His dark gaze stared intensely at the tattooist he had hired, his grip on you firm. Kei insisted on marking you as his permanently.

"Stop making that sound," he spoke in a whisper, aware that it was painful for you, but he hated when others heard the noise you were making.

"Be quiet, my pretty boy," he said. The tattooist continued to draw flower shapes on your back, the needle soothing your red skin. His hand remained on your nape, his fingers slightly sliding up into your back hair.