“What would you choose if you did?” Taemin asked in yet another attempt to get Minho to open up about the idea.

“Nothing,” he replied frowning. He couldn’t even imagine it. “…I don’t know.”

Taemin took his uncertainty as a step forward. “Okay. You don’t know because you never thought about it, right?” He smiled crookedly at Minho from where he was, straddling a chair with his arms crossed over the back.

“Yeah,” Minho confirmed. “But don’t make me.”

Taemin threw his head back and groaned loudly. “We’re here, just ing look around!” he laughed. “Give me absolutely anything!”

“Anything?”

“A-ny-thing!” he begged.

Minho chuckled as he watched Taemin run his hands through his dark hair in frustration.

Not that he’d come up with an answer, but he actually had given it some thought. It was impossible not to considering he was dating a freaking tattoo artist. And a damn good one at that. Their time together in the shop was limited to lunch breaks because he was always in high demand.

Minho scanned the walls for anything he might find decent, but not surprisingly, he ended up thoroughly admiring Taemin.

“You’re supposed to be checking out the art, not me,” he muttered.

Minho grinned up at him. “Do you want to change what you said, or should I go for the obvious sappy compliment?”

Taemin shut his eyes and buried his face in his arms. “Shut up.”

“I don’t think that was an option.”

“Babe!”

Minho let out a laugh before sitting up in the stationed chair to face him. “You’re adorable.”

Taemin lifted his head to glare at Minho with his heavily made-up feline eyes.

“Oh , never mind. I think y is a better word,” he murmured, closing in.

Taemin huffed before leaning forward. “Good.”

Minho moved in for a kiss, but his lips were stopped by two fingers Taemin held up between them.

“Ah ah. You haven’t answered my question.” He playfully pushed Minho’s face away, making him slump back into the chair.

“Honestly, I don’t know! I mean, there’s you.” He waved his hand in front of Taemin. The black form-fitting dress shirt he wore was undone at the top and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing the highly detailed images that adorned his forearms and chest. “Yes, yes, a million times yes. But me?” He scoffed, shaking his head.

“Aww, thanks babe.” He smiled, feigning bashfulness, and then stood. “But I know what I’m saying. You may be a nerdy high school teacher, but you’re hot. You could rock one for sure.” He raised his leg, sliding his knee across the seat until he was straddling Minho.

Minho quirked his eyebrows, subtly questioning his words.

“And I’m not pushing you to get one. I’m only asking because I’m curious.”

Sighing, Minho moved back some and held Taemin’s waist, letting his hands rest just above his protruding hip bones—something he was able to feel because of his low-riding jeans. “You’re the artist. What would you suggest?”

Taemin hummed in thought as he wrapped his arms around Minho’s neck. “A black and grey piece on your bicep wouldn’t look a bad at all. That or something across your back… God, you’d make a great canvas.”

“Don’t overdo it,” he chuckled. “I wouldn’t really want something to show off, now that I think about it.”

“You’d prefer something only I could see?” His wandering mind became filled with risqué possibilities and it was apparent on his face.

“I never said that,” Minho said bringing their foreheads together.

“But we could test it,” he suggested deviously.

Minho pulled back a little and squinted. “No. Ink. Whatsoever.”

“No ink,” he assured him.

“Or stencils.”

“None, I promise.”

It was a relief to hear, but he still didn’t like the wicked glint in his eyes.

Taemin pulled aside some locks of wavy hair that fell over the side of Minho’s neck. “Here’s a good place.”

“For what exactly?”

That’s when Taemin pressed his mouth to his skin. He made sure to taste him before biting him slowly and lovingly. It was the that finally made Minho cry out about something involving his mother.

Despite the drastically altered mood, Taemin sat up looking amused as ever. “What?”

“Tomorrow, remember?! We’re spending the weekend with my parents!”

“Oh yeah. .” He bit his lip and tilted Minho’s head to examine the red mark. Truthfully, he was more than satisfied with how it turned out, but of course he didn’t say so. “I’m sorry.”

“Can you see it? I mean, is it obvious?” Minho asked while brushing his hair back into place. “Thank God it’s a four day weekend,” he added when he remembered his students.

“No, relax.” Taemin tried to comfort him, but it was really difficult to do while fighting the urge to laugh. “If you’re that worried just throw on a scarf or something. Besides, I’m sure your parents will be glad it’s not a tattoo.”