You sighed to yourself as you looked in the mirror, sat down on the vanity chair. You move your fingers over your thighs, a small frown on your lips.

"God, these things aren't nice to look at." You murmured, referring to your stretch marks. Dutch perks up from where he was laying on the bed roll. He gets up and walks toward you, standing in front of your chair.

"If it would make you feel any better," He places a hand on your cheek, his thumb lifting your chin. "I'd get on my knees and kiss each and every mark."

God, this man worshipped you.