She's so distracted by the sting of the slaps (not entirely unpleasant), that she doesn't register the spitting until after it's already happened. It's something that she'd okayed in theory and then completely forgotten about. Be careful in the throes, she hears him say, and then her tattoos are spilling down her arms, a grand finish.

"Fuck," she breathes, but the word is lost under the pound of the music and the noise from the crowd.