Walking alone at night, well after dark, wasn't something that Luna did often. The fact that it was still in her own neighborhood—and there was practically zero chance of her being accosted by anyone—and the fact that it was completely silent unnerved her. It wasn't quite eleven yet, and the temperature was mild as Luna made the fifteen-minute walk to one of Security's mansions two streets over from her childhood home. Donnelly had asked her to meet him at Epsilon's house at a quarter 'till midnight for her latest tattoo endeavor. She had offered to do it at her house, or even at Donnelly's apartment in Hell's Kitchen, but her father is at home—still ever the night-owl and still a fierce hater of tattoos—and she would've had to bring Quinn with her if she went to Donnelly's. The easiest option was waiting for a Wednesday Night Cobalt dinner that Beckett was able to attend and getting it done then because, really, the worst of those two scenarios is having her dad watch as she gets a tattoo—especially since that tattoo was being done by Donnelly.

After Luna had returned from FanCon, her dad had seen the ink on her arm and been eerily calm as he asked her when she'd gotten it and who'd done it to her. She had answered him just as calmly—if not a little more slowly so she could try and figure him out—and she'd even lifted her shirt to show him that space shuttle on her ribcage. He had nodded, said "very nice"—which was a lie if Luna had ever heard one—and that was that. Luna had been expecting a way worse reaction given his known hatred of tattoos, but she'd shrugged it off as a whim and went about her day. Apparently, he was just saving his true reaction for his face-to-face with Donnelly—or, rather, his heated phone call with Donnelly.

Luna hadn't been privy to the actual conversation, as it had happened while her dad was at his office, but Donnelly had relayed most of it to her later—when they were setting up the time to do this tattoo—and the best way Donnelly could explain her dad's reaction was "ape-shit." Which was perfect, really. Just the reaction Luna had wanted.

But Luna was in love with her tattoos, and she didn't regret getting them for even a second, so what was one more?

Climbing the front stoop of one of two identical mansions, she rang the doorbell to Security's house. Luna wasn't expecting Quinn to be the one to open the door, and he looked equally as surprised to see her. He was wearing a worn leather jacket and his hair was styled, looking to be on his way out. He stopped himself in his tracks when he realized it was her.

"Luna?" he exclaimed. "What's wrong? You need something?"

"Nope, all good Quinn." She smiled. "I'm here for–"

"Luna!" she heard Donnelly call from inside the house. "Get your sparkly butt in here!"

"I'm here for him," she confirmed, gesturing towards his voice. "He's giving me another tat."

"Oh, right," Quinn said. "I was wondering why he was hanging around. You want me to stay?"

"Nah, I'm good," Luna assured him. "And you look like you've got plans. Enjoy your night off, Quinn."

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow, then," he said with a small wave. He stepped out past her as she moved into the house, closing the door behind her. She'd only been in Security's house once before—and that was Alpha's house, not Epsilon's—so she looked around. It definitely looked like a bachelor pad—some clothes strewn around, the distinct smell of boy, and a case of beer on top of the fridge.

She found Donnelly in the spacious dining room that looked like it was rarely used as a dining room—if the multitude of cardboard boxes were anything to go by—but the table was cleared, and Donnelly had his sketch book and his pencils strewn about in front of him. His reading glasses were perched on his nose and he looked way too cute for his own good with those thin wire frames.

"Hi. Howdy. Hey," she greeted. "One of those for me?"

Instead of responding with words, Donnelly slid one of his sketches towards her and observed her while she studied it. It was a minimalistic drawing—like the other tattoo he'd given her—but it was still beautiful. And though she hadn't specified whether or not she wanted color, he had some purple and green streaks to the tail of the shooting star.

"Oh, this is fantastic," she breathed. "Let's do it."

"Sweet." He gathered up all his things, throwing most of it in a small black bag. "There's a den on the second floor that we can do this in—figured it's a little more secluded and if someone comes home, then they're less likely to bother us. It's not two AM on a tour bus anymore." He laughed.

"Sounds good."

She followed him through the house and up the carpeted stairs—heim grabbing his kit out of the entry hall on his way—and she had the absurd feeling that this was about to be a lot more intimate than their other session. Her mind had found its home in the gutter as her eyes refused to tear themselves away from his ass as he walked up the stairs in front of her. She knew she was being a whole entire fool, but damn he was attractive. Focus, focus, focus.

"So, you said you wanted it on your hip-bone?" he asked, pushing open a random doorway and letting her enter the room first. She made brief eye contact with him and he was as steady as ever—that was a comfort, she found, even if she wasn't actually uncomfortable. There were a few couches in the room, but, really, it was the bare minimum of furnishings. This room looked just about as lived in as the dining room had been, and it reminded Luna of how impermanent some of these bodyguards' living quarters were—she didn't know how they did it.

"I want it below my hip-bone," Luna corrected. "That way my dad doesn't even have to know it exists—well, unless I wear that one bikini when summer rolls around."

He shook his head at her, but she saw a small grin grace his lips as he shifted the coffee table and made room for a small stool. He set his things on the coffee table, and she flopped backwards onto the couch while he set everything up. He looked like he was moving on autopilot as he plugged things in and wrapped some stuff up in plastic. He looked up at her as he wound a rubber band around the base of the gun, and he raised an eyebrow when he caught sight of her sprawled position on the couch.

"If you want it on your hip-bone, your pants have to come off, you know?"

"Why, Mr. Donnelly, is that a proposition?" she asked as she levered herself off the couch and unbuttoned her skinny jeans.

"Not yet, babe." He smirked at her as he pulled his wallet and a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. "You'll know when I proposition you."

"When?" she teased. This was usual for them—they were always very direct and always meant what they said when they said it. There was no pretense, and Luna thought that it was such a relief to have a relationship like this in her life. It's why she zeroes in on his use of 'when' and not 'if'.

He didn't answer her, though, just stared at her as she tossed her jeans onto a different couch and put her hands on her hips. She was only in her thin t-shirt and dark blue panties—which had a small planet and the words 'get outer my space' stitched on the front— but just like on the tour bus two months earlier, his eyes never strayed from her face. They just stared into each other's eyes and they were suddenly back to their game of wills. She'd noticed that Donnelly is an extremely expressive person—both with his face and with his words. What she's beginning to understand, though, is that he's also extremely good at hiding his emotions. When his face is completely blank, like it is right now, that's when Luna wants to know what he's thinking the most. She'd definitely never want to play poker against him, that's for sure.

"Just because you're eighteen doesn't mean that you're not still in high school," he finally said, his eyes still piercing hers.

"Technically speaking, I'm taking classes at home now," she corrected. "No more real school for me."

He rolled his eyes and she accompanied her remark with a playful shimmy of her shoulders—which she was sure looked more ridiculous than usual because she wasn't wearing any pants—but he just crossed the room to her and dropped to a knee in front of her. She about lost her mind completely as she stared down at him, but he was holding an alcohol swab in one hand and a disposable razor in the other. She knew that he was aware of what his sudden action would do to her—he'd have to be completely idiotic if he didn't—but she had to focus on the tattoo. Not him.

"Left or right hip?" she asked roughly.

"Right."

Donnelly was a no-nonsense kind of guy, and this was something that he was good at—was confident in—so he took one second to catch her eye and make sure she knew what he was doing before he began going through the motions. He was almost detached—which she relied on to keep her breathing from going all out of whack—in the way he shifted the band of her underwear higher on her waist and ran the swab over her skin. Looking down at him now, when his hands were on her waist and his head was the perfect height for her to run her fingers through his hair, was a bad idea.

Soon, the outline of the tat was pressed into her skin and he was stepping back. She cleared her throat as she hopped past him and sat cross-legged on the couch.

"How do you want me?" She smirked.

"Girl, you are playing with fire," he warned, shaking his head at her.

"I've been known to do that," she said as she nodded sagely.

"Just lay down," he said with a laugh.

She resumed her old position of sprawling out on the couch, and she put her hands behind her head—propping herself up a bit so she could watch him. One of his gloved hands settled warmly on her thigh—sparking those same tingling feelings that had burst into being on the tour bus last time they did this—as he grabbed his gun and looked to her.

"Ready?" he asked.

At her nod, he set the needle to her skin.

here's part two! this is shorter than the other chapter, and i'm not quite as happy with it, but i wanted to get something out there for y'all. hope you enjoyed it anyway :))

also, if i were to get a hipbone tattoo, i'd probs wear stretchy pants so i didn't have to take them all the way off, but if i were to get a tattoo from paul donnelly, i would also wear extremely tight skinny jeans. i don't judge you, luna.

once again, she's beta'd by drwatsonn! and the first part of this story is now updated :)