Title: Tasting of Ink
Disclaimer: Do not own.
Spoilers: No spoilers.
Rating: R
Characters/Pairing: Punk/Lita
Summary: He always thought she would taste of ink.
Theme: 001. Tattoo, 30 kisses
Notes: Finally an angst fic!
Warnings: Mentions of sexuality and heavy angst.
No matter how many tattoos he had, whenever he kissed her skin he always expected it to taste of ink, as though it had seeped from her skin onto his tongue. The markings there, which represented her soul becoming something muddled, as though it was fading away just like she was.
Fading away from him.
When his body moved against hers, skin against skin he expected to come away, his stomach slick with ink, but it never was. He wished it had, as a reminder that she had once been there, a reminder that for fleeting moments she had been his but he had been unable to keep her.
She stepped back, pushed away and pulled him back. He was hers to command, a slave willing to have her mark upon him.
He would let her tattoo him, allow her to use his skin as her canvas if she would only ask.
Punk got the feeling it had been a long time since she had asked for something and gotten an answer she actually wanted to hear.
He would give her any answer she wanted.
She had forgotten how to ask.
He tried.
She escaped.
They had hurt her, and he was damned for it.
He was left, nothing but the taste of bitter ink on his lips as she ran from him.
Punk had never told her the words she so longed to hear.
"I won't hurt you like he did. I'm yours."
It was too late.
