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SCARS
"Please," Gauri begged, "I wanna see!" She was almost whining now.
"Gauri, no. They're ugly and scary and gross. You don't want to look."
"But I do, Omkara! You're not going to scare me. If they were, like, still bleeding, maybe. But scars?" She tugged at the hem of his shirt, teasing.
He grabbed her hand, still grasping his shirt. Their eyes locked and she saw frustration, grief, and heat flash through his eyes in a single second. Then he relented, releasing her hand and looking down at the floor.
As his eyes lowered, he saw the red marks on her wrist and arm from his grip, and then he looked at her again, wincing guiltily. "I'm sorry, Gauri, I didn't mean to hurt..."
"It's alright," She 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, she unconsciously rubbed her wrist until she noticed him watching her, and then she stopped with a wobbly smile.
He stepped forward, leaning down and pressing his forehead to hers. "My scars haven't exactly gone over well in the past, okay? Not everyone's into guys with ruthless maroon blemishes."
She slid her hands up his arms to his shoulders and tilted his face upward, her lips inches from his. "I'm not everyone."
Gauri felt his shoulders drop as he let out the breath she didn't know he'd been holding. She slid her hands down his arms, down his sides, until they were just below the hem of his shirt. Closing her eyes, she slipped his 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 she ran her fingertips over his warm skin.
"See?" She whispered. "Not scary at all."
Omkara's hand slid behind her neck, pulling her lips the last inch closer until they were pressed against his. He tasted hot and slightly dangerous when he slipped his tongue into her mouth, and her breath caught as he nipped at her lower lip. His other hand slid under the hem of her sweater, brushing the skin of her stomach. She just gasped.
"Scared yet?" he asked, his mouth moving to her ear.
She let out a low laugh that became a moan as his mouth moved lower down her jaw to her neck, his tongue and lips working deftly until her arms slid off his shoulders, boneless. He reached down for her hands and softly tugged her into the bedroom, until they were standing next to their bed.
"Your turn," he stated with a grin.
"My turn to what?" She 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 she gasped as saw how his skin twisted and puckered. Looking back at her from over his shoulder, he said, "I told you, Gauri, they're ugly and disgusting and there's no reason you should want to"
"Shhh," she cut him off, running her fingers over the scar again. She stepped forward until her forehead touched the top of his back.
He froze as the first tears hit his skin. "What's wrong? What are you?"
"Shhh," she said again, and then he was quiet for a while.
Finally, he turned his head again and murmured, "Why are you crying?"
Gauri waited until she knew her voice would be steady, and then, her forehead still against his back, she replied, "I was just thinking about how much it must have hurt you."
Despite all the efforts, her voice cracked on the last two words. He turned then, kissing her, harder this time, as he pulled her sweater over her head. She shivered, from the coolness of the air and from the feeling of his eyes on her skin. He sat her down on the edge of the bed.
"Your scar." His voice was rough, and she could not tell if it was a question or not.
She held out her right arm straight in front of her, pointing her left index finger to the 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 she thought he was laughing at her.
"It's not," She stammered, "I mean, it's nothing... compared to..."
She trailed off as he lowered his mouth to her wrist and kissed where she had pointed. She was sure he couldn't even see her scar in the darkness, but he pressed his lips to her skin. She pulled her arm to herself, pulled him to her as she scooted back on the bed, leaning back on her elbows.
"Somehow, I think you win in the scars department," she said, grinning nervously.
"Oh, well, I guess it's time for my prize, then," he replied, nudging her until she lay flat. He ranged himself over her, and she ran her hands up his arms, the muscles there corded as he held himself above her.
Her fingers trailed over the smaller scars on his chest, and he brought his head down to hers, placing kisses on her forehead, the tip of her nose, and her mouth. She thought he would stop there like he did everyday, but he continued down, down her neck to her chest, where he reached around her body to unclasp her bra and slide it off her body.
She reached down to him as he moved lower, touching whatever was nearest: shoulders, arms, the top of his head. When he stopped at her belly button, she froze, nervous. He felt her still and looked up at her.
"Are you okay?" he asked. He rested his chin just below her belly button, and the pressure made her stomach flutter.
"I think so," She whispered, her voice suddenly gone. He lifted his head and kissed where his chin had been, and then reached down to undo the knot of her pyjama.
When he slid them down her hips, down her legs, She grew restless, and tugged his shoulders. She could feel his pants slide over her skin as he crawled up her body; his fly was undone, but he was still wearing his pants. The sensation of the rough fabric made her feel a bit bolder, and She brought her legs up on either side of his body, pushing the pants down and off of him.
"Well, aren't you just the helpfff... God..." he trailed off as She ground her hips up at him, pressing herself against his warm, now-freed length.
"Please," she whimpered. "Now..."
"Since you asked so nicely," he chuckled, reaching down to run his finger up the length of her slit to the small nub at the top. When she shuddered in surprise, gasped, she found he had positioned himself right at the entrance to her, just brushing against her slick skin. She moved just a bit, just enough to bring the tip of his manhood inside her.
"Now?" he whispered hoarsely. She nodded, and he leaned down to kiss her, to thrust his tongue into her mouth as he slid inside her with a single stroke that had her whimpering into his mouth. He did not pull out right away, but rather settled deeper inside of her, pausing for a moment before beginning to slip out.
Her hips seemed to follow him, rock up towards him, not wanting to let him leave, but then he was there again, filling, thrusting, and her knees slid up on either side of him. She ran her fingers over his face and down his neck. She could see in the shadows the road map of scars that covered part of his chest, and ran her fingers over them lightly.
She could feel his breathing starting to speed up, and dug my fingers into his shoulders, pulling him closer. She could see the dark half-moon impressions her near-nonexistent fingernails had left in his skin. Then his pubic bone started to press against her core and she hardly saw anything, her body sliding against his, her back arching as she felt herself start to shudder around him.
Every muscle in her body was clenching, and each time he moved inside her ... it caused a new ripple, a new moan, a new shiver up her spine. She could see his eyes watching hers, and then they closed as she felt him spill into her, the liquid heat streaming out of him as everything inside her relaxed.
He stayed inside of her, rolling carefully to one side so that she was half-leaning, half-lying on him. Everything in her felt raw and melted and absolutely perfect. She started to run her fingertips over his chest again and he grabbed her hand and placed it flat on his chest, so that she could feel his racing heart slowing slightly.
"Easy there, you. Trying to kill me here?"
"Well, you know how is it supposed to be," She murmured, her flattened hand starting to move lower.
"No; tell me how?"
She slid her leg over him, straddling his warm body and leaned forward, whispering into his mouth.
"These scars are mine too."
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