Your scars were perceived differently.

Blade's scars, which covered a good portion of his body, were deep, albeit long since healed by insane regeneration. These were rough and crooked stripes that were clearly felt under the fingers and stood out strongly with their darker color against pale skin. However, Blade didn’t care about them for the most part, and you didn’t find them disgusting, on the contrary, you loved them.

Your scars covered only specific, most inaccessible to other people, places on your body. You didn't have fast regeneration, so the scars vary ugly in color: some are darker, almost healed, and some are still red and puffy and still itchy. These strips were much thinner and smaller, but their number was much greater. Somewhere, newer scars were right on top of older ones. You hated them, but Blade actually loved them.

You find yourself in bed after your home t-shirt and pants were blatantly and persistently removed. You look down in surprise and shame at your beloved, who is hungrily kissing your thin striped thigh. Blade supported your thigh with his one hand, caressing it softly in his palm, while his other hand rested on your side and his fingers touched your ribs. His fingers were cold, and his warm breath and lips warmed the damaged skin. Even though Blade kept a neutral expression, his actions spoke louder.

Under this stream of tenderness, you felt insecure and vulnerable, wanting to again hide your moments of weakness under the fabric of closed clothes. You move your thigh in an attempt to free yourself, but Blade only grips it a little tighter, preventing you from leaving.

"Don’t move," comes his deep and hoarse voice, which you always obey. "let me take away your pain."