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Kenshi did everything through touch. His other senses were helpful, yes, but his sense of touch was something that helped him tremendously with everyday tasks and even tasks that weren’t every day. He could get around his home. He could read labels in braille. He could fight. He could interact with the people he cared about most.
That last one mostly applies to Johnny. But still.
Johnny’s hands were rough with battle-caused callouses, yet they had a unique softness at the same time. From what Kenshi could tell, he was very muscular; his arms were rather large, and his torso had defined abs. His touch was so heightened that he could feel Johnny’s chest tattoo, and no matter how silly it seemed, Kenshi loved it. It was very on-brand for Johnny, who had the confidence of a thousand people. But he loved that about him.
They had not been together very long, but he found several things to love about the actor in that short time. His tattoo was easily one of the things that he loved the most about him.
One evening, in their shared bed, Kenshi was nearly asleep when Johnny came out of the shower and laid down. Kenshi took in the scent of his body wash with a smile. He reached over and felt for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze when he found it. “I sense your exhaustion.”
“I am drained. Your senses are keen as usual,” Johnny mumbled sleepily. Kenshi heard him scoot closer to him, and he felt his natural warmth. Johnny’s arms went around him, and Kenshi returned the hug as he got a kiss on his shoulder. “So glad I’m off tomorrow… I’m gonna sleep in.”
Kenshi let out a laugh. “Until eight? That’s the latest you’ve slept since we’ve met.”
Johnny scoffed. “I can sleep in later than that! You’ll see.”
Kenshi moved his hands to trace along his back, hoping to help his boyfriend get a peaceful rest. But his intentions were interrupted when he felt a scar on his right shoulder. “Huh.”
“Hm?” Johnny hummed. “What’s up?”
“You have a scar on your shoulder,” Kenshi said. He felt it further and determined that it had healed over, but it was hardly old. “Where did you get it? I don’t recall you getting hurt in this area.”
“Oh! Little tumble with someone in Outworld,” Johnny explained. He adjusted his position so Kenshi could feel the area more easily. “I had to get stitches. I didn’t want you to be worried.”
Kenshi smiled softly. “Glad you’re okay. Just let me know next time, yeah? So I can be a good boyfriend and kiss your wound better.” He leaned over his shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to the scar, enjoying the sound of Johnny’s giggle. “Are there any other scars I don’t know about already?”
“Definitely. It’s not every night you get to touch my perfect body like this.” Johnny rolled over to show off his back. “Feel around. If you come across a new one, I’ll elaborate.”
Kenshi hovered a hand over his left bicep and began tracing along his skin. He was still warm from his shower, still slightly damp. Kenshi traced a careful hand across his back and shoulders again, feeling the scars that he knew of with gentle touches. He knew the stories of them all, mostly because he helped Johnny recover from the injuries—accidental injuries from a rough sparring match, a fight with Kano, tripping in his own house. All of them had long since healed, but the stories of them were still fresh on Kenshi’s mind.
When he finished his search for new scars on his back, Johnny rolled over and exposed his chest to Kenshi. He felt for his tattoo first to stabilize himself; he then moved to find anything new. He was quick to find one on his right side, and he hovered over the area for a moment before smiling. “Can I guess this one?”
“Sure!”
“Appendix removal. It’s long healed over. I bet it’s barely visible!”
“Very impressive!” Johnny snickered. “Yeah, you’re right. I was seventeen! I honestly can’t even see it myself, so I have no idea how you can feel it.”
Kenshi smirked. “It takes a lot of focus to find any healed scar, but one from ten years ago or longer… I haven’t even attempted such a thing.”
“You’re that good then, hm?” Johnny teased. He reached up one of his hands to trace Kenshi’s cheek endearingly. “Aren’t I the luckiest man alive?”
Kenshi grinned. “I suppose you are.”
He continued to move his hand across Johnny’s chest, feeling around for anything that caught his attention. He was briefly distracted from his search by Johnny’s abs, and he traced them absentmindedly for a few seconds before continuing. He smiled at Johnny’s quiet chuckle at his actions, but a comfortable silence soon returned.
He felt a scar suddenly in the middle of his stomach. “This one.”
“Gunshot wound. It’s from a few months ago, I think? Thankfully, it was just skin deep,” Johnny explained.
“Was it from that… that gunslinger in Outworld?”
“Yes! How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
The two shared a brief laugh at the thought of him.
It was such a relaxed setting, lying in that bed. Neither of them had anything to worry about in the world. They were off the next day. They could stay up as late as they desired, even all night. They were still in the very early stages of their relationship; it was serious enough that they shared a bed in Johnny’s house but still new enough that they were wildly fond of the other. They still blushed on the chance that they looked at one another long enough (more so that Johnny was looking, and Kenshi sensed it and started blushing from the positive attention; the sentiment remained) and still got butterflies in their stomachs at the thought of the other.
It was something that benefitted both of them. Johnny had someone to tie him down, to relieve him of his cockiness and ego. He had someone who had many serious moments tied in with funny ones; he was growing more mature with every minute they spent together. Kenshi had someone in his life that he could trust with his whole heart. Johnny’s loyalty to those he cared about was a welcome change from no one to trust. He also helped Kenshi learn new things from his blindness and supported him when rare frustration set in.
It was a balance between them. They seemed to be the most opposite pair, but at their cores, they were one and the same. Both were wanting to grow, both were wanting to become better. They helped the other see the potential that they carried.
Kenshi touched one of Johnny’s arms, feeling a tiny scar along his bicep. It felt more like a dot. “Is there something here?” he asked. “I’m not too sure.”
Johnny sat in silence for a moment before he wheezed out a laugh. “Kenshi! That’s where I got a shot at the doctor’s two weeks ago!”
“You’re lying,” Kenshi breathed out. He couldn’t believe it.
“Hell no, I’m not!”
The two were soon breathless with laughter at the realization. How Kenshi had been able to find the tiniest scar possible was beyond them. But it was damn funny. Mind-blowing.
At the same time, it caused Kenshi to feel pride. It meant that his senses outside of his sight were becoming better. If he could feel a tiny scar on his boyfriend’s arm, what else was he capable of achieving?
Their laughter soon subsided, and Kenshi abandoned his search for scars. Instead, he chose to lie against Johnny’s shoulder, finally relaxing. Johnny reached over and grabbed Kenshi’s hand, and he pressed a loving kiss to the tips of his fingers. “You have magic fingers, baby,” he said softly. “I’ve never heard of anyone being able to feel a needle scar out of the blue.”
Kenshi smiled. “There is a first for everything, I suppose. I’m surprised myself. I never thought I would be capable of it.”
“Well, you are.” Johnny leaned over to kiss his forehead. “You impress me every day, you know? No one else I know would be able to go through what you have and still be so determined. You’re one in a million.”
“You flatter me,” Kenshi replied. He felt Johnny’s eyes on him, and he looked up in his general direction. “You do.”
Johnny chuckled. “Well, I’m gonna support you. In everything you do, if you want to do it, you’ll have me by your side.”
Kenshi flashed a grin, and he lowered his gaze and rested his head against his shoulder once again. “I appreciate that, Johnny. Thank you.”
Johnny pulled him closer with a yawn. “You’re welcome! Let’s get some shuteye then… I’ll show you that I can sleep past eight o’clock!”
The swordsman shut his eyes with the shake of his head, exhaustion settling in. “We’ll see.”