Biting your tongue and swearing under your breath, you clasp Luke's strong hand more firmly in your sweaty one. "Ow. That. Hurts," you hiss, breathing heavily through your mouth.
"You're going to be okay," Luke snorts, amused. "You know, you're really hot when you're in pain."
"Shut up."
"Just an observation." If you weren't so busy holding still, you would smack him upside the head for his cheekiness. Instead, you settle for making a rude gesture with your free hand. Luke, being the cocky idiot that he is, returns the favor.
"Almost done." The tattoo artist gives you a reassuring smile.
"She's a whole lot nicer than you, Luke," you mock, sticking your tongue out playfully.
"Who's the one who agreed to have their masculinity shattered by getting a matching tattoo with their girlfriend?"
"What masculinity?" You shriek in discomfort as Luke reaches over and tickles your side. Thankfully, the lady is done with your inking, because there was no way you could sit still for even one more second. You gave him a well-deserved punch on the arm before pulling him into a hug.
"Careful," he warns, and you wince where your tender wrist connects with his back.
"This is going to take a while to get used to."
"Well, you have the next two hours to try while you wait for me," he winks slyly, "and hopefully you'll be used to it by tonight." You swat at him again, this time aiming for his perfectly coiffed hair, but he dodges your blow. "Not the quiff!" he laughs. "Anything but the quiff!"
