Bar Red's Redemption ✔

c h a p t e r. 30

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."
― Friedrich Nietzsche

You all do know that I'm, like, only 16, right??? I'm a young author, lol

Meaning, I don't have experience with sex, I can't write it! The big
i n t i m i d a t i o n
of getting something wrong, so I'm sorry for whoever was expecting detailed smut... You still get something, tho!! Enjoy the chapter, my loves!

chapter 30

For people like Clementine and Bar, who have acts of hate forever etched into their skin, their bodies are like flower fields turned into graveyards, each scar a tombstone.

Slowly, almost devastatingly, they have to find themselves again, they have to learn how to love their bodies again, how to tolerate the skin they inhibit.

They have to overcome the pain of the wound long after the scar was made.

Turning each gravesite into a garden, scars become souvenirs of strength instead of survival.

With a body once untouched like a newly bloomed rose, Bar had become tainted through beatings and ink, the flower wilting and petals falling to the ground.

Someone seeing those scars was like thorns pressing into his palms, nonlethal but painful, but someone seeing him naked... that crossed into a whole new territory.

A whole new grave to be dug out and for rotten thoughts to be buried in.

It was giving someone his all-- and in the process, leaving him empty-handed and waiting for his pieces back, waiting to see what they judge of every inch.

But with his little goddess, it was different. It was them holding his pieces together and making flowers grow throw the cracks despite the kill of insecurities.

For Clementine and Bar, letting their bodies be seen and touched and tasted wasn't any harder than breathing, and it had everything to do with whom they were making love to.

Clementine understood Bar, she understood what scars like the ones he has did to a person, and in return, the brute respected the goddess more than he did anyone else.

Bar knew that Clementine will be the only person he'll ever want to be with.

She has ruined everyone else for him and Bar couldn't be more thankful. He welcomed darkness if he could revel in her light.

Bar liked that he could let himself be vulnerable around Clementine, and he liked that she trusted him with her body and mind just as easily as he could give himself over to her.

They could fall into one another in one swift moment and neither would care where who ended and the other began.

They were, undoubtedly, one.

Bar's shirt was the first piece of clothing to go and Clementine had traced his tattoos with her fingertips, making goosebumps rise to his flesh.

She kissed over his scars and Bar understood the need to try and erase the pain with pleasure.

To replace those horrible memories with something new, something rewarding.

Bar became hyperaware of his body and how rough it was compared to her soft, voluminous one. With every touch of Clementine's fingers, heat singed through Bar's body and had left him needing.