Work Text:
The store had been empty for hours.
You'd been contemplating calling it a night and going home early for over half of that time — despite it being against your bosses wishes.
What was the point of sitting around in an empty shop?
Your bosses rules were weird anyways.
Like the fact that he found chewing gum something worthwhile banning.
Who takes time out of their day to do that?
He could've lessened everyones hours instead.
Would've been smarter, considering the shop's recent unpopularity.
You could all split the hours during the summer and pocket the same profit.
You scoffed into the stale air; agreeing with your own thoughts as you wiped the table for the fourteenth time of the day.
You'd planned it to be your last wipe.
That was, until the bell of the front door rang.
You were certain you'd started hearing noises. Wouldn't have been a surprise considering the heat.
But you weren't hearing stuff.
Weren't seeing shit, either.
Only a hot, tall woman.
"You open still?"
She asked, her voice a sexy, raspy note that bled into the warm air.
Your gaze went blank — and zeroed on her stunning frame. Practically drooling.
Toned muscles peeked from through and underneath her light clothing.
The low dimmed lights catched onto her sculpted features.
A crooked nose.
Strong eyebrows.
Piercing silver eyes.
She cleared her throat.
"Miss?"
You snapped back into reality and stumbled over your own feet to go greet her by the door.
"Yeah, we're open. You really lookin' for a tattoo?" you asked, appalled.
No one gets themselves tattooed in a heatwave like this.
Not if they're not stupid.
Stupidly attractive.
"Yeah," she sighed and stepped further into the store — gaze sweeping over the small interior. Taking it all in.
Old pictures with their frames hanging crooked.
Incense wafting through the air and oozing with the small wind of the conditioner.
A few chairs — both empty, neither really that private.
The space was packed.
Tiny.
The air inside was definitely just as hot as it was outside — if not hotter.
Twofold.
Almost.
"Asked around. Heard some stuff. Was told your shop would be my best shot."
She hummed.
"Really?" you questioned, walking behind her broad frame.
She turned and gave you a crooked look; one of amusement.
"Really," she confirms. "Or did I just stumble into bad data? Should I leave?"
You quickly shook your head.
"Oh, no! I was just," you swallowed. "Uh... not a lot of people like to get tattooed in the summer. Has a few downsides and all that," is what you managed to spit out.
The woman nodded: easy, unhurried.
"Downsides such as?"
You rounded her to get behind the front desk— searching cabinets for old safety pamphlets.
Ofcourse you'd thrown them out.
"Uhhh, well, there aren't actual risks involved, but it's preferred that you stay out from the sun, which kinda ruins a lot of peoples plans," you explained.
The woman stood patiently before you: nodding along each of your hurried words, leaning against the wooden table.
The surface creaked under her weight.
"I don't have any plans. Actually like it better away from the heat," she assured you.
"An inside person? Me too," you hummed.
The chuckle that followed — deep, rumbling — made your back bow upright: like a zip of electricity had hit you.
"S' that why you've got one singular fan inside this place?" she asked.
Your cheeks flushed.
"Sure. Yeah," you agreed.
Then backtracked when you actually registered her words.
"I mean- no. It's not my call, the ventilation, sadly," you nervously explained, walking towards one of the empty chairs — the one nearest to the fan.
The useless fan.
"Right," the woman rumbled back.
Another chill went through you.
Couldn't pin it on the weather.
You guided her to sit onto the chair, leather creaking — and started gathering your supplies.
"I take it you've got an idea with you. Or better yet, an actual sketch."
"The latter," she replied- already handing you the carefully folded piece of paper.
"Oh my," you took it with a surprised chuckle, cautiously unfolding it. "Not a lot of people do that anymore-"
What was supposed to be a sketch was a perfectly shaded drawing conveying a dragon.
It had precisely shaped wings, an even amount of scales; all sorts of parts overlapping with eachother.
Blending together perfectly.
"You drew this?" you then asked, giving her a shocked look — eyes wide as they stared.
"Don't start flatterin' me, darlin'," she grumbled — though the slightest of burgundy bloomed at the apples of her cheeks. "'s mediocre at best. Feel free to change some things. You're the professional one."
"After this, I'm not sure I am," you laughed. "But I'll try to hold onto that title..."
Your mind blanked.
You hadn't even asked her name.
"... Sevika," she filled in the blank for you.
You sanitized the space and told her your own name. "Great to meet you, miss Sevika."
"Lose the miss," Sevika grumbled almost playfully. "Thought I walked into a Zaunite tattoo shop. Gettin' treated like royalty."
"Could've fooled me." You gave her a foxy smile. Tried to.
She mirrored it with a tiny grin of her own.
Your heart skipped multiple beats. A nurse might've mistakened it for a lower-level aneurysm.
You cleared your throat and pumped the seat down so she was somewhat more at your eye level.
"So, Sevika, is this your first rodeo?"
"Getting a tattoo? No."
She tugged at her sleeve: revealing a graceful arm tattoo that ran all the way from her wrist to her shoulder.
"Cool piece," you complimented with genuine interest. "That got a story?"
"Just thought it was sexy."
Oh.
Great minds think alike and all that.
You turned around to hide the flush on your face and pretended to search for something.
"Certainly is," you muttered in the hopes that she wouldn't catch it.
Perhaps she didn't, since no answer followed.
That, or she was one hell of an actor.
"I'm guessing that tattoo was planned for a larger area. We're you thinking chest or back?"
"Back."
Thank fucking god.
Having to pretend to be concentrated whilst secretly just staring at her boobs the whole time would've been your end.
"Back piece. Ooookay," you hummed, pulling on your gloves with your back still to her.
Clothing ruffled behind you.
You didn't give it much of a thought.
"For that, you'll need at least two separate sessions."
"Figured."
"What about placement? Just in the clear middle, or would you like to choose it by the mirror-"
Boobs greeted you when you turned back around.
Of course she wouldn't wear a bra.
Abs stared back at you.
Muscles.
The boobs.
Oh, chirst.
She was like a hand-carved greek statue.
You squeaked a little. Forcibly.
Then continued on like the professional you were pretending to be.
"So... uh, the placement?"
"Middle's good."
You gave her a rapid bow and started guiding her down — trying to ignore the heat at your abdomen.
"Okayyy, just lay down on your stomach for me," you uttered: voice coming out shakier than you would've liked it to.
She settled with a groan. Something in her back cracked.
"Blamin' the age," she grumbled.
You laughed and tittered like a teenager, and started fixing up your tattoo gun — cleaning, changing, testing...
But once she was on her stomach, she turned to you and gave a look that bordered on worry.
"This ain't gon be a problem, right?"
She moved her metal arm lightly.
The gears went around with a scuffle.
You'd noticed it the second she walked through that door. Of course you had.
It was impossible not to.
But you had enough sympathy to not linger on it like you'd imagine that a lot of people tend to.
A metal limb wasn't the most vulgar thing you'd seen working where you did.
Your face softened a little.
Your novel attraction to her only grew.
"I doubt so," you gently answered. "If it gets in the way, we'll find you a better spot to lay down at. Okay?"
Her head bopped once in agreement.
The stencil took ten minutes to get on. You enjoyed shaving off the hairs from her back far too much.
You then smiled a little: even knowing she couldn't see it, and buzzed your machine on.
"You ready?"
"Mmm..." the hole in the seat carried her voice out.
"Just tell me if something hurts or you gotta take a break."
"'m a tough girl," she grumbled into the warm leather. "Might even enjoy it."
You giggled and settled yourself over her at the best possible angle — hands bending, tongue already peeking out in concentration.
The first contact made her shiver.
"You good?"
Another agreeing rumble reached you.
Okay.
You actually managed to focus on the tattoo for the first ten minutes.
Then Sevika let out a groan.
At first, you suspected she was in pain.
But before you could ask, a moan followed.
Shit. She wasn't lying.
"Y- uh, you good?" you gulped.
"Never better, baby."
Baby???
Oh, god.
To the very best of your ability — you continued.
Somehow even managed to have a stable grip on the machine.
Drew straight lines and curvy curves.
Ignored the sweat droplets that ran down her bare, sticky back.
Her moans and groans continued.
Pleasured. Content.
They egged you on.
You wanted to please her.
Let that be through the process of a tattoo or not.
"t' feels 'good," she murmured towards the end of the session; when the base of the tattoo was already nearing its end.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Your tongue peeked again to wet your lips.
"It is one, doll."
Fuck, her nicknames.
Cringy as they were, you ate them up. Let them stir the heat in your gut each time one fell from her lips.
You were sure there was a wet patch by your crotch.
A growing one.
To your luck, if one was there — atleast it hadn't caught Sevika's attention.
With as much proximidity as you had to her, that alone was a surprise.
After a raw hour of Sevika's moans and your own barely surpressed ones — the session's time came to end.
If it was up to you: you would've had her walking out of the store with a fully shaded tattoo by the end of the night.
Especially if it meant you could listen to her lewd sounds for a handful of more hours.
But it wasn't a question of choice.
It wasn't your decision.
It was the fact that the store had to be shut by eleven PM sharp. Another stupid rule.
And you were already running half an hour late.
Had you not been so distracted with such a sweet, lustful melody ringing in the room, you might've glanced at the time every once in a while.
But you hadn't.
So when you eventually did — your tattooing came to an absurd stop.
"I think that's it for today," you broke the sudden silence that followed; wiping the remaining ink from the sore skin of Sevika's back once last.
"Shit," she groaned and pushed herself somewhat upright; eyes hazy, face relaxed.
You, by now, had learned to act like her gorgeous boobs weren't there.
Sevika looked at you, slowly bearing her surrondings.
"Can I see it?"
"Of course!" you chirped and gestured for her to sit nearer by the full-lenght mirror — and shoved a smaller one into her hand.
She then stared; gaze glued to the new piece sitting on the skin of her back.
Her reaction wasn't immediate.
That you'd gotten used to.
Quick thank you's that most of the time didn't even feel sincere. Just hurried.
With Sevika, you had to wait.
That felt genuine.
A beat passed.
Then,
"I like it," she murmured, and something akin to a smirk tugged at her dark-painted lips.
You watched how the act pulled the scar on her upper lip.
"Yeah?" you asked, nearly holding your breath; afraid she could hear the shake in it.
"Yeah," Sevika assured and gave you a look over the handheld mirror.
Your cheeks went bright for the millionth time of the evening.
"Well- I, uh, I'm glad. Really."
Silence overtook the room.
The fan buzzed.
It hadn't tuned the heat down in hours. Literal nor figurative.
It was Sevika's turn to break the quiet.
"So, does this gotta heal before the next step or?—"
"Oh, yes!" you took a step back and looked around for the plastic wrap to cover the fresh tattoo with. "The recommended time is atleast two weeks, but that might vary from person to person."
"Mmhm."
As you went around her and the seat to take care of the tattoo — your instructions continued pouring out in a nervous ramble.
"I'm sure you've heard it all before, but don't try to pick at the protection or break the cling seal." You opened a fresh bandage.
"That might lead to infection, which'll lead to more problems..."
A tired laugh: not one of mocking — rumbled deep from her chest and made her back heave with it.
"I got it, sweetness."
Your lips parted.
Sevika felt the air land on tacky her skin.
"Okay. Yeah. Good."
You tried not to hump her back as you covered the new tattoo.
Just so managed.
Then hopped off your chair and came to stand before Sevika.
Even had to hand her back her damp shirt with your eyes averted.
Her chuckle didn't go unnoticed by you.
"So, I'll swing by two weeks from now? Just show you the tattoo. Get your confirmation on the healin'."
Sevika held her bottom lip between her teeth and gave you a look from under her lashes — human hand busy going through her jeans pockets.
Something in you throbbed.
Everything in you.*
"Sure! Absolutely," you returned with a shy smile and stood up; but not before a stack of bills got shoved in the palm of your hand.
You made a quick count of the amount and gave her an aghast look.
"There's an extra fifty in here-"
"I know. Keep it."
Sevika herself rose; streched, and then started waltzing towards the exist.
You stood in place.
Then followed like a lost puppy.
"Are you sure?" What for?" you questioned — hurrying behind her.
Her steps halted, the doorknob already in a steady hold in her metal palm.
"Good service," she offered with a coy smirk. All dashing and hot.
Before you could thank her, more words came.
"Nice ass. Pretty face."
Your legs nearly gave in.
Fuck.
Your mouth opened and closed.
Utters came out.
Your words tangled.
Her smirk grew and bordered on arrogant.
The front door's bell went as she pushed open the door.
A breath of almost-fresh-air spilled into the space.
Sevika turned on her heel and chuckled on her way out.
"I'll see you in two weeks."
You stood still. Mind blank. Limbs senseless.
All in all; a pleasant buzz travelling through your body.
You nearly broke into silent, happy peeps when the door went again.
Sevika's face peeked back inside.
"I was also told the employees here are attractive," she hummed and gave you a quick one-over, eyes hooded.
Shrugged.
"Not wrong there."
A final click.
And then she was gone again.
She'd rendered you breathless. Left you reeling, worked up and alone.
You clutched at the bills in your palm.
Stared at the closed door in utter disbelief.
You'd already began counting down the hours that it'd take for you to be living the moment two weeks ahead.