By Lamplight (16+)
“Where did you get this one?” You asked softly, eyes gleaming in the warm golden glow of the lamplight. From above him looking down, you could see every plane of his soft flesh illuminated in the darkness. Slowly, your fingers traced the long jagged scar that blazed a trail across his sternum.
Helmut sighed. “It was a parting gift from a man I killed about ten years ago. I thought he was down, so I turned my back on him. Turns out he had a pocket knife and enough energy to stand up and get a good slash in. I’ll never make that mistake again, not with a reminder like this,”
In the darkness, he gestured towards the long-since healed wound. It was a bad one, all rough edges and thick white scar tissue lining the shiny pink gash. That being said, it was a part of him, just as every other scar and mole and divot on his body was just a part of him. That meant you loved it just the same. He didn’t seem to feel that way though, shying away from your eyes and touch as you explored him.
“Does it still hurt?” You murmured.
“Not anymore,” he replied, letting his fingertips ghost over your thighs as he admired you, “It’s just… strange to have someone focus on it,”
At his words, you pulled your fingers away just a fraction of an inch. There was a hesitation within you now. Had you done something wrong? “Do you want me to stop?”
“No,”
When you met his gaze, pupils blown wide with hunger, you smiled. With a twinkle in your eye, you slowly lowered your mouth to the scar and left a trail of soft, barely-there kisses down its length. Helmut trembled below you. You could feel every hitched breath under your hands. When you came up again, his dark visage had softened into something more like adoration.
“Do you have any more?” Your voice came out as a whisper, just barely there.
Helmut nodded, removing his hand from your thigh and instead using it to guide your own digits towards a less noticeable scar on his shoulder. You traced it reverently.
“That one I got from my cousin. He shot me in the shoulder with a BB-gun at close range,”
You chuckled a bit as you lowered your mouth to the marred skin. “Did you get him back for it?”
“Absolutely,”
This continued for a while. From your perch on Helmut’s hips, you had access to his whole chest, working your way through each only injury and relishing in the phantom memories they told. Outside the window, the world still turned. Cars passed, shops closed up, people chattered in the streets; inside your small room, though, time stood still. Nothing mattered except you and Helmut and the soft flickering of the filament in the old, half-dead bulb that lit you from the side. It was like a gift from the universe. After months of constant movement, it was nice to take a momentary pause.
Finally, you reached Helmut’s last available scar.
It was tiny, a soft white line not two centimeters long on the soft skin where his neck met his chin. You relished in the feeling of his pulse beneath your mouth. “And this one?”
Helmut was a shivering wreck beneath you. He had been since about the fourth or fifth scar, not that you’d been counting. A low groan escaped his lips as he let his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs just a little. He was straining for something, anything you would give him. The look in your eyes told him it wouldn’t be long before he got what he wanted.
“Shaving. I got that one shaving about a month ago,”
You hummed a soft affirmative. Pressing one last kiss to his pulse, you finally rose once again. “I like your scars, Helmut. Do you want to see some of mine?”
He wasted no time flipping you over to take your place. It was going to be a long night.