les sequelles - Eric Coulter 1

21.1. The Challenge

The ChallengePart One

Summary: (pre Divergent series) Eric and Y/N don't get along. At all. When Eric challenges Y/N, naturally she refuses to back down.

Fic Type: Eric Coulter x Reader, Tattoo Artist!Reader, light smut, (mention of) daddy kink

Warnings: strong language, light smut

Author's Note: I was looking at my bookshelf and said to myself, "Hey, I haven't written anything for the Divergent fandom. Ever." So here it is. Enjoy...

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***Eric's POV***

I grunted, glancing down at my partner. Both of us were coated with with sweat and breathing heavily. The sound of heavy panting and skin hitting skin filled the air. I flashed a smirk at Y/N as she tightened her grip on me. Her tongue darted between her lips, and I savored the small motion. She shifted beneath me, and I caught a whiff of her perfume. God she smelled delicious. She practically glowed, the sheen of sweat on her body making her glimmer. I could feel her body rise and fall beneath mine, and I savoured the feeling.

"Eric! Y/N! This is training, not a porno!" Four shouted across the room.

I flipped him off. Beneath me, Y/N shifted my weight on her shoulders, sending a smirk my way. Today's training was a partner workout. Names had been drawn, and I was paired up with Y/N L/N. Not that I was complaining, of course. The final part of the workout involved a fireman carry, and though I had been doubtful of her strength, she proved herself when she hoisted the 205 lbs. of pure muscle that was my body onto her shoulders.

I shouldn't have been surprised. When she wasn't working at the tattoo parlor, she was off training. Her body showed it too. She was muscular, with abs as strong as diamonds and defined, long legs. Her ass was gorgeous from all the squats she did on a regular basis.

And as I said, I certainly wasn't complaining about wrapping my body around hers. The slightest bit of arousal shot through me, but I kept my libido in check as she carried me the allotted 600 meters.

We switched places, and she settled onto my shoulders easily. I was sure my shoulder was digging into her stomach, but she never so much as muttered a complaint. Halfway through, I glanced up to check on her, and she just fixed me with those innocent, gorgeous eyes. She was most definitely fine. I, however, was not.

---

By the end of the workout, I was pissed. Pissed that I thought she was hot, and pissed that I had to jack off after my shower. I tried to push her out of my mind, but as I neared my climax, those innocent eyes of her's filled my mind. And I couldn't push the image out. And so, naturally, I was pissed again.

Over dinner, my coworkers and I talked about the same thing we always did: Women. However, when I brought up Y/N's name, there was an instant shaking of heads and muttering that it was no use to try and seduce her. Words like bitch and hard-ass were muttered, and I nodded, agreeing.

The problem was, I loathed her. Absolutely and completely. She was lethal, I was sure of it. I was a Dauntless leader, but she payed my titles no mind. She challenged my authority without hesitation and was unbelievably stubborn. She irked me to no end, and yet I seemed to have no control over how my body reacted to her. Sparks flew all too often between us, and we had always disagreed in such a manner. Ever since we had met, we fought tooth and nail. Every other girl bent to my will, flowed through my hands like water. This girl... She actually had a backbone. Much to my chagrin, of course. She refused to yield, and I had never met a girl as resistant to dominance as Y/N. She was an anomaly. And a challenge.

A challenge I was willing to take on.

---

"You going to pick a design, or just stand there all night?" Y/N leaned against a pillar as I examined the wall of tattoo designs.

The same wall I had been staring at for the past ten minutes, trying to decide what to get. I had wanted to get something on my forearms, but I had no idea what. In fact, that wasn't even actually why I had gone to the tattoo shop. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Y/N. She looked particularly sexy, and I mentally praised her choice to wear leggings. I fought to keep the grin off my face as a plan formed in my mind.

I turned to where Y/N was standing, popping her blue peppermint bubblegum, hands on her hips.

"I hear you're the best artist in here," I started.

Y/N snorted. "Flattery will get you nowhere here, soldier. Save it for Tori."

Unperturbed, I carried on. "I said I heard that you were the best artist. Not that you are. Anyway, I have a proposition for you." I knew that Y/N would never admit to being the best tattoo artist, but she was. And she knew it. Another thing I knew about her was that she could never resist a challenge, especially if it involved art.

Y/N rolled her eyes in response. "If this is some silly scheme that you hope will end with you getting in my pants, forget it."

Wow, she was blunt. And right. Absolutely, sexy, and unabashedly right. I grinned, ducking my head. I raised my hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm here for a tattoo, babe."

"Then pick one." She sneered.

Fine. She wants to play rough? I'll play rough. "I don't like any of these." I motioned to the designs. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, and I knew she had probably drawn many of them herself. "Just hear me out, okay? I want you to freehand a design on both of my forearms."

Y/N's perfect mouth dropped open in shock. For a split second, I imagined how those lips would look wrapped around my cock.

Swallowing a laugh and my arousal, I continued. "You fuck up, I get to fuck you. You don't, and I'll never bother you again."

Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms, glossy black fingernails tapping on her muscled upper arm.

"But, I mean, since Tori's a better artist than you... Maybe this bet is a little one sided. Free handing a tattoo? Come on. That shit's above your skill level."

I had insulted her, and I knew it. More importantly, she knew it. Now she was mad.

"Sit your ass down." She pointed to a leather chair. "Buckle up, tiger. You're gonna be here awhile."

---

Y/N's hands moved deftly, and her skill was surprising. It was nearly eleven o'clock, and the tattoo parlor was void of any life besides the two of us. I gritted my teeth as she worked on the inside of my arm. In response, she shot me a shit-eating grin.

I rolled my eyes, glancing at the clock. "Isn't it a bit past your bedtime?" I sneered down at her.

God, she looked hot like that. All concentrated on her work, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. Plus, I had a perfect view down the front of her tan top. She was wearing a dark blue sports bra.

"Whatever, daddy." She replied, not looking up from the needle that was piercing my skin at three thousand, two hundred stabs per second.

My dick practically jumped at those words, and I involuntarily clenched my fist. Which tightened the muscles in my forearm. The arm Y/N was working on.

"Oh shit." She whispered, lifting the gun from my skin.

I looked down at the design, and noticed the tiniest little line off the part she had been working on. I smirked down at her. She just stared back up at me, eyes filled with ice and hatred.

"You know what this means." I almost sang as I grinned down at her. "You lost."

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From letdecemberburninflames on Tumblr.