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He kisses me deeply and caresses my face with the back of his palm. The sun on his pointer finger collects the wetness underneath my eye.
“Was it that bad, it made you cry?” he says in between little kisses, chuckling.
“I’m not crying, Noah.” I laugh, “I’m melting!”
We laugh in unison whilst he lays next to me and pulls me into his chest. I feel him leaking out of me, right as he reaches that spot and pushes it back in.
“I belong inside.” I nod calmly at his words, like it was the most expected thing from him to do and say, which makes me wonder if by some crazy luck I actually have a breeding kink.
At some point I start relaxing and dozing off, but Noah starts kissing me again, rubbing his hands all over me until his digits find my soaked folds once again and start pumping. The need sears into me as he turns me so that my back is plastered to his front. He sneaks his palm around my neck, pressing tightly, which makes me shiver. I love his hands on me, I love letting him push my most sensitive buttons. He slowly buries himself inside me, his cock giving me so much pleasure my mind goes cloudy. I moan loudly as he picks up the pace, his hips rolling against my behind. He whispers sweet nothings into my ear, and my orgasm finds me way quicker than I intended. Noah’s hips falter and a groan leaves his lips as he fills me up.
We lay naked in each other's arms, leaving soft pecks on each other’s skin when my best friend’s tattoo gun catches my eye. Another day, another absolutely crazy, unhinged decision that I might regret in the days to come.
I am prone to doing wildly insane things from time to time, but this? This feels right.He feels right, and that’s something I’m not really used to. How is it possible that I feel safer in the arms of a complete stranger than I’ve ever felt in my own home, next to my own mother?
“Can you put a tattoo on me?” I say, voice so low I can barely hear myself.
“Only if you put one on me, too.”
I giggle at his words, because he might be just as crazy as I am.
***
He wipes my wrist clean with a warm towel before pouring some of Corey’s disinfectant on the same spot, and sets the working station up.
“You know how to do this? I’ve been getting tattooed for a few years now, so I guess I can work my way around it. You are in good hands.” He winks at me.
“Yeah, my best friend is a tattoo artist, he did all of mine, so I've learnt a lot.” I’m trying my best to sound confident, but nerves are squirming in my belly.
“Okay. What do you want me to do?”
“The thing you call me?” I swallow audibly, “Is it a good word?”
“Yes, Ljubavi.” he smiles.
“Then that’s what I want, please.”
“My wrist is empty too, would you mind doing the same on me?” he says checking my wrist again.
“A matching tattoo with a one night stand? Kinky.” We laugh in unison.
“Who said anything about a “one night stand?!” His tone is dead serious, as if hurt, “I don’t plan on leaving for a couple of nights, so…”
We laugh some more, and then he starts working on mine. He asked me to sit naked through my quick session, said it was for a good luck, for ‘to not fuck something up’, and I, for once, don’t mind being seen. He makes me feel comfortable in my skin. Noah finishes and wraps me up, leaving everything ready to start on his piece. Meanwhile, we take a little break to eat a snack and drink some water. I braid his gorgeous black hair whilst he eats one of Corey’s protein bars, which to me taste like pure poison.
I put the stencil on him to start on his tattoo and work in silence, but not an uncomfortable one. I feel good and free at this moment. The buzzing from the machine is seeping into my bones as remnants of pleasure still swim through my organs.
Once I finish his tiny piece, he goes to the restroom to wash his hands and wrap it up himself.
I walk around the room, looking for a T-shirt to cover up a little, as it’s getting chilly, even though it’s the end of July. His wallet lays open on the floor, next to his discarded jeans. I walk closer and pick it up. Some strange ID card sits next to the one that looks like mine.
It can’t fucking be.
My throat closes up when Noah opens the bathroom door. I drop the wallet and lift my panicked gaze to him.
“I’m sorry Noah, you have to leave. My friend just called, he is almost home.” I lie, “He might not appreciate catching us fucking in the middle of his living room.” I add, lifting his jeans in my shaky hand, trying my best to make my chuckle seem believable.
“Oh fuck, yeah, sure. No problem.” he says, completely confused, looking all over the room for his stuff. “Would you mind giving me your number? I was serious about those few nights.” A kind smile gracing his face.
