"I'm not letting you get tattooed by a woman," Elara declared as we drove toward the tattoo parlor, her voice sharp enough to slice through the music playing in the background.
Honestly? Kind of surreal that my first tattoos were going to be their names. That they wanted their names on me. That I wanted it too.
"Yeah, I checked their website," Bella added casually while staring out her window. "They've got one male artist. So we're good."
"I cannot wait to see you with my name on your skin," Elara practically moaned, gripping the steering wheel. "Imagine me fucking you and looking down to see my name etched right on your pelvis—god, that's gonna be so hot. FUCK!"
She shouted the last word so loud I flinched as we pulled into the parking lot, Bella cackled.
I just sat there, blushing like an idiot.
Walking inside hit me like stepping onto the surface of the sun. Bright. Way too bright.
Lights bouncing off chrome, glass, polished tile—it made my eyes throb for a second, and I had to blink a few times just to adjust.
The walls were covered in framed tattoo samples. Sleeves, back pieces, small designs... but one picture stopped me cold.
A model-looking dude, shirtless, posing like he thought he was God's gift to earth—with a whole row of spade tattoos marching across his stomach.
Why? What did it even mean? I didn't know, and honestly, I didn't want to. Whatever made him happy, I guess.
"My little guy's here for a couple tattoos of us," Elara announced proudly, tugging me toward the front desk like she'd just won me at a carnival game.
"Oh, perfect! We have someone available right now," the receptionist said brightly.
But before she could say anything else, Elara cut in:
"It's a guy, right?" Her arm tightened around mine, protective, assertive, like she was ready to block the entire world from touching me.
"Yep," the receptionist chirped. "We actually have a specific booth for male clients. Helps them feel comfortable."
Elara instantly relaxed. "Alright. Lead the way."
Bella lingered behind us, nose practically glued to the framed artwork, pointing at random designs as if she were thinking about getting every single one.
The receptionist led us through a hallway to a booth curtained off from the others. Inside, a man sat on a rolling stool, scrolling on his phone. He looked up with a practiced smile.
"Hey. I'm James. I'll be doing your work today."
He stood and reached for my hand.
I shook it and froze slightly.
His hand was... soft. Softer than mine.
Weirdly soft for someone who worked with needles and machines all day. I'd expected rough calluses—something gritty. But he just had these warm, careful hands like he'd moisturized twenty minutes ago.
"Don't worry," he said warmly when he saw the look on my face. "First tattoo?"
"Uh... two, actually," I replied, voice cracking embarrassingly.
Bella giggled. Elara smirked. And James just nodded like he tattooed anxious boyfriends every day.
"Alright then," he said. "Let's talk designs."
"OH! Mine would be on the right side of his pelvis and—hmm—'Bella's property,' with a heart around it! That would be so hot and cute!" Bella practically sang, her whole face lighting up as she stared at me like I was a gift basket she picked out herself.
James nodded, totally unfazed. "Alright, I think we can do that."
I glanced over at Elara. She wasn't smiling or smirking—she was thinking, the way she does when she's planning something important. Her fingers tapped her thigh, her eyes narrowed slightly. Then finally, she spoke:
"Mine goes on the left. And I want 'Elara's property'—same style. But with a rose under it."
Her voice was calm, but the pride in it was unmistakable.
James raised his brows, impressed. "Interesting. Alright—this'll be a piece of cake."
He stood, clapped his hands once, and asked, "Are you guys staying to watch, orrr...?"
He trailed off, but neither Elara nor Bella budged an inch. He nodded like he expected that outcome.
"Cool. Let me grab the stencils and we'll get started. Meanwhile, go ahead and lie back in the chair." He patted the sleek, high-tech looking tattoo recliner—something straight out of a sci-fi medical bay.
He left the booth, curtain swinging behind him.
The moment he was out of sight, Bella leaned in, eyes wide with mischief.
"Can I give you a blowie?" Dead serious with zero hesitation.
I barked out a laugh. "No—Bella—Jesus Christ—we're in public."
She pouted so hard it should've been illegal. "When we get home?"
"Yeah, sure," I said, rolling my eyes.
Her whole face lit up like she just won the lottery.
I exhaled, sinking back into the futuristic chair. The leather was cool, smooth, almost too comfortable. My heart thudded a bit faster than I wanted it to. I rubbed my palms on my thighs.
"I hope this doesn't hurt..." I muttered.
Elara leaned down, pressed a slow kiss to my forehead. "It'll hurt," she said bluntly, "but you'll do good. And afterwards? I'm gonna kiss the shit outta my name on your body."
Bella grinned and took my hand. "Yeah, and I'll rub mine every morning. Probably even lick it as well."
My stomach flipped.
God help me,
well... maybe nah. I want them to ruin me.
Footsteps approached—the sound of James returning.
And just like that, it was happening.
My skin, their names, permanently bound.
-
I felt my leg twitch hard as the needle sank into my skin again—sharp, hot, like someone dragging a burning metal tooth across my pelvis. Bella's tattoo had been easy, almost gentle compared to this, but Elara's? The rose shading felt like he was carving fire into me.
"You're doing awesome, almost done," James said, steady and calm as he dabbed away excess ink.
I forced a breath out and turned my head.
Elara wasn't blinking. She stared at the inked outline of her name like she was watching a religious ritual unfold.
At one point, I was positive she swallowed a little too loudly—like she was actually salivating.
Yeah... once we got home, I was done for. Absolutely done for.
James shifted the machine, cleaned the final line, then leaned back.
"Aaaaand... done!" he announced, wiping away the final smear of ink and holding the paper towel up like he'd just completed a masterpiece.
I stood slowly—careful not to tug the tender skin—and stepped in front of the mirror.
"Ho-ly... shit."
My voice cracked.
They were perfect. Not good.
Not "nice."
Perfect.
Clean, sharp script—"Bella's property" curved on my right side inside a delicate heart, the placement flawless.
"Elara's property" on the left, bold and possessive, a beautifully shaded rose blooming beneath it. Both tattoos framed my pelvis like they belonged there—like they'd always been there.
Behind me in the mirror, Elara's expression softened into a dangerous kind of hunger.
"Wow... James, you've earned a tip for sure," she murmured, stepping closer, her hand lightly grazing my hip as if she couldn't help herself.
James chuckled. "Heheh, glad you like it."
Then Bella suddenly leaned in, her cheek pressing warmly against my hipbone so she could see the reflection too. Her breath brushed my skin, still tender from fresh ink.
"I'm gonna absolutely wreck you later," she whispered, her voice playful and sinfully smug.
And the worst part? My whole body shivered... and I didn't even try to hide it. I felt my hairs rise up, I probably looked weird but didn't pay attention to it.
"How much will it be?" Elara asked suddenly, her voice snapping James out of his cleanup routine. She crossed her arms, hips angled in that confident stance she used whenever money or protection was involved. "And any specific aftercare instructions?"
James straightened a little, wiping the last of the ink from his gloves.
"It'll be three hundred," he said, "and for aftercare—be gentle when you shower. Don't scrub over it. Avoid direct sunlight on the area, keep it moisturized. They're pretty small, so they'll heal quick—three weeks, give or take."
Elara nodded once, decisive. "Alright. Sounds good. Thanks, James."
She reached into her wallet without hesitation. I peeked over just in time to see the flash of the bill—five hundred. A massive tip.
James froze halfway through removing his gloves, eyes widening the second she placed the bills in his hand.
"O-Oh wow... thanks," he muttered, stunned, like no one had ever tipped him that much in one go.
We headed toward the exit, and the moment we stepped out of the booth, both Bella and Elara's hands slid onto my back—fingertips tracing slow circles through the thin fabric of my shirt. Their touch was light, warm, claiming. It made every nerve under my skin buzz, especially after the sting of the fresh tattoos.
When the automatic doors opened and we stepped outside, the cold air slapped against my lower stomach like a bucket of icy water. I shuddered, goosebumps rising instantly along my arms. I knew fresh ink would make skin extra sensitive, but damn—this was intense.
"Should've worn something else instead of a crop top, fuck," I muttered, but I didn't really have a choice since I didn't have anything left in my closet.
Bella suddenly gasped and pointed like a child spotting a carnival.
"LOOK, ELARA! They have a seafood spot!"
I followed her finger to a small restaurant across the lot, the sign glowing a neon blue crab. People were walking in with steaming takeout bags, and the smell drifting over on the breeze was unreal—garlic butter, fried shrimp, lemon.
Elara's stomach growled loud enough that she made a face.
"I'm hungry too," she admitted, brushing her hair out of her face as she looked at me. "How about you, Noah?"
She smirked—slow, confident, knowing exactly what she was doing.
My own stomach answered for me with an embarrassingly loud rumble.
I laughed and nodded. "Hell yeah."
Bella pumped her fist like we had just agreed to rob a bank. "YES, seafood time!"
Elara slipped her arm around my waist—careful not to touch the fresh tattoos but close enough that her warmth pressed into my side. Bella mirrored her on the other side, linking her fingers with mine as we walked.
And just like that, between the sting of the ink, the cold air, and the soft touches of the two women I loved...
Life felt perfect and normal once again.
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