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Sleeve/Underneath Your Clothes

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“Take your shirt off.” The redhead with wide, bright blue eyes half-asked, half-commanded.

My brow twitched up. Damn, she reminds me of Anna.

Julie grinned when my eyes darted in her direction to gauge the reaction. “How else is she going to know what to do?”

She’s gotta know this is turning me on, big time.

The redhead, a tattoo artist who went by Markie, tapped a converse on the tiled floor and swiveled in her stool. She had colored ink all over bare arms. It reminded me of one of those grandma quilts. You know, the ones you spot at a thrift store with a crazy jumble of colors and patterns. The kind of shit only the person that dreamed it up could wrap their head around. 

Markie wore a tight black tank top. The skin that wasn’t inked up was creamy and dotted with freckles. Tools of her trade lined up on the counter by the hydraulic client chair, laid out like a massage table for this particular client. The client being my beautiful lady, full of all sorts of surprises lately. She sat in the middle of the chair. Hands wedged under her thighs. Her face and those cheeks were flush with excitement and nerves.

Yeah, she knows this is turning me on.

The three of us were in a private room of the fanciest tattoo parlor I’d ever stepped foot in. It had been a forty-five minute drive into Philly. I’d been left in the dark about our final destination on a traffic heavy Friday night. Julie didn’t bother to give me directions. The last time she tried we ended up in a shouting match. So, yeah, that’s not happening again. Instead, she typed a mysterious address into my phone, sat back and enjoyed the ride. 

The modern, sleek lobby of the studio looked more like a spa retreat than a tattoo parlor. They even had complimentary cucumber water that you could help yourself to out of one of those huge glass dispensers. Julie was surprised I liked that. 

A medicinal disinfectant smell mixed with the scents of lavender and a forest. There were no wall to wall displays of designs or books you could rifle through to decide what you were going to ink on your skin. Instead, we were given a two-sided menu card with vague descriptions of the services provided. With no prices next to the items. I whispered to Julie I thought that was a big red flag. 

She threw me that playful frown that was her Oh Dean silent reply. She passed me the card with the alcoholic offerings they also had at this place. While we waited, Julie explained she’d gotten the recommendation for this place from Karen. After a phone consultation with the tattoo artist about what she needed - and how much it would cost - the appointment had been booked and she decided to surprise me.

Now, I’m in this back room with two beautiful ladies staring and waiting for me to take my shirt off. Julie’s eyes were focused on my fingers. I’m under the spell of those big brown eyes. Tonight, they’re the color of milk chocolate, not hidden behind glasses, and willing me to peel off my top plaid layer under batting eyelashes. 

I took a deep breath and planted my boots firm to the floor, steadying the damn stool with wheels I’ve been forced to sit on. I gave her the little show she wanted. Stripped the shirt off my shoulders. I so wanted to be alone with her. The look on her face was making my cock twitch. 

Five minutes. That’s all I need to fuck her senseless. Get us both right and back to the task at hand. 

Her snug light brown leather jacket was still zipped up tight. My grin had shot up when she opened her front door wearing it earlier that night, ready to hit the town. I loved how it hugged her body. She looked like a hot biker chick, with the tight dark denim that showed off her curvy ass and her little black boots. When I told her that, she told me that was what she’d been going for.    

I draped the shirt over a thigh and then tugged down at the t-shirt collar. It stretched and exposed my anti possession tattoo. Markie squinted under her black rims. She ran a finger over my skin along one of the flickering flames. I squirmed at the unfamiliar touch and watched Julie narrow her eyes a bit and nose crinkle. My lady doesn’t like someone else touching her toys without permission. “Mind taking the t-shirt off to? Just for a minute - it’ll be easier to snap a picture.” 

I sighed. “Sure.” Julie crossed her legs and swayed a booted foot back and forth, all smiles.

She’s definitely enjoying this.

My hands reached behind to pull the shirt up and over my head. I fought back a shiver at the chilly temperature in the room and clung the t-shirt in a death grip against my tummy. I was getting a little soft around the middle. 

Don’t judge. You would, too, between Brigida’s cooking and Julie’s baking.

Markie scooted closer, then stood up, now with a camera in hand. The lens hovered a few inches away from my skin. Markie smelled like sage and pen ink. The shutter whirled and a flash followed. “Julie said it needed to match exactly in design to yours, but that size was negotiable. And, no artistic flare. I’ve got that right?” 

“Ticked all the boxes.” I confirmed.

Markie tapped away on her keyboard and the image she had snapped popped up. She nodded back to my shirt. “We’re good.”

I nodded, said a private prayer in thanks, and began to dress. Julie added, “Just the t-shirt.”

I chuckled and tunneled my head into the collar, arms through the sleeves of the light grey shirt. I trained my eyes on the screen as Markie turned the photo into a stencil design in no time flat. “I think with the simplicity of the design, we can definitely go the size you mentioned.” Markie’s gaze shifted to Julie.

“Sounds good.” Julie nodded.

“Alright, I’m going to go grab the printouts. Anything off the drink menu?” Markie asked.

I opened my mouth to respond, but Julie beat me to it. “Old Fashioned for the two of us to start.”

Markie smiled. “You got it. I’ll let Tracey know.” She placed a folded cloth on the foot end of the chair. “I’ll knock before I come in.”

Julie nodded and Markie left the two of us alone.

I cocked up a brow for emphasis. “Where are you getting this tattoo? Tramp Stamp?”

A hair band fished out of her pocket secured loose brown tresses into a ponytail. “No.” She shook her head with disbelief that I would even think that. 

The unzipping of her jacket made my eyes widen. I licked my lips at the reveal of her bare olive skin. And nothing else. “Baby, you’ve been naked under that this whole time and didn’t tell me?”

She giggled. “And spoil that reaction?” Arms wiggled out of the leather. Her breasts jiggled with the motion. Air sucked in between my teeth. My cock was hardening by the second at her strip show. “Damn, it’s cold in here.”

“Sweet Jesus.” I muttered under my breath and bit my bottom lip. Her nipples grew stiff and taut. The dark flesh of her areolas - Hey, I know the important fancy words - puckered with goosebumps.

“You should be shirtless, too, while I’m suffering through this.” Julie huffed and unfolded the cloth that looked like a hospital smock. An intent focus tried to figure out the direction she needed to wear it. Instead, she just held the fabric over her bare chest with both hands. “Not like it’s nothing you haven’t seen before, right? I asked for a private room for a reason. Markie seems professional enough.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, trying to regain my train of thought. “You didn’t answer my question. Where you getting it?”

A knock answered my question.

“Yes?” Julie smirked.

Julie’s bold sass and confidence, when she decided to show it, turned me on to no end. I was getting more glimpses of it, cracking that quiet exterior in front of others more, too.

Markie returned carrying a tray filled with our cocktails and the stencils for the tattoo. The door shut with a soft close behind her. “I take it we’re not going to bother with the smock then.” I caught the way her eyes took in the slope of Julie’s naked back.

If a dude looked at Jules that way I’d beat the shit out of him. Stop thinking of a threesome. Stop thinking of a threesome.

“You are correct.” Julie used only one hand to keep the cloth in place over her breasts and helped herself to one of the glasses. I held in a groan when I got a glimpse of some side boob action.

“I don’t usually get the treat of a beautiful client and a handsome audience member.” Markie passed me my drink and then rested the tray on a cart near Julie’s chair.

Julie raised a brow of approval in my direction. 

I tipped my head and the glass at both women. Warmth spread over my cheeks. I straightened my posture on the stool seat and sipped. My fingers traced the etchings in the glass. Trying to occupy them, distract them from what I really wanted to do.

Julie took a long sip and deposited the glass. Markie talked to her about something. But their conversation faded away as I took in the show.

My lady’s arm rose, forearm resting atop her head, straightening her posture. Markie swirled around her sweet frame to her left with the tattoo design in hand. Julie continued to talk about something while dropping the cloth from her chest. I gulped down some more of my drink. Markie’s dainty fingers traced Julie’s flesh just under and to the side of her left breast. Seconds ticked by and she applied the stencil.

“Dean?” Julie asked.

“What?”

“Do you think it looks alright there?”

“It looks beautiful, sweetheart.”

*

I’d needed a shot of whiskey before Dean had picked me up that night. I had to remind myself how so very not a big deal the pain of a tattoo would be.

This is a piece of cake considering this past year. Hell, this past decade.

Coming back to the east coast, I was slammed with Dean’s reality. How he’d lived most of his life, interacting with the world past the supernatural bubble. Even people close to me for decades; I now had to second guess and creep around the facts and withhold things. For their safety. At least for now.

Karen had been one of those people. When I touched base upon our return to Delaware, I mentioned wanting to get a tattoo to match Dean’s. I knew she had a few in very discreet placements. Art only someone who knew her intimately would ever see. She compared tats to potato chips. Most people couldn’t stop at just one.

She’d given me the bougie, highly reputable tattoo studio info and I was off to the races. Markie was friendly and flirty over the FaceTime call. The flirtation continued even when she said I had nothing to worry about if I had to be topless for the inking, considering where I was thinking of getting the tattoo. The studio had private rooms and it would make her job easier working with a swath of unrestricted, relaxed skin. If I was bringing Dean along, she added, she would bet her motorcycle he would love watching.

Oh, to have been young and confident in my sexuality a couple decades ago. Thank God for Dean and helping with my late learning curve. Dammit, have to stop thanking God now, too. And, calling out his name during sex. Dean doesn’t need a Chuck reminder during all that. Mood killer.

I felt a certain sense of pride when I could get that open, dumbfounded look to creep up on Dean’s face that questioned: I get sex soon? It was even better, for some reason, when we had an audience; when he had to struggle with the fact that he couldn’t have me right then and there.

Yeah. I’ve realized I’ve got a lot of kinks, wrapped up in the beauty and sensuality of this man. My man.

I’m also the jealous type and a bit territorial when it comes to him. It’s fun when I’m discussing him in detail with Karen or Stacey. But, the outside possibility of actual competition springs my radar at full attention. When Markie touched his skin to “inspect” his tattoo my nose crinkled up on instinct. Dean caught my reaction and licked his top lip.

Dean’s reaction to me being naked underneath the jacket was also extremely worth it. I tried not to focus too long on the bulge in his jeans. I did, in fact, need to get this anti possession tattoo. A demon scouring through my insides for information gathering was not something I wanted to experience again.

The drink relaxed me a bit more, warmed me up in the cold room. Dean’s hard stare helped as well while I lay on my side, striking my best Rose pose with a hand above my head. Markie’s black nitrile gloves caught at and snatched up my skin around the stencil. Small fingers framed the area and pressed. Then the low buzz of the tattoo machine bounced around the air. I clicked my teeth together and breathed through my nose at the initial poke of the needle into my skin.

Dean rolled himself over to me on the stool. His fingers clamped over the wrist along my reclined head. “Try not to move, alright?” He echoed Markie’s guidance, staring down at me with mossy green eyes. She stopped after what felt like an eternity even though it had more than likely only been a minute. I exhaled. Dean asked, “How’d that feel?”

“Like I got sliced into with a razor.” I chuckled.

“Thin skin, bones close to the surface.” Markie reminded me of the facts she warned about during our consultation.

I nodded.

Dean held back a mischievous grin. “You’re going to do great, sweetheart.”

We may have to explore Dean’s pain kink sometime soon.

My lady had been a trooper. A tattoo, even a small one, along the rib cage was nothing to sneeze at. And, if she’d needed to sneeze, she would’ve had to hold it in anyway. Markie took the inking slow and allowed Julie to adjust to the feeling of the needle. She’d let up every so often to give Julie a break and wipe away at the ink.

Julie didn’t complain, at least not out loud. Her face hinted at the pain. But, she was still and didn’t fidget or flinch. The two inches in diameter version of my tattoo took about forty-five minutes to complete. When it was all over, I leaned in close to examine the raised, red skin. It looked damn good. She got bandaged up and wore my plaid shirt out of the tattoo studio.

Julie squirmed in the passenger seat, swimming in plaid. “My skin is still vibrating.”

I smiled driving down the interstate. The night sky held a bright moon. “You did so good, sweetheart.”

She grinned back. “Yeah?”

“You heard Markie. She said you were an amazing first timer. She’d do you again anytime.”

Julie walked a couple fingers along the seat toward me. “If you’re along to watch.”

I shook my head. “Nah, she only had eyes for you.” I tilted and stared at her for a second. “Not that I blame her. You were driving me crazy. Draped on that chair with the girls out. Doing your damndest to tease, staring at me. I wanted to hold more than your hand. Wasn’t fair, with Markie pawing you...”

“I want your hands all over me.” Julie cut me off and whispered.

I groaned. “Gotta watch that tattoo.”

“You’ll take good care of me, baby. You always do.”

We were a good twenty minutes from home. But the sign for the next exit looked familiar. “Wanna be bad with me?” I tested.

I caught the side of her lip quirk up in a smile. “Yeah.”

It took about five minutes to get off the interstate and take a side road that ran parallel to a wildlife preserve under an overpass. I killed the engine and the headlights. I could hear her breath speed up on the seat next to me. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep you safe. We won’t be here that long, anyway.” My door creaked open and I bounced out on a mission.

“Dean!” Her voice called out in the dark.

I rushed to her side of the car and opened the door. I offered my hand. Those fingers curled around mine. I helped her out of the seat like the true gentleman that I am. I slammed the door shut, leaned my back against Baby and pulled that body in close. My lips covered hers, claiming her the way I’d wanted to all night. My fingers squeezed the cheeks of her ass, lifted her up to meet me a few extra inches so we could melt together.

She moaned into my mouth, opened up, and let me slide my tongue inside, along what felt like the softest velvet. So wet and warm. She moaned again. That soft little sound of surrender drove me crazy. Every time.

I did my best deep lunge to anchor my hands under her thighs, securing us both before I catapulted up, to carry her the few feet to Baby’s hood. She gasped in delight into my mouth, then giggled.

Old man, be damned.

“Dean.” She whispered when I broke our kiss. Her lips chased mine for a second, her brows emphasizing the frown forming over her mouth. I wedged my legs between her spread ones. She wasn’t going anywhere. She was all shades of blue and beauty in the night, so close and ready.

I worked the buttons open of my plaid. Down her body they popped free, exposing flesh to the night and my eyes. My lids widened. I heard her suck in a breath of discomfort. “Am I hurting you, baby?”

She shook her head. “I’m a big girl, I can handle a little pain.”

I smiled back. “You know what I used to do to distract Sam when he was little and got hurt, had to bandage him up?”

“What?”

“Tell a corny joke.” I kissed her lips and pulled the sleeves off her arms. My fingers ran up her forearms, biceps, over the rise of her shoulders, then around the outer curves of her breasts. I pulled away from her mouth again and whispered, “Knock, Knock.”

Her hot breath blanketed my forehead as she tilted her chin up to the sky. “Who’s there?” She sighed.

I answered with a groan and bent down to suck one of her delicious nipples into my mouth.

Julie’s long exhale approved of the distraction. I worked her nice and slow, rolled my tongue around that erect bud. Nipped and tugged and bit so I could hear her snatch in breath and squirm on the hood. The sounds of me working her over with my mouth, slurping and sucking, mixed in with the droning cars overhead and the rustling of unknown things in the nearby grass.

She leaned back on Baby’s hood. Her locked elbows and my arms angled to prop those perfect globes into my face for our mutual enjoyment. I was so ready to have her. But, I wanted her to come first. Like this. Then, I’d fuck her nice and slow in her bed. Take my time.

Her hips slid. She pressed against me harder. The denim covering her sweet pussy swirled and rocked along my stomach. 

I nestled into her neck, used my hands to knead and squeeze her tits. “Gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

“Mh-hmm.” Her fingers combed through my hair. “Wanna watch you take care of me, baby.”

I may have growled at the request. I knew she liked it when I locked eyes with her. Giving her all the attention she deserved. Those lips would part, breath would hitch if I did something she really liked followed by a little smirk. Her heavy lids matched mine, drunk on the touch of each other. And, I fucking loved her whispered phrases.

“Oh, Dean. So good to me, baby. Love that mouth.”

Her nips were good and red and raw, edging her closer to release. What I did next was cheating on my part. But we were out in public. Last thing I needed was a cop to roll up alongside.

I slid my fingers under the waistband of her jeans. Cursed against her tit at how fucking wet she was. I worked her clit between two fingers. That would make her come hard and fast. “Oh, Dean. Yes. Oh, G- Dammit.”

I knew every inch of my lady. But, I never wanted to stop exploring.

*

I never got over the mix of rough and worship with his touch. The way his fingers caressed or claimed or comforted. Even from the beginning, he knew exactly what my body wanted, needed from him. I had always been a good girl. He made me feel like I’d earned the right to be bad on occasion. He was my prize.

My reactions were slow and sloppy in comparison to his precision. The chill of the outside air wasn’t as biting as the manufactured cool in the studio. The contrasting warmth of Baby’s hood along my spine made me shiver again. The swirl of his unrelenting tongue, his lips caging over my nipples, the scrape of his teeth, all of it arched my chest into that wanting mouth over and over.

And the sounds my man makes. He groaned and hummed and chuckled into my skin. That low raspy voice asked, teased, commanded. The sting and burn and pulsing of my tattoo floated in on waves between the pleasure. He’d been careful through all of his loving, never touching it once. But his fingers were not as coy when they slipped into my folds. They knew exactly what to do. Teasing, it seemed, was no longer Dean’s priority.

He knows every inch of me.    

*  

She cried out in the dark, released my name from her mouth a couple more times as she writhed on the hood. I cradled her with one arm and let her settle, catch her breath again. I followed her down, bent over. I rested my head against her breastbone. Her heart pounded through her skin. I felt those fingers in my hair and nuzzled in closer. I finally felt the cool night air.

“We should get home, sweetheart.” I mumbled.

“Just wait. A few more minutes, just like this.” Her breath slowed.

I smiled into her warmth and shivers that started by her shoulders and skipped along her spine.

“What are you going to teach me? To protect myself from all the bad things out there?”

I sighed, but not out of frustration. That feeling of being home could have lullabied me to sleep right then and there. “Whatever you want. We’ve only been back on the east coast a week.” I laughed. “Haven’t had time to formulate a self defense slash weapons training program for my lady.”

She gave a soft tap to the back of my head. “Maybe I should learn how to use a gun.”

“Might be a good idea.”

“I took a little latin in school.”

I leaned up on a forearm to stare down at her. “Yeah? Might be good at reciting exorcism passages.”

She let out a small cackle. “Do you know how fucked up that sounds?”

I shrugged.

“Student is not my best role, Dean.”

I smirked. “I know. You’re much better at giving orders.”

A wary smile met my gaze. “Are you really going to be super patient and agreeable when you’re actually teaching me?”

I shook my head. “Absolutely not.”

She sighed. “Up, please.”

I pulled and helped her off the hood. Her bare chest was doing nothing to curb my own excitement. I snatched the forgotten shirt and presented it. She turned her back for a second and slid into the sleeves. She spun into me again. I worked the three top buttons closed. Her eyes inventoried my face as I dressed her.

“I’ll never get tired of looking at you.”

I straightened my stance and grinned. “What about when I’m eighty years old and three hundred pounds?”

She nodded with certainty. “Even then. But, you won’t get there.”

I nodded with certainty. “Yeah, you’re right, I won’t get to eighty.”

She tapped my tummy. “Three hundred pounds, smart ass.”

I chuckled. “Then, you better have a talk with Brigida.”

“I will. Tomorrow.” Her lips met mine.

My arms wrapped around, pulling her close and with care. “I’m so glad that little lady’s nosy ass talked to me in the first place.”

Julie hummed into my t-shirt. “Me too.”

I inhaled the scent of her hair, then kissed her forehead. “Let’s go home. We’ve got work to do.”