Benefits

Ch. 18: Fall In Love

"What?"

"Take off your shirt," I demand him.

"I will."

"When?"

"Later." He tries to stand up, but I straddle his waists, swaying my hips over his steadily subconsciously.

"Take off your damn shirt." What does he have to hide?

"No."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Now you're acting ridiculous." He looks down, and I can tell he's trying to control himself as he sees my hips continue to move in sweet figure eights. "Why won't you take it off?"

"Dawn." He says in a warning tone.

"You don't make any sense right now-"

"Fine!" He screams in my face, "You want to see!" I nod my head while my eyes widen at the range. And I really have a fucked up thought in my head... He's hot when he's mad. He tugs his shirt roughly revealing his toned chest, and his glorified abs.

But it was different.

There were scars.

Bruises.

Tattoos that tried to cover the pain behind them.

I found my hands trace along each one of them between us; his breath catches in his throat as he watches me. I can tell my reaction quite took him aback. Chills were left in my wake from my fingertips as I trace against each bruise that were new. He winces slightly, but I bent down letting my lips massage them. He hold my head is leading my lips down each of his scars next. Scabs that have broken and reopen over time I assume.

His groans have increased as I felt my lips move above his navel. I look up through my eyelashes, and saw the lust leak out of his eyes. I sat again on thighs, my arms encircling him, feeling new profound scars and bruises on his back as well. "I didn't want to show them to you." His eyes are holding an emotion that he was actually self-conscious about his battle wounds from his fighting.

"But you did." I tell him, giving him a small smile. "I won't judge you Jake. Never." I tell him, and I mean every word. "I see your broken hands all the time." I pull his hands away from my hips in front of me, seeing the new scabs there already healing. I brush my fingers over them. "That's why you do it in the pitch dark."

"Huh." He brings his eyebrows together in a cute innocent way.

"A couple of days ago, I heard a girl complain that you only do it in the pitch darkness. Now I know why you do."

"Oh." He looks down again.

I bring my hands to his chin, like he always does to me. "It's nothing to be ashamed to have scars on you, Jake. You don't need to explain to anyone why you have them."

He licks his lips. "I know that, but people thought I got abused at home."

"Really?"

He nods his head. "This girl claimed that my parents whipped me, and would stab me or some shit." He laughs a small, sad laugh.

"I thought you didn't care about rumors." I remind him.

"I don't." He trails off. "I just don't like people talking bad about my parents who are dead, and she did know my parents were dead." He licks his lips again.

I pull his face to mine. "You know I would never do that?" I didn't want him to think of me as someone who would lie over dumb shit to just have a good laugh.