Rough fingers traced the long, thick scars lining your back. Years and years of abuse and pain painted across your skin as if it were a ruined canvas.

You sat hunched over on Arthur’s cot, letting him trace the scars so delicately. He wished he could’ve taken the pain away from you and carried it for himself.

But he couldn’t do that. So he simply leaned forward, pressing gentle, warm kisses onto your sensitive scars. Arthur wanted nothing more than to heal all of your hidden scars.