malefaction : awsten knight

14

"What do you want me to do with this thing?" Angel asked him hesitantly, the texture of the leather felt rough against her skin.

Awsten gave her a dumbfounded look, "First, put it on?"

She knew that she was probably asking dumb questions at this point, but she had never even thought about using a knife for anything other than the bare minimum of cooking she would do sometimes.

"You don't know how to put that on do you?" he asked her, the frustration evident in his voice.

Angel narrowed her eyebrows, her defensive sarcastic tone coming through again.
"No scary mafia man I can't exactly say I know how to strap a knife to my thigh, that's my bad I must of missed that lesson back when I was still in school."

"For the third time Angel, I am not in the fucking mafia. Give me the damn harness." he replied stubbornly, outstretching his hand.

Awsten dropped down in front of her kneeling on the dirty floor before looking back up at her.

"I'm going to have to touch you in order to put this on is that okay? I need you to verbally say it's okay." he told her, his intentions transparent.

Angel wasn't used to hearing the calm tone from the man that was now on his knees in front of her, "Yeah- yes, that's okay. Thank you for asking before you did it, that means a lot to me." she said shakily.

"You really don't have to thank me for doing the bare minimum." he mumbled.

He was an enigma to her, on one hand he had this coldness to him that if you stood too close to him for any extended period of time goosebumps would rise on your skin that not even the hottest of summer days could fix.

But there were certain moments where she saw that there was something more to him, in the times that he would soften just for a moment to check to make sure that she was comfortable. Or in the times that he would wait for her as he held the door open for her.

His touch was far more gentle that she ever would of expected that it would be, his finger tips were rough and calloused against the skin of her thigh as they lightly grazed her.

She caught herself staring at his hands, his veins stood out strongly on the backs of them and his knuckles were littering with various scars both old and new.

The curious part of her mind wanted to know where he got the scars, it didn't take a genius to know that they weren't accidents and were probably due to years of fighting and or protecting himself and in some way that tug at her heart strings.

While she didn't know anything about him, what she did know was the last thing that he would want is for her to feel pity for him. There was something about the way the way that he carried himself that let her know that much.

There was a small scar on his forehead, perhaps the least concerning out of any of them.

It was similar to one that her brother had, he had gotten his from the time he walked into the corner of the kitchen island around the time he was 5.

She also noticed various freckles that adorned his face, one under his right eye sticking out to her.

His eyelashes were long, unfairly long. They brushed his eyebrows when his eyes were fully open, and when she looked up at him she noticed that his eyes were two different colors.