Were he still in his field, Dani wouldn't care about the scars. Everyone has them, no one is precious about it. Since leaving it, they've been evidence of where he came from, so he'd learned the habit of hiding them. His shame in them had been seeded then, and had flowered in this place where no one else has lived that life.
No, Louis is right. He doesn't need to look at anyone else.
His eyes train on Louis' face, his cheekbones, his lips. His eyelashes, dusting his cheeks while he runs his fingers over Dani. He'd said he liked his hands. He likes them all the more, now. He feels himself moving closer, his limbs loosening as his focus shifts. Louis is so delicate, so careful. He grazes a nipple and a pleased shiver runs through Dani. He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry.
"You can look," he murmurs, and his hand comes up to graze sun-warm fingertips along the length of Louis' arm. Then he stills, eyes sweeping over the expanse of Louis' perfect skin. "May I...?" He dips his own fingers in paint, choosing bright blues, whites, greens.
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No, Louis is right. He doesn't need to look at anyone else.
His eyes train on Louis' face, his cheekbones, his lips. His eyelashes, dusting his cheeks while he runs his fingers over Dani. He'd said he liked his hands. He likes them all the more, now. He feels himself moving closer, his limbs loosening as his focus shifts. Louis is so delicate, so careful. He grazes a nipple and a pleased shiver runs through Dani. He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry.
"You can look," he murmurs, and his hand comes up to graze sun-warm fingertips along the length of Louis' arm. Then he stills, eyes sweeping over the expanse of Louis' perfect skin. "May I...?" He dips his own fingers in paint, choosing bright blues, whites, greens.