Night was the only time he'd ever let me see his body. Years had passed, we'd grown older together, but still, he hides himself from my gaze.
When we were children the more markings that marred your skin the higher ranked you were. He was top. Back then he was full of pride over those scars. Now, he despised them with a passion. They're a constant reminder of his hardships, his pain. He's ashamed of them, of people seeing them. He's almost completely covered whenever we venture out. Granted that isn't a frequent occurrence.
But even here, at home, he covers himself. While I'm content to sit in front of the TV in a vest and pyjama bottoms, he keeps his entire body covered.
Home's our sanctuary, where we can let our guards down, but his is never completely. Never while he's awake.
At night, when we're lying in bed, sheets clinging to us, his arm wrapped around my torso. Holding me close. That's the only time I see his body. That's the only time I can feel his skin. It's not flawless by any means. Amongst the smooth is rough terrain, coarse scar tissue ruining the canvass. But I don't care. He thinks I do. Thinks I can't stand the sight. That's why he hides.
The rest of the world matters to him as much as a fly on the wall, he doesn't care about them. But he does about me. I know he does. When he unconsciously moves away when I touch a scar, or a small burn mark on his arm. I know he cares. I just wish he didn't.
I run my hand across his back, feeling the numerous scars. Point one out and I could tell you when it happened, how it happened, and how long it took to heal. But that's still not enough to convince him that they don't bother me.
We'd been together for over ten years, married for five. And I still only see the body he worked so hard for during the times when even God can't see us. During the times we're swaddled in bed sheets, clothes tossed aside.
But I accept that, he may not like his body but I do. His scars made him who he is today. Every snap of the whip used to create them moulded him into the man I share my life with. And I love that man.
As I lay under him, my fingers tracing a scar almost twenty years old I feel him shift on me. My eyes move from the ceiling I'd been studying absentmindedly and land on his face. And even in the dark I can see him clearly. His chiselled features, shaggy two toned hair, deep crimson eyes and four blue markings forever emblazoned on his cheeks.
"What're you doin' up?" He asked, brilliant eyes staring down at me half lidded. His voice groggy and holding a sexy drawl only he could pull off.
"Couldn't sleep." Shifting my hands from his back to his shoulders I could see the slight flicker in his eyes as he realised what I'd been doing. Predictably he shifted on me, trying to roll off and sleep away. But I held on, my nails digging in softly, hoping that with his sleepy state he'd give in.
He did.
"Tala-" He started but didn't finish, I didn't give him chance. Planting my lips to his, I kissed him like I did when we were teenagers. When we would sneak away in the abbey for a few minutes alone together. I kissed him for as long as the air in my lungs would allow. And when the protesting got too much, we separated. My bluenette stared down at me, clearly shocked by the bold move.
"Kai, I don't care. I don't. Just stop it. Please." I didn't like begging, it wasn't in my nature. But I'd do it for him. I'd do anything for him.
"I'll try." He breathed, settling himself back on top of me. More so than before.
Wrapping my arms around his shoulder I held him close, listening to the steady beat of his heart and his even breaths.
"I love you." My eyes were beginning to shut, exhaustion from our earlier activities finally catching up. But as my eyes closed I didn't miss the words he spoke before following me to the depths of sleep.
"I love you too."
Just a short one shot I'd wanted to do for a while. I love this pairing and always wanted to do a small one shot about how their pasts affected them. Hope you liked, please read review.