Prompt: A kiss on; old scars (#6/25)
Setting: None specified
The only blemish he ever found on her, was a scar near the bow of her lip. A blemish that was anything but — as he saw a striking vulnerability in it, and pride in the way she left it there despite such an easy means she had to eliminate it.
He'd never taken the time to actually acknowledge the mark, not in words at least. But one night amidst the impassioned kisses, he had stilled. He studied her face, and traced the imperfection with his finger before gently laying his lips there.
He kissed against the long-healed gash — had her parting her lips in question but he simply did the same again, before taking her in a full kiss, never once speaking of why he'd done such a thing.
Years later the scar was still unchanged. Sometimes he would watch as she spoke, watch how its visibility changed as she turned this way or that, and found it to be even more indicative of her beauty than he had before. As only something so beautiful would look even moreso, for having allowed it to stay with her — for having allowed him to see it at all.