superstar: sings for everybody

The first few hours were painful, but the ones that followed were far worse, filled with an aching intensity that felt like countless lashes. Each stroke of the needle brought a new jolt of agony, drawing out faint groans and involuntary spasms from Billy. Ten hours into the process, the artist's hand remained steady and precise, masterfully etching every detail. The emerging tiger on his back came alive with every stroke—a vivid, snarling beast taking shape in bold colors. It was mesmerizing to watch the transformation, the raw power of the tiger materializing on his bare skin.

Getting tattooed was, for some, an unsettling experience—a ritual of permanence and self-expression. A tattoo was meant to symbolize something meaningful, to breathe life into an idea or memory. The tiger symbolizes confidence, wisdom, and the courage to overcome challenges. Many chose back tattoos as a canvas for their identity, beliefs, or life experiences. But for Billy, the reason was simple: he loved and admired the tiger, the ultimate predator. The Siberian tiger, fierce and majestic, was a creature of snowy forests, owning its domain with a blend of grace and raw power.

-There are still some details to refine- Paul said with a sigh, stepping back to assess his work. He seemed genuinely satisfied, even proud of the piece—it was a magnificent challenge. Billy's back burned, his arms ached, and even his fingers throbbed from gripping the chair for so long.

-What details are left?- Billy asked, his voice tinged with exhaustion. The pain, though excruciating, made him feel alive in a way few things could. It was a fleeting thrill, a paradoxical reminder of life.

-We'll handle those in the next session, in ten days,- Paul replied, equally worn out after finishing the intricate black outlines. The work was stunning, but it had taken its toll.

-Ten days sounds fair,- Billy muttered, rolling his shoulders despite the searing ache.

-Next time, we'll layer in the whites. It'll be another ten hours, though. Honestly, most people can't handle this level of pain—they usually stop at eight hours. You've got guts, kid, " Paul said, glancing at Billy's blood-smeared back before carefully cleaning it and wrapping it with clear film, applying a protective layer of ointment.

-Michael, did you hear that?- Billy called out.

-Loud and clear,- Michael's voice echoed from a distance.

-I've got everything noted. First, cleaning: use lukewarm water and a gentle gel soap from that shop on 44th, twice a day. Drying: pat the area with a soft cloth—no rubbing. Cream: Apply a tattoo-specific moisturizer; hydration is key. And no scratching or picking at the scabs,- Michael instructed with practiced precision.

-Perfect. Pass those details to the team and have someone handle it for me—I'm not keeping track of all that nonsense,- Billy said dismissively, stretching despite the sharp pain.

-That's it for today, kid,- Paul concluded.

Billy nodded, pulling on his shirt with a wince. The sting of the fresh tattoo was relentless, but he didn't mind. Alessandra arrived moments later, having spent the past half-hour shopping and strolling through London under Marche's recommendations. The air between her and Billy was charged with a familiarity that needed no words.

-Merche, I want a nose piercing,- Billy said suddenly.

The tattooed girl arched an eyebrow.

-You want it now?- she asked.

-Of course, how else would I want it?- Billy replied nonchalantly, catching Merche off guard. She studied him briefly—young, bold, and unapologetically reckless.

-Alright, let's do this quickly,- she said, leading the way.

-On the left side, just a tiny stud—like a small diamond,- Billy instructed, his tone firm yet casual.

Michael looked like he wanted to protest but ultimately chose silence, opting for peace over confrontation.

…

-How was the tattoo session? - Alessandra asked later, eyeing the relaxed figure beside her. Merche had mentioned how grueling the ten hours had been, and Alessandra was astonished he had endured it.

-Painful as hell, but worth it- Billy said, locking eyes with her.

-Do you have time today for…? -

A heartbeat.

A grin.

-I always have time. Today, I'll take my time with you, as I do every chance I get- Billy said, his voice dripping with certainty. He leaned in, his warmth enveloping her, the intensity of his presence overwhelming.

-I can't believe you- Alessandra whispered.

-Today, it'll be slow—everything will be slow- he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. Alessandra melted into his arms, lost in the moment, her love for him radiating from her gaze. For Billy, the world outside didn't matter; his focus was on making her feel cherished and desired.

-Slow,- she echoed her voice in a whisper.

They were entangled, lost in each other, consumed by the raw magnetism between them. The driver tried to focus on the road, but it was impossible not to notice the supermodel in the backseat. Alessandra was strikingly beautiful—an unattainable dream to most.

He cleared his throat, attempting to dispel the tension in the air, but Billy's rebellious nature was impossible to ignore. His presence was commanding, his actions unapologetic. Alessandra surrendered entirely to his touch, an ethereal figure captivated by the chaos and passion that was Billy.

...