DISCLAIMER: One Piece belongs to Eiichiro Oda.
~ This, Too ~
It has only been a short time since they first became lovers, and they are just starting to become bolder in their explorations of each other's bodies. She does not enjoy the sensation of being vulnerable, yet she doesn't know how to not feel that way as she sits naked on her bed, with her lover behind her and no way of knowing exactly what he will do next. She has to remind herself that sharing her body with him this way is not the same thing as surrendering herself to him, and two people choosing to belong to one another does not mean that one is owned by the other.
Her thoughts screech to a halt as he brushes her hair aside and begins to trail kisses down the back of her neck. A giggle escapes her when he reaches a particularly ticklish spot, and he pauses his descent to nuzzle that particular point until she is nearly shouting with helpless laughter. Once she is happy and relaxed - which, if she was thinking clearly, she would have realized was his goal - he returns to his previous path of action. He scatters light kisses across her shoulders before moving lower.
He's not going to touch... that... is he? she wonders nervously. The scar tissue isn't as sensitive as the rest of her skin due to the nerve damage caused by the branding, but the area still has some feeling in it. When his lips brush against the tip of the middle claw, a bolt of panic shoots through her and her entire body tenses up.
"Stop!" she snaps.
He immediately pulls away from her. She shivers at the sudden loss of his warmth.
"Sorry, did that hurt?" he says, his tone a mixture of guilt and concern.
"No." She hugs her knees to her chest - whether to ward off the chill or the memories of her enslavement, she isn't quite sure. "Could you just not touch me there, please?"
"Eh? But you said it doesn't hurt, right?" he asks, nonplussed. "You don't want me to touch your scar at all?"
She folds in on herself more tightly. He knows her history, and what the mark on her back means. Surely that should be enough of an explanation for why she doesn't want it messed with.
"Why would you want to touch such an ugly thing?!"
He notices the way her fingers are digging into her shoulders, and he gently lays his hands on top of hers. He strokes his thumbs lightly over the backs of her wrists, coaxing her to loosen her grip.
"You're the most beautiful woman in the world, right?" he says.
That's what everyone else calls her, but this is the first time he's ever acknowledged her as such. She opens her mouth to reply, but forgets how to speak when she feels his hands trail down her back to rest on the patch of discolored flesh between her shoulder blades.
"So this is beautiful, too," he says. "Your past is part of what makes you who you are, and your scars tell a part of that story."
She's never thought of it that way before, but he accepts every part of her so easily... even the parts of herself that she has always despised. What kind of person would she be today if the horrors she'd experienced in her years as a slave weren't a part of her life?
He leans down to press a soft kiss against the tip of the dragon's claw. This time she does not protest.
~end~