Despite the romanticism surrounding the emotion, it can be difficult to be loved completely — not just the beautiful parts of us, but also the sad parts, the injured parts, the hidden and less-than-pleasant parts. There are marks on us, both physical and mental, that we'd often rather forget. The mental ones can just be easier to hide. As for physical scars, they can be off of our minds some of the time, but that's exceedingly hard to do in more intimate, close moments.
Whether it's to your dismay or otherwise, your partner is not looking away and ignoring your scars. To the contrary, they're providing attention in a way most heavily associated with tenderness: kissing. It may be an accidental slip off target, or they may be trying to show you that what you've done and who you've been don't matter to them now.
Does the gesture touch you? Make the walls come up once again because of the memories that are dredged from somewhere you'd rather no go? A mixture of both?
The wound has long closed, yet the pains remains; these days, however, there's someone who may be willing to help you bear it.
Reply with the usual: canon, character, preferences, et al. You may also want to say if you're down for smut or not, since it's not a given.
Be sure to include what side you'd like your character to play. Mention if you can do both the kisser and the kissed.
Also, feel free to talk about your character's scars.
There's actually nothing in the world that compares to dating Rachel Caustello. There are a million things that make him happy in his life, yes, but there's something entirely uniquely wonderful about being allowed to say 'I love you' to the young woman holding his heart.
Kissing her is also good. Edgar is, in fact, entirely a fan of kissing and being kissed by her. And yes, there's just been kissing, and yes, that sometimes flares his hormones into a terrible state, but yes, it's absolutely enough to know that, at any moment, she might turn her head and tilt her face up to his and press her lips against his own.
It's wonderful. It's everything he needs. It's something he's assured her of, and something he fully believes himself. It doesn't mean, when they're locked away in his room one lazy afternoon and tangled up in dizzying kisses on his bed, that his hands aren't going to forget themselves.
He manages to catch himself when his fingers have only slightly wormed under her shirt, jerking himself back absolutely breathless.
Dating Edgar Eicheln has been an absolutely wonderful experience. Has made her life so much better than ever before. Kissing him merely enhances that.
But she knows he wants a little more than that, sometimes, for all he reassures her that it's fine. She wants a little more than that, sometimes.
It's just that it's still hard. It's just that his fingers moving beneath her shirt has her breath catching in her throat a moment.
That doesn't mean that their presence isn't missed when he pulls back.
"--'s all right." And it is, even if it's taking her a bit to calm again. Lifting a hand up to touch his cheek helps, "'s-- Ed, I want you to. Just-- give me a second, yeah?"
It's going to take a second to calm back down, he knows. It's going to mean lying on his side and squeezing his eyes shut to will his traitorous body back into calmness while she starts to relax again. And all that's fine.
Except her fingers smooth his cheek. Except she says she wants to.
His heart absolutely refuses to stop pounding.
"It-- yeah. Rach, if-- yeah. As... as much time as you... yeah."
She smiles, and it's a little shaky but it's clear it's absolutely genuine. She'll shift to press a kiss against his cheek before curling in, head pressed against his chest a moment as she gets her breathing steady.
And then she's almost ready, but a lingering sense of worry suddenly gives her pause.
She touches his cheek again, a little more fretful this time, "Just--"
How to put this into words?
"--It-- you should know, Ed, it-- doesn't look good."
There's a reason she hides as much of her skin as possible.
His exhale can't help being shaky at her lips against his cheek. His arms, finding her waist carefully as she rests against him, can't help being tense.
How can this be okay, after all, if she's anything less than completely comfortable? Completely happy?
It's instinctive to lean his cheek, just slightly, against her touch. His nose wrinkles unconsciously at her words, not quite certain what to do with them.
"...but... it's you."
And everything she is is beautiful. Everything she's been and everything she'll be--he can't imagine it being otherwise.
The words, not all spoken but clear nonetheless, make her smile. She leans in for a proper kiss, long and lingering against his lips as she continues to touch his face.
"I don't deserve you," she murmurs.
How could she possibly be worthy of someone as wonderful as him?
And it helps to hear it. It's got her finally losing the remaining tension between her shoulders. Has her leaning in to press her lips against his temple, shift to murmur along his jaw.
"--All right. 's-- 's do this." Her fingers, fumbling just slightly, brush over the hem of his shirt, "'s it all right if y'go first?"
He's never been shy of his own body, after all. The scars littering his skin--from the innocuous little line over his right adductor pollicis where he'd caught a knife wrong to the massive knot of scars on both sides of his torso when he'd fallen getting his brother from a tree--are worn without any instinct for shame. They're reminders, yes, but they're also just a piece of who he is. Who he's been.
There's no hesitation to shifting over a bit so she can pull his shirt easily up over his head.
"Thank you," she murmurs against his cheek once more before she shifts to lift his shirt off of him, fingers brushing lightly and lovingly against skin as she does so. Once the shirt is off, she'll be unable to keep from carefully touching his bared chest, "You-- wow, Ed."
And even though her hands are guiding his to her shirt, she can't help the adoring smile that touches her lips, "Here."
Her hands twitch just slightly as she fights the instinct to cover up the scars, an instinct she manages to conquer by letting her fingers drop to touch his chest once more. Her smile is hesitant as she studies his reaction for a quiet few moments.
Because he knows she knows she's smart. He knows she knows (as much as she's able) that she's strong. He tells her all the time, because he's completely in love with her mind and her soul.
It's just that, right now, he's also a lot in love with her body. His fingers trace up carefully along her ribs, experimental and light.
Because she knows he loves her for more than just her looks. He's reassured her of as much, very often. But it's incredibly reassuring, especially now, to know he finds her physically attractive as well.
He's fairly certain the unconscious shifting of his hips makes that apparent. He's completely sure the way he's become absolutely mesmerized with memorizing this new piece of her makes it equally so.
His fingers stop shy of actually touching one of the larger scars on her skin--crossing her shoulder. There's a questioning glance up to her eyes.
He's speaking from the heart. She can tell by his reactions, by the gentle way his fingers dance along her skin. She can't help but follow suit, her own tracing the line across his collar bone, lazily drifting along his neck.
She still can't help but still a little as his move closer to the scar on her shoulder. Him looking up at her helps, and after a moment she nods her assent.
It's a soft little exhale, the touch an entirely new sensation that she's definitely not displeased with. Her head dips to rest against his, lips finding first his temple, then ghosting over his ear lightly.
"That's-- Keep going."
It actually feels surprisingly good. Is beginning to drive away the memory of what put the scar there in the first place.
It's a beautiful sound on her lips. It's a lovely encouragement against his ear.
One hand shifts to brace himself properly against her hip, thumb smoothing a hopefully reassuring circle against the skin just above the fabric of her pants. His lips travel incredibly lightly, incredibly slowly in a delicate trail of kisses closer to the site of the old injury.
She can't help the way she leans into his touch, a pleased little hum escaping her lips. One of her own hands rests lightly over his other one, fingers gliding up and down his arm aimlessly for a few moments before shifting to his back to pull him in just a little closer.
She needs him to fill her senses; to overwhelm herself with his presence so she forgets about where he's kissing, how that scar came to be there. It's the only way she'll manage to keep her breathing anything like steady-- or, at least, as steady as it can be while shirtless with the person you love.
Everything is encouraging. Every sound, every touch, every shift of her body against his. Every breath in and out of her body.
And every inch of her skin he's allowed to kiss is its own little blessing. Every centimetre of he's allowed to shift closer to the scar tissue is a mountain of trust between them.
He pauses just shy of the actual scar, just to exhale slowly and steady his own heart.
"I love you."
Sealed with a careful kiss, odd against his lips with the difference between flesh and scar.
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bakerstreet2014-06-02 10:48 pm
1) first time getting shirtless together for Reboot
Kissing her is also good. Edgar is, in fact, entirely a fan of kissing and being kissed by her. And yes, there's just been kissing, and yes, that sometimes flares his hormones into a terrible state, but yes, it's absolutely enough to know that, at any moment, she might turn her head and tilt her face up to his and press her lips against his own.
It's wonderful. It's everything he needs. It's something he's assured her of, and something he fully believes himself. It doesn't mean, when they're locked away in his room one lazy afternoon and tangled up in dizzying kisses on his bed, that his hands aren't going to forget themselves.
He manages to catch himself when his fingers have only slightly wormed under her shirt, jerking himself back absolutely breathless.
"--sorry. Sorry."
babies ;w;
But she knows he wants a little more than that, sometimes, for all he reassures her that it's fine. She wants a little more than that, sometimes.
It's just that it's still hard. It's just that his fingers moving beneath her shirt has her breath catching in her throat a moment.
That doesn't mean that their presence isn't missed when he pulls back.
"--'s all right." And it is, even if it's taking her a bit to calm again. Lifting a hand up to touch his cheek helps, "'s-- Ed, I want you to. Just-- give me a second, yeah?"
Let her prepare for it.
stupid babies I love them /o\
Except her fingers smooth his cheek. Except she says she wants to.
His heart absolutely refuses to stop pounding.
"It-- yeah. Rach, if-- yeah. As... as much time as you... yeah."
so silly /o\
And then she's almost ready, but a lingering sense of worry suddenly gives her pause.
She touches his cheek again, a little more fretful this time, "Just--"
How to put this into words?
"--It-- you should know, Ed, it-- doesn't look good."
There's a reason she hides as much of her skin as possible.
and precious ; ;
How can this be okay, after all, if she's anything less than completely comfortable? Completely happy?
It's instinctive to lean his cheek, just slightly, against her touch. His nose wrinkles unconsciously at her words, not quite certain what to do with them.
"...but... it's you."
And everything she is is beautiful. Everything she's been and everything she'll be--he can't imagine it being otherwise.
;3;
"I don't deserve you," she murmurs.
How could she possibly be worthy of someone as wonderful as him?
/cuddles them up fiveever
His lips chase hers just briefly, just to hush the nonsense from her words.
"You-- deserve to be happy, Rach. 'f I'm a part of that, then we both win, mm?"
/smooshes
Even if it takes her a bit to accept the rest of it, she can accept that. She can absolutely kiss him again to start to help it settle in her heart.
"I love you."
\o/ <3
"I love you. Sort of-- crazy a lot, Rach."
And just because they both know it's true doesn't mean he doesn't need to say it.
no subject
And it helps to hear it. It's got her finally losing the remaining tension between her shoulders. Has her leaning in to press her lips against his temple, shift to murmur along his jaw.
"--All right. 's-- 's do this." Her fingers, fumbling just slightly, brush over the hem of his shirt, "'s it all right if y'go first?"
no subject
He's never been shy of his own body, after all. The scars littering his skin--from the innocuous little line over his right adductor pollicis where he'd caught a knife wrong to the massive knot of scars on both sides of his torso when he'd fallen getting his brother from a tree--are worn without any instinct for shame. They're reminders, yes, but they're also just a piece of who he is. Who he's been.
There's no hesitation to shifting over a bit so she can pull his shirt easily up over his head.
no subject
And even though her hands are guiding his to her shirt, she can't help the adoring smile that touches her lips, "Here."
Her turn.
no subject
It's impossible not to pause just one more second with his fingers curling in the hem of her shirt.
"Ready?"
no subject
"Ready, Ed."
no subject
The room is in semi-darkness, yes, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have a slightly dazed inhale as he leans back to properly take her in.
no subject
"--Well?"
no subject
Because he knows she knows she's smart. He knows she knows (as much as she's able) that she's strong. He tells her all the time, because he's completely in love with her mind and her soul.
It's just that, right now, he's also a lot in love with her body. His fingers trace up carefully along her ribs, experimental and light.
no subject
Because she knows he loves her for more than just her looks. He's reassured her of as much, very often. But it's incredibly reassuring, especially now, to know he finds her physically attractive as well.
no subject
He's fairly certain the unconscious shifting of his hips makes that apparent. He's completely sure the way he's become absolutely mesmerized with memorizing this new piece of her makes it equally so.
His fingers stop shy of actually touching one of the larger scars on her skin--crossing her shoulder. There's a questioning glance up to her eyes.
no subject
She still can't help but still a little as his move closer to the scar on her shoulder. Him looking up at her helps, and after a moment she nods her assent.
"--Slowly there, Ed," she murmurs.
no subject
She's entirely overwhelming in the best way.
His lips are ducked carefully to her neck. To a centimetre closer to the scar.
no subject
It's a soft little exhale, the touch an entirely new sensation that she's definitely not displeased with. Her head dips to rest against his, lips finding first his temple, then ghosting over his ear lightly.
"That's-- Keep going."
It actually feels surprisingly good. Is beginning to drive away the memory of what put the scar there in the first place.
no subject
One hand shifts to brace himself properly against her hip, thumb smoothing a hopefully reassuring circle against the skin just above the fabric of her pants. His lips travel incredibly lightly, incredibly slowly in a delicate trail of kisses closer to the site of the old injury.
no subject
She needs him to fill her senses; to overwhelm herself with his presence so she forgets about where he's kissing, how that scar came to be there. It's the only way she'll manage to keep her breathing anything like steady-- or, at least, as steady as it can be while shirtless with the person you love.
no subject
And every inch of her skin he's allowed to kiss is its own little blessing. Every centimetre of he's allowed to shift closer to the scar tissue is a mountain of trust between them.
He pauses just shy of the actual scar, just to exhale slowly and steady his own heart.
"I love you."
Sealed with a careful kiss, odd against his lips with the difference between flesh and scar.
(no subject)
putting this as...Fall 1987 in the timeline if that's acceptable
That miiiight be a lil early if I'm timelining in my brain right :|a maybe winter '87/spring '88?
Spring 1988 it is~ Challenges need to start going in dang.
So many things :O
Also at some point birthdays too. :|a
Which means I should pick one for Elliot. Hm.
When we are both around to hammer it, a proper timeline for all \o/
Yes good \o/
Whenever that somehow next is. o/
\o