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With Our Skins Off

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You can't control your lungs. It's ridiculous, this is just a bit of rope, you could bite or claw through it if you tried hard enough (no you couldn't, he's too good at this.) Terezi would come looking for you in a hour or two regardless. Your breath still comes out shuddering and too-fast, you keep having to stop breathing to keep it from becoming a whimper.

He leans in to croon in your ear, a wordless, eerie song. It has as much resemblance to a proper shoosh as -- it's not a shoosh anymore at this point, it's the difference between a casual pap and -- oh no, his hand. You try to turn your face away on reflex and you can't, there are thin ropes around your horns and ropes around your wrists, you're tied wide open. You can't defend yourself.

He won't hurt you, you know you're the last person he'd raise a hand on. It's on your face, his hand is on your face. It's ridiculously big, covers you from jaw to forehead, you could see daylight between his fingers if you could open your eyes, but you can't.

"Shuh-shooo, sh-sh-shooosh, mmh, brother shoosh, shooooosh..."

He won't hurt you but he'll do worse. He'll get distracted and forget you and leave. You know he will, it's a matter of time. It's okay, Terezi will come looking for you (you don't want the shame of having Terezi to come find you, you don't want her to come out of annoyed responsibility, you want him to stay because he --)

He leans over your defenseless body and he covers you, chest to chest, burrowing like he's a meowbeast and you're a knitting pile, he fits his cheek to your temple and breathes in your hair. In a minute he'll get distracted and leave, get bored and leave, get bored of you and dump you again because what's new this time around, why are you trusting him again. You know you talked it out but talking is no proof, talking means nothing.

When he leaves again it will destroy you. You won't be able to stop him, you'll just stay here on your pile and cry yourself into an ugly mess with your arms wide open.

He's purring and you don't get why. He's nuzzling your hair with a -- with a soft care that he never -- that you don't -- it's gentle, he's never been gentle with you, you wouldn't let -- he's never done it, only careless affection, rough hugs, those were alright, he never --

His thumbs are tracing your eyebrows, smoothing their bushiness down; he chuckles under his breath as they spring back up. He's breathing your air and you're breathing his, covered in him. He's so solid, you feel safe and like you will never be safe again, you can't turn away.

You want to trust him so hard it makes you want to scream yourself hoarse and run to the end of the universe.

"I like you with your little fronds all strung up for me," he says, his mouth against the bridge of your nose. "Can't all to shove a brother off and say no cuddles now."

He kisses your brow so soft it tickle, and then firmer, and he settles his weight on you.

"Imma love on you all night, brother," he says around a broken-edged purr, "and ain't no way you can put a stop on me."

You burst into tears.

He wipes them patiently off your face as they come; eventually you give into the fact that he hasn't left yet, and you stop fighting the restraints and let him take care of you.