Rowaelin Oneshots (Throne of Glass)

Ink (Part 1)

Through his sleep Rowan vaguely felt a familiar weight press down on his bare gut, a weight that was just beginning to build up to its previous healthy self. He groaned as small, calloused hands traced up his chest to his cheeks. Allowing his head to rest on the pillow Rowan dragged his hands up to rub his eyes. Yet he froze when she pressed her soft lips to his- kisses from Aelin were rare- after all she had been through. He would kiss her every morning, every evening, and all hours in between- even though Rowan had made sure she was okay with the kisses and touches, she never initiated it anymore.

Aelin pulled his hands away from his eyes, Rowan felt her grin at how his body reacted. He knew he was as taut as a bowstring beneath her, afraid if he breathed he would wreck whatever had gotten into her. 

Pinching his shoulder she pulled away, rolling her eyes, "Relax, Buzzard." Rowan just bared his fangs and propped himself on his elbows to deepen the kiss. Aelin opened her mouth as if to say something but it turned into a giggle when Rowan flipped them over, looming over her. He attacked her with kisses and growling nips on her neck and jaw, "Rowan!" she squealed, "I have something to ask you." 

Sliding his hands from the plane of her stomach to cup her cheeks he smirked, again she rolled her eyes- pulling down his neck, forcing his mouth on hers. 

Finally, Aelin pulled away, breathing heavily onto his skin, "Do you have your tattoo supplies?"

Rowan drew back, resting above her on his elbows so he could read her whole face. "Yes." he answered simply.

She sucked in a breath, "I want you to tattoo my back." 

Though he hadn't expected it, after a nodded his mind immediately drifted to designs. The ink she had before had been completely wiped from existence, so had the scars he had tattooed on. Her entire back was a plane of fresh skin struggling to cover the muscle and bone that had been exposed. 

"Do you have a specific idea? Should I just recreate what I did before?"

Aelin's body shifted as she shrugged beneath him, "I trust you." 

That was a lot of pressure on him, "But you still want it to represent the people you lost?" 

"Yes, but it can say other stuff too. Whatever you think is best." 

It was slightly infuriating how nonchalant she was about Rowan permanently marking her flesh. Before, of course, he had done his best to create the best tattoo to immortalize her fallen- but now he didn't want to indulge her self-sacrifice. She had paid more than enough for her past mistakes. 

Rowan knew though Aelin would never, never, admit it but she hated her new scars. She had learned to accept her old scars that covered her skin like cobwebs. But these fresh ones were valleys and mountains that destroyed everything beautiful in their path, well, in her eyes. So his goal with this new tattoo would be to make her feel beautiful, hopefully, beautiful enough to wear one of those insufferably tight dresses with the plunging backs that showed off all his craftsmanship. 

Rolling off Aelin, Rowan shuffled through his desk drawer for papers and a pencil, "I'll show you the designs in the evening." He pulled out a chair, sitting down, Aelin padded up behind him to plant soft kisses on his neck. 

"Thank you." she murmured. 

He grimaced, "If you like any of them we can do it tonight," her thin hands rubbed his shoulders, and he swiveled to face her, "Do you want it done in normal ink or with salt." 

"Salt." she replied like it was obvious. 

Rowan bit his lip, holding back his protest- but Aelin was his mate, and knew him far too well.