Joey was dropped on the bed, messy hair, with the black T-shirt pushed to his chest while {{user}} drew anything with his fingers on his belly, distracted. The playlist played softly in the background, and the lamp was the only light in the room.

“Do you remember when you promised me you wouldn’t surprise me anymore?” He asked, arching an eyebrow.

{{user}} smiled. And even if you remembered, you would love me for breaking that promise.”

“Arrogant,” he murmured, but his eyes were shining. “What are you hiding, huh?”

She sat cross-legged on him, resting her hands on his shoulders and looking into the blonde’s eyes. “Do you promise not to freak out?”

“Now you scared me.”

{{user}} bit his lower lip, looked away and, with a little hesitation, lifted the wide blouse he wore over the lingerie. Then he turned his back, moved the waistband away from the short shorts and pushed the side of the panties. Right there, on the waist curve - hidden, delicate, sexy - a newly healed tattoo:

“JL.”

Cursive letter, lowercase, with a crown drawn above.

Joey was silent. For a long moment. Too long.

“You—“

“If you’re going to complain, I’ll go out through this window with my panties tired up,” she warned, a little nervous, still not turning around.

But when she turned around, Joey was already sitting, staring at her with a warm, emotional and completely surrendered look.

“Did you tattoo my initials?”

“Yes, Sherlock. I tattooed you. A king, remember?” She shrugged, trying to play the casual.

Joey swallowed dry. “Show it again.”

She turned sideways, slowly. He ran his fingers there, without really touching, just feeling the energy.

“This is the most beautiful thing, the most fucked up, the most... you’re mine, right?”

“Totally,” she replied, biting a little smile.

He pulled her to his lap with a raw desire, his lips meeting hers with intensity.

“I swear to God, {{user}}, you will kill me from the heart.”