"Son of a bitch!" Ryouma jerked, bucking against strong hands and wickedly sharp teeth. "Most people'd just ask me to tattoo their name on my ass. What are you, a vampire?"

Kakashi snorted. His breath was hot against Ryouma's throat; a thin trickle of warmth tickled its way down to blot on the coverlet.

No way in hell that wouldn't scar.

Ryouma stilled.

"Werewolf, maybe," he decided, after a long moment. "Crazy, anyway." Possessive, definitely. That smokey rumble still reverberated low in Ryouma's belly: You're mine. He shivered, and licked his lips. "Does this mean I get to mark you back? 'Cause that tattoo is pretty smokin'." His fingers untangled from the bunched folds of Kakashi's mask, drifted sideways to trace the liquid, dangerous curves of the tribal tattoo that still writhed down Kakashi's upper arm. "You could make it permanent."