He had enough scars to occupy her hands, eager to suck and nip at every line on his body. He had lived a long life, just as long as hers. They had carried the weight of their mistakes on their shoulders, but could release in similar ways. With every roll of his hips, she tightened her legs around him, grinding against him eagerly. Neither needed breath, which worked out in their favor. She couldn't imagine stopping the kisses along his skin, there was no going back.