Boundaries (Karen/Frank)
Kastle + Boundaries
Frank had flinched the first time she ran her fingers through his hair, a bumpy little line of scar tissue across his scalp barely noticeable against her fingertips as they had roamed through his softly curling locks.
It was the only scar he hid, the only one he’d rather she not mention even though she was intimately acquainted with every mark on his body.
Still, she knew not to do it again, instead slipping her hand down to rest against against the column of his throat every time she kissed him, shivering at the way his jaw stubble felt against her thumb.
And when she cut his hair, clippers buzzing gently in the quiet bathroom, she made sure to use a the quarter-inch guard instead of the eighth, gently brushing away the falling hair and leaving a quick peck on his cheek.
Some wounds took far longer to heal than others, and Karen really didn’t mind waiting.