What I Did For Love
Author: Zion's Starfish
Rating: PG-13
Archive: AU, Olivia V's archive, Andromerotica Festival Archive only
Scenario #27: Body Art
Notes: thanks to Luz for the beta; it's more sensual than smutty. I hope ;)


"I can't believe this is happening," I say for the sixtieth time since we've 
arrived on Demaska for the wedding. I can't stop fidgeting and Trance growls and 
swats my hands.

"Stop fussing," she says. "You'll ruin your mascara."

"Trance... I don't..."

She exhales in exasperation and puts down the brush. She crouches down in front 
of me, cups my head in her hands and says, "Harper. We have been through this a 
hundred times."

"But—"

"Harper."

"What?"

"You love her, don't you?"

"Of course. I'm just..."

"Nervous. I know." She pet my hair gently. "You'll do fine. Now repeat after me. 
I love Beka Valentine."

"Trance—"

"Repeat. After. Me."

I sigh. "I love Beka Valentine."

"And the most important of all: 'I do.' Say it."

I take a deep breath. "I do."

Trance smiles. "Good! Now let's get those pants off. They're waiting for you."


I hate weddings with a passion. I don't know what the fuss is about, really. 
Love is love is love, and I don't need a ceremony to tell me that I love 
someone. But I love Beka and she wants it this way. So I take off my pants.

When I step through the doors, the four women waiting for me tell me to relax. 
The pots of tinted haenna are open, brushes piled beside them. I lie down on the 
table on my stomach and try to breath like I'm not choking on nervousness. It's 
hard when you're the only one not wearing any clothes.

They're all Inatique, spiritual leaders, all beautiful with brown skin and wise 
eyes. It's hard to determine their exact ages but Demaska spiritual texts say 
they're over a hundred years old. So Trance tells me anyway.

"Concentrate on the flower," one says as warm water trickles onto my back.

On the floor is a small black painted basin filled halfway with water and in it 
floats a perfect white lotus flower. It's supposed to help me relax. Right.

Four pairs of hands touch me and spread the water across my entire body. Their 
movements are so well synchronized that even when I concentrate hard, I can't 
tell where one stroke starts and another begins.

Warm towels blot away the moisture and I don't think I've ever been cleaner. Not 
even that time I spent over an hour scrubbing every inch of my skin raw after 
Beka and I sent Bobby packing can compare to this. Since five o'clock this 
morning, I've been showered, bathed, rinsed down and cleaned meticulously more 
times than I can count. And the ritual has barely begun.

I sigh deeply and think of Beka. The petals on the lotus flower remind me of the 
pale, satiny skin on her stomach. The flower's deep yellow center reminds me of 
Beka's laugh, bright and beautiful.

"Harper," one of the women says, touching my shoulder. "Are you ready to begin?"

"Ready to become a walking work of art? Yeah. I am. Wait..." I sit up and blink 
as the blood rushes and tilts around in my body. The women smile. They've 
probably seen guys like me hundreds, maybe thousands of times before. "Do you 
think Trance could come in? I made her promise to put a choke hold on me if I 
started freaking out. And I feel a bit like freaking out." The prospect of the 
wedding not even six hours away makes me skittish.

They laugh gently and let Trance in. She's naked like the rules dictate but 
she's not remotely self-conscious. She could have been wearing snow pants and a 
parka for all her demeanor reveals. Her body gleams as the muted light plays on 
the colors of her skin. She crouches down by the table and touches my hair.

"How are you holding up?"

"No choke holds necessary yet, thank you very much. But um... would you stay? 
Just in case?"

"Of course."

"You're just hoping I try to bolt so you can kick my ass, aren't you."

She smiles angelically. "Who, me?"

Chuckling, I lie back down and the ritual body painting begins.


Just like their hands, the women's brushes move as if one. I try to focus on the 
pattern being painted onto my left leg but the brush seems to move randomly. I 
close my eyes and let myself drift.

I wonder how Beka is doing. Dylan and Tyr are helping her prepare for the 
wedding and right about now, she'll be getting painted too. I get a sudden 
mental image of Beka trying to escape and Tyr grabbing her in a choke hold and I 
start giggling so hard one of the women smacks me on the back of my head to shut 
me up and stop ruining her work.

Trance pets my hair rhythmically, hypnotically, and I think I hear her humming 
something faintly but it hovers on the edge of my senses and I'm not sure. Calm 
settles on me like a warm blanket and I close my eyes. The last thing I see is 
the white lotus flower trembling in the basin.


I wake up to the scent of a lit herbal smudge stick being wafted down my body. 
The acridity stings my eyes and nose and I sit up. Trance is gone.

"Are you finished?" I ask.

I expect my back to feel stiff and irritated from the haenna but I don't feel it 
at all. I look over my shoulder and see intricate patterns of swirls and 
stippling in black and blue. It looks more like a tattoo, like part of me, than 
paint. I feel weird but Trance told me to trust the process. I take a deep 
breath and trust the process.

"Your back is finished. Now we will do your front."

"Umm... my front?"

"Yes. You'll have to stand. It's much less complicated but we don't want the 
patterns to be disturbed."

"Erm..."

The woman smiles at me. "Your friend told me you might be shy."

Trance appears to my left, dressed as the Inatique women in a cream sarong, 
holding a brush and the tray of haenna pots. "Which is why I offered to do it."

My mouth drops open. "Are you sure this is allowed?"

Trance smiles at me and exchanges a knowing glance with the women. Maybe the 
women know something about Trance but I wouldn't get any answers from them. I 
look back and forth between them and wonder just exactly what went on while I 
was sleeping.

"For Beka, remember?" she says, setting the tray on the table.

For Beka. "All right. Trance, babe, I'm all yours."

The women leave the room and we're alone.


I slide off the table and to my surprise I'm not self-conscious. Maybe the 
smudge stick fumes are doing weird things to my brain. I don't freak out when 
Trance puts one hand on my hip to brace herself. In fact, I have no desire to 
run and make Trance use her choke hold on me. That's not so say my heart isn't 
pounding like a stampeding elephant at the thought of the wedding ceremony 
starting in three hours. I feel more centered. The vision of the lotus flower 
blooms in my mind.

Trance dips the brush into the black haenna and starts at my collarbone, using 
careful, measured strokes.

"Trance," I say, but she shushes me and draws a swirl that stretches across my 
throat.

"What is it?"

"This is going to change things, isn't it. For everyone."

She nods. "Is that why you're so nervous?"

I nearly laugh but I don't feel like being throttled by a golden pixie. "I'm 
nervous because I don't know if I can remember my line. Worried would be a 
better word."

"She loves you. That will never change."

"And how about the rest of you?"

"Things will be different, of course. But love is one of those few eternal 
truths in the universe."

I look at her but she tips my chin back up. "Are you speaking from experience?"

She gives me a small enigmatic smile. "Don't talk. You'll ruin my handiwork."

I smile back.


An hour later, Trance is finished. She marches me out of that room and into 
another where a full length mirror greets me.

The haenna covers my left foot and winds around the back of my leg. It spreads 
across my back like an overflowing lake and narrows where it curls up my neck 
and swirls down my arms, pooling at the palms of both my hands. It runs in a 
thin pattern across my neck and down my chest where it splays out like a sun 
over my heart.

She hands me a pair of loose gauzy pants and a shirt with no buttons. I put them 
on carefully. She hands me a cup of water and I drink all of it in two gulps. 
She crouches down behind me and touches up the haenna on my back.

"Breathe, Harper. You're shaking."

"Damn right I'm shaking. What if I screw up? Beka will kill me."

"She won't kill you. I'll kill you first, and then Tyr, and then Dylan..."

I turn around but Trance is smiling.

"Tease."

"Harper. You'll do fine."

"Hey, maybe you should have tattooed my palm with 'I do' in case I forget 
instead of these dots and swirly things."

"You won't forget. You'll get up there in front of all those people and you'll 
see Beka and you'll feel so much love."

My heart pounds at the mere thought of it. "Oh great."


The wedding starts but I'm barely aware of the crowd buzzing, the decorations or 
my tattooed butt showing through the seat of my pants. At least the front is 
reinforced. All I can think of is what I'm supposed to say. It's the most 
important question I'll be asked in all my life and I don't want to screw up the 
answer.

When the doors open and Beka steps through them to meet me I can't think of 
anything at all.

She's dressed in a similar gauzy fabric as my outfit but it's long and full and 
she looks absolutely radiant. Even though I can't see it, I know her haenna ends 
in a starburst over her heart too. There's a white lotus flower in her hair. And 
her smile...

She giggles and nudges me playfully.

"You look... stunning," I say finally.

She beams and kisses me on the cheek. Her gaze falls to the haenna on my chest 
and she traces it lightly with a finger. "Did Trance have to use any extreme 
measures to keep you from running off?"

"Nope. How about Tyr and Dylan?"

"Nope."

"Good."

"Good. Harper, I—"

"Beka, I—"

We stop and smile at each other. She hugs me, hard.

"I just wanted to say..."

"I love you. I know." We've always had this profound connection. And nothing 
would change that.

"Thank you," she whispers.

We walk towards the wedding arch and the high priestess, Beka's arm through 
mine. It's unorthodox here on Demaska for me to be walking Beka down the aisle 
but she wouldn't have it any other way. My knees are shaking and my heart starts 
doing the tango in my chest. I think I'm more nervous than she is.

We reach the arch and my throat is so tight I can hardly breathe. The pressure 
builds. A tendril of sweat curls down my back and I bet the ceremonial makeup is 
a sludgy mass on my body.

The moment arrives too soon.

The high priestess asks, "Who gives this woman to be married to this man?"

All eyes turn to me. My mouth opens and closes several times and nothing comes 
out. I look at Beka exchanging smiles with her soon-to-be husband and I find my 
courage.

"I do."

It's a beautiful wedding. And at the reception, Beka saves the last dance for 
me.


The End