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She liked feeling the features of his face when he came over. She especially liked removing the mask slowly, her fingers grazing over his warm skin, shivering at the sharp and cool contrast of the piercings on his lip, his nose and eyebrows. Her fingers slowed, brushing over his lips, admiring in their fullness, how they lifted under her touch.
What would his gaze look like, in that moment as he watched her touch him? Or maybe he closed his eyes and enjoyed her touch as she did caressing him. Her thumb brushed against his angled jaw, fingers moving the mask up past his eyes.
“I’ll never know how you get your wics in there,” Niah muttered, finally lifting the mask off of him entirely, hearing his hair flip out and relax to its natural state.
“S’ a secret,” he remarked softly, sighing in what she hoped was contentment as she lowered her hands to his collarbone. “Feelin’ real touchy today, eh?”
“Mhm.”
A body that she should know well seemed brand new - scars with stories, bumps and angles of him that could’ve been bruised for all she knew. He never flinched when she touched him, even if she was sure he was injured somewhere.
Hobie never wanted her to worry, and she worried he’d be that way more than ever since she knew his biggest secret. Her lips pressed together and her hands stilled. His nimble fingers found her bottom lip and caressed it gently, willing her to relax.
“Niah.”
“Hm?”
“You a’ight?”
“Yeah.”
Her hands slid lower, her short nails scraping against the upper part of his chest before brushing against the sides of him, as if to try and provoke a response. Hobie stayed perfectly still and it frustrated her more.
“Okay maybe I’m not.”
Her hands pressed against his covered sides, and then his stomach, feeling a hint of abs under the shirt he wore, the fabric worn and soft. She was told the colors were red and blue, and tried to picture the last time she ever saw Spiderman before her vision went.
“What's wrong, luv?”
“I'm just… You're sure you're not injured?”
“No’ this time. I promise.”
“You better not be lying to me.”
“Ey, I just promised.”
Niah huffed, moving her hands away from his sides and lifting back to cup either side of his face, smiling softly. “Gonna hold you to it, Hobert.”
Hobie chuckled and shifted, his hands touching her cheeks and caressing her skin. She shivered, enjoying the calloused fingers as they began to follow the round shape of her face, rubbing her cheekbones and plush cheeks before one of his hands rested against her lips, his first and middle fingers rubbing against them. They weren't as plump as his lips were but she liked to think she still had pretty full lips.
“Checkin’ me for injuries now?”
“Nah, just enjoyin’ the feel of ya. Can' seem t’ get enough.”
Niah giggled and leaned forward, resting her lips so close to his that she could feel his breath on her skin. She liked the little things that reminded her that he was alive and well and in front of her where he belonged.
Hobie hummed gently and leaned forward, kissing her fully and pulling her close to him. Even after a year, she still couldn't get used to the taste of him, the way his mouth perfectly moulded around hers.
Yet worry crept into her mind once again. Worry that he's pushing himself too hard, that he's taking on more than he can handle. Those thoughts slipped from her mind as Hobie’s fingers carefully snaked through her locs, gently massaging her scalp as he pulled back and brushed his nose against hers.
Niah all but melted under his touch as she reached out and clasped his other hand with hers, bringing his fingers up to her lips.
“I'm trying not to worry about you,” she admitted, “but every time you step out that door and put the mask on, I keep thinking the worst things. You go up against so much.”
“I do,” he replied softly. “but imma always come back t’ ya. I swear it.”
Niah nodded, holding his hand firmly, taking in the warmth from his palm, feeling along the chipped paint on his nails before caressing his knuckles.
“I'll hold you to it.”