You only noticed it when he got out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips, steam curling around his shoulders. His tattoos blotch his arm at this point, you can't tell where one ends and the next really begins, except—wait—you look again, intentionally now—except for the new one on his upper shoulder, just below the peak of his trap muscle.
You blinked, frowning at first, then stepped closer.
“Simon,” you murmured. “What is that?”
He reached for his shirt and muttered, “You tell me.”
You reached out, thumb brushing the edge of the fresh ink, an unmistakable outline of teeth. Your teeth. The tiny uneven mark where you’d bitten too hard last week.
You stared. “You—did you—”
He finally glanced at you, hands resting on his towel, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Took a picture before it faded.”
“You got my bite tattooed on you?”
“Didn’t want it to heal.” He said it so simply. Like the idea of keeping your mark on him forever made perfect fucking sense.
Your pulse jumped. “That’s—shit, Simon, that's hot."
"Yeah?" His smile widened, gaze burning into yours now.
You swallowed hard, staring at the teeth marks now carved into his skin for good. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Yeah, it is.”
He stepped closer, shirt forgotten on the chair and mouth near your ear, whispering, "then leave another..."
And you squeal with delight as he presses his lips to yours.
... 🧍♀️
Ugh sorry this is very booktok bf (derogatory) of me so yuh yeah ifk I'm sorry. I just hnnngggg I wanna bite him 👹🧍♀️
