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Tonya's eyes flick downwards as she unbuttons Heavy's vest, then his shirt. She's fumbling a little, nervous and eager; he knows she's focused on her hands, not watching him watch her. He sighs in pleasure, softens his shoulders and lets her lay him back, and it's not exactly what he considers lying. But he keeps his eyes on hers and counts the buttons by reflex, knowing what she sees, wanting to know how she sees it.
The worst of it isn't visible until she gets his shirt completely open, and the reaction crosses her face for barely an instant. "Can I... Do you want me to touch?" she asks. Heavy gets the sense she won't make a fuss of it either way.
He was torn in half yesterday, of course he doesn't want her touching his stomach. And of course he does. This shouldn't be happening, and of course it's happening. It's been happening for years, and he hasn't let it get in the way of a good lay before. He's not going to let this bullshit change how he lives his life.
"Be gentle," Heavy says. Tonya traces a hand gently over the scars, then moves it up to his chest, then along his neck. He leans in for a kiss, relieved. She won't show repulsion and he won't show weakness- but equally, they're not going to linger there.
It's not even that his whole midsection hurts. It does, it absolutely does, but what's really threatening to distract Heavy is the complex awareness of how his abs, guts, skin, and spine all need to stay perfectly in place. He's knit himself back together after a bullet wound or two, but... well, it's good that he's got sex down to a reflex. He slips a hand up Tonya's dress, teasing at the wetness before pulling back to zip her out of it, but he has to sit up slowly because he can only contort his torso so much at once.
"If this is too much-" Tonya starts.
"Relax," Heavy says. "You're just what I need." He runs his hands from her shoulders down over her chest, across her stomach. She sighs and shivers as he circles up and down her hips, teasing. Her skin is so soft and smooth.
He watches her face again as she gets him out of his pants and underwear, and can't help a cocky smirk as her eyes go wide. Well, he could, but why bother to try? She looks up at him, half anxious and half impressed. They both laugh, and for a moment it's the same as always- every other first time when he brings someone in, shows them what life could be.
Then her hand brushes the scars- the new scars- and he hides the reaction a moment too late. Before Tonya can say anything, Heavy cups his hand around her face and offers the best smile he's got. "Make me forget," he says. "I know you can."
She hesitates a moment. "How do you want it?"
"I want..." Heavy balances it all in his mind: his next words, the look on his face, his cells slowly gluing back together. Her. What he'd give to have Etienne's unlimited attention span right now... no, he could never be like Etienne. He'd never want to be anyone besides himself.
"I want you on top of me," he finally manages. "Hang on, grab my wallet, there's-"
Tonya leans down for his pants on the floor. When she manages to get one condom out of the inner pocket, several more spill out. "I don't know why I'm surprised you're prepared," she says, laughing.
"When you're me, it pays to be careful," he retorts. Anything else is... a story for another day.
Tonya rolls the condom onto him, swings a leg across his hips, but then pauses. She lays a hand on the scars, and this time leaves it there.
"Hey," Heavy says. "Don't overthink it, I'm fine."
Tonya blinks hard, several times. "Fine enough to..." It's all there, unspoken: Texas, Europe, the whole damn world. Heavy breathes in and decides it isn't there, after all.
"I'm fine enough to show you a good time," he says. "And I know you'll be gentle with me. Right?"
Tonya pauses a moment. "Right," she says, easing herself onto him. Heavy lies back and breathes. After a moment, watching her lose herself in pleasure, he closes his eyes.