Her body language and her energy that she is radiating as she kneels in front of him is nearly as arousing as the feeling of her lips touching the inside of his knee, her fingers on his other. His stomach jumps, a shiver running down his spine, toes curling slightly.
Maintaining the eye contact is a bit tricky, but he manages.
"You will have to forgive the scars," he comments idly - there are none that are too awful (that she hasn't already noticed anyway) but his skin is littered with small faded ones, scratches and pockmarks that serve as evidence of time spent on the ground. There are nothing he is ashamed of, they are simply part of who he is.
(His memory stretches to recall how he got some of them, but it comes up hazed again.)
no subject
Maintaining the eye contact is a bit tricky, but he manages.
"You will have to forgive the scars," he comments idly - there are none that are too awful (that she hasn't already noticed anyway) but his skin is littered with small faded ones, scratches and pockmarks that serve as evidence of time spent on the ground. There are nothing he is ashamed of, they are simply part of who he is.
(His memory stretches to recall how he got some of them, but it comes up hazed again.)