Oh, Aimery liked that look. With the low neck of his shirt and no scarf to cover it, there was plenty of skin for Jack to look over, too, smooth and pale apart from one small scar and the upper edges of another, much larger one. Their visibility didn't bother him; he was too focused, too eager —to a degree that usually came well after clothes had come off— to worry about how his various scars might affect Jack's perception of him. Besides, those were battle wounds, marks to be proud of even if he couldn't remember all the details of their acquisition.

His smile broadened when Jack tugged him along, he hesitated long enough to pluck the scarf from Jack's grasp and carelessly discard it behind him on the couch (not like he'd be needing it anytime soon). Then Aimery followed him closely, trailing his hand up the other man's arm a ways then back down to lightly cup the hand holding his shirt. It was Jack's place, Jack's game they were playing, and he was trying to let him lead and pace them, but from the way Aimery leaned in, watched Jack more than where he was walking, and the eagerly-tentative I'm not holding it here but fyi you don't have to let go pressure he had on Jack's hand, it may have been clear that he had half a mind to get things started on stairs instead of waiting.

Aimery's self control lasted the stairs before he stopped in the hallway outside the bedroom. He stepped in towards him, not quite pressing against but moving closer to, and raised his free hand to stroke along Jack's jaw with one finger, making sure his face was turned to him, then leaned in for a heated kiss. Like his others, it didn't bother him that the scar along his wrist was in plain sight due to the riding up of his sleeve- at that moment it was nothing more to him than some kind of seam running up the inside of his arm.