Louis’s POV
I was sitting in the tattoo parlor with my boyfriend. He was getting new ink and he’d asked me to come along. He seemed to be enjoying it, not even flinching with the pain. I, on the other hand, was having a difficult time watching. I could see that he was bleeding a little, and it was making me feel sick to my stomach.
“Lou? You ok?” Zayn asked me. I looked over at him, immediately transfixed by his eyes. He was staring into my soul, or trying to, wanting to know if I was ok. I distracted myself from the needles and the blood by admiring him. He was so beautiful, but in a manly way. His dark hair was lying flat on his head today instead of in its usual quiff. He had his black earrings in, his lip piercing was shining silver against his mouth, and he hadn’t shaved, so he had a trace of stubble on his jaw. I bit my lip. Gosh I’m lucky.
“Louis? I need you to answer me. Are you ok?” he asked more urgently this time, leaning forward slightly, which was made more difficult by the fact that he was having his left shoulder tattooed. I stopped salivating over him long enough to answer.
“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine. I just, I just don’t like…you’re bleeding,” I finished in a whisper. He smiled at me, a smile that lit up his whole face and made me feel like the only person in the world.
“It’s ok, Lou. It only hurts a little bit, I promise.” He told me gently, taking my hand in his. I nodded stiffly, trying not to look at the blood trickle I’d just seen slide down his arm. He noticed.
“I see you need a distraction,” he said with a smirk.
“I—what?” I asked. I’d been distracted already. Because I’d seen his arm, and then admired his biceps, and then my gaze had shifted over to his low cut tank top because I could see a good deal of his chest.
Instead of answering me, he reached out with his right arm and pulled me closer to him. The next second, his lips were on mine, and I had totally forgotten that we were in a tattoo parlor. I deepened the kiss and our tongues wrestled briefly before Zayn took control. I moaned softly and moved a hand to his thigh.
“Oy! No sex in my shop!” My hand was slapped off of Zayn as the tattoo artist shot me a dirty glare.
Zayn chuckled as I turned red. I glared at him as he grinned apologetically at his friend.
“Sorry, Harry.” The tattoo artist, Harry, just shook his head and continued his work.
“’S fine mate, just, wait till you get home, yeah?” I looked at Zayn. I couldn’t wait until we got home. The look in his eyes told me that he was thinking exactly the same. He placed a hand on my thigh and whispered in my ear.
“How’s that for a distraction, Lou?”
