Oscar was wearing a pair of light blue worn jeans with white Converse and a white t-shirt that hugged his muscles. He was focused on tattooing your forearm, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration. The pain intensifies with each pass of the needle, and you can feel yourself tensing up.

"Do you have a stress ball that I can grab?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady despite the discomfort.

Oscar looks up from his work, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. He was sitting on a stool with wheels and wheeled forward, positioning himself closer than necessary. Before you realize what's happening, his movement brings your open hand into contact with his crotch. "Is that any better?" he asks, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.