Chapter 13 #2
“Yes,” I say, holding out the piece of paper to Greg. “And this is what he is getting. But he doesn’t get to see it until after.”
Ben closes his eyes as Greg unfolds it. When Greg laughs, Ben just shakes his head.
“It’s a dick, isn’t it?” Ben asks. “At least tell me it’s an impressive dick.”
“It’s not a dick. Just fitting.” Greg laughs again. “Where is he getting it?” Folding it back up, he slides it on his table.
“Placed like a tramp stamp.” I grin.
“Ha!” Ben laughs. “That would be something.”
“I honestly don’t know. Take off your shirt.” Ben’s eyes snap open, looking at me. “It’s not like there aren’t pictures all over the internet of you shirtless. Plus, I’ve already seen you naked.”
“I like her.” Greg smiles.
“Glad someone does.” Ben smirks, slipping off his jacket. He drapes it over a nearby chair, moving closer to me. Pulling his shirt over his head he tosses it at me. “Happy?”
“Turn for me.” I swirl my finger, as Greg starts up the tattoo gun.
“Stay still,” Greg says. “If it hurts too much, let me know, but once I get going, you’ll either have to let me finish or end up with a fucked-up line, got it?”
“Yeah,” I say as Ben slowly turns around, letting me look over his body. I spot a decent size empty space on his left shoulder blade. “Left shoulder blade. He will get it on his left shoulder blade.”
“Okay.” Greg nods. “I’m going to start now. Ready?”
I nod as Ben turns around. He steps toward me, offering me his hand. I don’t take it. I’m determined to not need it. It can’t be that bad if so many people are covered in them. I can handle this.
The first stab of the needle makes me gasp, but it repeats so quickly I don’t even know if it’s the first one or the hundredth now. It doesn’t hurt, not really. It feels more like getting scratched than anything else. I glance at Ben whose eyes are glued to me.
“You okay, baby?” His voice is low.
“Yeah. I think so. It just feels weird.”
“I like the feeling.”
“I might too.”
It’s weird and a bit uncomfortable. Also peaceful. Out of all the pain I’ve felt recently, this bit of discomfort is going to lead to something beautiful, instead of just misery. So I’ll endure it.
I relax, letting my head fall back against the chair, Ben rests his hand above my head. I can feel his eyes still on me, but I turn my attention to what Greg is doing to my ankle.
I know I’m getting his artwork on me. That would probably mean something to other people, but my act of rebellion is mine alone. The art he could own, but the tattoo itself is all mine. My little act of defiance.
Greg moves the needle to a higher part of my ankle, and I wince. He is now working over the bone which is a bit more painful than peaceful. My hand reaches up, on its own, seeking Ben’s comfort. I don’t have time to pull it away before Ben takes it.
“He won’t be there long,” he whispers in my ear as he draws circles in my palm. “You are doing so well. I bet you’ll be back in this chair soon, needing another fix.”
“No,” I say softly. Not because it hurts, but if I get any more, my parents would disown me for sure.
Greg moves away from the boney part of my ankle, and I relax again.
“That was the worst of it,” Ben says into my ear again. “He just about finished with the horns. You could stop now if you want.”
I shake my head.
“Good girl. I knew you could take it.”
My stomach flutters at his words and I try to keep my composure. I don’t need him getting the wrong idea. I highly doubt I’m going to be able to fuck him any time soon, if ever.
After a little longer Greg finishes, setting the gun on the table beside him.
“Fuck. Okay,” Ben says suddenly. “I swear I always block this part out. I’m so sorry.”
“What?” I look up, just as Greg sprays something on my skin and presses a towel over it.
It stings and burns. I gasp in agony as he pats the cloth against my sore skin.
“I am so sorry, but it’s over now. Only lasted a second.”
“I should’ve made it a dick!” I slap at his arm.
He laughs.
“Everyone hates that part,” Greg says, as he starts to wrap plastic around my ankle. “You can wear your sock and boot for the rest of the night but be sure to air it out. Ben will show you what lotion to put on it. Don’t use any soap or lotion with scent on it for like a month, okay?”
“Yeah.” I swing my leg over the side of the table. My ankle aches a little. I glance down to see Ben’s design inked into my skin, and it feels worth it.
Ben helps me up, taking my place. I walk back to the front area to put my shoes back on.
When I walk back over, Ben is lying on his stomach on the chair. His head rests on top, while his eyes are shut.
“Did you let him see it?” I ask as Greg sets up a new needle on his gun.
“Nope. He didn’t even ask to look at it, but this asshole never gives a shit what he puts on his body. He draws the dumbest shit and says put it on me. Though he has never gotten someone else’s art done before.”
“All your tattoos are your own art?”
“Yeah.” Ben shrugs.
“Ready?”
“Yes.” Ben’s lips twitch into a smile as Greg starts the gun, leaning over his body.
Ben relaxes as Greg moves the needle against his skin. In fact, I think he is more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him before. He almost always seems relaxed, though. Still his whole body flattens, and his head turns to the side. Peace stretches across his face, even as his eyes stay closed.
I wish I knew what he was thinking. How can getting poked repeatedly by a needle make him this serene?
My hand reaches to touch him after a bit. Just to see if he is still alive. He sighs as my fingertips brush his arm.
“Greg?” he speaks suddenly.
“Yeah?”
“Have you ever given a tattoo to someone while they were having an orgasm?”
“No. Can’t say I have.” Greg laughs.
“Well then, politely tell this naughty girl to stop touching me before I cum on your table.”
I snatch my hand away, feeling my cheeks turn bright red.
“You cum on my table, you buy me a new one.” Greg shakes his head.
“That’s all?” Ben asks. “In that case, Prue, please don’t stop touching me.” His eyes snap open to stare at me.
“You are such an asshole.” I cross my arms, rolling my eyes.
“You know that, so why does it continue to surprise you?”
“Why do you keep being blown away when I’m bitchy?” I counter.
“Oh, did you just admit to being a bitch?” Ben lifts a little. Greg pushes him back down.
“Stay still,” Greg snaps.
“I’m not a bitch,” I huff out.
“No. You are not a bitch at all.” Ben smirks, letting his eyes roll shut again.
I watch as Greg finishes up the tattoo. It looks good. Greg barely changed a thing about it. Something about knowing the famous Ben Parker is going to have my artwork on his skin forever makes me feel warm inside. He may not be able to see it, but my mark will be there forever.
When Greg grabs the spray bottle, I reach for it.
“May I?” I grin.
“Uh.” Greg freezes.
“Just let her do it,” Ben says. “She likes to inflict her fury on me from time to time.”
“And you like it,” I snap back, as Greg passes me the bottle. I point the nuzzle at the fresh tattoo and squeeze.
Ben hisses and I grin, giving it another squeeze.
“Jesus.” Ben chuckles.
“That’s enough.” Greg laughs, wiping down the tattoo.
Ben groans as Greg pats it dry. He tapes a layer of plastic over it.
“You know the drill,” Greg says as Ben sits up.
“Sure do.” I watch as Ben tugs on his shirt and slips on his jacket. “Now let’s keep the rebellion rolling and get you wasted.”
I roll my eyes, even as a smile tugs on my lips. I’m really enjoying my night out with Ben. It may not have started on the best terms, but he has found a way to improve what could’ve been a really bad evening.
I fear I’m starting to like the person I am with him. I might not be able to go back to the Prue my parents expect me to be. Ben might have done what he set out to do.
Released the wild girl who lives inside me.
And maybe, just maybe, I like being her.