bakerstreet | Kissing Scars

Kissing Scars

The Kissing Scars Meme

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 remain; 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.
Reply to others.

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[ He watches. Careful and slow. He knows they are both men of action. Careful and slow are only things that have come to them as the years progressed. Gone are the days where they can just charge in and make up plans as they go. It is the same in this. He doesn't just crash into this. Instead, he keeps his touch light and his distance considerate. ]

Well, if you ever do need it, I'll tell you how to make it. I promise you it's so much better than my hangover cure. Not that you ever needed it. [ Which is a boon since it's pickled herring wrapped around more pickles dipped in mustard, yum yum. ] Though I am glad they don't trouble you too much. I know how it can be to have so many.

[ He waits until he can feel the way Jack leans. Only then does he let himself be bold. He had said it at the bar. Different men and different times. He still is certain he's not the one that his old friend would really want doing this, but he can't help himself. Those marks just call to him and make him wonder if he can turn the discomfort into something nicer.

So he leans forward and there's a moment when his breath washes over a mark on Jack's chest. Then there is the smallest brush. The subtle scratchy prickle of a beard around the edges of a little kiss. He drops that first one and then braces. Braces for a punch in the face or a boot to the head or whatever Jack deemed appropriate for his breech of personal space and common courtesy and decorum. ]

[Jack steadies his breathing, swallows down his own anxiety and does his level best to relax. He knows what's coming and prepares himself accordingly, letting his eyes slide closed at the first hint of breath against bare skin. It's more relieving than he thought he'd be, the gentle touch unwinding something tightly-coiled within him. He exhales audibly, tension bleeding out of his shoulders.]

I'll take a rain check on it.

[Already it's half-mumbled as Reinhardt finally gets to work, and Jack can't help but lift a hand, sliding fingers into his hair, a clear gesture of encouragement.]

[ His lips linger and it's clear that he's bracing for impact. He's so certain that the old (though not as old as him) soldier was going to knock him on his ass for this. When he doesn't suddenly have a broken nose or a black eye he looks up, somewhat, the tension in himself deflating at the same rate as Jack's. No one is getting punted across a shabby little safe house tonight.

He smiles slowly, lips curving against Jack's flesh, letting the man feel both his relief and his delight that he's being allowed this intimacy. He even relaxes a little at the feel of strong fingers in his shaggy mane. He understands the meaning well enough and he's not going to question his good fortune. Instead, his mouth moves, lips brushing across the other man's torso as he moves to the next scar. This one getting a slight teasing flick of the tongue and a small scrape of teeth. ]

[Jack can’t help but smile a little—or the best he can approximate, like this—simply because of how tentative it is to start. He sort of wonders how long this has been unspoken between them, and he imagines there’s something to be said about how much it took for this to finally happen, but he opts to stay quiet instead, not wanting to voice the wrong thing. The whole situation still feels so tenuous.

But the hand in Reinhardt’s hair seems to help, and Jack adds another one, surprisingly gentle for gun-calloused hands.

Then there's tongue and teeth and Jack can't help the sigh that escapes him, a contented noise in the back of his throat.]

[ It is tenous indeed. There is still a small quiet part of Reinhardt that doubts he's ever been the one his old commander had an eye for. He ignores that voice. It's annoying and gets in the way of something he's enjoying very much. He'll just barrel past that self doubt and charge head first into this like he does so many other things. Act and then think about it later. Much later.

Much much later. Especially with that second hand joining the first. It makes him shiver a bit despite himself. It's been far too many years since he has felt the strong and steady hands of a warrior touching him like that. He feels a moment of rueful nostalgia for his glory days when his hair was so amazing. Long golden strands for Jack to twist and tug. But those days are over for a far easier to manage shaggy mane of white and there is no pulling or tugging. Just gentle assurance that this is okay. Jack is okay with this.

The sigh reiterates that message and Reinhardt continues his exploration. His beard leading the charge as he travels down, mapping each and every mark, new and old alike. He dwells more on the ones he doesn't recognize, as if to burn them into his memory. Telling him that this is Jack, the new Jack, same as the old one, just a little more worn around the edges. But aren't they all?

His hands are not contented to stay politely at his side. They slide up, his huge palms coming to rest on either of the other man's sides, spreading his fingers as wide as they'll go, just to claim as much torso as possible with a single touch. Not to hold Jack down. No. His grip is loose. The other man can escape whenever he wishes.
It's just another sensation to tether them together. Another languid touch to cement that some things never change. Things like Reinhardt's regard for this man. ]

[Even before Overwatch's fall, Jack has never been one to let himself be cared for. Always someone who needs or deserves it more, and someone like him could never afford to show weakness or admit that up on the pedestal, he's a human that feels and bleeds just like the rest of them. There's a part of him that wants to argue, wants to push Reinhardt away, tell him to spend his efforts on someone else, but it's hard not to get lost in the moment.]

I used to think about this, you know.

[That's more than he should be confessing. Jack's eyes are closed, his head tilted back, fingers combing through Reinhardt's hair absently, like he's remembering something he thought but never said, wound up in professionalism and the chain of command as he was. Something they couldn't ever hope to get back.]

Not...this, exactly.

[He's old, and broken, and still feels like Reinhardt shouldn't be wasting his time. Jack is working on it, little by little.]

Something like it.

[ His tongue drags up a long scar and he finds himself nuzzling at the man's shoulder. Those hands splayed at Jack's sides move to make up for it, just touching with soft but sure pressure. As if to learn then with his fingers as he had his mouth. Trying to anchor this new Jack into his head.

His voice is a low rumble against the man's neck, so careful not to suck or bite. Jack has enough marks. He doesn't need to wear
Reinhardt's. But still, he pauses for a moment there, lingering on a mark he feels he's known for years. Speaking against it so that the other man can feel the caress of his lips, the brush of his mustache, the vibrations of his bass. ] Something like this.... I see. [ There's that dark notion again, the one that tells him once more that he was not, nor never had been the one Jack would have wanted. He had already been too old and too focused on being his own living legend. But he doesn't pull away, even with that doubt. Reinhardt refuses to let doubt stop him. He never has in the past,
he won't let it do so now. ]

I'd like to hear it. Those things you used to think about. Your secrets are safe with me, just as they always have been. [ His vow is sealed with a kiss to the mans' shoulder before he's drifting to tease at his chest ]

[With those thoughts in mind again, it's hard not to want more than exploratory touches and kisses. Nice, sure, but now that Jack has allowed himself this much, it's very difficult not to want more. To be restrained for so long--to put everything he was into Overwatch at the expense of everything else--well, eventually he's going to want to see what he missed out on, isn't he?

He arches a little at the feel of Reinhardt's facial hair in a particularly ticklish spot.]

It ain't much of a secret.

[In that everyone could probably guess how outright repressed he is. Work had always come first, his closest friends were all his direct subordinates, and, steeped in the military as he was, could never quite connect with civilians in a meaningful way. He's not virginal by any means, but he'd been in the unique position that made intimate relationships a little, well.

Difficult.]

Had the chain of command to contend with, but I could still think about it.

[ That arch has him paying more attention to that spot. He seems fully focused and committed to watching the super soldier squirm under the tease of his mouth. His teeth catching a little against a raised line of flesh near to Jack's neck. His nuzzle moving towards the scars of his face. Stealing a small kiss before he pulls back a little, a small understanding in his single eye. ]

You could still think about it and I have no place to tell you differently.

[ It had been no real secret that once, long before he had been a part of Overwatch, he had indeed had relations with his commander. It was not something he spoke of. Nor would he now. He knows that for commanders and for underlings, such relationships were forbidden for important reasons. A commander can't make important decisions that would put their lover into danger and also the worry of favoritism. ]

Well, isn't that fortunate then. [ One large hand trails down towards Jack's legs. ] You're no longer my commander. And you no longer have to just think about it. You can act on it. Neither of us have to hold back anymore.

[Jack knows that he has no obligation to actively converse while this is happening, but for some reason he still feels like he has to fill the silence, especially if he's just letting himself sit back and be pleasured. He tells himself he'll get to it--in a moment. Right now, it's just nice to enjoy this for what it is. He lets out another sigh.]

You were always a good friend, Reinhardt.

[But there’s air in his voice now, and he sounds increasingly distracted the lower Reinhardt’s hand goes.]

I don’t think I said that enough.

[ His lips work up until he's at the man's shoulders. Any higher and he knows he'll be kissing those scars on the man's face. He isn't certain that's something he's allowed to do. It's one thing to brush touches and kisses to those scars on Jack's body, it's another thing completely to kiss him on the mouth.

His broad palm rests finally against one of the man's thighs, his fingers spreading, his thumb making light circles against the inside of it, dangerously close to his crotch. ]

Were? Oh Jack. [ He shifts up to look the man in the eyes, his singular eye completely honest. ] I never stopped being your friend. Even while you were...away. And I never will. I doubt there is anything you could say or do that would lose my friendship. Though please don't take this as a challenge. I miss my drinking buddy. I miss my friend. I miss you. [ He will boldly press the smallest kiss to the lowest edge of a facial scar. ]

[Hearing someone talk about him like this is a little more than he can bear, so he squeezes his eyes shut like somehow that's going to make it better. Jack has no acceptable answer for any of this, and it hurts, to know how much he was missed. Everything he's done posthumously has been for his people, even if they don't know it, but that doesn't stop him from feeling like he wasn't there for them when he should have been.

He can feel Reinhardt's hesitation about kissing him fully, and maybe finds it a little funny that the hand at his groin is so unabashed in comparison. In lieu of an acceptable answer to any of this, Jack decides that he needs to start taking matters into his own hands.

There's just the slightest moment of hesitation for him to bring his hands around, cupping Reinhardt's face and directing him towards his mouth. Jack doesn't wait for any kind of permission, kissing him fully as if that should be answer enough.]

[ Jack isn't the only one that feels such things. Reinhardt has based his entire adult life on being the shield that guards. How long has Jack been without someone to watch his back for him and make sure that these scars are the last he gets?

But this is a passing fancy, lost to how strong hands pull him close to demand that kiss. A kiss that's taken before he can even give it and a kiss Reinhardt happily gives back. That press of lips, that touch of hands, it's all he needs to lose his hesitation completely. As he always does, he charges boldly forward, kissing this man like he's making up for years of missed chances. There's tenderness there, but it's secondary to passion, trying to devour those lips even as his hands keeps moving, trying to touch as much of Jack as possible. ]

[Despite his initial forwardness, Jack is a little out of practice, still feeling his way around this entire situation and not quite sure what to do about it. He decides to give himself over to what feels good and right, because with everything else the way it is, he needs to hold onto what he can.

Right now, that’s Reinhardt, figuratively and literally.

Jack, too, seems to be making up for lost time, meeting Reinhardt’s lips just as fervently, his hands curling around the back of his head to pull him closer. After a moment, he has to gasp for breath, but the reprieve is short lived as Jack is kissing him again, hands settling on Reinhardt’s shoulders and pulling at his lower lip with his teeth.]

[ He's not going to push this man away either. He's going to welcome him. Just as he always has. It doesn't matter if it's 20 minutes or 20 years, Reinhardt will always be willing to be there for whatever it is that Jack needs. Not because the man had once been his commander but because he was a friend.

His hands slide down to the man's thighs for a moment to give a small squeeze before moving up to just hold his middle. His long span of fingers means he can still lightly stroke over some of those scars. He gives a warm groan at the feel of teeth tugging. He lets the man in, parting his lips and trying to coax the man's tongue to play with his.
Worries about going too far or pushing too much have fled his mind. All there is now is Jack. Kissing this man and making sure he knows that he is adored. ]

[His sharp inhale as he surfaces for air is more than indicative of how starved he’s been for this sort of thing, trying to remember how it goes and what he’s supposed to do. It’s probably best not to think too hard about it; just do what feels right, and sort everything else out later. To Reinhardt’s credit, he goes with the flow, and soon Jack is parting his lips for him, arms settling around his shoulders as he takes all the air out between them.

Still, he can’t quite help the nervous laugh, like he knows he’s too old for this and is probably more than a little out of practice. Jack suddenly can’t believe he ever repressed this, when it feels (at least momentarily) like exactly the thing he needs.

After a moment, one broad hand slides down Reinhardt’s chest, splaying there, and he can’t stifle the groan that escapes him, unbecoming as it is.]

[ Neither of then are young men anymore. Both could easily admit they were way too old for the fumbling kisses of their teen years. But here they sit and Reinhardt is remembering how it feels to really kiss someone, to really like someone. Even if this is the only time he gets this. Because he's sure it might be. Their lives make to so that such things aren't given or received often.

So he is going to enjoy it while he can. Enjoy it for what it was.

Reinhardt embraces this like he does everything else. With his whole heart, slowly and carefully exploring Jack, trying not to go too fast or push too much that he might push the man away with his eagerness.

He arches his chest a little into the touch when he comes. He's inviting Jack to touch him back. He pretends not to hear the groan but the sound is delicious, going right to his crotch. He has to take a long calming breath through his nose before he can press on, keeping their lips together and their tongue swirling. ]

[He knows the groan is undignified, the last thing anyone should hear from the former strike commander of Overwatch, but he’s beyond the point of caring. Now that he’s convinced himself he’s allowed to have this, Jack is going to take anything Reinhardt wants to give him, and do so eagerly. He’s a man starved, determined to make the most of what’s sure to be fleeting.

Because, despite everything, he still has a mission to complete. He can’t afford the distraction, and he can’t afford to put Reinhardt in more danger than he already has, even though he’s sure the other man would argue.

For now, he tries to push those thoughts out of his mind, focusing on the broad hand between his legs, fighting down another thoroughly embarassing noise. The kissing does a good job of stifling that, but he can’t help pitching his hips, encouraging.]

[ To Reinhardt, he sees the older man and he still sees the strength and dignity in him. He sees a man that had sacrificed so much and never asked for anything back. Jack was still a hero, the sort of man Reinhardt could follow and adore without a second thought. He still does hold the old soldier in such high regard. Just not so high that he doesn't dare touch him. Reinhardt has learned that lesson the hard way. That if he cared for someone, he shouldn't hold back, because he might never get another chance. He's let too many chances pass him by.

He takes the encouragement of those eager hips and moves his hand upon the outside of Jack's pants, slowly and sensually stroking. On the up rub, his thick fingers unhook the top of those pants and then slowly draws down the zipper. Nothing more than that. As much as he knows he might not have a second chance, he doesn't want to push Jack too far or too fast.

He pulls his mouth away from Jack's lips and lightly kisses the trail down his chin and to his neck, making it clear that he's more than willing to kiss himself a trail all the way down those scars to the man's open pants. ]

[Jack doesn’t quite have the clarity of mind to realize it, but perhaps when he thinks about this later, he’ll come tot he conclusion that this made him feel a little less broken. Maybe a little more like the man he used to be, lost as he is. Being valued—having someone accept him despite everything he’s done and everything he’s become—it’s something he’s not used to anymore.

Even if that acceptance comes in the form of physical gratification, well. Jack will take it. For Reinhardt to think so highly of him, still, is a greater compliment than he can hope to repay.

Reinhardt pulls his mouth away and Jack gasps for air, body reacting almost of its own accord to the broad hands that explore him. He cranes his neck, a clear indication that Reinhardt is welcome to do whatever he likes. Jack is too starved for this to stop now.]

[ Reinhardt would have happily let this man know how highly he thought of him still without the kisses and the touching. But he's not going to let this pass him by. Too many years has he lived with his what ifs. He's not going to have any more regrets. He wants to be able to walk away knowing that even if it was just once and only once, he was able to show this man the depth of his regard.

He takes the arches throat as invitation and nips at it, giving it a hot lick and then a bearded nuzzle, teeth catching, trying to put a bruise on that marked up skin. Trying to put his own mark upon the man, if even for a little bit.

Between the man's legs, that hand keeps lightly rubbing, slowly sneaking into his pants to touch even closer. His little nips work up to the man's ear and he husks into it. ] Jack...I'd love to suck you off. Can I? [ Because of course he's the sort that has to ask first. ]

[Jack laughs out loud, a barked, desperate sort of noise that encompasses both his frustration that Reinhardt has momentarily halted things right there to ask permission, and his disbelief that this is even happening at all. Of course Reinhardt is asking permission. How could Jack expect anything less?

Yeah—

[The unfortunate thing is that now Jack is riled up and impatient, his voice a low growl as he weaves his fingers back into Reinhardt’s hair, giving an appreciative tug that simultaneously indicates he should stop wasting time on his neck.]

Jesus, Reinhardt, you don’t have to ask, just—do whatever you want.

[He understands—and even appreciates the sentiment—Jack is just more than ready for it, and doesn’t want to be kept waiting any longer.]

[ He chuckles just a little against the man's neck. He likes that demanding little tug. He places an almost too gentle, too caring kiss to the man's neck before moving on. ] Of course I have to ask. You're important to me, so I'm going to get permission. I'm going to make sure this is something you want. [ The 'that I'm who you want' is left unspoken because he has permission now.

Permission is all he needs to slowly shift his frame off that couch. He doesn't mind having to sit on the floor for this. With his height, it's necessary to get himself into the right position for what he wants to do. His mouth working back down that scarred torso, pausing to flick his tongue over nipples before going down to join the hand that is trying to push the man's pants down enough to free his cock.

Eventually, he'll come face to face with Jack's cock. He looks up one more time, checking in before he leans forward to open his mouth and just take it in. No teasing. No build up. He was told he could do what he wanted and he wants to have his mouth full of this man. ]

[There's a noise in the back of his throat that's almost a whine, a clear protest at Reinhardt dragging things out unnecessarily (in his mind, anyway). Consent has been had, so why is Reinhardt still kissing at his neck, instead of getting down to business? Jack has always been a little impatient.

But it all happens soon enough, and he's letting his head fall back as Reinhardt moves lower and lower. He's already half-hard from this, and his stomach clenches the closer Reinhardt gets, until he's gasping again at the feel of that mouth on him.]

Shit--

[He's not entirely prepared for this, hand digging into Reinhardt's shoulder as if searching for purchase.]

[ Reinhardt has no hesitation once he's there. He looks up at the man with his one good eye, just watching him. Studying his reactions. He knows it's probably been a while for Jack. He knows for a fact it's been a while for him. He hasn't sucked a man off in far too long. He's eager to do so.

He feels those strong, calloused hands grabbing onto his shoulders and he smiles around his mouthful. He wants Jack to do that. To just hold on, let go of himself, and enjoy the ride. He encourages that by lightly suckling at just the head of him before relaxing his jaw to see just how deeply he can take the man into his mouth before he chokes and then pulling back again for another suck and another attempt to swallow his old friend until his nose can bury into silvery curls. ]

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