Scars 4

"Please," I begged, "I wanna see!" I was almost whining now.

"Jess, no. They're ugly and scary and gross. You don't want to look."

"But I do, Steve! You're not going to scare me. If they were, like, still bleeding, maybe. But scars?" I tugged at the hem of his shirt, teasing.

He grabbed my hand, still grasping his shirt. Our eyes locked and I saw frustration, grief, and heat flash through his eyes in a single second. Then he relented, releasing my hand and looking down at the floor.

As his eyes lowered, he saw the red marks on my wrist and arm from his grip, and then he looked at me again, wincing guiltily. "I'm sorry, Jess, I didn't mean to hurt..."

"It's alright," I replied softly, letting go of his shirt. "If you really don't want me to see your back, I won't push." Taking a step back, I unconsciously rubbed my wrist until I noticed him watching me, and then I stopped with a wobbly smile.

He stepped forward, leaning down and pressing his forehead to mine. "My scars haven't exactly gone over well in the past, okay? Not everyone's into guys with zippers."

I slid my hands up his arms to his shoulders and tilted my face upward, my lips inches from his. "I'm not everyone."

I felt his shoulders drop as he let out the breath I didn't know he'd been holding. I slid my hands down his arms, down his sides, until they were just below the hem of his shirt. Closing my eyes, I slipped my hands under his shirt and around to his back, where the smooth bumps of his scars rippled the base of his spine. It was like reading Braille as I ran my fingertips over his warm skin.

"See?" I whispered. "Not scary at all."

Steve's hand slid behind my neck, pulling my lips the last inch closer until they were pressed against his. He tasted hot and slightly dangerous when he slipped his tongue into my mouth, and my breath caught as he nipped at my lower lip. His other hand slid under the hem of my sweater, brushing the skin of my stomach. I gasped.

"Scared yet?" he asked, his mouth moving to my ear.

I let out a low laugh that became a moan as his mouth moved lower down my jaw to my neck, his tongue and lips working deftly until my arms slid off his shoulders, boneless. He reached down for my hands and softly tugged me into the bedroom, until we were standing next to his bed.

"Your turn," he stated with a grin.

"My turn to what?" I asked, confused.

"A scar. You've seen one of mine, so now I get to see one of yours."

"Well, I didn't really see it, you know. I only got to touch your scar. If you want to see mine, I want to see yours first."

He thought this over for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders and pulled his shirt over his head. He turned around and I gasped as I saw how the skin twisted and puckered. Looking back at me over his shoulder, he said, "I told you, Jess, they're ugly and disgusting and there's no reason you should want to—"

"Shhhhh," I cut him off, running my fingers over the scar again. I stepped forward until my forehead touched the top of his back.

He froze as the first tears hit his skin. "What's wrong? What are you—?"

"Shhhhh," I said again, and then he was quiet for a while.

Finally, he turned his head again and murmured, "Why are you crying?"

I waited until I knew my voice would be steady, and then, my forehead still against his back, I replied, "I was just thinking about how much it must have hurt you."

Despite my efforts, my voice cracked on the last two words. He turned then, kissing me, harder this time, as he pulled my sweater over my head. I shivered, from the coolness of the air and from the feeling of his eyes on my skin. He sat me down on the edge of the bed.

"Your scar." His voice was rough, and I couldn't tell if it was a question or not.

I held out my right arm straight in front of me, pointing my left index finger to my right wrist. The scar was tiny, no more than an inch long, but it was the only one that came to mind. He smiled, then, and I thought he was laughing at me.

"It's not," I stammered, "I mean, it's nothing... compared to..."

I trailed off as he lowered his mouth to my wrist and kissed where I'd pointed. I was sure he couldn't even see my scar in the darkness, but he pressed his lips to my skin. I pulled my arm to me, pulled him to me as I scooted back on the bed, leaning back on my elbows.

"Somehow, I think you win in the scars department," I said, grinning nervously.

"Oh, well, I guess it's time for my prize, then," he replied, nudging me until I lay flat. He ranged himself over me, and I ran my hands up his arms, the muscles there corded as he held himself above me.

My fingers trailed over the smaller scars on his chest, and he brought his head down to mine, placing kisses on my forehead, the tip of my nose, and my mouth. I thought he would stop there, but he continued down, down my neck to my chest, where he reached around my body to unclasp my bra and slide it off my body.

I reached down to him as he moved lower, touching whatever was nearest: shoulders, arms, the top of his head. When he stopped at my belly button, I froze, nervous. He felt me still and looked up at me.

"Are you okay?" he asked. He rested his chin just below my belly button, and the pressure made my stomach flutter.

"I think so," I whispered, my voice suddenly gone. He lifted his head and kissed where his chin had been, and then reached down to unbutton my jeans.

When he slid them down my hips, down my legs, I grew restless, and tugged his shoulders. I could feel his jeans slide over my skin as he crawled up my body; his fly was undone, but he was still wearing his pants. The sensation of the rough fabric made me feel a bit bolder, and I brought my legs up on either side of his body, pushing the jeans down and off of him.

"Well, aren't you just the helpffff... God..." he trailed off as I ground my hips up at him, pressing myself against his warm, now-freed cock.

"Please," I whimpered. "Now..."

"Since you asked so nicely," he chuckled, reaching down to run his finger up the length of my slit to the small bump at the top. When I shuddered in surprise, gasped, I found he'd positioned himself right at the entrance to me, just brushing against my slick skin. I moved just a bit, just enough to bring the tip of his cock inside me.

"Now?" he whispered hoarsely. I nodded, and he leaned down to kiss me, to thrust his tongue into my mouth as he slid inside me with a single stroke that had me whimpering into his mouth. He didn't pull out right away, but rather settled deeper inside of me, pausing for a moment before beginning to slip out.

My hips seemed to follow him, rock up towards him, not wanting to let him leave, but then he was there again, filling, thrusting, and my knees slid up on either side of him. I ran my fingers over his face and down his neck. I could see in the shadows the road map of scars that covered part of his chest, and ran my fingers over them lightly.

I could feel his breathing starting to speed up, and dug my fingers into his shoulders, pulling him closer. I could see the dark half-moon impressions my near-nonexistent fingernails had left in his skin. Then his pubic bone started to press against my clit and I hardly saw anything, my body sliding against his, my back arching as I felt myself start to shudder around him.

Every muscle in my body was clenching, and each time his cock moved inside me caused a new ripple, a new moan, a new shiver up my spine. I could see his eyes watching mine, and then they closed as I felt him spill into me, the liquid heat streaming out of him as everything inside me relaxed.

He stayed inside of me, rolling carefully to one side so that I was half-leaning, half-lying on him. Everything in me felt raw and melted and absolutely perfect. I started to run my fingertips over his chest again and he grabbed my hand and placed it flat on his chest, so that I could feel his racing heart slowing slightly.

"Easy there, you. Trying to kill me here?"

"Well, you know what they say," I murmured, my flattened hand starting to move lower.

"No; what do they say?"

I slid my leg over him, straddling his warm body and leaned forward, whispering into his mouth.

"Chicks dig scars."