"Can he try?" I asked the tattoo artist, a tall woman with brown hair braided down her back.
"Well, I'm not sure that's a good idea," she laughed, rolling forward in her chair. She had introduced herself as Angel, and the name slipped off her tongue sweetly. Her fingers were wrapped around the tattoo gun, her supplies ready beside her. I hadn't looked at the stencil yet, trusting Matty's placement and word choice.
"He's got a very steady hand," I shrugged. "I can sign some waivers or disclaimers, if you want."
"Does he have a say in this?" Matty laughed, slouched on a velvety couch in front of me.
"Just do the first letter or something," I grinned. "Haven't you always wanted to tattoo someone?"
He sighed deeply, head rolling to the side.
"If he wants to, I'll let him." Angel mirrored my smile.
"Please!" I begged, pouting and squirming and batting my eyelashes. He groaned, standing up and sitting on Angel's stool. He snapped on a pair of gloves, watching me carefully with a slight smirk.
He leaned low, to brush his lips against my ear, "What happened to not associating me with pain?"
"This won't hurt," I told him, and he kissed my cheek softly.
"Forgive me, sweetheart," he mumbled, and pushed away from me with a strained exhale. "What first?"
Angel explained how to hold the gun, the pressure and the angle to use, how fast to move his hand. I barely understood, watching how his lips pressed together as he listened.
"Alright, just relax now," Angel soothed, standing behind him as he held the gun just above my skin.
"Are you nervous?" he asked, gentle and worried. His eyebrows tilted upwards, his entire face apologetic and pouting.
I shook my head, "You can't hurt me."
His free hand spread over my belly, pushing down on my harder than he usually did, unable to control himself while he focused on bringing the needle to my skin. It connected, a low, buzzing itch, the feeling crawling up the back of my throat. I felt far away from the pain, watching the pink flick of his tongue wet his lower lip as he concentrated.
"How was that?" he lifted his hands off of me, leaving me cold and light.
"Didn't even feel it," I shrugged, and he stuck his tongue out at me, unamused at my lie.
"Well, it's done, anyways," he peeled off his gloves.
"Done?" I frowned, looking to Angel.
She nodded, "I'll clean you up a bit, but then you're good to go."
"Then it's my turn," he winked, squeezing my thigh just above my knee.
I smiled and nodded, anxious to see what he had tattooed on me, and curious about what he was getting for himself. He held my hand as Angel touched up the tattoo.
"He told me I'd have to kick you out," Angel winced once she had finished with me, cleaning off her station.
I laughed quietly, "Right."
"I'll be done in five minutes," he kissed my cheek quickly, pulling me to my feet. "Could you grab us a coffee, maybe?" He slipped his credit card into my pocket, ignoring me as I tried to slap his hand away.
"Five minutes," I repeated, earning a quick nod. "Love you."
"Love you, love you."
I rushed him home, half-sipped coffees in our hands. I fumbled for my keys, dropping them on the pavement. He picked them up, giggling, and unlocked the door.
"Take off the bandage," I said, as soon as we stepped into my apartment.
"Christ," He laughed, downing the rest of his coffee. I rolled my eyes, peeling the bandage above his inner elbow myself. "Ouch," he groaned. I gasped, looking at what he had chosen for himself. In a simple script, sweetheart was written across his lower bicep.
"I thought I said not to get my name," I laughed, shaking my head.
"It's not really your name, though, is it?" He smiled, kissing my cheek. "You like it."
I giggled, "Yeah. I do like it."
"Let's see yours, then." He lifted my shirt, peeling off the bandage. Just adjacent to the scar on my hip, a simple heart was tattooed.
I grinned, pulling him to a mirror so I could get a better look.
"It's the only thing that looks nice in my writing," he shrugged, laughing.
"I love it."
"You do?"
"Just what I wanted," I turned to kiss him, pulling him in to wrap my arms around his neck.
"Thank God," he sighed, burying his face in my neck.
YOU ARE READING
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Fanfiction"You're pretty," his fingertips found my jawline, "When you cry." "Only then?" I smirked, lip quivering. My skin warmed where he touched me. He licked his lower lip, shaking his head. He palpated for my jawbone, tracing it up to my ear. "Your eyes...
