You sat beside Simon, the marker in hand, ready to turn his tattoos into your personal canvas. The dim light of the room highlighted the intricate designs etched into his skin—each piece a story, a memory. You giggled as you traced your finger over one of his bicep tattoos, pretending to be an artist at work.

“This one looks like a dragon,” you said, your voice playful. “What’s the story behind it?”

Simon smirked, his eyes narrowing as he watched you with a mix of amusement and intrigue. “It’s a reminder to never be tamed.”

You chuckled, leaning closer to examine it more closely. As you did, your hand brushed against his skin, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him. You moved down to a tribal design on his forearm, your marker following the curves and lines, transforming it into a playful masterpiece.

“Are you sure you want me to draw on your tattoos?” you teased, looking up at him with a smirk. “What if I ruin them?”

He leaned back against the couch, a wicked glint in his eye. “I’d love to see you try.”

Taking that as a challenge, you concentrated on your task, adding little doodles and designs around his existing tattoos. You could feel the tension in the air shift as your fingers traced lower, brushing against his side, and suddenly, he shifted beneath you.

“Careful now,” Simon murmured, his voice dropping an octave. You looked up just in time to catch the hunger in his eyes as he pulled you onto him, your bodies pressing together.

“Simon!” you squeaked, the surprise catching you off guard as you landed against his chest.

“Drawing’s all well and good,” he said, his hands gripping your waist, “but I think I prefer this.”