The Stampede ~Vash x OC AU~

Chapter 18: Scars

Kanyon

"I wasn't too rough, was I?" Vash asks, bringing his deep eyes to mine.

Even now – even after what we just did – my heart sputters, skipping as my breath hitches. This man... I don't understand how he does this to me, but he does.

We are seated on my bed, the mattress dipping under our combined weight as the golden haze glides over our skin, illuminating his pretty eyes. Our hair is messy and disheveled, his trousers once again hanging from his narrow hips as nothing but my panties and white button-up shirt clothe me, though most of the buttons are undone.

I feel so small under the heft of his stare, but manage to shake my head, smiling, "No, not at all. You were very gentle."

And he was. The entire time we were wrapped up in that moment, he was nothing but easy and careful, his kisses and touch always soft.

Even now, my lips and skin tingle, remembering how he tasted on my tongue... How his skin felt against mine. Burning and hot. I bite my bottom lip, swallowing that bubbling feeling in the pit of myself.

"What about you?" I ask, looking at him. "Are you okay? I mean..."

My eyes drift to his bare chest. Scars litter his body, and I know there are way too many there. Too many for someone as young as him. It makes me curious, piquing my interest. I can't help but wonder what happened to him, or what he went through to earn those wounds.

He follows my eyes, looking at himself before chuckling, "Oh, those? Don't worry. They're all old. It's been a long time since any of those hurt. Some of them can't even feel anything at all."

Some do look old. They're faded in color, some just barely noticeable against his fair complexion. But there are others that don't look all that old. Those tend to be more pink, now heading down their healing journey.

I look at them, remembering how they felt under my fingertips. Remembering how they dipped and divot along his skin, running like little braille lines. And suddenly, I wish I could touch them again. To touch and feel his fire...

"Vash," I feel myself say suddenly, not thinking. I point at his chest. "Can I... Can I feel that again? Your scars, I mean."

He blinks, surprised at first, but turns more towards me, nodding, "Sure. Feel away."

Slowly and almost nervously, I reach over, gliding my fingers along one of the scars. Just like before, his skin is hot under my fingertips, almost scorching, but I am still in awe, amazed, and fixated on what I see – on what I feel.

He breathes steadily, his chest rising and falling calmly as I feel his heartbeat. It is calm, beating soothingly against his ribs, the cage unable to keep me from feeling it.

"You have so many," I say, looking at that cage. "A lot of bad things happened to you. It must have been so painful."

I know. I know that I shouldn't be saying anything. This is tiptoeing toward prying, but there is so much about this man eating away at my mind. Nagging.

He is kind and nice, gentle and caring, but he is a man with a six-billion double-dollar bounty on his head. Which makes no sense. How can he be the kind of man he is – one who touches me with such gentleness – but be wanted so badly by the law? How? What could he have possibly done? It makes no sense.

I can't help but wonder if maybe some of these scars hold the answers.

"It comes with being a wanted man," he says lowly. His tone is soft and breathy. He brings his hand to mine, encasing it with his warm palm. "And it hurt a bit at first, but I'm okay now. Nothing a few stitches couldn't fix."