OZ fic - Marks that Wouldn't Fade
Jun. 4th, 2021 06:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cmk418Title: Marks that Wouldn't Fade
Fandom: OZ
Characters: Jaz Hoyt, OFC, cameo by Fiona
Rating: Teen
Written for the seasonofkink prompt "tattoo"
Jaz got his first tattoo at the age of fifteen. He'd gone into the parlor at closing time, and slapped five hundred bucks that he'd pinched from his father's wallet on the counter. He asked for a simple design- his girlfriend's initials “R.M.” on his left shoulder in a heart barely big enough to be seen. The sting when the needles first touched his skin still was a bit of a surprise that caused him to jerk his arm away.
“I can stop now,” said the tattoo artist.
“Nah. She'll want to see it.”
“You must be serious about her.” The artist waited for Jaz to relax a bit before going back to work.
“Serious enough to get her initials on me. That's good for a blow job, isn't it?”
“For sure. A girl that's turned on by ink is a rare and wonderful thing.”
“Well, I guess I'm lucky then.”
“Been my observation that the more ink that a man has, the wilder the woman that is attracted to him.”
“I'll keep that in mind.”
His girlfriend was impressed. She ran her fingers over the design and the sensation caused him to inhale sharply. “Does it hurt?” she asked.
“No. It feels good.”
Nearly two decades later and the little heart and the “R.M.” had been camouflaged by larger ink patterns over his body. The girlfriend was long gone and he doesn't even remember if her name was “Roberta” or “Ramona”. Maybe she'd have been more memorable if she'd given him that blow job.
Still, he couldn't forget that initial touch, so strange against his skin, as if the design had brought all of his nerve endings to the surface and the slightest caress was magnified.
He remembered the tattoo artist's words. As the years went on, he craved more sensation, the kiss of the needle against his skin again and again, for longer and longer each time. He concocted stories to go with each design- the longer the story, the longer he'd feel the trace of the woman's fingers.
So many women and each one wilder than the next. They saw his body as a work of art and were more than willing to explore it as he explored theirs.
In Oz, it was different. He could feel eyes on him, almost all the time, but he was never sure if it was his tats or his dick that attracted them. He didn't want their hands on his skin at all.
He still wanted the sensation though. He found someone he could trust- another biker- and offered him a case of cigarettes for the pleasure of a design etched into his skin. He watched the biker closely and he learned the technique.
He offered to do a design for Fiona after she'd run interference for him with McManus. “A butterfly,” she requested, batting her fake eyelashes at him. He sketched something on a piece of paper and showed it to her. “Oh, honey, that's beautiful,” she said.
He found that he loved giving a tattoo as much as receiving one and it became something he did within the walls of the prison for fun. To hear someone's in-drawn breath at that first penetration was more intimate than any sexual encounter in this place, and the marks he left wouldn't fade.
Fandom: OZ
Characters: Jaz Hoyt, OFC, cameo by Fiona
Rating: Teen
Written for the seasonofkink prompt "tattoo"
Jaz got his first tattoo at the age of fifteen. He'd gone into the parlor at closing time, and slapped five hundred bucks that he'd pinched from his father's wallet on the counter. He asked for a simple design- his girlfriend's initials “R.M.” on his left shoulder in a heart barely big enough to be seen. The sting when the needles first touched his skin still was a bit of a surprise that caused him to jerk his arm away.
“I can stop now,” said the tattoo artist.
“Nah. She'll want to see it.”
“You must be serious about her.” The artist waited for Jaz to relax a bit before going back to work.
“Serious enough to get her initials on me. That's good for a blow job, isn't it?”
“For sure. A girl that's turned on by ink is a rare and wonderful thing.”
“Well, I guess I'm lucky then.”
“Been my observation that the more ink that a man has, the wilder the woman that is attracted to him.”
“I'll keep that in mind.”
His girlfriend was impressed. She ran her fingers over the design and the sensation caused him to inhale sharply. “Does it hurt?” she asked.
“No. It feels good.”
Nearly two decades later and the little heart and the “R.M.” had been camouflaged by larger ink patterns over his body. The girlfriend was long gone and he doesn't even remember if her name was “Roberta” or “Ramona”. Maybe she'd have been more memorable if she'd given him that blow job.
Still, he couldn't forget that initial touch, so strange against his skin, as if the design had brought all of his nerve endings to the surface and the slightest caress was magnified.
He remembered the tattoo artist's words. As the years went on, he craved more sensation, the kiss of the needle against his skin again and again, for longer and longer each time. He concocted stories to go with each design- the longer the story, the longer he'd feel the trace of the woman's fingers.
So many women and each one wilder than the next. They saw his body as a work of art and were more than willing to explore it as he explored theirs.
In Oz, it was different. He could feel eyes on him, almost all the time, but he was never sure if it was his tats or his dick that attracted them. He didn't want their hands on his skin at all.
He still wanted the sensation though. He found someone he could trust- another biker- and offered him a case of cigarettes for the pleasure of a design etched into his skin. He watched the biker closely and he learned the technique.
He offered to do a design for Fiona after she'd run interference for him with McManus. “A butterfly,” she requested, batting her fake eyelashes at him. He sketched something on a piece of paper and showed it to her. “Oh, honey, that's beautiful,” she said.
He found that he loved giving a tattoo as much as receiving one and it became something he did within the walls of the prison for fun. To hear someone's in-drawn breath at that first penetration was more intimate than any sexual encounter in this place, and the marks he left wouldn't fade.
