His Gentle Beauty

An Art Museum

Eliza:

I woke up with my head pounding and a heavy arm around me. Before I could panic—not that I had to energy to—I recognized the scent of the man holding me. With the small rays of sunlight peeping through the curtain, I admired the angle of his muscular biceps and the firmness of his hold even when asleep.

"Good morning, El." MacGyver's raspy voice welcomed.

I shifted my body to face him, although I only met with the arch of his neck. "What happened?" I questioned, my lips accidentally brushing against his skin.

"Murdoc, he drugged you." His jaw clenched. "You don't have to talk about it right now, Matty's probably going to want to debrief with you later today."

I folded my head and leaned back to meet his eyes, MacGyver's hand still resting at my side. "I'd rather talk about it with you," my voice went up as I finished the sentence, sounding like a question. He didn't protest, and I took that as an approval. "Murdoc didn't hurt me. He actually seems to be hurting, quite a lot. Mentally." I clarified.

"I don't care," he rolled his eyes and I ignored the sting in my chest as he said it. He must have caught on to my interpretation as he continued, "I care about you and what you went through, just not about Murdoc. He can rot in a jail sell for the rest of his life."

"That's not very nice," I pouted.

"It wasn't very nice when he kidnapped you, either." MacGyver cleared his throat, "Sorry, I'm just... I don't like that he got away with it. Even if you're not physically hurt—which we don't know that because of the possible drugs he put in your system—you're still mentally hurt. When you're a hostage, it takes a while to get over that. If you ever do."

"Okay." I took a breath, not knowing how to react. I thought continuing with the facts would be best in this situation. "He threatened to shoot me, sort of. He didn't verbally say it, but he did point a gun at me." I kept going even though MacGyver's jaw visibly tightened so much, I thought he might shatter his teeth. I told him every possible detail I could remember. The exact knot and object he tied me up with. The shape and colour of the pills he set into my water. Except, I skimmed past a few details that could alarm him further. But it didn't last long, as MacGyver was already asking more questions about it.

"What did you do when the gun was pointed at you?"

I bit my lip, "Well, the first time he kind of showed it off and told me to stop screaming. But it didn't stop me."

"Didn't stop you? What do you mean?" His brows furrowed, attentively drinking in every detail I spared.

"I looked at him and screamed, almost daring him to do it. That's when I knew he was bluffing about the killing thing."

His head reeled back, shock dancing across his features.

Deciding to rip the bandaid off, I confessed the next situation, "He also asked me to cut myself." I blurted, trying to say it point-blank to get it over with.

"Did you?" His fingertips traced the skin along my arms, causing chills to run down my spine.

I shook my head, "another bluff". A sick feeling piled at the bottom of my stomach and I shoved it down even further, "can we move on?"

"Yeah, I'll let Matty know everything you told me so it doesn't have to be brought up again if it's not necessary."

I exhaled, relieved I was safe with MacGyver. However, a new worry surfaced. "What did the drugs do to me?"

MacGyver glanced to the corner of the room, "You... weren't yourself, but I'm glad you're feeling better now."

That was quite a cryptic way to answer something. "Was I really that bad?"

His blue eyes met mine, "I don't want you worrying about it."

Oh goodness. Did I threaten to murder him? Did I confess all of my embarrassing secrets? What could I have done that was so bad? Now I wasn't going to stop worrying about it until MacGyver told me. But I could let it go for now.

The man's heavy sigh broke me from my thoughts, "Can I... Look at your scars?" His eyelids hung low, showing off MacGyver's long blonde eyelashes.

I swallowed back the sick feeling in my stomach as I replied, "All of them?"

"If you're comfortable with it," His chin dipped.

I bit my lip, sitting up further to show him such a vulnerable part of my body. Of me. "Don't be sad or judge them, please." And with that, I gave him my forearm. His fingertips were gentle, observing as he turned my arm to view it from different angles. The sunlight shone against them causing a few of the white ones to have a slight sine. I watched the man's Addams apple bob when I pulled my arms away and tugged the soft blanket down. I shoved down my lingering concerns when I realized my bottoms had been changed into pink shorts, I could ask about that later. "Some of them bulge a lot." I warned as his hands slid further up my kneecap.

"You say that like it should bother me." He mumbled, voice low. His hands and eyes took time analyzing the purple, pink, and white lined blotches, his expression was nothing but gentle.

I wasn't sure if MacGyver had thought we had finished the tour of what littered my body, but there was more. So before I let my insecurities  consume me, I lifted my shirt to expose more healed, jagged marks.

The man reached for my waist but before his skin connected with mine, his kind ocean eyes searched through my own. He was silently asking permission, considering the area the scars were. I gave him a soft, reassuring smile as his fingers curved with my hips. He traced along the sides of my torso, then across my stomach, entranced by the memories engraved on my body. He was beautiful. The way this man looked at me was beautiful, and in that moment I didn't want to squirm or hide from his gaze. I wanted to remain in it like a sunflower reaches for sunlight.

His hands gripped my sides and slid me down until my back was against the mattress. His knees were on either side of my body, hips resting above mine. For once, I was not scared of what might happen, or anticipating attack. I trusted MacGyver, so I looked up at the man peacefully and a smile lit up his face at the fact my body didn't tense. MacGyver's strong fingers wrapped around my wrist as he brought it to his lips and kissed it. Then, he did the same thing to my other wrist, then areas around my stomach and thighs. This man was kissing every inch of scarred flesh on my body and my stomach set on fire because of it.

"I can't imagine what you've been through before this, but I have seen you endure so much already. These," his voice was a deep hum as he referred to my scars, "I hope you know they are not weak, they show strength." MacGyver trailed his kisses from my thigh and back up to lock our eyes, "I have been to over forty countries and not one of them, have I seen a girl more beautiful than you. Your body is an art museum that no artist could replicate. Your soul speaks to others so gently and genuinely, never in my years have I seen anything like it." The man swallowed as his eyes went darker, "My job requires me to be selfless everyday, but just this once, just for you, I selfishly want you to myself. I don't want to share you, Eliza. Will you be my girlfriend?"

My eyes widened, absolutely shocked MacGyver—The Angus MacGyver I doubted would ever want me—wanted me. Me?! My brain had forgotten how to form sentences, so I hoped an eager nod was good enough. Thankfully it was, and he hungrily lowered his lips to mine the next moment.