside, resting on her hips, fingers hooked in her belt loops. 

“I promised that everything I have, is yours remember? No secrets.” 

I squeeze her hips, rolling her body on my lap, quickly pressing my lips to hers in a rush of a kiss, “I want you to have all of me. So I can have all of you.” 

Slinging her arms around my neck, looking up and around the shop, “And this is all of you? You wanna own one of these one day?” 

I nod, “Something like that. I really just want to give people art that’s there forever. Tattoos are the ultimate commitment to art and I like the weight of that.” 

When Shade gave me a spare key to this place, I doubt it was for the use of me tattooing my girlfriend on Christmas, but I think it would make him worry less about my mental stability if he found out. 

At least he knew I was capable of holding down a relationship. 

I thought about having my own shop when my apprenticeship is done, hiring the artists I wanted, putting out a certain product. I liked the idea of being in charge. In charge of something positive, of a dream. 

“Want your present?” I ask, running my tongue along her bottom lip. 

Briar chews the inside of her cheek, trying to contain her excitement but I know her, and how much she loves surprises. Even when she says she doesn’t. I also enjoy the slight O her mouth makes when she’s in shock, reminds me of what she looks like when she comes. 

“What is it?” She asks, and I toss my head towards the black leather, tattoo table. 

“There are two technically, but one of them is beneath the table.” 

With enthusiasm, she rushes off my lap, leaving me cold without her presence near me. Her nibble fingers pull the black box up and onto the table. Not bothering to take her time as she begins to rip it open. 

I can see the white laces as soon as she pulls the top off, her squeal of excitement has this buzzing feeling going off in my chest. A form of gratification I’m still trying to get used to. 

She pulls up the red shoes, hugging them to her chest, barely looking at them before she says, 

“I love them!”

I roll my eyes, “You haven’t even seen the best part.” 

Standing up and meeting her halfway as she flips the shoes over, looking at the soles that have my name on her left and her name on the right. I felt it was too much of a narcissistic asshole move to put my first and last on both shoes. 

“Tired of seeing you walk around in busted up shoes.” 

It was just another thing that made Briar so different. How a pair of shoes that would mean nothing to kids around here, meant so much to her. She gushed and ogled the custom Converse, slipping them on her feet and dancing in front of the mirror. 

I’d never seen a pair of shoes make someone so happy. 

“One more gift,” I tell her, walking behind at the mirror, “I’m gonna tattoo you,” My hands reach for her, rubbing my initials on her finger, “Whatever you want.” 

Leaning into me, she hums, “You mean I get to be conscious for this one?” 

A deep laugh reverberates my chest, it echoes as I dip my head to the bend in her neck, “If you want to be…” 

I let her decide what she wanted, where she wanted it. Figuring I should make up for the first tattoo she was given considering she was passed out. I don’t regret marking her though. Showing the entire world she was mine. I’d spend the rest of my life doing that. 

She lays on the table, her shirt rolled up just below her bra, revealing her ribs to the cold air of the shop. I start the process of sanitizing everything, prepping my needles, getting all the ink. It’s not a large tattoo, four little words on her upper ribcage would take maybe twenty minutes. 

When I’m ready, I look down at her on the table, “You ready?” 

“I think I can handle a little pain.” 

I smirk as I press my foot into the pedal, the hum of the machine filling the shop. I pulled her skin tight starting to work over the stencil I’d already placed on her. I fell into this sorta trance when I was drawing or tattooing. 

But it was different with her. 

Like I was placing a piece of me onto her skin. By showing her this place, by letting her into my world, into my head. It was more than just my initials with a stick and poke. 

This was a tattoo that meant something to her, and I was helping her memorialize it forever. Every time she looked at either of them, she’d think of me. And that’s what I wanted, for her to never stop thinking of me. 

To never stop being mine. 

Because I would never stop being hers. 

Her body vibrates beneath me, a short little whimper escaping that makes my cock twitch, listening to her mouth release shaky breathes. 

When I was done, I quickly cleaned her up telling her she could hop up and check it out in the mirror if she wanted. 

There is always this uncontrollable urge I get when I’m around her. I had it the first time I ever saw her. Wanting to touch her, break her will, test just how far she’d be willing to go to find pleasure. 

I admire her, shirt still tucked beneath her bra exposing her taut stomach. Jeans sitting low on her hips, the lettering riding her rib cage like it was made to be there. 

We are all thieves.

Art on Art. 

“Like it?” I ask, even though I watch her eyes light up like diamonds when she sees the script in the mirror. 

“Love it.” She whispers. 

I stand in front of her, pulling the plastic wrap open, and looping it around her back. My body inches away from hers, the smell of her igniting the hunger in my stomach. 

I yank her closer as I begin to wind the clear plastic around her body, taking my time, watching the way her eyes drop to my lips, ready to steal a kiss from me. 

My fingers running along her skin makes her shiver, my eyes fixated on her movements as she starts to lift her shirt higher, exposing her white bra to me. 

Like two supple fruits ready for feasting her tits lay exposed to me, the tops nearly spilling over the edge. 

“You said no one comes in during Christmas, right?” 

Lust, passion, wickedness flashes in her eyes, the golden specks making my cock stiffen. I lean my head towards her face, keeping my distance between our chests so I can keep winding the plastic around her. 

“You wanna play, Little Thief?” I question, her head nodding up and down slowly, her nose brushing mine. 

I loved how willing she was. How unafraid of testing her limits she was. Letting me push her until she was ready to shatter in my arms. 

My grip tightened around the cylinder of plastic, looking down at her, “You trust me, yeah?” 

“I trust you.” She repeats, waiting for me to make a move. 

“I’m gonna scare you, okay? But I promise I’ll make it feel good after. Be brave for me okay, baby?” 

Her eager nod has the head of my dick pressing into my jeans, aching to be released, dying to be inside of her. 

My hands worked in circles around her body, wrapping the clear plastic over her breasts, high on her chest, before moving around her shoulder, coming around and pausing as I stare at her. 

She watches me with anticipation as I wind it around her throat, then her soft pink lips that press against it like she’s kissing a glass window. I continue, until it’s wrapped right above her nose, making sure it’s tight on her body. 

The urge to panic should be building as I limit her oxygen for the moment, the plastic covering both her nose and mouth as I dip my head towards her lips. 

I grab her throat in my hand, pulling her covered mouth to my own, kissing her above the elastic that acts as a barrier between us. 

Her lips try to move with my own, making me smirk, what a good girl, I think. 

She chokes against the plastic, trying not to panic for air, my lips still pressed on hers, 

“Shh baby, it’s gonna be okay.” I tell her as I take my finger, slipping it into her mouth poking a hole and allowing air to flow freely. 

Gasping as I begin to carefully undo the button on her jeans, her free limbs helping her step out of them. With her panties exposed to me, I walk her back to the floor length mirror, pressing her ass into the cool glass.

Taking the cellophane and wrapping it a few more times around her throat before I toss it onto the floor. I use the tail end of the plastic as a leash of sorts, pulling her towards me and tightening its hold on her neck. 

“Alistair,” She whimpers, her free arms grabbing for my t-shirt desperately trying to tug me closer to her body. 

My left hand skates down her delicate body, falling between her legs, under her panties and feeling just how needy she was for me. Using the pad of my fingers to smear her wetness all around the soft mound of her pussy. 

I spin her around, hold her face to the glass, her breath fogging up the mirror as I groan in her ear, 

“You feel how soaked this pussy is for me?” 

With ease I stick two fingers inside of her tight walls from the back, feeling her push back into my hand wanting me deeper already. So greedy, so fucking mine. I pull back on the leash, cutting off more of her air flow and I hear her gasp.

One of her hands shoots back, gripping onto my forearm, nails digging in as I see those eyes start to roll back. Cutting off just enough circulation to make her feel like she’s fucking flying all the while I finger fuck her from behind. 

I release my hold, allowing her to get a rush of oxygen, her back falling as she holds onto the mirror for support. This is what I wanted every day of my life, watching her fall deeper and deeper into pleasure. 

My eyes trailed the deep curve of her back, her tight little panties shoved to the side on her round ass, and God her face was a dream. Flushed and tinted red with adrenaline, my ink sunk into her skin. 

This was the closest to heaven a man like me would ever get. 

Retracting my fingers from her cunt which makes her whine at the loss, I very quickly slip them into her mouth, through the hole in the plastic allowing her to taste how very sweet she is. 

“Like nectar of the gods, Briar. You’re their sweetest gift.” I mummer, she suckles on my digits, wiping them clean before I start to pull my jeans down, releasing my cock from the jean clade prison. 

It springs out, landing right between the slick full cheeks of her ass, the thick red tip dripping pre-come. I keep one hand on the leash, while the other pulls to the root of my shaft smudging her spit and juices all around me. 

“I’m going to fuck you just like this,” I snarl darkly into her ear, lining my eager cock up with her snug entrance, my body energized by the promise of ravaging her. “Tell me you want it, Briar.” 

She doesn’t miss a beat, “I want it, fuck, I want it, please.” Practically shaking when I thrust hard inside of her, filling her to the hilt. She spreads her thighs more, letting me reach deeper at this angle and we both fall into an ocean of pleasure. 

I revel in the sounds of her whimpering in both pleasure and discomfort. Breathing heavily through her teeth as her body is forced to adjust to me. I don’t give her much time to think about it, because I’m already starting to find a brutal pace as I piston my hips in and out of her. 

That’s what we did. In middle of my tattoo shop, we fucked. I stole her breath, while I shoved my cock so deep inside of her she’d feel me for years. We didn’t need the Christmas carols and the tree. We just need each other and this. This furious, soul-destroying bond that I would rather die than lose. 

“Fuck—” She gasps breathlessly, her body unable to do anything other than moan and urge me forward with her willing pussy. “So close.”

I yank back on the leash, pull the air from her lungs abruptly, her entire back plastered to my front as I thrust upward, my free arm wrapped tightly around her waist. The lewd sounds of our bodies coming together over and over again fuels me to give her more. 

I fuck her into the mirror, my body and cock pinning her the way she liked. Briar loved it when I shoved her into unforgiving surfaces. 

Her legs start shaking, her body going limp as she struggles to scream when she comes on my shaft, milking me for all I’m worth. I let go of the plastic completely, my hand immediately finding her hip to grip her so I can pound into her ruthlessly chasing my own orgasm. 

The pulsating tightness of her pushes me over the edge, the hand on her hip travels up to her scalp, grabbing a fistful of honey blonde hair and pull upward. Her head tilting from the mirror, worn down, flushed, “Mine.” I groan, as I look into the mirror, making eye contact with her. 

“Yours.” She mumbles. 

My orgasm takes me, just as I pull out, thick, warm strings of come paint her back. It spasms and pulsates, quivering from the force. I keep a hold of her hair, tilting her face so that she’s looking over her shoulder. 

My lips pressing into her hot mouth, my tongue dipping inside, pouring all of my emotion down her throat. Hoping it will be enough to keep her close, keep her by myside. 

“Forever, Little Thief.” I say, as I bite at her bottom lip, “This is forever.” 

I heard her heartbeat, just like I did the night she ran from me in the woods. It was beating for the darkness. Beating for me. 

I tried to catch my breath, listening to my own heart. 

Listening to it match her rhythm.  

Two hearts destined to be alone found one another, joining hands and kept beating. 

Together.