My fingers brushing Wintergreen's, and for a moment my eyes move from Slade's face to his. Wintergreen tracing a line over Slade's throat, and I can very nearly see what must have been there a long time ago. The collar would have been leather. Black, most likely, and Slade would have been beautiful in it.

I will ask Slade about it later, and he will tell me. For the moment I will simply kiss him again, luxuriating in my mouth on his, my hands on him, a scar on his chest brushing my nipple every time I breathe.