Stories in Your Skin
By Misha
Disclaimer- Not mine. I’m just borrowing them for a little while and will return them when I am finished.
Author’s Notes- This is Day 6 of my 31 Days of writing prompts: Person A tracing Person B’s skin, trying to memorize the details. This is set several months after Diavolos and Kenna are married.
Paring- Kenna/Diavolos
Rating- PG-13
Summary- Kenna is fascinated by Diavolos’s scars and the stories contained there.
Words- 736
“What’s this one from?” Kenna asked trailing her fingers over the scar on her husband’s collarbone.
“Are you going to ask about every single one?” Diavolos inquired, though he was smiling.
“Yes,” Kenna said simply, leaning down to run her lips over the mark, “because one day I’m going to know every scar, every story as well as I know my own body.”
She knew some of the stories already, having coaxed them out of him over the first several months of marriage. She knew about the scar on his side that had come when he’d accidentally almost bedded an assassin from Panrion and the one on his arm that came from Marco catching him off-guard, but there were other scars, other stories.
“I have to admit I like the sound of that,” Diavolos told her in a low voice, suddenly rolling them both over so she was underneath him, “and I plan on returning the favor.” He kissed her shoulder and the faint scar that lingered there, his eyes darkening slightly with regret. “I should never have let him stab you.”
“It’s okay,” Kenna soothed, running her hand through his hair, “you made the right choice in the end. You chose this, you chose us.” Her hands immediately found the slight swell of her stomach, still marveling at the fact that ‘us’ would soon have a new meaning for them.
“Always,” Diavolos assured her, covering her mouth with his. The kiss was deep and demanding as if combating the past and the choices he almost made.
“So what’s this one from?” Kenna asked again, after a moment, her fingers tracing his collarbone once more.
“That is my first battle scar,” Diavolos told her after a moment, “I was 14 and an Iron Empire soldier almost got the best of me. Magnus actually saved my life and he dragged me off the battlefield.”
“I owe him thanks,” Kenna said sincerely.
“My father sent me back into battle,” Diavolos told her after a moment. “He found me in the healer’s tent, watched them stitch me up and then ordered me back into battle.”
Kenna winced for the boy Diavolos had been and had the fleeting thought that if Luther wasn’t already dead, she could happily kill him.
“I’m sorry to bring back bad memories,” Kenna apologized.
“That’s the thing, it’s not a bad memory,” Diavolos told her, “it’s not a good one, but… Almost all my memories of my father were like that and I was trained to believe it was normal and to expect it.” He paused, his hands resting on her swollen stomach. “Our child won’t grow up like that.”
“No he won’t,” Kenna agreed, resting her hand on top of his. She traced the slightly puckered scar on his hand. “Is this one a burn mark?”
“Yes,” He confirmed, “that one involved me preventing Zenobia from accidentally burning down the whole castle when she threw a candle in a fit.”
“I feel like there is a story there,” Kenna remarked with a laugh. “Was she throwing it at you?”
“Marco,” Diavolos answered and that was all he needed to say since Kenna knew enough about the relationship between Zenobia and Marco not to be surprised. He moved his hand down upward to the small patch of scars on her chest, almost too faint to see. “You have your own burns.”
Annelyse had done an amazing job saving Kenna’s life and making sure that she wasn’t disfigured for life, but she hadn’t been able to heal everything.
“Dom,” Kenna said quietly, “when we were fighting your uncle Vasilios.” It wasn’t something she liked to talk about, how close Dom had come to killing her.
Luckily Diavolos didn’t press, he just traced the scars with a gentle hand and then, before she realized what was happening, he had lowered his lips to her chest, finding every faint mark.
Kenna sighed at his touch, running her hands over his muscles as his kiss became less soothing and more intimate. She knew that there would be no more sharing of stories, at least not for a while, but that was ok, they had a lifetime to learn each other’s bodies, to know every scar, hear every story and Kenna couldn’t wait.
Especially since she also had a lifetime of moments like this, Diavolos hands and mouth against her skin setting her aflame, to look forward to.
- End
