Title: Beauty of Womanhood
Warning(s): Self-loathing and a vague sex scene.
"Women are always beautiful."
She hated herself.
When she looked in the mirror, she saw a grossly hideous being. She could hide her and her filthiness under pretty clothing and a layer of make-up... but strip her of those two things and she was disgusting. Sometimes, she wondered how he could ever love her; sometimes, she worried that when the time came that he did see her exposed and without her defenses, he would see how repulsive she really was.
Their wedding night, he insisted they leave the lights on. She thought that was a terrible idea.
"I want to see you," he breathed, running his hand gently down her side. They were already nude, and the touch of his bare skin against hers sent her head reeling. His hand stopped midway down her hip and trailed across her lower abdomen. Her heart began to pound and she panicked as he got dangerously close to it, the foul entrance into her existence. "I want to see all of you."
"No you don't," she argued, her voice light and whispy in the darkness. He ignored her, reaching over her and flicking the light on. She squeaked, shutting her eyes tightly and using her arms to cover herself. He chuckled, brushing the limbs away. She felt tears burning in her eyes; now he was going to hate her too. He was going to see how truly ugly she was and he wouldn't love her anymore.
"Yusei, you don't..." she said shakily. "We can just do it. You don't need to see it."
"I want to," he replied firmly, grasping her wrists to prevent her from trying to hide herself again. "I want, no, need to see you." He kissed her forehead and she whimpered. Then, silence. She bit her lip, knowing that he was looking at her, seeing her monstrous nature and her absolute nastiness. A wave of nausea washed over her; she felt sick to her stomach, she felt like she was going to vomit.
"Aki," he began finally, nuzzling her cheek. He spoke quietly, handling each word with the utmost delicacy. "You are beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful."
She disagreed. He cradled her face with one hand, using his thumb to wipe away the tears that managed to escape her sealed eyelids.
"Don't be ashamed," he coaxed. "It is a part of who you are."
At last, she opened her eyes. And she was shocked to see him looking at her like that.
He wasn't grossed-out.
He wasn't turned off.
Instead, his eyes were burning with an intense heat, full of admiration and total reverence. He was looking at her as if she were the most wonderful and desirable woman to ever live. She had never thought of him as a particularly sexual being, but that clearly wasn't true. She was now seeing an entirely different side of him, a more passionate, lascivious side. And she liked it.
Her heart swelled with pride, no longer thinking she was a hideous animal. She began to see herself the way he saw her, all of her: lovely. She ran her nails down his spine and for the first time felt like she, his wife, was equal to him, her husband.
They lost themselves there, together, in it and all of its artistry and elegance.
Comment(s): And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what you call real love.