Her skin glows in the dim light. A simple black sports bra hugs the gentle curves of her breasts. She's thin—evidence of weeks of hiding and not enough food—but still soft in all the places I'm hard.
My eyes catch on her burn scar.
The one at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.
The place where an omega mark, and a mating mark, used to be. The scar is angry, red and raised and fresh against her otherwise smooth skin.
Scars, I understand.
I lift my hand, hesitating, looking to her. She nods, giving permission. I let my fingers brush the raised skin. A barely-there caress. She tenses slightly but doesn't pull away.
"We match," she whispers, a small, sad smile playing at her lips.
We do.
Both survivors.
She wriggles out of her bra, baring herself to me.
Beautiful.
So fucking beautiful.
I'm desperate to touch but not sure if I can.
She takes one of my hands in hers and guides it to her breast. "It's okay," she murmurs, her eyes never leaving mine. "I want you to touch me."
Her breast fills my palm, soft and warm. I'm afraid of hurting her, of being too rough, but she arches into my touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
Encouraged, I let my thumb brush across her dusky nipple, watching in fascination as it hardens at my touch. Her sharp intake of breath tells me I'm doing something right.
I try it again, a firmer touch this time.
She moans, her head falling back slightly.
The sound shoots straight to my cock, already hard and straining against the confines of my sweatpants.
Her hands find my shoulders, steadying herself as she leans forward to press her chest against mine. The feeling of her bare skin against my scars sends fire racing through my veins.
Never felt this before.
Skin against skin.
Her soft breasts pressed to my marred chest.
"Lay down with me?" she asks, already shifting back onto the mattress, pulling me with her.
I follow willingly, positioning myself above her again, careful to keep most of my weight on my forearms planted on either side of her head. My hair falls forward, tickling her face.
She reaches up to brush it back, tucking it behind my ear and under the edge of my mask with a gentle touch that makes something in my chest ache.
Don't understand how she sees me.
Can't reconcile it with what I know I am.
But I want to believe her.
Want to see myself through her eyes, just for tonight.
