Nightingale (Sequel to Solider Boy)

Sixty-Three

Later that night, long after Melody had broken her silence and James had finally seen how the original Star Wars tribology ended, they were just talking, curled up together on the couch. The TV in front of them was off at James's insistence, all he wanted to do was talk. Or rather, he wanted to listen while she spoke.

And so she did. Melody laid against James, her head resting on his chest, chattering on and on about whatever came to mind. Right now she was talking about Star Wars. 

"I hate the prequels," she admitted. "Too much special effects and not enough plot. And do not get me started on the dialogue. I'll still watch them with you though, just so I can see your face when you realize that I wasn't exaggerating." She smiled at him, snuggling more firmly against his chest. His hard muscles firm against her, the smell and heat of his skin enveloping her in comfort and familiarity. 

"I'd like that," James said, an identical grin of his own playing over his lips. 

"Of course, after that there are some other things I want you to see, like Titanic."

"I know what that is," he said, smirking at her. "I'm not that old."

"No! I mean the James Cameron movie. It was made in the nineties." Sort of like your haircut, she thought, but Melody didn't mind. The grunge look suited him. "I cry every time I watch it, fair warning."

"Is it a sad movie?"

"Look at the title, how can a movie about that be happy?"

James rolled his eyes. "Fine, you have a point but why would you cry if you already know how it ends?"

"That's something you'll have to see when you watch it with me. I'm just warning you in advance about the crying thing so you don't freak out." Melody laughed. "Oh and I'll probably want to cuddle at some point when that happens, just so you know."

"I am okay with that." His arm tightened around her shoulders as he spoke. "Feel free to do that anytime you want."

Melody grinned, wrapping her arms firmly around him. "You are so going to regret saying that." 

"What's there to regret?" he asked, his hand sliding between her back and the couch. "You get what you want and I have a beautiful woman in my arms-or rather my arm." James grinned at his amputee joke. He made them a lot, which made Melody think he was more insecure about his missing limb than he let on. "It's a win-win situation."

She leaned into him, smiling to herself. "Glad we both benefit." Melody shifted her right arm, letting her hand rest on James's chest, the muscle hard and lean under her fingers, even through his shirt. She let her hand slide down his chest, slowly and she felt him tense at the gesture.

"And what," he asked as she hooked her fingers under hem of his shirt, "do you think you're doing?"

"Can't you guess?" She teased, sliding her both hands along his sides, the feeling of his lean torso hands her hands sending a thrill through her. 

"I'd say you're trying to take off my clothes."

"Well just your shirt at the moment." Melody grinned and pulled the fabric over his head and tossed it to the ground. She eyed his muscular chest, rising and falling with every breath he took. Even though James was the assassin, his skin was not marked with that many scars. An entire band of them circled his left shoulder joint, but other than that there was no real physical indication of what his past had been like. Of course, all the damage had really been done to his mind. 

But that didn't mean the present wasn't capable of leaving it's share of wounds. Across his chest, fading but still visible were yellowing bruises. The pattern wasn't hard for Melody to place. "This is from the lab, isn't it?" she asked, grazing her fingers over first line of bruises across his chest. "When they tied you down?"