Natasha slowly worked the fabric up, eyes following the landscape of flesh and muscle revealed, but paused when she reached his shoulders, wide eyes returning to his, asking silent permission. She knew it had to be a horror show, his left shoulder, but that didn't make him lesser in her eyes; it was just something he'd survived.

"...wanna take it off?" Again, a choice. She didn't expect it just because of where they were; if he wanted to make love with his shirt on, then that was just how it would be. But choice, consent, both were so very important, and she wanted to give him all the agency possible, because of how much he'd been denied for so very long.