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Got Me Covered

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It seemed that Friday nights were always the opportune time for makeout sessions, and this Friday was no different.

The moment Connor and Evan had closed the door to Connor's room, the two were on each other, falling onto the bed with Connor lying on top of Evan in the most casual position, leaning on his elbows over the smaller boy. And Evan was quite alright with this: he reclined onto the stack of pillows on Connor's bed, welcoming the weight of his boyfriend on top of him as he smiled into the kiss.

"You're sure e-everyone's gone?" Evan asked, breaking the kiss for just a moment.

Connor nodded back slowly, his lidded gaze meeting Evan's. "Yeah, don't worry," he said, pecking his boyfriend's lips gently. "Larry is working late, Mom said she won't be home until six, and Alana and Zoe won't be home until dinner." He offered up a gentle smile. "We're safe here, Evan. You're safe."

He put extra emphasis on the you're, and while he knew it wasn't necessary, Connor wanted to do whatever he could to make the anxious boy beneath him feel any more comfortable. They both had their fair set of problems, and over the last few months, they'd figured out ways to make each other feel more at ease. And for Evan, little reassurances from Connor went a long way.

Evan smiled happily, pulling Connor closer to him and guiding his lips to his own. It was slow at first, gentle and caring, but soon began to heat up, as their make-out sessions always seemed to.

Taking the lead, Connor pushed Evan deeper into the pillow as he dove deeper into the kiss, swiping his tongue along Evan's lip and forcing himself in as Evan conceded, reaching up to loop his fingers in Connor's long tresses. He pulled the taller man closer, and Connor let out a quiet groan as he felt his hair being pulled: one of his biggest turn-on's, and one that Evan knew quiet well. He shot Evan a glance, to which the boy in question only chuckled before they were going at it again, gentle gasps and moans being let out between the pair the longer they went on.

Growing tired of just kissing, the taller of the two adjusted himself to sit on his knees, pulling Evan up so that he was leaning against the headboard. Evan let out a small gasp in protest, but was quieted as Connor pressed his lips to his again, running one of his own hands through Evan's light brown locks. 

"You're up for this, right, Evan?" Connor asked quietly, beginning to kiss away from Evan's lips and closer to his ear. He gave a small nip at his lobe, only for the man in question to jump.

Evan nodded hastily. "O-of course," he breathed, letting a small gasp escape his lips as Connor bit down on the sensitive skin at the top of his neck.

Neither of them was new to this sort of thing. They had slept together more than once, and at this point, they knew each other almost scarily well, to the point where Connor knew the exact places to bite down to make Evan writhe in pleasure and Evan knew just what to say to make Connor a drooling mess. While neither of them would ever say that was all their relationship came down to (because it wasn't), neither would deny that having someone know them so well was a perk of said relationship. Even so, one thing never stopped bothering Evan.

Smirking, Connor continued to kiss down Evan's neck, his left hand going to unbutton the three little buttons at the top of Evan's favourite shirt. Taking a break for no more than a second, he pulled back, letting Evan take his own shirt off before Connor moved in again, instantly going to suck at the soft, freckled skin atop Evan's collarbone as his hands began to run up and down the smaller man's sides, dragging his black-coated nails occasionally to elicit a moan from his boyfriend. Sucking the skin harshly, Connor continued until he heard Evan pant out his name, letting the skin pop out of his mouth audibly. He smirked at the purple he saw there and began to lick over the bruised skin in a failed attempt to soothe any of the pain.

"Connor," Evan whined, guiding their lips together. As they kissed, Evan abruptly grabbed one of Connor's hands and draped it over his crotch, where he bucked up gently. Connor sputtered slightly, looking up to Evan with widened eyes. "P-please stop teasing me."

Connor blinked, his thoughts trying to catch up to him as his heart pounded. If I was back in the hospital, they would have hit me up with haldol, he thought, closing his mouth, which had apparently been open. Slowly, he nodded, and a smirk returned to his face as he realized what his boyfriend had just said. "Coming right up, Mr. Hansen," he said, sitting back on his knees to tie his hair into a bun before going to lie back on his stomach, his face positioned above Evan's crotch.

Before he could even unto Evan's zipper all the way, however, the smaller man stopped him.

"A-actually, Connor," he said, his voice suddenly becoming more worry-filled and more quick-paced. "Um, lo-look, I-I know that you h-hate taking off y-y-your shirt, b-but like, maybe just th-this one time? B-because I hate being the o-only one entirely naked a-and-"

"No," the long-haired boy said, effectively cutting Evan off. He shook his head slowly, not moving from the position he was in. "I've worn my clothes every other time we've fucked - why do we have to change it?"

Evan cringed slightly at the bluntness of his boyfriend's words, but continued anyways. "I-I want to see you, Connor," he said, forcing himself to be calm enough not to stutter for just those words. "Y-you've seen me n-naked how ma-many times? We kn-know each other s-so well, b-but I feel like th-this is... gah! I dunno! I-I feel like your body i-is the one s-s-secret between us!" He promptly covered his head with both of his hands, both from the frustration of his stutter and the awkwardness of the situation in general.

Connor looked up his boyfriend, conflict tearing him in two. After all, what Evan said had been right: no matter how many times the two had done it, Connor always had on at least one article of clothing - at least a hoodie or jacket if he was on bottom, and a pair of boxers added to that if he was on top (lucky for him, he was on top most times). During those times where he was on the bottom, Connor had insisted that the lights be turned off as well, which was no problem to Evan. After all, they both knew the reason why Connor never showed his body, and they both knew the reason he never even dared to risk certain areas being seen.

Were it anyone else, the taller man would have said no immediately. No - this was his body, his rules. But the way Evan had said it, and the way he was sitting now, curled up as if he were at fault - it simply broke Connor's heart.

Taking a deed breath, Connor sat back up, onto his knees, drawing Evan's arms away from his face. Evan looked up, somewhat confused, before Connor pulled him into a close hug, burying his face in Evan's neck. He stayed like that for a while, counting the seconds as they passed by and letting Evan rub reassuring circles into his back before he sat up, his eyes looking anywhere but Evan.

"You know what's under there," Connor said quietly, his voice wavering with every syllable.

Evan nodded slowly, directing his boyfriend's attention back to him with a gentle pull of the hand, smiling gently once their eyes met. "I-I know, Connor," he said. "But I-I don't care. Y-you've seen this m-mess that I am, and... I-I don't care how bad it is. I just w-want to see you." He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on Connor's nose.

Sighing harshly, Connor let his gaze run up and down Evan's body, taking in the beautifully tanned skin, the gentle dips and curves of his form, the seemingly endless freckles - all of it. To him, there was no one more beautiful. No, nothing more beautiful. Evan Hansen was an absolute gift to the earth, and yet the absolute angel in front of him still saw himself as a mess. 

Then what the fuck will he think I am, Connor thought bitterly to himself, forcing himself to meet Evan's eyes. He looked away almost instantly, something bitter rising in his throat. Something... unsavory.

"Connor?" Evan asked, resting a hand on the pale man's cheek.

He took a deep breath, desperately trying to calm himself. "Just..." Connor began, shaking Evan's hand off and moving his own towards the zipper on his jacket. "Just, please. Don't stare. It's bad."

Bad was an understatement, and Connor knew that's exactly what Evan was thinking as he let the black jacket fall from his arms, tossing it to the floor with a half-hearted jerk. He could see the way Evan's eyes went wide at the traveled from the base off Connor's arm to mid-way up his bicep, where his t-shirt abruptly cut off the jagged lines. Something twisted in Connor's gut, and he forced himself forward the moment his t-shirt joined his jacket on the ground, smashing his lips into Evan's in an attempt to return to some sort of normalcy that usually occupied their intimate times.

But the return to normal didn't come with his kiss, as the one he was kissing seemed too shocked to kiss back.

Sure, Evan had seen Connor's arms before: in fleeting moments after he washed his hands while coming out of the bathroom, before Connor could fully pull his jacket on, when they went to an amusement park and needed bracelets, and so forth. But he'd never seen them like this: so bold in front of him, made so clear by the light of Connor's room. They ran from both his wrists, both sides, up to his shoulders, where they seemed to spread out from his collar bone and down to his ribs. They were a variety of ages, colours, and depths, with relatively new ones still littering either one of his wrists - they were still a bright red, looking like they were only a day old. Others were white (clearly old) or a dark brownish pink (old and deep) or a variety of other colours, with only patches being left of Connor's unmarked skin.

And before he could stop himself, Evan was reaching forward, rubbing his fingers along Connor's left arm. Only when Connor pulled back from the touch did he realize the taller man was crying, taking harsh, ragged breaths.

"Connor?" Evan nearly shouted, pushing himself up as the man in question lept to his feet, pacing around the cluttered room. "C-Connor! L-listen to me!"

"How fucking hard is it, Hansen?" his boyfriend hissed in response, turning on his heel and facing the stuttering boy on the bed. "How fucking hard? I had one request. I said, 'Hey, don't stare at my fucked up arms, okay?' God, I can't imagine your reaction if you saw my thighs!" He let out what was supposed to be a chuckle, which quickly devolved into a sob. He lowered himself onto the ground, pulling his knees to his chest and hiding his face as he began to cry harder. "Was it really fucking necessary to remind me what a fucking freak I am?"

Evan jumped off the bed in an instant, falling to his knees and scooting closer the more his boyfriend continued to talk. "N-no, Connor, p-please l-listen to m-m-me," he began, his own breaths beginning to speed up.

"Don't, Evan," Connor cried, not looking up. His words were harsh and bit Evan to the bone, but the smaller of the two continued.

"Y-you're not a f-freak," Evan demanded, his own voice trying to make him a liar as his words wavered harshly. "Y-you're per-perfect and it j-just scared me for a mi-minute b-b-because the thought of y-you hurting y-y-yourself -"

Connor looked up as he heard Evan's breath devolve into fits of gasping, though he continued to speak. "Evan?" he said softly, watching as his boyfriend curled in on himself.

"G-god, I'm so so-sorry, s-sorry, s-s-sorry, o-oh my god," Evan cried, backing into a corner and finding it impossible to catch his breath. "H-help."

The taller of the two was on his feet in a second, hurrying over to where Evan was and kneeling down in front of him. Sure, he was still pissed and crying, but panic attacks took precedent. "Hey, Evan," Connor said gently, reaching forward to brush away some of the hair that had fallen in the younger man's face. "Evan, sweetheart, listen to me. Nod if you can hear me."

Evan nodded amongst all of his sobs.

"Good," Connor purred, taking both of Evan's hands down from around his head and intertwining their fingers, giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance. "I just need you to take deep breaths for me, Evan. You're safe here, remember? You're safe with me."

A few minutes later, Evan had calmed down enough to speak, unlacing their fingers as he covered his face with his hands again. "Sorry," he whispered, finally unsheilding his face again.

"Evan, babe," Connor began, offering a gentle smile as he rustled his boyfriends light brown locks. "Don't apologize for your panic attacks. You can't help it."

Evan took a breath, shaking his head. "No, I-I mean... I-I'm sorry for s-staring. I-I got s-scared... seeing you hurt."

Connor's breathing hitched for a moment, a sense of guilt washing over him. He scared Evan, caused his panic attack, and made him feel guilty. The thoughts ran through his head before he found himself engulfing Evan in another hug, this time not worried about the fact that he was still exposing all of his scars.

"I should be the one apologizing," Connor said. "I shouldn't have freaked out out of nowhere like that. I'm sorry."

Evan let out a little chuckle, pulling away from Connor and wiping the tears out of his eye with the swipe of his thumb. "Y-you shouldn't apolo-lo-logize for your mood shifts, Connor," he said matter-of-factly. "You can't h-help it."

Though it wasn't the first time Evan had said something like that to him, Connor couldn't help but feel his heart swell as his boyfriend referenced his BPD, letting him know that he wasn't a freak for having the condition. He pressed a kiss to Evan's forehead, smiling as gentle laughter sounded beneath him.

"How about we just watch a shitty movie downstairs until dinner's ready?" Connor suggested, pulling back enough to gaze into Evan's eyes.

Evan nodded, a genuine smile on his face. "I th-think I'm too e-emotionally st-stressed for sex anyways," he joked. "C-can we watch S-spiderman?"

"Only if it's Homecoming."


Standing, Connor helped his boyfriend to his feet, pulling him to the closet where they each picked out the largest hoodies Connor owned (one of which was actually Zoe's but oh well). With a smirk, the taller of the two led the way downstairs, grabbing a blanket from the closet before they both cuddled up on the couch, Spiderman Homecoming beginning to play within a few minutes.

They knew they'd have to talk about this later. There were a sort of unspoken agreement between them to talk about what happened before they slept with each other again, but both of they were to tired to do anything about it at this point in time. And, for either of them, rushing things was by far one of the worse possible solutions to fixing any sort of problem.

By the time Cynthia got home, they were both fast asleep, Evan leaning back against the pillows and Connor lying peacefully on his stomach.

She'd have to wake them up before Larry got home, but not yet.

Not yet.