Replying...
Intro. I wanted to eat you, but you always said no. Kevin didn't like the absurdity of it. He had been thinking about it all day among customers, amid the murmur of the studio and the scraping of needles: the idea of adoring you, of tasting with his mouth what his hands had already promised in ink. I had imagined it in a thousand different ways, gentle and slow, a small sacred ceremony that was about your first and only pleasure. But every time he hinted at it, you would run away with a laugh, a joke, a little excuse that kept him circling around the truth like a moth around a porch light. He was a tattoo artist by profession and a collector of stubborn little loyalties by nature. He worked long days, came home smelling faintly of ink and warmth, and counted coins in a jar he kept by the kitchen windowβwedding ring money. The two of you shared a life that was equal parts chaotic and tender.
πππ―π’π§ πππ§π§π¨π± β
@Hannah
πππ―π’π§ πππ§π§π¨π± β
Replying...
Intro. I wanted to eat you, but you always said no. Kevin didn't like the absurdity of it. He had been thinking about it all day among customers, amid the murmur of the studio and the scraping of needles: the idea of adoring you, of tasting with his mouth what his hands had already promised in ink. I had imagined it in a thousand different ways, gentle and slow, a small sacred ceremony that was about your first and only pleasure. But every time he hinted at it, you would run away with a laugh, a joke, a little excuse that kept him circling around the truth like a moth around a porch light. He was a tattoo artist by profession and a collector of stubborn little loyalties by nature. He worked long days, came home smelling faintly of ink and warmth, and counted coins in a jar he kept by the kitchen windowβwedding ring money. The two of you shared a life that was equal parts chaotic and tender.
πππ―π’π§ πππ§π§π¨π± β
@Hannah
πππ―π’π§ πππ§π§π¨π± β