[NSFW Content Warning]

The following day, I finally decide to teach Brahms how to work my camera. As we cuddle on the couch in the fireplace room, I explain to him the different parts that make up a camera and what they do. Brahms was sitting against the corner of the couch while I had my back leaned up against him, " I'll let you practice taking pictures with it after," I say, " Are you ready?"

Brahms nods.

I take a deep breath in, " Okay, so..." I start, " The basic parts that make up a dslr camera is the lens. The lens directs light to the digital sensor. The flash is used when there's dim lighting and it comes out through here," I explain, tapping on the top part of the camera, " There's also a mode dial where you can change the camera's mode to manual, auto, etc.. And then, there's the lens mount located in the front of the camera where you can both attach or detach other lenses. The shutter button is what you press to take the picture or video which can be seen on the LCD display. There are some buttons called cross keys, to navigate through menus and then last but not least, the view finder. To let you see what you'll be capturing."

After giving him that quick mouthful of information, I get off of Brahms and turn my body to sit facing him. He eyes me with a daze look of bewilderment.

" Did you get all that?" I ask.

He scratches at the back of his head and gives me a reluctant nod, " I think so," he says.

And with that, I hand him the camera.

" Go ahead and get familiar with holding it," I say, " Toggle with the buttons, the lenses...and everything."

As Brahms has the camera in his hands, I ask him if he was willing to let me take any pictures of him.

Of course, he declines.

" It was worth a shot," I try and then ask curiously, "... Besides the big family portrait by the stairs, do you have any other photos of yourself?"

Brahms nods, " I have a few from when I was a child that we keep up in the attic."

" Ooh," I say while giving him a long stare.

He returns the stare and then rolls his eyes in realization, " You want to see them?"

I smile and nod, " Yes, please."

" Right now?"

" Yes, right now."

Brahms sighs and then leaves the fireplace room. He comes back a few minutes later with a red, rectangular box.

" This thing was picking up a lot of dust," He explains, sitting back down next to me.

After dusting off the top, Brahms removes the lid, revealing a thick photo album laying inside. Engraved on the cover was Brahms' full name in gold font. He opens to the first page where there were two photos of that same family portrait I had talked about earlier, except — one had little Brahmsie smiling, while in the other, he was completely poker-faced.

" The smile was painted on?" I ask.

Brahms nods, giving no further explanation.

In another photo, was Brahms as a baby. He had on a brown tweed ivy cap with a white button up, brown plaid shorts, white ankle socks, the cutest little shoes, and suspenders.

" You were so adorable!" I smile, " And you still dress like that," I point out.

" I guess some things never change," Brahms says.

We continue flipping through a few more pages. As we make it to about less than halfway into the album, there's one more picture left before the rest of the pages go empty. This picture had a page all to itself. It was of Brahms and Emily. Brahms stood slightly behind Emily, off to the side, just staring at her. Flipping the photo over, 'Brahms' 8th Birthday' was written on the back. It would've made for a cute and innocent photo if not for the backstory.

I put the picture back into it's slot and close the album, placing it back into it's box. While I bring my attention back to Brahms, my mind can't help but think about what he might look like now.

I wonder, does his actual face resemble his mask? Or, was it perhaps disfigured from the fire? He shaved his chest hair and beard just this morning, I bet he has a baby face.

I don't realize how long I have just been staring at Brahms until he calls me out.

" Stop that," he snaps, suddenly.

" Stop what?" I ask, innocently.

" You're imagining what I might look like under the mask."

It's times like these where I'm convinced that Brahms can read minds.

" If you keep doing that," he continues, " I'll never be able to show my face to you."

" Why not?"

Brahms shrugs, " What if I don't meet your expectations?"

" Oh, Brahms," I mutter softly, " Whatever is under that mask... It doesn't matter to me. That's not to say that I'm not curious about it either."

" I'm just surprised that you haven't asked me about it yet," Brahms states.

" I wouldn't want to rush you," I explain, " But, I do hope that one day you'll be comfortable enough to show me," I admit.

" I hope so too," Brahms says, grabbing my hand and holding it gently.

I give him a cheery smile and then look down at our hands. On the scars of his fingers, my thumb traces over them.

" About these burn scars," Brahms adds, " I know you've seen them. I don't only have them on parts of my hand but, on my shoulder, the back of my neck, and my..." He pauses before continuing, "...They're disgusting."

I squeeze my hand tighter around his, " No, they're not. Scars are nothing to be ashamed of," I tell him, " We all have them. From emotional scars, to the physical ones that remind us of traumas past."

I lift Brahms' hand to my lips and lay a gentle kiss upon the scar, " Let it be a beautiful reminder of your strength and all the things you were able to overcome," I say, giving another kiss.

Brahms suddenly takes his hand away, " I can't feel anything when you do that," he says, looking off to the side, " Some of the nerve-endings on my scars never fully healed."

Trying hard not to frown, I bite at my lip.

While Brahms' face is still turned away, I pull on the collar of the white tee he was wearing to reveal more of his collarbone — where I know is another scar. This scar is shiny, with a lighter pigment from his skin. Cautiously, I press my lips against it. When I do, Brahms lets out a shaky breath of air.

" You felt that one," I smirk.

Just as I was about to pull away, Brahms stops me by putting his hand on my back, " Can you do that again?" He whispers.

My eyes widen and lips tremble. They tremble to the point where I couldn't even answer. Instead, my body slowly brings itself forward. As my hand moves to lay upon his chest, I feel his draw up my backside. Brahms' fingertips dance over the soft material of my shirt.

At first, I hesitate to go again. But, when he breathes out a low, "...Please." I can't hold it back any longer.

My lips come into contact with his hot skin again, pulling away just to place another one below where I just had kissed. Brahms then tilts his head back in pleasure, exposing his neck. I take that as an open invitation and lead a pathway of kisses there. Once I reach the spot right below his ear, Brahms lets out a low moan.

Once I find out how sensitive that area was to him, I start attacking that part of his neck. Sucking and nibbling at his skin with my teeth, knowing it would leave a mark the next day.

" Fuck, Y/n," Brahms curses, " That feels so good."

His hands then make their way under my shirt, exploring the softness of my skin. A gasp escapes my lips as he suddenly unclasps my bra and tosses it to the side. I pull away from Brahms' neck to look at him. His eyes are completely glazed over.

" You made me feel good last time," he says, in a low voice, " How about I return the favor?"

As I was about to nod my head, I remember what we were originally supposed to be doing.

" Wait," I say, " I forgot I was supposed to teach you how to use the camera."

Brahms runs a hand through my hair, " Don't worry about that. I know a way I can get practice while still having a little fun..."

" O-kay... What do you have in mind?" I ask.

" Lay back on the couch and I'll show you," Brahms orders.

I willingly follow his command and before my body can completely rest on the couch, Brahms pins me down by my shoulders. He then takes both of my arms and holds them above my head with one hand. With the other, he lifts up my shirt above my chest. Brahms leans back to take a moment to admire my body. Under his stare, the heat on my cheeks and the back of my neck grow warmer. Brahms begins to grope my breast, the other still holding up my arms. When he squeezes, it makes my body squirm beneath him.

Brahms continues fondling with them, rubbing circles around my nipple with his thumb.

" You like that?" He asks.

" Mmhm," I moan.

" Do you want more?"

I bite my bottom lip and nod.

Brahms lets go of my wrists, " Show me what you want."

Getting right to it, I take my legs out from under Brahms to get my jeans off. With it, I remove my panties. After, I spread apart my knees, letting Brahms see how badly I want him. I see how badly he wants me too as the fabric of his pants tighten around his crotch.

His eyes wander over every inch of my body as he awaits for my guidance.

" What next?" he asks, eagerly.

Taking his hand, I place it over my pulsing clit. With my hand above his, I guide him. I push his fingers and palm down onto my clit and together, we move them up, down, and around.

" Touch me just like that, Brahms," I say, letting go of his hand, " Keep it going."

With each motion, I feel myself getting wetter and wetter. When I think I'm getting close, I tell Brahms to put his fingers inside of me.

Taking his middle and ring finger, he rubs them over the lips of my vagina before finding the entrance. Slowly, he slips them in. Brahms' fingers are only halfway in, but it already feels so good. And then, without warning, Brahms suddenly shoves his fingers in all the way until he's knuckle deep.

" Brahms!" I cry out in pleasure.

He continues fucking me with his perfectly long fingers. As he picks up the pace, the wet sounds of his hand slapping against my pussy grows louder. It feels so good that my body can't take it anymore.

" I-I'm gonna cum," I tell Brahms.

When his fingers begin to curl inside me, I feel my eyes roll to the back of my head.

His fingers thrust into me one last time and as I was about to finish, Brahms uses his free hand to move a strand of hair out of my face. Then, he gets the camera out and at the moan of his name, he snaps a picture. My warm juices release, spilling all over his fingers and travel down his hand.

When Brahms looks back at the photo he had just taken of me, he leans over to my ear, " You look so pretty when you cum," he whispers.