Bobby always smiled when he saw the tattoo of his own work. It was so much better than some dopey heart with a name in it, but it reminded him that he really was loved.
"You're like my canvas and my model," he commented, just to let him know what had been running through his head in the slight pause. Pants undone, Bobby slipped a hand inside, grasping at his length as he freed him from the constraints of underwear.