l i q u i d | h o n e y [completed]

4 | dipped in ink

i thought i'll do a little something, something for you guys since i've been gone for fame there near two months i believe. thank you guys for 11k reads. now this one is dedicated to you guys.

p.s. no song was involved in the making.

p.s.s. this is some kinky type shit, it just popped into my head.

—

There was something about the art of tattooing that always fascinated you. Maybe it was the intricate designs, the ornate patterns that would adorn the skin of the one who wore it proudly for the rest of their life, or perhaps it could have been the sheer amount of love, concentration, and dedication that went into being the creator of such an art form.

Tattoos were breathtaking, something you had always longed to get - and it wasn't until you stumbled into this tiny shop on the outskirts of the city, your heart thrumming wildly in your chest as you decided that today would be the day that you finally got one.

You had no real pattern set in your mind, nor a particular preference for the type of tattooing method you wanted, ink color the farthest thing from your mind. You had no prior planning, but you were willing to get anything the tattoo artist wished to place into your skin for you to admire for the rest of your life.

You felt dumb, coming in so unprepared, but the shop wasn't too busy, or big for that matter, so you figured the lone caramel toned man sitting behind the counter wouldn't mind. His feet were propped up on the glass surface of the counter, a sketch pad on his lap and a cigarette between his lips, a steady stream of milk white smoke trailing from the tip.

The sound of the bell tinkering as you closed the door earned his attention, eyes studying you curiously as you looked around the small shop with wide eyes, drinking in the dark decoration, the countless panels of artwork and albums hung carelessly on the walls. Despite the cigarette burning between the man's lips, the shop smelled warm and inviting, a subtle musk pulling you in invitingly.

"How can I help you today, miss?" The man asked, voice raspy from lack of use as he leaned forward, flicking the ashes from his cigarette into a tray on the counter. You met his gaze as he placed the stick back between his lips, the small glimmer of a silver stud pushed through his lower lip catching your attention momentarily.

Your mouth went dry as you stared at him, the man was very attractive. Not only was he quite handsome in the face, his body was very nice, slender but also sort of fit from what you could tell. He wore a tight fitting white cotton tee shirt, the material doing little to hide the dark ink that decorated his skin underneath. Up and down both of his arms were tattoos of every kind, flowers, snakes, words, and more. You couldn't count them all, not that you wouldn't like to, but the clearing of his throat caught your attention.

The man sighed, taking his feet down from the counter, placing the book aside as he leaned forward, crossing his arms in front of him on the glass as he looked at you with a cocked brow, a very suggestive smirk on his lips.

"I'm afraid I'm a tattoo artist, ma'am, not a stripper. So if that's the type of services you're looking for, I suggest heading down the block to the local strip club. Of course, you look like a very...capable woman, so maybe I'd be willing to consider showing you a few things if you ask nicely." He teased, voice joking. He cracked a smile at your shocked face, completely red like a tomato as he chuckled, the sound deep and...well, attractive.

Everything about this man was attractive, and you were a bit ashamed to say that in the few short minutes since you entered the parlor, he had effected your body in more ways than just one.

"N-No, I'm here to get a tattoo." You stuttered, voice light as you struggled to maintain eye contact with the caramel toned boy, your eyes quickly averting as he chuckled again at the uncertainty in your tone.