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Tattoo	By : 7seventh7 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > AFI Views: 1751 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of AFI. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Tattoo
- 2-Two
- 1
- 2
Two

I lie on my back on our hastily-made bed, my hips resting on the edge, with lengths of clinical blue medical paper sheets and impermeable plastic underneath me. Bright spots are dancing in my eyes from the lights Jade had set up, aimed directly at my lower stomach. I’m wearing just my Tattoo Pants, the super-comfy faded grey sweatpants that are almost as stained with ink as I am. They’ve seen a lot of ink, blood and needles, and pulling them on always gives me a rush – like a surge of pre-endorphins. I hook one thumb at the waist to nudge them a little lower, giving Jade more room to work with.

Grinning, I toy with the silver ring in my lip and watch Jade check and double check to make sure he has everything he needs, muttering to himself the whole time. “…Autoclave’s run, sealed needles, gun, ink, ink pockets, ink pocket holder, tissues, cold cream, antiseptic spray, water spray, dressing, dressing tape…”

He looks at me, anxiety marring his features, “Have I forgotten anything Dave? Don’t let me fuck this up.”
I smile back up at him, “Gloves? Other than that, I think you’ve got it all.” He jumps about a foot in the air, looking round frantically for the medical gloves. I suppress a grin, “I’ve been shaved, sterilized and stenciled; Jade, relax. We’re all set. You’re awesome, it’s gonna be great.”

He takes a deep breath and sits on the padded stool he set up between my knees, smoothing my skin beneath his hands. “You’re sure it’s where you want it to be? It’s centred okay?”
“Jade, it’s fine. Just get to it already!” My stomach twitches as I try to contain my laughter at his fussing.
“Don’t move! Please Dave; I want this to be perfect.” His wide, worried eyes bore into mine, making me fall for him all over again.
“Jade, however it turns out, it’s gonna be perfect. ‘Cause it was by you. Please, trust me, it’ll be fine.” I reach out to touch his rounded cheeks to share my confidence through our skin-to-skin contact.

Slowly he exhales, and holds up a needle in its sterile packaging. “Sterile needle, unopened,” he waves his gloved hands at me, “sterile latex gloves. I’m opening the sterile needle now.”
“JADE! I think it’s a bit late for us to be worrying about AIDS. Jeeze… Will you get on? I’m dyin’ here…”

He gives me a small grin and takes a deep breath. Carefully, he attaches the cable to his battered second-hand tattoo gun and steps on the switch. The gentle vibrating buzz fills the air, and I melt away from the room, swept away on a wave of images of every single time I’d ever sat in front of a tattooist, every single rush of anticipation flooding back to me. The first time, the next, the last, every artist and every room or tent or van that I’ve sat in, waiting for another permanent mark to cover up my faults and flaws. To restore me.

“Ready?”

I nod distantly, not really connected to what’s happening anymore. I’m shutting my eyes and breathing deeply, waiting for that first bite. His gentle touch on my stomach, followed by that first harsh slice of the needle…

It always amazes me, that the first time the needle swipes across the skin – injecting its ink thousands of times a second – there’s no pain. Not once has that first stroke hurt me in the slightest. The second, the third, the three hundredth, the three thousandth… maybe. But the first just feels soothing and pure. As if it’s letting all the tension and stress pour out of me.

“Love you.” His voice is soft and comes from far away and then my only link to what’s real is his gloved touch on my stomach, stretching the skin taut; and then the warm, welcoming thrill of that first stroke of the needle. It feels so perfect; like coming home to a cosy house in a snowstorm.

There’s a knack to getting tattooed; dealing with that needle puncturing your skin over and over and over for minutes or hours at a time. I know some people who have passed out after barely 60 seconds. Because they tried to hide from the pain: something that’s impossible. The trick is to embrace the pain and accept it. The worst thing you can do it to try to block it out and pretend it’s not there. Your body won’t believe you.

So I shut my eyes and mentally reach out towards the needle and the gentle vibrations flowing through my skin. I wrap my mind around it and visualise those tiny tips of stainless steel forcing their way through the keratin, through the epidermis, embedding themselves into the dermis and pulling their cargos of ink into my skin by capillary action, then retracting back, leaving a tiny deposit of pigment implanted permanently in my body. I try to catch the feeling of just one entry and retreat; then let myself drift into the noise and pulsation and let the heat of it build up, wrapping myself around the discomfort until it teeters on the edge of being painful…

And then he pauses; bringing me back, smoothing over my wounded skin with cold cream and tissue, swiping the blood and excess ink away along with the sting and heat. And I exhale, and inhale and exhale again just before the buzzing starts again and the next line is punctured into me.

Drone and silence, pain and soothing, heat and cool, touch and emptiness… all rolling into the ultimate sensory experience. I don’t know how long it took – I never do. I did know when it was over – even before Jade finally sat back on his heels, whispering, “Dave?” The feel of completion wraps itself around me, and my eyes flicker open to see that he has teeth marks on his lip and sweat in his eyes as he uncouples the machine from the power, anxiously scanning my face for my reaction.

Slowly I reach my hand towards his and feel the smooth, gloved fingers, slightly sticky with ink and my blood, against my own bare ones as a smile curls on my lips. "I'm okay," I say softly, “I’m perfect.”

He leans his head to one side, absently stripping off the soiled gloves and tossing them in the trash, searching my eyes as though trying to find truth in them before a smile of his own finally forms on his face. "You are," he whispers, “but you always have been.”

Still smiling, I shake my head at the flattery even as he crawls up over me and places a warm slow kiss on my lips. "Shush you," he smiles, kissing me again, his chest hard against mine, "you need to learn to take a compliment." Another kiss and I give in, pulling him closer to me, moving my hips to meet his… until his belt buckle grazes the wounded flesh of my lower stomach and I let out an embarrassingly girly yelp as I reflexively curl up, violently pushing him off me. He hits the floor, looking adorably flustered and horrified that he may have hurt me and despite the lingering stabs of pain I giggle at his anxious expression.

“Shit Dave, I’m so sorry… Christ, I’m such a fuckup – are you ok? I can’t believe I just did that…” I listen to his flustered self admonishments with half an ear as I select a dressing from the stack he brought in earlier and carefully clean the clotting blood and ink away from the new tattoo with a sterile wipe. He gets up, still muttering to himself, “I could have really hurt you – I could have ruined the tattoo, I’m such a fucking asshole, you must hate me, I’m so sorry…”

“Jade, shut up and help me with this, okay?” I wave the dressing in his general direction, hoping to distract him from his tirade against himself. “Where’s the tape?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m sorry.” I roll my eyes behind his back as he scrabbles through the junk on our desk and comes up with a roll of sterile dressing tape. “Hold still, lemme put this on you.” Carefully, he places the dressing over my raw skin, and I can feel the warmth from the palms of his hands as he presses the soft material down gently, taping it securely into place.

“Okay, now leave that on for two hours. And then wash it with lukewarm water and apply Tattoo Goo, thinly, three times a day for the next two weeks. No submerging in water for a while and avoid prolonged sun exposure. No picking, touching, scratching… what?” He finally registers the incredulous look on my face, his monologue trailing off mid-sentence. I gesture between the two of us.
“You are telling me how to look after baby tattoos?” He gives me a blank stare.

I spread my arms, inviting him to see the mass of colour and ink covering up all sign of my actual skin tone from shoulder to wrist. “Mr. ‘It-Itches!-I-Can-Always-Have-It-Redone!’ is giving me, Mr. ‘Over-60%-Coverage-And-Not-One-Problem’, aftercare instructions?” I cock my head and glare at him.

He blushes and starts on another set of apologies and regrets. I shut him up with a swipe at his head, before standing up and stretching. “Shush ye, and go fetcheth me a tankard of water!” I point imperiously at the door, acting the Lord and Master.
He nods apologetically and stands to leave; actually making it out the door before turning and glaring at me “Hey wait; what am I, your bitch?”

I giggle and flop back onto the bed, feeling the adrenaline slowly ebbing from my blood. “Yup. Come here and suck me, bitch.” I make “come hither” motions with a finger and arch my back, tossing my head back like a pornstar. He colours bright scarlet and glances nervously around as if someone’s gonna jump out of a cupboard and declare their disgust at us. He’s never quite got over the hiding thing… Incredibly though, he does actually come over and drop to his knees at the foot of our bed. My jolt of surprise is swept away by the sudden rush of blood to my cock. Submissive-Jade is damn hot. Which raises some interesting ideas…

He looks up at me, clear brown eyes peeking out from behind floppy hair, and tugs at my Tattoo Pants. I obligingly raise my hips, wondering if he’ll actually go through with it. His breath is hot on my flushed skin and he rests a hand just under each hipbone, carefully avoiding the new tattoo. There’s a long pause filled with delicious anticipation and just as I’m sure he’s about to back out, the wetness of his mouth surrounds me and I lose myself to his lips and tongue. He may be shy, but he knows just how to make me moan.

I slide my hands down over my skin, twine my fingers with his. For a while I revel in the perfection of it all, he’s so damn good… But I have to stop him or it’ll all end embarrassingly soon. Slowly I start to tug at him, pulling him up my body. His mouth comes off me and the cold air rushes in to replace it, the change of sensation making me inhale sharply. He snakes up me, keeping distance between us in consideration of the fresh tattoo, and kisses the curve of my jaw. I frown at him. “Why are you so fully dressed when I’m so very naked?” I tug at his shirt, wanting his skin against mine.

He smiles and kisses me before pulling his shirt over his head. I’m kissing his stomach, his ribs, his chest, before he’s even got his arms out of the sleeves. I lick a line up to his collarbone as he tosses the shirt somewhere in the direction of the door and throws his head back to let me bite at his throat. My hands fumble at his waist, wrestling with his belt and the fastenings of his jeans, before hastily pushing his pants down, hooking my toes into the fabric and kicking them off him.

His tongue is hot and wet against mine and his damp breath rushes past my cheek in short pants. I wrap a leg around his hip and pull us together – completely forgetting about the wound on my belly. With a yelp I jerk away, rolling onto my back and trying to relax my stomach muscles. Jade sits up, scrambling away from me so he doesn’t hurt me again. He’s full of concern, already apologising profusely; beside himself with remorse.

Hissing a breath out between my teeth, I clamber to my knees and shove him roughly, catching him by surprise so he falls flat on his back. I grab his ankles, pulling him across the bed a foot or so. He lets out a sharp yell and I entangle my fingers with his, using him to stabilise myself as I clamber up to straddle him. Gripping him tightly, I pull his hands up over his head and kiss him.

He doesn’t realise what I’m doing until his wrists are securely fastened to the bedstead by his belt. He stares up at me, confused, maybe even a little scared. “Jade, please, look at me.” I nod down at myself, sat on his thighs.

His eyes widen. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe… I shouldn’t have. I’m so sorry Dave, I never meant to hurt you. I won’t do it again. We’ll stop now. I-” I roll my eyes, resisting the urge to shake him.
“Honey, not the tattoo. A little lower than that.” I look down meaningfully and he follows my eyes, taking in how incredibly hard I am, despite the brief stab of pain a moment ago. “And look at you.” He’s in a similar state, though suffering a little from the sudden change in mood.

I lean in and wrap my arms round his shoulders, nuzzling his neck, carefully keeping my stomach away from his body. He turns his head and kisses my neck and earlobe, whispering softly, “I love you. I never want to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”
I pull away, sitting up and glaring at him. “I swear, if you apologise one more time I’m gonna leave you like this.” I bounce a bit on my knees to add weight to the threat.
“Sorry. Uh, I mean… Shit!” He flushes again and shifts under me, testing the bindings. I kinda like him helpless like this.

“Okay, that was the last one. Don’t be sorry. You could never hurt me. Shush now.” I reach down his body, keeping my touch light to tease him but not bothering to hide where I’m heading. He twitches at my touch and I press my lips to his as my fingers wrap around him; my tongue pulses against his in time with my hand’s slow, sure movements. He exhales slowly into my mouth in a silent moan that I mirror, turned on by turning him on.

Carefully, still very aware of the fresh wound on my stomach, I crawl down him, sucking and nipping at his caramel skin as I go. I forego the teasing and wrap my mouth firmly around him, taking him by surprise. His hips jerk up and I snake my hand under his thigh and move it to cup his ass while I press my tongue firmly against him. He bites back a gasp and the muted noise sends a jolt of lust straight to my cock.

I drag myself away with one last long lick and crawl back up his body to kiss his lips once again, reaching out for the lube while my tongue keeps him occupied. I pump a couple of squirts into my palm and snake my hand back between his legs, distracting him by biting at his lip. He squirms beneath me when my fingers begin their soft wet probing between his buttocks. He pulls against the restraints, wiggling his fingers as if that’ll magically release him. I smile at his mock helplessness; we both know he could get out if he wanted to, but the illusion adds a new note that I, for one, am finding incredibly sexy.

I slide slick fingers into him, wiggling and twisting a little to spread the lube around, and then withdraw to coat myself with the last of it. Then carefully, trying to ignore the mild stabs of pain from the wound on my stomach, I push my hips forward and guide myself in. I love watching his face when we do this; his eyes sort of go really wide and then close up while his mouth falls open in a silent yell. He’s so beautiful. And there’s something about knowing that I simply couldn’t be any closer to him that makes it all sweeter.

Usually we make love chest-to-chest, lip-to-lip. As much skin contact as we can manage while we move together in perfect sync with each other. I love being able to kiss him and whisper into his ear and feel our sweat mingle between our bodies. But now the pain from the fresh tattoo forces me to sit up, bringing distance between us to relieve the sting. And though part of me is enjoying the discomfort in some masochistic way, a larger part knows that it’s not worth a messed up tattoo, no matter how sexy Jade looks when he has naughty things whispered into his ear.

Sitting with him tied beneath me feels incredibly dirty and I’m feeling extremely turned on at the control I have from up here. I rock into him harder and faster, enjoying his snatched gasps, the way he’s slowly becoming less quiet as the sensations wash over him. I reach down and stroke him with wet fingers, lube mixing with precome and saliva. He shudders and moans properly, no longer biting back and trying to be quiet. I can feel the blood pulsing in his cock and know that neither of us will last much longer, evidently he’s as turned on by the change in technique as I am…

We move harder, getting more frantic. His head is thrown back and he’s moaning out with each stroke of my hand. I can’t believe how sexy the noises he’s making are. I grip him tightly and watch his body shake as he comes hard into my hand. His body slumps into the bed and he’s panting as he looks up at me from under his hair. Desperately, I reach forward and release his hands, but the shift makes me lose my balance and I fall onto him. The sharp pain from the tattoo adds a high note to the symphony of sensation running through me and I come hard into him, the pleasure completely overriding the pain.

We stay there for a long moment, our frantic hearts and breathing slowly returning to normal, the adrenaline ebbing out of the bloodstream. I lie on my side, Jade behind me; his body pressed against mine from the entwining of our feet to the press of his lips on my neck. Time stretches out and all there is is us. Nothing else matters, nothing else exists.

I feel sleep tugging at us and I whisper softly, “I love you Jade.” There’s no reply. He’s already asleep, but I know that somewhere he heard me from the gentle shift of his body against mine, the tiny tug of his hand on my hip, pulling me closer. His breath warms me and I press one hand to the dressing on my stomach, feeling the ink embedded in me; and let myself fall into soft, comforting dreams, safe in his arms.

Only love could ever tear us apart.
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Tattoo