Sweet Escapes! [h.s.]

- free hand -

explicit content warning: oral sex, switchrry, possessiverry, pegging, spitting, choking, hair pulling, degrading, spanking, sir kink, minor mention of breeding and blood kink.

context: Unspoken mutual attraction between Isla Reed (21) and Harry (22) has been known to draw a barrier between the pair. Apart from being his go-to tattoo artist for some of his firsts, none of their peers would ever guess anything more about it. Every one of his tattoo appointments not only sparked glee knowing he'll be able to check off another impulsive tattoo from his list, but also because it's his inconspicuous excuse to have the girl filtering through every single one of his fantasies all to himself... much like he does hers.

word count: 8,656 words

that one in the aesthetics collage has had my mind in the trenches for the past 48+ hours.

i needed to act on it.

____________

5:56pm

My eyes flit from the time stamp over the car radio just as my fingers tap to the rhythm of the soft jazz that began playing not too long after one too many pop tunes that slowly began irking me as time passed. Some overplayed, some overrated. I couldn't put my finger on which one fitted best.

Setting up an appointment for a tattoo always prompts some sort of anxiety to bubble up in the pit of my stomach. Regardless of how excited I may be for the new sketch on my body, I can't stop the nerves from betraying me when I open my eyes the day of.

I'm no stranger to the tattoo gun. In fact, I've acquainted myself fairly well with it, enough to consider it a friend at this point.

Same thing with Isla.

For the past few years, she's been the person responsible for most drunken impulsive designs, embedding all kinds of memories into my skin and treating it as her own personal coloring book.

Since her apprenticeship, I grew to love a lot of her work and let her practice a few of her first ones on myself, figuring I don't really care all that much about the significance behind a better portion of the ones I carry already. She was kind, though, and gave me the chance to pick out whatever ones felt closest to me and my life so she could practice different techniques for her growth as a tattoo artist.

When the time came to cover up one of my little drunken decisions I don't particularly regret — just dislike enough to not want to see it anymore every time I change clothes — there wasn't an ounce of hesitation for her name to be toppled from my mouth and requested an appointment as soon as possible.

The tattoo shop was one she shared with her long time friend, Etelle. With Etelle's knowledge in business and finance and Isla's expertise on the creative side, their minds worked perfectly in sync to create their dream business in a corner in the busiest side of town.

My phone buzzes from its place in my lap and I smile when I click on Isla's name in the notification bar and said I was clear to come in just as I see a young girl skipping down the steps to their shop with an inexplicable kind of happiness practically sparking out of her like a firework going off on New Year's Eve.

The condensation from the lemonade drips down my hand when I pick it up from the cup holder along with my own refresher. A peace offering, as Etelle likes to call it, so Isla will have some mercy on today's session. Especially knowing this one involves a lot of shading on a rather sensitive area.