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My Skin Is The Canvas

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Olivia’s eyebrows rise when Astrid finally strips away her clothes for her; as well as smooth, tempting skin she is greeted with black and coloured ink all over Astrid’s skin, a collection of illustrations and patterns just waiting to be uncovered. Astrid hovers over her, her eyes wide and waiting, as Olivia leans back and takes in every single little detail.

“I never thought of you as a bad girl,” Olivia admits. She reaches out to trace her fingers over the tattoos on Astrid’s chest, before she travels down over the small peaks of her breasts and onto the firm illustrations on her stomach. “I like it.”

“I went through a phase in college,” Astrid says, shifting to accept Olivia’s touch, taking it the way she takes everything from Olivia - accepting and open, wide-eyed and hopeful. “I even owned a motorbike.”

Olivia grins and tries to imagine it, their quiet little agent with secret tattoos and piercings. The thought of it turns her on even more, and her hand moves south, down to the white innocence of Astrid’s panties, a contrast with the black of the ink and the smooth brown of her skin. “Such a rebel, Astrid,” Olivia observes, as her fingers dip into the wetness waiting for her. “It’s beautiful; you’re beautiful.”

Astrid’s smile is wide and bashful, and it curves against Olivia’s lips as she kisses her, her tongue sliding into Astrid’s mouth as her fingers continue to open up her body, moving in sync, a planned invasion, a military strike. Olivia wants to find out just what it takes to make Astrid fall apart. She never knew about the tattoos or the bike - there is so much more left to discover, so much more about Astrid that she can’t wait to take apart.