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Etho hasn’t been sleeping.
This isn’t unusual for him by any stretch; he’s an insomniac by trade, and a workaholic at that.
But Bdubs hasn’t been sleeping either. It’s getting to him. When dawn breaks today, he faces Etho on the porch with red eyes.
“Things are gonna be a little different around here from now on,” Bdubs says.
Etho, trying to salvage the situation, says, “I’m still in charge.”
“Oh, unfortunately not,” Bdubs says, nearly sneers it, heady red-fueled confidence in his voice as he calls Etho’s bluff. And that does something inside Etho; turns his stomach, maybe, lets some little bubble snap in a way that tightens up his chest.
He knows Bdubs is right. He’s still green, can’t raise a hand against Bdubs and doesn’t have a threat to stand on. Red curse, though — and Bdubs follows him, back into the house, door kicked shut behind them both with a wooden thud — Red curse means Etho’s gotta watch his back. He puts it against the wall.
“Things are gonna be a little different around here now,” Bdubs is saying, and he’s saying, “I’m not gonna—I’m not starting a fight with you, all right, we can—”
“You hit me one time,” Etho says, “I’ll kill you.”
And it’s not that he’s afraid of Bdubs. If it’s a fight between the two of them, he’s pretty sure—Yeah, he’s pretty sure, is the thing. He’d probably win.
“I’m not—Yeah, I’m not starting a fight with you right now.” Bdubs laughs, and even that sounds bloodstained on its way out of a bruised mouth. “We can settle this, Etho.”
“We can settle it,” Etho says. He stays still on one side of the room, under the window. “Peacefully. You stay on one side of the house, I stay on the other.”
Bdubs flips open the lid to a chest, one on Etho’s half of the room. He’s not even looking in it, idly swiping out an item at random and tossing it across the room to land in a heap. “No, of course, you’ll have it your way. Etho’s in charge, except—oh, except.”
And he turns. Slams the chest shut, loud enough Etho would’ve jumped if he hadn’t been laser-focused on Bdubs’ every move.
He’s grinning. Wide-eyed, dark bruises, red red red. “Except, you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore.”
If Etho was lying, he’d say the shiver that runs down his spine is just fear. He’s never been afraid of Bdubs like this. There’s never been a reason to.
“Ohh, this is fun.” It’s low, the way Bdubs says it, near a growl. And he’s grinning, teeth bared, as he takes one more step forward. “Seein’ you all tough and scared of little ol’ me. Go on then, sweetheart. What are you gonna do, hit me? Draw your sword? You won’t!”
Etho’s fingers itch at his sides. He’s right. There’s nothing Etho can do to stop him, even if everything in him is at war about it. It’s his oldest friend. He’s never seen him like this before. Every hair on the back of his neck stands upright. He feels like a cornered animal, and Bdubs is the hunter this time. A cat playing with its food, maybe.
Etho doesn’t want to die yet. Not like this.
“Come on,” Etho tries, wheedling approach. “We can still be friends.”
Bdubs’ eyes flash.
In an instant, Bdubs has crossed the room and he’s on Etho, hands in the front of his coat and tearing his mask free, lips against his. It’s messy and rough, the way their noses collide at first and Bdubs’ hands demanding and relentless as he drags him forward, but Etho’s relaxing instantly under his touch.
This is fine. This he can handle.
Bdubs is rougher than usual; teeth on his lips, teeth on his teeth and tongue on his, clashing and angled up as Bdubs crowds in and takes up as every spare inch of space. Etho tastes blood. He doesn’t know which of theirs it is.
Bdubs wants a fight, so he gives it to him. He pulls back, and Bdubs follows him, fingers digging tighter, lines of bruises up Etho’s arms, pushing him back and back. It seems aimless, so Etho angles himself; lets Bdubs corral him into the wall and pin him there.
This he can handle. This he can do without getting himself killed.
He catches Bdubs mouth again, opens it enough to invite him in. His heart is still pounding, but he knows Bdubs and the shape of him, the way his body presses into Etho’s and makes him feel small even when he stands a few inches taller, and now he lets his knees bend just enough for Bdubs to feel taller. Just enough for Bdubs to slot himself between them. Lifts his arms, tempting him to pin his wrists in place or grab him by the waist and direct him exactly where he wants him—
And then his hand comes to rest over the dip of his throat instead.
He barely breathes. Bdubs looks up at him, wicked glint. “You still think you’re in charge, do you?”
“No,” Etho lies, and then shudders when Bdubs closes his fingers more firmly. Just enough to feel the tiniest resistance when he swallows.
Bdubs leans in close. A kiss on his jaw; beard scratchy on his skin; another lower down, following his neck to the collarbone where his hand hasn’t moved. A nip, another bite, and Etho shudders out a tiny gasp. He doesn’t know if Bdubs is even aware of the way his hips shift forward at the sound.
“You gotta remember,” Bdubs whispers against his skin. Gooseflesh prickles. “I’m calling the shots now.”
Etho stills.
“Oh, you’re real scared,” Bdubs whispers, and Etho’s breath hitches. “You scared of me, sweetheart?”
“How could—” Etho starts, falters, starts again, “Never been scared of you.”
Bdubs laughs, and he cants his hips forward again, grinding down for real. “Not til now, huh? You’re never this quiet. Ohh, yes, that’s good. The great Etho, trembling under my hand.”
And there’s this brief flash of something in Etho’s chest. Fear a little deeper than anything else. The realization that if he tried, he’s not sure he could get Bdubs off of him.
“Bdubs,” Etho starts.
“Yeah, yeah baby,” Bdubs is saying, and Etho has the feeling he’s only half-listening anyway. Doesn’t know how much he’s hearing around the red bloodlust anyway. “I got you.”
What Etho’s thinking right now is that it’s not rape if he doesn’t tell Bdubs no, and he doesn’t think Bdubs is exactly going to ask, you know, so he doesn’t say it either. Reasons it out that way. Decides it’s gonna be fine. He’d rather this than dead, anyway.
“Think if you were red with me,” Bdubs whispers, grunts it out, “Oh, yes, Etho, imagine it — me and you, red together, everybody afraid of us—”
It’s more uncomfortable than pleasurable. It’s barely sex; it’s survival, with a silver lining. Keeping Bdubs happy and just on this side of pleasure. Etho’s trying to chase what good feelings he can: trying to let the fear mold into arousal, trying to enjoy it in bits and pieces. It—It isn’t bad. He shivers when Bdubs breathes on his ear, chases after his hips, after the friction of it, and he’s always loved the steady stream of nonsense Bdubs mutters when he’s close. The pet names — sweetheart, baby, oh, Etho, so good for me — and it’s not so different now. He decides it’s all but the same.
He’s not anywhere close when Bdubs’ thrusts go erratic. His hand clamps around Etho’s neck, and this time he really can’t breathe. Tears in the corners of his eyes; he grabs at Bdubs’ wrist, fingernails digging in his arm, all muscle and tough skin and he doesn’t even falter in his grip, and now there’s panic in Etho’s gut.
He’s right. He can’t get away. Bdubs whispering in his ear. Straining his arms trying to push him away.
And just as quick as the panic settles, Bdubs lets go again.
Etho doesn’t collapse, but it’s a close things. His knees feel weak. Bdubs catches him under the arms and leans them both against the wall.
They stand there, long enough to both catch their breath, punctuated by kisses against the side of his neck. Etho doesn’t know if he can look at him, so he stays with his eyes closed while Bdubs runs calloused fingers through his hair, impossibly gentle. Impossibly tender, after everything that just happened. Scalp to ends; carefully loosening and detangling until Etho’s hair falls wispy and smooth over his shoulders again.
Bdubs says, quietly, not letting him go, “So about you going red.”