Fisher wondered if James shared this much of himself with anyone. Maybe others who had bothered to ask would get to see the scars, would get to hear the stories. Maybe not. Maybe it was just him, maybe there was something special about him that made James open up. He doubted that, but for the moment he let himself think it.
Smirking a little, Fisher hooked his hands over James' shoulders, rubbing the skin behind his shoulders. "Rough rider, huh," he mused, before tilting his chin up and tracing over a very faint circle just beneath his jaw. "Joanna, my last girlfriend. She drove a Harley and got in bar fights for fun. Gave me a hickey that bled for days." That one had hurt like a son of a bitch. The sex had been good though. With her it always had been.