Chapter Text
The steady buzz of the tattoo machine hummed low in the background, blending seamlessly with the faint thrum of music from the shop's speakers. Niki sat at his usual station, black gloves tugged snugly over his hands as he finished shading a floral design on a customer’s arm. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, as if tattooing was second nature to him—which it was.
“Alright,” he muttered, peeling his gloves off with a sharp snap. “You're done. Check it out.”
The customer gushed over his work, but Niki barely registered the praise. His attention had already shifted to the bell jingling at the front door. He didn’t have to look up to know it was Sunoo. He’d memorized the sound of Sunoo’s footsteps ages ago—light and quick, like he was floating into the room.
“Hey, Niki!” Sunoo’s voice, bright and cheerful, cut through the shop's usual din.
Niki didn’t respond right away, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in the faintest hint of a smirk. Sunoo didn’t take offense. He never did.
“What’s up, Sunshine?” Niki drawled as he leaned back in his chair, tipping his head up to meet Sunoo’s sparkling eyes. He only ever called him that—a nickname no one else dared to claim.
“Nothing much,” Sunoo chirped, plopping himself down on the stool across from him. “I was just walking by and figured I’d stop in. And also…” He trailed off, suddenly shy, his gaze flicking down to his lap.
Niki raised an eyebrow, waiting. Sunoo wasn’t usually this hesitant unless he was about to ask for something he knew Niki wouldn’t like.
“…I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo,” Sunoo finished, the words tumbling out in a rush. He peeked up through his lashes, his lips curving into an apologetic smile.
Niki froze, his relaxed facade cracking just a little. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter. “A tattoo, huh? What kind?”
“Well…” Sunoo pulled out his phone, tapping through a few photos before spinning it around to show Niki. The image on the screen made his jaw tighten.
“A tramp stamp?” Niki’s tone was flat, but there was a dangerous edge beneath it that Sunoo, oblivious as ever, didn’t catch.
“Yeah! Don’t you think it’s cute? Imagine it right here—” Sunoo turned around, lifting his hoodie just enough to gesture at the small of his back. “It’s trendy and kinda sexy, right?”
Niki’s gaze dropped to the sliver of skin he’d revealed, and something primal surged in his chest. He clenched his fists under the table, forcing himself to keep his voice even.
“It’s… a choice,” he said carefully.
Sunoo pouted, spinning back around to face him. “What does that mean? Do you not like it?”
Niki stared at him for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable. “It’s not about me liking it or not. It’s about why you want it.”
“Why?” Sunoo blinked, tilting his head in confusion. “Because I think it’s cute?”
“Or because you’re trying to impress someone?” Niki shot back, his tone sharper than he intended.
Sunoo’s eyes widened. “What? No! Who would I even—” He stopped, cheeks flushing pink. His reaction was all Niki needed to see.
“Sunoo,” Niki said, his voice dropping to that dangerously quiet tone he used when he was seconds away from losing his patience. “Who suggested it?”
“It’s not like that!” Sunoo blurted defensively.
“That’s not an answer.”
Sunoo hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line before he spoke. “Well… someone might’ve mentioned it would look good on me.”
“Who?” Niki asked immediately, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, looking too calm—dangerously so.
Sunoo fidgeted, a blush creeping up his neck. “It’s not a big deal, really. Just… Sunghoon.”
“Sunghoon,” Niki repeated slowly, like he was tasting the name and finding it bitter.
“It’s not what you think,” Sunoo rushed to explain, hands waving in front of him. “We were at that party a few weeks ago, and he just said he thought it’d suit me. That’s all.”
“And that’s all it took for you to decide you needed to get one?” Niki’s tone was sharp, the veneer of his usual calmness cracking. “One comment from some random guy?”
“He’s not random!” Sunoo huffed, though his voice wavered. “It just… it got me thinking, that’s all. I liked the idea already, and he just kind of confirmed it.”
Niki let out a dry laugh, his knuckles flexing as he gripped the counter’s edge. “Right. Because his opinion matters so much.”
Sunoo blinked, startled by the edge in Niki’s voice. “It’s not like I’m doing this for him. I just think it’s hot and, I don’t know, fun.”
Niki straightened, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer. “You think it’s fun letting people like him put ideas in your head? Fun letting them think they have a say in what you do with your body?”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Sunoo muttered, crossing his arms defensively.
“No, what’s ridiculous is you letting some guy you barely know mess with your head,” Niki shot back. “If you want a tattoo, fine. But don’t think for a second I’m letting anyone else touch you.”
Sunoo’s mouth fell open, but no words came out. Niki’s voice dropped lower, softer, but no less intense. “I’ll do it. No one else.”
The finality in his tone left no room for argument.
---
The studio was quiet now, the hum of the machines silenced with the last appointment wrapped up hours ago. Niki’s employees had long since left, leaving only the two of them in the dimly lit parlor. The overhead lights cast a soft glow over the inked designs on the walls, and the faint scent of antiseptic lingered in the air.
Sunoo sat on the edge of the chair, watching as Niki methodically arranged his tools. There was a tension in the air that hadn’t eased since their earlier exchange, and it left Sunoo’s stomach in knots.
“You didn’t have to stay open just for me,” Sunoo said, breaking the silence.
Niki glanced up, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, I did.”
The bluntness of his response made Sunoo’s cheeks flush. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, unsure of what to say. Niki wasn’t looking at him now, his focus back on setting up. He worked with a precision that bordered on obsessive, his movements steady, controlled.
Finally, Niki turned to him, holding a pair of gloves in one hand. “Before we start, there are rules.”
“Rules?” Sunoo tilted his head, confused.
Niki’s eyes locked onto his, “Yeah, rules. First, you don’t move unless I tell you to. Second, you tell me if it hurts—not because I don’t know what I’m doing, but because I need to know where your threshold is.”
Sunoo nodded quickly, feeling like he was being scolded despite the softness in Niki’s voice.
“And third,” Niki added, stepping closer, “you’re not going to let anyone else get their hands on you after this. Understand?”
Sunoo blinked, his heart pounding in his chest. “I wasn’t planning to,”
“Good.” Niki’s voice was low, but there was something almost possessive in the way he said it.
Sunoo swallowed hard as Niki motioned for him to lie down. He followed the instruction, his skin prickling as he felt the cool leather of the chair beneath him.
“This might sting,” Niki said as he cleaned the area on Sunoo’s lower back, his touch firm but careful. He tugged at Sunoo’s shirt, rolling it up until it bunched just under his ribs.
Sunoo stiffened as the cool air hit his skin. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as more of him was exposed than he’d anticipated. “Is this really necessary?” he mumbled.
Niki’s eyes flicked to him briefly before returning to the task at hand. “I need space to work. Don’t worry, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
The casual tone did nothing to hide the way Niki’s fingers lingered a second longer than necessary on his skin, nor the way his jaw clenched when Sunoo shifted, the muscles of his back flexing.
The buzz of the tattoo machine broke the silence, and Sunoo flinched at the first press of the needle. “Ouch,” he murmured softly, his voice laced with both pain and surprise.
“Relax,” Niki murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You’re too tense.”
Sunoo exhaled shakily, trying to comply, but each pass of the needle drew a soft wince or a sharp intake of breath. The sounds went straight to Niki’s ears, setting his nerves on edge.
His grip on the machine tightened, and he forced himself to focus on the lines he was creating rather than the way Sunoo’s body reacted beneath him—the subtle arch of his back, the soft flush spreading across his skin.
“Does it hurt?” Niki asked, his voice rougher than he intended.
“Just a little,” Sunoo admitted, biting his lip as the needle skimmed over a sensitive spot.
Niki’s gaze flicked up, catching the way Sunoo’s lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His mind wandered to places it shouldn’t, and he cursed under his breath, forcing himself back to the task at hand.
Sunoo shifted again, the movement pressing his hip slightly against Niki’s thigh. It was innocent, unintentional, but it made Niki’s pulse quicken.
“Stop moving,” Niki said sharply, his voice cutting through the air.
“Sorry,” Sunoo said quickly, his voice small.
Niki sighed, softening his tone. “I’m not mad. Just… stay still, okay? I don’t want to mess this up.”
Sunoo nodded, his face red as he tried to comply. But each time the needle moved, his soft sounds of discomfort filled the air, and Niki felt like he was going insane.
By the time he finished, his nerves were shot. He wiped away the excess ink, his hands once again remained for a moment longer than necessary. “Done,” he said, his voice low and strained.
Sunoo propped himself up on his elbows, wincing slightly as the fresh tattoo stung. “Can I see?”
Niki handed him a small mirror, watching intently as Sunoo looked over his shoulder.
“Wow,” Sunoo breathed, his eyes wide. The design was delicate yet bold, curving elegantly along his lower back. It was exactly what he had envisioned—but somehow better. “It’s perfect.”
Niki's lips quirked into the faintest smirk, though his mind was anything but calm.
Sunoo looked up at him, his heart fluttering at the expression on Niki’s face. It wasn’t often that Niki let his guard down, but in this moment, there was something raw and unguarded in his eyes.
“Thank you,” Sunoo said softly.
Niki’s smirk faded, replaced by a look so intense it made Sunoo’s breath hitch. “You don’t need to thank me,” he said, his voice low. “Just remember—this one’s mine.”