Scars didn't bother Shannon. Eli's scars bothered him even less — well, they bothered him, but for entirely different reasons than the fact that it was Eli's body they marred. That was just a sign of how Eli had managed to go through hell and come back out the other side to seek friends and family, not giving into the horror that stained him. It made Shannon proud.

Tilting his head, Shannon let his cheek rest against Eli's hand before he moved on and found the next item in the pile. It was quite easy to identify as the pants that were definitely two sizes too tight or made by some kind of masochistic fashionista. Maybe it was both. He felt around a bit, getting an understanding for where the front and back and bottom and top all were. Kneeling down, Shannon shifted Eli's feet into the waistband and looped his own fingers in the belt loops to tug the leather up Eli's legs. If his hands brushed against calves and thighs on their way up, then who was to say if it was on purpose or mere accident?

"Hands on my shoulders will probably work best," he mused aloud. Much as he wished to do this all by himself, his boyfriend's sense of D/s fashion was going to require some double-teaming in this case. Shannon needed more leverage than he could comfortably get on his own.