I lay Clay down in a comfortable position - on his back, pillows under his head and neck, head tilted to the side.

I get comfortable next to him, preparing an alcohol pad before rubbing the delicate skin behind his ear with it. Then I apply the stencil and realize that the position we are in right now is going to give me neck cramps faster than I can peel the stencil off.

"I think you might have to put your head on my lap," I think that's the best position I can possibly get without straddling him.

Clay nods, repositioning as I put a pillow on my thighs. He lays his head down, tilts it to the side again and I smile with satisfaction seeing the newly exposed canvas. I need to wait for a bit before peeling the stencil, so out of boredom, I lightly brush his neck with my fingertips.

He raises his shoulder, making me giggle, "You're ticklish?"

Clay repositions his head, looking up at me with a cute little smile, "Depends on the tickler."

I don't even want to question if that's a real thing. I'm sure he has a scientific explanation for that.

"And how's your pain tolerance?" I gently graze the tip of my nail on his neck. It's weird how he didn't get goosebumps when I tickled him but almost gets chills from my pointy nail.

"Uhhm.." he's struggling to find an answer, "I don't- I don't know.. we'll see."

And it's about time we do. I peel the paper off, revealing the adorable little moon. Pulling the things I need closer to me, I disinfect everything once again, even though the tattooing tool was sterile. I also cleaned my hands once again with an alcohol pad for extra safety.

Dipping the needle in the ink, I position my hand, "Ready?" I smile and give him the first poke after hearing his affirmative mumble, "How was it?"

"Nice." He doesn't look or sound amused. I remember doing this on my brother and having to take a break after each poke.

I do ten or fifteen more and stop again to check on him. His bottom lip is captured between his teeth, one of his hands is twiddling with the sheets as his eyes stay focused on the wall.

"Does it hurt?" I try to soothe him by burying my free hand into his hair. He looks anxious, I should've given him a break earlier.

"No, it's just.. no, it doesn't," he wants to shake his head but I don't let him, "keep going."

Either he's trying to impress me by pretending to have high pain tolerance or he has a pain kink.

Wait.

Oh my god, hold up.

I dip the needle in the ink again, this time determined to examine his reaction after poking the skin. I do two or three pokes, looking at his hand and seeing how it slightly curls around the sheets each time.

Kinky motherfucker...

"How does it feel?" I'm acting a fool at this point, jabbing the needle into his skin repeatedly.

"Feels like you know what you're doing."

I freeze. Oh no. How-

"What?" I laugh nervously, not daring to move the tool even an inch.

"I mean you're doing a great job, seems like you're experienced. "

Oh.

Phew.

"Yeah, haha.." great, now my hand is shaky. It's okay though, we're almost done. Just a few more and we're done.

I was so scared to mess up that I took my time on those last few pokes. I'm glad I did, cause when I do the final swipe to clean the excess ink, I involuntarily grin widely at the result. Even though it's swollen and red, it still looks so cute on him.

I tell him to go look at it before I put a bandage on it, and when he does, his reaction is priceless.

"That's so fucking cute," he tries to touch it, but I slap his hand down, "you did such a great job, wow."

If I know about his pain kink, he knows about my praising kink. We're onto each other.

"Thank you," I press my lips together, keeping myself busy with getting the bandage ready, "lean down a bit?"

He lowers his head and I get on my tiptoes to stick it on. Then I set a reminder to change it in a few hours, and finally, after hours and hours of doing random shit, I think I'm spent enough for my mind to feel blank. I need to sleep.

I think at this point we're destined to have a singular bed for both of us. In the hotel, back home, everywhere. It kinda sucks that I have to sleep with a sweater and he has to sleep in jeans just because we're sharing a bed, but I'm sure we're both exhausted enough to not care. Especially Clay, I don't think he slept in the past 36 hours, I'm glad he's still alive. I think we'll both sleep momentarily.

I think thinking is not my strongest suit.

It has to be noon already, we're still quietly looking at the ceiling. Usually, I can sleep when it's light outside, but today it's getting on my nerves so badly that I'm considering burying my head under the pillow.

Clay seems to notice my struggles.

"Sleep," he gets from his back to his side to look at me.

I turn my head, "Thanks, did not think of that."

I noticed that I get ruder the more tired I get.

"Where'd that attitude come from?" Clay props himself on his elbow.

"I don't know," I look at his bent arm for a second then look back up at the ceiling, pressing my teeth together, "sometimes I just wanna break something."

"Let's see what I can offer you to break," Clay starts looking here and there, and ends up looking at his body parts, "I still need my neck, I need my spine, my arms are pretty important.."

"Shut up," I laugh, cracking my fingers cause there's nothing better to do.

And he's not gonna leave me alone.

"I can provide ten more," he puts his fingers on display for me and I don't know if I find that cute or annoying. Or both.

I grab his hand with both of mine and forget that I was supposed to crack them. His fingers are just so long, and his fingertips are slightly red- I don't know what's wrong with me but I find it so attractive. And his nails are so pretty, his skin is soft and as hard as I tried not to focus on the veins, still fuck me, why is he built like a god?

I'm too fascinated to notice how he's watching my every move intensely. And I can't believe that I need to press my thighs together just because I looked at his hands for too long.

I separate his index and middle fingers from the rest. He's not gonna mind if I just-

"Ana-" he warns, but it's too late. I wrap my lips around his fingers, "fuck.."

Looking at his eyes, I tease him by licking his fingertips and smirk when he curls them to hold my tongue down. I let go, watching them drop to my bottom lip.

"I don't want you to regret it," he rasps.

I bite my lip to hold back a smirk.

"Then make sure to fuck me good enough."