What?
“Not as cute as mine, butthere’s hope for you yet,” he continued.
Oh. My underwear.
There was an ugly, twistedscar the width of a beer can running down my leg, and he was focused onmyunderwear?
No. No, of course he wasn’t. He was tryingto make me comfortable. No one could miss the scar, but Ashley was choosing notto comment on it.
He might never have stoppedflirting, but he never stopped being sweet, either.
“Sorry they don’t meet yourstandards,” I said, the knot in my stomach easing as he sat down next to me.
Ashley wasn’t disgusted. Atleast, notsodisgusted thathe was running away. That was better than I’d come to hope for.
“They’d look better on thefloor,” he said, grinning and twisting the ointment open. “This is gonna feelcold when I put it on no matter what I do, sorry.”
He was still willing totouchme? Wow.
“You’re supposed to rub itin, but I can be gentle if it’ll hurt? How do I… how tender is the scar?”
“Umm.”
No one had ever asked methat before. I didn’t know what to say.
“You won’t hurt me,” Isettled on. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me on purpose, and Ialreadyhurt. Ashleycould hardly make it worse.
“Okay.” He nodded, pouring agenerous measure of ointment onto his fingertips. The sharp smell raspedagainst the back of my throat, harsh and medicinal.
That was how you knew itworked, I guessed. Anything that smelledthatterrible had to beeffective.
I hissed at the first touchof Ashley’sfingers, and he paused.
“Just cold,” I said.
Itdidhurt, but Iplanned on putting up with it. Ashley wanted to help, and I knew what it waslike to see someone suffering and feel helpless to stop it.
“Looks like it hurt,” Ashleysaid, working his fingers into the twisted scar fearlessly.
“Yeah. Building fell on me.After it blew up,” I explained. “You can see where these scars match a pairacross my chest.” I pointed to the ones that raked from my temple to my jaw,two parallel lines. “That was a piece of doorway, I think.”
Ashley looked, up, meetingmy eyes. “Youwere trying to do good?” he asked.
I nodded. One thing I wassure about was that I wouldn’t have changed anything. You could tell me ahundred times I was looking for hostages in that building and I’d run in witheveryone else, head first, and do it all over again.
We were always careful, butwe weren’tperfect. I was okay with paying the price for imperfection when it meant doingthe right thing.
“Trying to,” I said. “Didn’twork out that way. It was just us that got hurt, though.”
“You would have faced apotentially-armed intruder alone for me,” Ashley said.
He was talking about whenMrs. Seif had interrupted us. Not exactly the scary armed intruder she mighthave been, but I took his point.
“Sure,” I said. “It’s myjob.”
Ashley dug the heel of hishand deep into a knot of muscle. I hissed, gritting my teeth, a bright flash ofpain blinding me for a moment before the knot came loose.
The pleasure of the reliefwas so intense my cock twitched. I moaned without meaning to, the soundvibrating in my chest.
