Work Text:
“Stop moving,” you murmur, your breath warm against Jason’s shoulder as you lean closer, pen poised over his skin.
“It tickles,” he says, huffing into the pillow.
You’re both sprawled on his couch— Jason shirtless and lying on his stomach, you straddling his lower back, a handful of colorful gel pens scattered around you. The potion is delicate and intimate, if you don’t pay too much attention to the many pens lying around.
You two have been like this for a few minutes. It’s truly surprising that Jason has stayed in place for so long, considering the fact he shifts anytime you press into his skin with the pen. He denies being ticklish, but this predicament has proven him wrong.
“How did you even manage to talk me into this?” Jason mutters, but you can hear the smile in his voice.
“Shh,” you whisper, letting your fingers trace the edge of a scar before drawing a star around it. “I’m creating a masterpiece.” Your touch lingers longer than necessary. “This one’s going to be part of the Big Dipper.”
“The Big Dipper is seven stars.”
“Not anymore. Now it’s the Big Dipper plus Jason’s Shoulder Scar. It’s an improvement, really.”
Jason’s laugh rumbles through his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re letting me draw on you with colorful gel pens, so what does that say about you?” You shift slightly, and Jason’s breath catches.
You move to the next scar, watching to a purple pen, your hand sliding down the warmth of his back. Jason had been complaining about being bored twenty minutes ago, and this had seemed like innocent fun. Now, with him beneath you and your hands mapping every inch of his skin it feels like something else entirely.
“This one’s going to be a shooting star,” you announce, adding a little trail of lines to a small scar on his ribs. Your fingers brush against his side, and he shivers.
“You’re having way too much fun with this,” he says, voice slightly strained.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” You lean back to admire your work, and Jason makes a soft sound at the shift in pressure. “Okay, we’ve got stars, we’ve got part of a constellation— oh! We need a galaxy.”
“A galaxy?”
“Exactly.”
Jason turns his head to look at you over his shoulder, and there’s something heated in his sea-green eyes. “You’re playing with fire here, you know that?”
“Maybe I like the heat,” you say, meeting his gaze as you trace a lazy circle around another scar.
“Dangerous game.”
“Good thing I like danger.” You lean forward, your chest brushing against his back as you reach for a different pen. “Don’t question my artistic vision, Todd.”
You grab the silver pen and start creating swirling galaxy arms around arms around a cluster of smaller scars. Jason’s trying to peek over his shoulder, which is definitely not helping with your concentration— especially when it makes his muscles shift beneath you.
“Will you hold still? I’m trying to make you into a work of art here.”
“I can’t see what you’re doing,” he says, voice low and amused. “What if you’re drawing something embarrassing?”
“Like what?” You let your free hand rest on his shoulder blade, thumb stroking over unmarked skin.
“I don’t know,” he breathes. “But knowing you—”
“Knowing me, what?” You lean closer, your lips almost brushing his ear. You continue with the galaxy, adding little dots for distant stars.
“Knowing you, you’d probably draw—” he hesitates for a moment, the words right on the tip of his tongue, “—a unicorn just to mess with me.”
“A unicorn?” You parrot back, surprised and even amused at the claim he has made. “That’s actually a brilliant idea.”
“No, I didn’t say it so you could actually draw it on me.”
“Oh, come on, Jason. Stop being a baby and let me continue my work.”
Jason moves under you; his muscles shift beneath your pen. You click your tongue, annoyed at his attempts to hinder your process. You try to strengthen your hold on the gel pen, steadying the pen’s lines on his back. This only makes him shiver beneath you even more.
“I forgot how ticklish you are,” you comment, trying to hold back a laugh, but a small chuckle still escapes you. “It’s kind of adorable.”
“No, I am not ticklish.” Jason sends you an annoyed glare over his shoulder, but you catch the soft glint of affection in his eyes.
“The big bad Red Hood turns out to be ticklish,” you coo, keen to tease him even more. You trace the gel pen’s ink in the shape of a unicorn’s horn, and as if instinctively, he notices.
“Was that the horn?” he asks, as if he’s caught you doing something that you shouldn’t be doing. He tries to look back again to see what you’re doodling on his back, but you push him back into the pillow.
“I will push you off my back,” he threatens, but you can hear the slight smile seeping into his voice.
“You would never.”
He rolls his eyes at you before turning his face away and hiding his face in the pillow, but you can still see the pink hue appear on the tips of his ears. He’d never stop you, of course. Jason loves the feeling of your hands on him too much to deny himself this. Even if it means this process will end with his back being used as a canvas for unicorns and galaxies.
“I’d never,” he says, proving you right.
You take advantage of his surrender, carefully adding a flowing mane in pastel blue, curling around one of the longer scars that traces along his ribs. Each stroke is gentle, deliberate, and Jason’s breathing deepens.
“What else could you possibly add?” he asks, though he makes no move to look this time.
“Well,” you say, picking up a yellow pen, “I was thinking about adding a little sun. And maybe some of those little stick flowers that kids draw.”
“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
“Probably.” You grin, already sketching the first petal. “But you’ll look beautiful.”