He sees Claire awake beside him, still staring at the ceiling. The rain drums on the roof overhead, like the beat of a heart. Concerned about her, he reaches to comfort her — then pulls away, not wanting to encroach on her this soon after the attack. She sees his hesitation, and refusing to be robbed of intimacy with her husband, she reaches out and takes his hand now…
Claire puts his hand on her chest where the first cut happened. He leaves it lightly lying there for a beat. Christ, ye are a brave wee thing. (Closing her eyes) Am I? He bends toward her and kisses the spot, brushing his lips upon it as soft as a feather. She closes her eyes, feeling some lifting of pain. She pulls her shift back, revealing more of the ugly purple bruises.
He kisses them all, one by one, moving up and down her body, as if drawing out the pain from each site of violence with his lips. The beginning of healing. Claire’s body relaxes with every kiss. Just as his scars never mattered to her, her bruises don’t make her any less beautiful and the warmth of his kisses show he’ll let nothing come between them.
She turns slowly until she’s facing him and he lies next to her, facing her, enveloping her until nothing does come between them, intertwining until the two are literally one.
Tori