says he's in love with my body, that's why he's fucking it up

[generationlost]

This is probably one of the dumber decisions Ranboo's made in the short span of them having gained freedom... but it's their dumb decision to make, and that fact alone makes it much easier to accept having just made it in the first place. Taking this body as their own finally, laying claim to what Showfall stole from them who knows how long ago.

They're sitting on the couch, their arm propped on the couch's arm, gazing nervously at Dirk as he prepares the equipment.

"This is... like. Sterile, right?"

The pale skin of their inner forearm is marked out in faint blue pen, the sketch design of the long-bladed katana Dirk chose to mark them with catching the light as they shift nervously.

A tattoo is forever. In theory, anyway. And it was a deliberate choice for them to mark their body in such a permanent way... but it isn't just chance or coincidence that Dirk is the one choosing what to mark them with, the one holding the tattoo gun in his hands. Not that Ranboo really has many other choices when it comes to tattoo artists, but they still would've chosen Dirk to at least design the marking, to decide what it was that would be etched into their skin forever.

It just makes sense. Who else?

Ranboo themselves wouldn't even know where to begin with choosing a design, anyway. Though a katana is a little bit lame for a white guy to get a tattoo of, they would never tell Dirk that. Honestly, the choice is obvious despite that, given... Dirk, in general.

Comments

[themostempty]

The tattoo gun hums to life, vibrating in Dirk's strong hand.

"The part I'm tattooing will be, yeah." He tries not to sound like he's calling Ranboo an idiot when he says it. Instead, Dirk keeps his voice flat, which doubles as coverage for how excited he is to actually be able to use his tattoo gun on another human being--and on this human being specifically. The fact that he was enabled to design the tattoo himself, and even given pretty broad creative freedom on the design just makes it all the sweeter.

For once, he has to really work to conceal his eagerness and enthusiasm. But he can't let on that this is as thrilling as it is. The last thing he wants is for Ranboo to get spooked. Acting childish and giddy would definitely give the impression that he can't be trusted with such an important task. So, no rushing, no outward happiness. Stay professional, stay cool. Not just cool. Cold.

Ice fucking cold.

"Stop worrying so much. Literally, relax. Okay? Relax your arm. It'll hurt less that way. And you don't want me to fuck this up because you're freaking out. Not that I'm going to do that. I'm not going to fuck your ink up. Trust me. I got this all under control."

He glances down at the design, then lifts his eyes to meet Ranboos, cocking a brow. Ready?

[generationlost]

Absolutely none of that was reassuring to Ranboo in the least.

They take a deep breath, and release it in a slow, deep sigh; they force their arm to relax, their eyes screwing shut as they try to brace themselves despite also trying to relax. Trying to do both really means they aren't successfully doing either, but, well... at least the tension in their shoulders seems to ease a little bit.

Dirk knows what he's doing.

Ranboo opens their eyes to look up at Dirk, and nods their head once, brow furrowed in determination.

[themostempty]

Watching Ranboo steel himself is... sort of funny. Honestly. Like, he's just so obvious about it.

A fleeting thought--imagining Ranboo trying to brace and relax for a different kind of penetrating object--interrupts his brain. But he's used to shrugging that kind of intrusion off--or at least pretending that it didn't happen. He will be thinking about that. A lot.

But their eyes meet, and the corner of Dirk's mouth tugs up, just briefly. A little flash of approval. The tattoo gun is noisy, and he's not one to mince words when action is called for.

So instead he gets to work.

He aims the needle for the tip of the blade--he has a lot of experience with straight lines, and he knows that moving up is easier than down--and sets his jaw tight, unconcsciously clenching his teeth as his focus narrows to those first crucial millimetres.

[generationlost]

That smile, however slight, actually earns Dirk a small smile in return-- though it's softened at the edges by their obvious nerves, it's genuine.

And then Dirk actually gets to work, and the gun is pressed against their skin, the needle finding its mark, or... series of marks, and they hiss out a breath through their teeth. Strangely, they're otherwise very still-- not squirming or shaking, at least not yet. The only outward reaction is a tightening of their face, a scrunch gathering around their eyes and nose, and the sound of the breath hissing out through the gap in their teeth.

This is far from the worst pain they've ever felt-- it's certainly not unbearable by any means. It does hurt-- quite a lot, actually-- but it's still a whole lot better than anything they experienced in Showfall, and a few things that they've experienced since.

Their mouth forms a little "o" as they finish exhaling, eyes screwing shut for a moment as Dirk touches a sensitive spot. The muscle in their arm trembles slightly, but the arm itself doesn't move, despite seemingly wanting to.

[themostempty]

When it comes to 'locking in,' Dirk is a seasoned pro. If this were something more serious--although really, what could be more serious than this, to Dirk Strider?--there would be no question of Dirk's focus or precision.

And there isn't.

Or there shouldn't be. Dirk certainly isn't questioning his own work--but he does still notice Ranboo. The warmth of their arm under his gloved hand. The tightness of muscles away from where Dirk's needle makes contact. The hiss of their breath, taken in sharply. A couple of miniscule beads of blood rise from the ink--dark, then bright. The smell mingles with the ink and the heat of the gun.

It's a very sensory> experience--even for Dirk.

[generationlost]

It's a strange moment-- the situation is surreal, despite the very concrete sensation of the couch beneath them, the pain coursing up their arm with each small motion of Dirk's wrist. It feels at once very clinical, and yet somehow deeply intimate, watching Dirk work as they willingly hold still for him. It's not entirely unlike the times they've had to hold still as Dirk worked to tend their wounds in the past, but this isn't medical necessity. It isn't really necessity at all.

Ranboo tilts their head to watch Dirk work, their gaze drifting from his focused expression down to their own arm. Dirk is working so carefully and exactly; they've seen this before when watching him sketch, but there's something very different about knowing that expression, that focus is being pointed at them, and to see the violent and rough-edged Dirk handling anything, much less their own body, so delicately is... they aren't sure what. It makes them flush, though, unable to help watching his face for a moment longer before their gaze drops back to his hands where they work.

They're bleeding. Just a little, here and there-- it isn't spilling openly, but little droplets can be seen forming along the heavier lines that Dirk has laid. Is that normal...? They've bled in front of Dirk many times before, of course, but never willingly. Dirk doesn't seem troubled by it, and that does help relax them a bit about the sight, as gruesome as it is. They've seen and experienced worse, anyway.

They can't really help the way they react to the needle crossing over a certain point, however, something a bit closer to bone that makes their breathing catch, their face scrunching just a bit as they catch themselves and turn whatever they were about to do into a lightly-voiced exhale.

"H'ooh... nn." They grit their teeth a bit, turning it into a comical kind of grin that they point at Dirk. Ouch.

[themostempty]

If Dirk only knew what Ranboo was thinking--

Well, actually, for once, it wouldn't bother him at all. He'd be a little surprised to learn that this kind of work doesn't gel seamlessly with the rest of his persona, but he would find it flattering that Ranboo noticed it at all. The care and precision of his artistic leanings is something that shares mental space with his obsessiveness, but it's also deeply sincere. Possibly the most sincere he can manage to be.

And if his art is truly his, then working on Ranboo makes both the art and the canvas his as well.

He isn't thinking about what Ranboo is thinking, though. Not until they wince, the muscle and skin underneath his hands almost tensing--like the body itself attempts to pause--and then he looks up, just in time to catch that release of breath, that toothy, corny grin.

Something about their reaction is so... human, so unusual and so not part of his own self that it catches him off guard. In a good way. Like there's someone else in the world, and he is connected to them. In this brief moment, they're together, and it's good and it's real.

He snorts softly--a gentle huff that's almost a laugh.

"Oh, it hurts, huh?" He's teasing, but it's not necessarily a nice joke. Even knowing he can take it better than most people, he can't imagine finding a tattoo that painful, even one in such a supposedly sensitive location--maybe if it were a dick tattoo, or something. At least Ranboo is sucking it up. They're even doing a mostly passable job. Noisy, but they aren't flinching or twitching or tensing to fuck up Dirk's work. And no tears. He knows Ranboo is a crier.

It's this train of thought that leads him to the idea. The thought that maybe he can fix some of that--maybe teach Ranboo a little, help them get past simply enduring pain, and start them on the path to enjoying it. That would open a lot of doors--

And the sound of Ranboo's pain is starting to work its way into Dirk's brain. He wants to hear that hiss, followed by a moan.

He shifts his position, ostensibly making it easier to reach the full length of Ranboo's inner arm--but as he starts back up on thhe ink, he leans one leg in, pressing against the length of his boyfriend's cock, just inside their thigh.