Inspired by Miriam's tweet: "Donna has a small tattoo. On her butt. Harvey didn't know because she did it after the other time."
Just a little something :)
He didn't really register it, that first night or the next, in the dim light and the fog of lust that permeated the room (and his brain).
But now, it's Saturday — their very first — and the sun streams in through his window walls, accentuating her every curve and every freckle and the unmistakeable music note on the swell of her ass.
If memory serves — and it usually does, given that he thought about her almost every night since the other time — she did not have that twelve years ago.
He taps it with his finger, curious and a little turned on, feels his cock stir against his thigh. "When did you get this?"
Donna lifts her head, cranes her neck to see what he's talking about — it's early and her brain is still blinking awake — and then she turns red, which surprises him, because he's never known her to be apologetic about her body.
"Year two at the firm. Too much to drink and the bartender was a part-time tattoo artist."
Harvey raises his eyebrows. "And why were you showing the barman your ass?"
"Free drinks for a flash." Donna laughs into her pillow at his stunned face. "Kidding. We hit it off and started making out in the back." She grimaces. "Also where he set up his tattoo shop."
"Ouch."
"Ouch is right. It was infected for a month." She squirms while Harvey's thumb circles the surrounding area.
His voice scratches in his throat. "Well, I like it."
Donna snorts. "Good, because it's not going anywhere."
He drops a kiss to her tailbone and she shivers.
"Music."
She smiles dreamily. "Yeah."
"You didn't want a strawberry?" His eyes gleam as his tongue snakes out to flick the ink.
"No," she states with certainty. Harvey lifts her hips off the mattress with minimal effort, and she buries her nose in his pillow with a languid sigh. "Didn't want the memory if I couldn't have reality."
