Fic: Under the Skin
Title: Under the Skin
Author: oomnydevvotchka
Characters: Lea Michele, Jonathan Groff, Theo Stockman
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~900
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, no disrespect intended.
Summary: Fills the Tattoos/Tattooing square on my Kink_Bingo card. Lea doesn't tell most people the real reason she has so many tattoos.
She gets asked about her tattoos all the time.
She guesses it’s because of the character she plays - no one would expect Rachel Berry, Broadway obsessed goody-two-shoes that she is, to have tattoos.
Every time some reporter or fan asks about them, she can’t help but let a little smirk steal across her face, knowing that if they knew the real reason she had so many? They would freak out.
*** The first time she went to get one, it was because she actually wanted the ink. She’s a family-oriented girl, always has been, and getting a tattoo to match her mother’s seems like the perfect way to show it.
She remembers walking into the parlor, its quiet, professional interior a marked contrast to the bustling New York streets outside, her mother in tow.
She remembers how nervous she was, detailing exactly what she wanted to the artist, stressing that she wanted hers to be similar to her mom’s, not exactly the same.
She remembers lying stretched out on a table, shirt hiked up and skirt and underwear pulled down, exposing the small strip of skin on the back of her hip.
She remembers the feel of the disposable razor, scraping off the fine, light hairs on the area, quickly followed by the cool antiseptic wipe. She remembers how this caused a full-body shiver, the first indication that this might not be exactly what she expected.
Most vividly, though, she remembers the moment when the needle, filled with black ink for the outline, first touched her skin.
It was like an electric shock, or like being plunged into cold water. It wasn’t the pain she had expected: or, rather, it was, but mixed with the kind of pleasure she had rarely felt before.
Goosebumps broke out over her whole body, and the artist stopped, asked her uncertainly if she needed a break.
She shook her head, unable to speak, and the artist touched the needle back down, filling her with the shivery pleasure-pain once again.
It was as though the spot on the back of her hip had a nerve or something that led directly to her pussy, causing her to get wetter than she ever had before - so wet, in fact, that she could actually feel the damp spot in her panties.
Dimly, she registered that not only was she in the company of the tattoo artist, a complete stranger, but her mom was also there. She couldn’t bring herself to care, though - she’d have time to be embarrassed later, when she wasn’t concentrating all her energy on not moaning and rutting up against the table.
It only took about an hour for the entire butterfly to be finished, but it seemed like it took both an eternity and a millisecond.
*** The second time, it was Jon she dragged along with her.
She was riding on the high of Spring Awakening, then, the high of her first starring role, and the high of performing nightly with someone who got her as well as Jon did.
She’d be lying if she said that she wasn’t seeking a repeat of the sensation her first tattoo had caused, but she managed to convince herself otherwise at the time. Managed to convince herself that she was merely commemorating a moment, seeking a further bonding experience with her platonic soul mate. Managed to convince herself, even, that there was no way it would feel the same as last time, because how could a place as innocuous as her wrist cause that feeling?
Her pretenses were stripped away as soon as the artist (a different one than last time, he exuded a cocky air, instead of the tentative concern of the first) began to work, inking the first swirl of the teal ‘I’.
It was even more intense than last time; something she hadn’t even thought was possible. As she tried not to squirm in the chair, the artist caught her eye. “Feels good, huh?” he asked, and she was torn between wanting to jerk away from him and wanting to lean closer. She opted for a third option, instead - she crossed her legs until she felt the pressure on her clit and, keeping her arm still, squirmed in the chair till she came with a shudder.
Jon had no idea, just asked her if she was ok, but the tattoo artist gave her a wink as she walked out the door.
*** Theo was the first person she ever told about it, safe in the confines of her bed. Rather than laughing or making fun, as she expected, his eyes glazed over, and next thing she knew, she had another appointment, with the same pervy artist as before.
It turned out to be a fabulous fucking idea, going to this guy, because Theo’s head between her legs and tongue firm on her clit while the guy inked two simple music notes on her left shoulder, as though nothing untoward was happening, was the best thing ever.
*** It continued like this over the next few years. Every few months, she would find herself in a tattoo parlor again - sometimes alone, sometimes in the company of others: Theo, Jon, members of her family, Jenna, Kevin, Dianna, Cory - until here she is, the proud owner of fourteen tattoos.
She thinks she can be forgiven for not telling the reporters and fans the true story.