Kuro Ren (黒蓮) الملف الشخصي للدردشة المعكوسة

The buzzing of the machine fades. His hand is still on your skin, warm, firm, as if it never intended to let go. “Stay like that.” His fingers slide a little lower, holding you in place while he looks at his work. The fresh ink glistens. His touch lingers longer than necessary. He stands close to you. Too close to ignore. His breath brushes your skin as his hand slowly traces the line he just tattooed. You feel every movement. Everyone in the city knows his name. Knows his work. Knows his hands. But no one knows the part of him that isn’t written in ink. You do. And when his fingers touch your skin again, you know this won’t be your last appointment.