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Ethan sighed into Alex’s mouth, soft white hair slipping through his fingers. Alex’s cold hands were under his shirt, wide, rough palms sliding up and down the sides of Ethan’s waist, pressing him further into the mattress.
He kissed Ethan deeply, carefully. Gently. A lot of the time when they had sex, it could be fiery, passionate. There had been several occasions when Alex had scooped him up, thrown him over his shoulder, carried him to the nearest bedroom, and tossed him unceremoniously onto the bed before crawling on top of him.
(Ethan suspected such occasions were due to ovulation, but Alex said the fact that he knew about his cycle was “weird”, so he kept those thoughts to himself.)
Today, however, was not one of those occasions. Sometimes, they liked to take it slow. To be soft instead of hard. To take time to press open-mouthed kisses wherever they could reach. Those times, privately, were Ethan's favourite, as much as he also enjoyed being jumped and ravaged by Alex. There was just something about it.
Ethan tapped the back of Alex’s thigh with his heel, drawing back a little. “Hey.”
“Mhm?” Alex ducked his head to start peppering kisses across the sharp line of his jaw. Ethan exhaled again, sinking further into one of the several pillows Alex had on his bed (he couldn’t understand it, Alex was so tall and broad, the extensive cushions he insisted on having surely must have taken up too much space for him to fit comfortably), and scratching lightly at Alex’s scalp with his blunt fingernails.
“Hey.”
He felt Alex’s plush lips curve into a smile against his neck. “You already said that.”
“Yes,” Ethan said, inhaling sharply through his nose when Alex took it upon himself to suck a bruise into the side of his throat, “It was my way of trying to get your attention.”
Alex bit him lightly. “You have my attention already, ex-cop.” He had a biting problem, a bad one. Ethan had lost count of the amount of times he had woken the morning after they spent the night together looking like he had been mauled by a werewolf. He had taken to stealing Alex’s turtlenecks at times to hide the marks.
“Do you want to have sex, is that it?” Ethan mumbled, heat rising to his cheeks. “Because I think we’re out of condoms.”
Alex grinned. “That’s okay. We can do whatever.”
“Whatever?”
“Mhm,” Alex kissed his neck again, chaste this time, “Your choice.”
Ethan paused. One thing about Alex was that he tended to be quite… domineering in bed, for lack of a better term. Ethan had no qualms about it; in fact he found himself disconcertingly attracted to how demanding Alex could be at times. However, he could also proudly say that when they slept together (actually slept together, not just hand and mouth work), Alex's assertiveness often shifted into something more passive (passive-aggressive, too, Ethan had never met a man so prone to insulting their partner in bed, although he supposed it said something about him, too, considering he was attracted to it), but he always got flustered and irritated when Ethan dared point it out.
Still, occasionally, when Ethan would touch him, Alex would… soften. Tuck his face into the crook of Ethan’s neck to stifle his whimpers, his fingers curling into the material of his hoodie, and would just… melt. It made warmth unfurl in Ethan's chest; not flames of passion, but a slow, gentle heat. One that Ethan had been afraid of, at first, what with everything he had been through, but had come to cherish with time.
Alex willingly and easily handing him control was always nice.
“Okay,” Ethan murmured, his hand sliding from Alex’s hair to cup his cheek. Alex hummed, leaning into his palm. “Can I… uh, go down on you, then?”
Alex blinked, light eyebrows raising. “I mean. Yeah. If you want.”
Ethan recalled the first time he'd offered that, Alex had been scandalised at the mere suggestion, as if Ethan wanting him like that was something that didn't make any sense. Like it was abhorrent. He'd thought Ethan was doing it out of a twisted sense of obligation. It had taken a lot of gentle coaxing (and six not-so gentle consecutive orgasms, but that was another story) for him to realise Ethan was doing it not because he thought he had to, but because he wanted to.
Alex shuffled backwards a little so he was no longer between Ethan’s legs and rolled onto his back. Ethan smiled and settled between his thighs. Alex’s wide hands rested lightly on his hips.
Ethan tugged delicately at the hem of Alex's hoodie. “Take this off…?” He asked carefully. Alex had refused to take his top off initially when they slept together, similarly to how he used to not let Ethan look at him down there, but with time, he didn't seem to mind it as much, scarcely hesitating now most of the time.
Still, Ethan saw no harm with being careful.
Alex merely hummed, calm, and allowed Ethan to pull the hoodie over his head, and shimmy his sweatpants down his hips. Alex smiled at him with raised eyebrows. “You ever thought about the fact that you might have a bit of an oral fixation?” He asked teasingly.
Ethan blinked, heat rising to his cheeks. He thought about how often he chewed on pens or pencils, or the inside of his cheek, or bit his nails, or the sheer amount of times he went down on Alex. God, upon reflection, he did have a bit of an oral fixation, didn't he?
“I mean- uh, I guess?”
Alex chuckled. “You're cute.”
Ethan blushed further. “You- uh- you-... cute. Too.”
Alex grinned. “I cute?”
“Shut up.” Ethan went scarlet.
“Why speak caveman?”
“Shut up.”
“Okay,” Alex pinched his cheek like he was a child, “Okay, my bad.” He didn't sound sorry at all, but he was so pretty and smiley that Ethan couldn't bring himself to pretend to be annoyed.
He leaned down so he could attach himself onto Alex's neck, and slotted a leg between his thighs to press against his groin. Alex let out a half-groan, half-laugh, turning his head to the side to give him further access.
Ethan kneaded the mangled scar tissue on Alex's throat lightly between his teeth, relished in the sharp inhale it earned him. “Careful,” he breathed, squeezing Ethan's waist lightly. “Uhm. Sensitive.”
“I know,” Ethan murmured. The thing about Alex was that he was so sensitive, pleasure quickly turning into pain if not treated with care, basically all over, since scars littered his entire body.
(Ethan knew the science behind it. Hypersensitivity was caused by damaged nerve endings becoming overactive and sending constant pain signals to the brain. But he knew telling Alex that wasn't very sexy, apparently, so he kept that to himself.)
So, due to not wanting to cause Alex any physical discomfort, Ethan mostly refrained from giving any hickeys or love bites, despite how pretty they looked, although he silently mourned that at times. Especially because Alex usually left him looking like he had been dragged backwards through a bush.
He knew where the scar wrapping around Alex's throat came from. Alex had told him. Blake had broken down after Destiny, Demi and Micheal passed. Alex had never told him, nor faulted him for it. Still, it was nasty and painful-looking. But such could be said for most of the scars that laced Alex's frame, and Ethan didn't know the origins of most of those. He had his suspicions, but nothing concrete.
He mouthed down the column of Alex's throat and stopped when he reached a small, thin scar on his clavicle. It was one of the few that was shallow enough to heal white instead of pinkish-brown or purple. Inherently not noticeable against the alabaster of Alex's skin, especially when compared to the others, but still there. “Where's this from?”
Alex blinked, raising his head off the pillow slightly to stare at him. “Uhm. I don't remember. Why?”
“Nevermind.” Ethan shook his head and ran a delicate fingertip over a knot of scar tissue on Alex's muscular shoulder. “And this?”
“Why?”
“Just curious.”
Alex's brows pinched together slightly. “I… think I got this one in a street fight when I was a teenager.”
“What happened?” Ethan pressed.
Alex was frowning now. “Is this… are you trying to make fun of me right now? You already know I hate them.” He sounded so small and sad when he said it that Ethan wanted to cry just a little, to bundle him up in his arms and shield him from the world's cruelty, to not let anything violent touch his skin ever again.
“No,” Ethan felt awful, now, “God, no, of course not. I'm just… I want to know.”
“Why, though?” Alex laughed, but it came out uncertain, unsure. “There's so many of them, anyway. It's not like you'll remember them all. Hell, I don't even remember them all.”
Ethan shrugged. “I have a good memory.”
Alex swallowed, expression still unsure, but less defensive. “...Okay. A kid stabbed me, from what I remember. Twisted the knife. I think.”
“I'm sorry,” Ethan said.
“Don't be,” Alex said with forced nonchalance, “I beat his ass afterwards. Knocked out four of his teeth.” He paused after the words left his mouth.
“...I- sorry, I'm not… I'm not violent anymore, you know that, right?” Ethan could recognise the shame in his voice.
“I know,” he said simply. Leaned down and pressed his lips to the marred flesh. When he drew back, Alex was looking at him strangely. He felt his face heat up. “Sorry. Was that weird?”
“Kind of.” He bit his lip. “But I didn't mind it that much, so I'm probably even weirder, right?”
“No,” Ethan said instantly, “You're not weird.” He raised Alex's arm, marvelling a little at all the corded muscle, and paid close attention to the scars that were raised slightly off his skin, twisted and purplish. They were the ones he'd seen the most of, like if there was a counter of the scars that warped the flesh on Alex's body, it would be these. Ethan had always suspected they were burn scars. “And these?”
Alex's tongue darted out to lick his lips. “Uhm. They're burn scars.”
“Okay,” Ethan said gently, “Where from?”
“These ones?” Alex's face twisted into a grimace, shame clear as day, eyes diverted. “Andrew.”
Ethan paused. “Are… a lot of them from him?”
Alex gnawed on his bottom lip. “A few.”
“Okay,” Ethan said, and he knew there was a specific story to be told, there, he was just trying to figure out whether he should push or not. “What'd he do these ones for?”
Alex looked miserable when he responded. “For fun.”
“For fun.” Ethan echoed. Not for the first time, he thought, I wished you had let me take you away from him, back then. It would have saved them both a lot of trouble.
But it was never something he voiced aloud; never something he would. He knew Alex already felt ashamed about letting Andrew control him and his decisions for so long; about how he had jumped to conclusions and shoved Ethan away and treated him like shit for a while. He’d tried his hardest to improve and rehabilitate and make amends, and he did, he’d succeeded. Throwing it back into his face wouldn’t be fair.
For a long time, Ethan wondered how Alex could possibly let someone who was so clearly terrible for him infiltrate his life and isolate him from anybody else who cared, because it wasn’t like Alex was stupid, but it had been so blatantly naive of him.
Then, he met Christian. And he’d understood.
“Yeah,” Alex whispered, “For fun. He liked to see me cry. I think he thought it was funny.”
A tiny crack ran across Ethan’s heart. “He’s gone now.” He said quietly. Alex smoothed a reassuring hand down his spine.
“Yeah, he is. I’m okay now, cucciolo. You are, too. We’re okay.” Ethan always loved the rare occasions that Alex spoke Italian, the way his accent gently curled around the syllables and the elongated, drawn-out vowels was so beautiful.
Ethan couldn’t speak any Italian, but he did know cucciolo apparently meant “fuckhead”, because the first time Alex had called him that, he’d asked, and he’d gone pink and scowled at him and told him so. “Are you seriously calling me a fuckhead right now?”
Alex blinked, looking almost bewildered for a moment, before he smiled. “Oh, right. Yeah. It’s okay. You’re my little fuckhead.”
“How sweet.” Ethan responded dryly. “You’re just lovely, aren’t you?”
“Mm, I try.” Alex’s face softened at the kisses Ethan peppered up and down his arm. “I… I’m not really sure what you’re trying to do here. There’s so many of them, anyway.”
Ethan bit his bicep lightly, and Alex laughed. “What was that for, baby?”
Ethan shrugged. “You have nice arms. Very muscular. Plus, you bite me all the time. And much harder than this, too, you vampire.”
“Please,” Alex smirked, “You like it.”
Ethan shrugged. “Never said I didn’t.”
He sucked some of the soft flesh on Alex’s chest between his teeth, relishing in the way it made him squirm. “Ah- okay, okay-”
Ethan tucked his hand underneath the small of his back, so he could feel the way it arched. The muscles in his obliques flexed and shifted beneath his palms. “Nngh, Jesus, Ethan, fuck-”
“Hey,” Ethan detached himself in order to rest his chin on his sternum and stare at him. “You called me by my name instead of ex-cop or an insult. I’m honoured.”
Alex scowled. “Shut the fuck up. You were literally sucking on my tits. I was caught off guard. Don’t get used to it.”
Ethan smiled, and pressed his lips to a tiny scar on his breastbone. “I won’t. Where’s this one from?”
Alex pursed his lips. “I think I fell into a fence when I was like fifteen.”
Ethan snickered. “Seriously? How’d that happen?”
The corners of Alex’s mouth twitched upwards. “I tripped over a stick.”
Ethan moved backwards a little, brushing his lips over the slightly crooked flares of his ribs, where they had been broken and never quite healed properly. He scraped his teeth lightly over his ribcage. “How’d you break them?”
Alex exhaled slowly. “Uhm- Christian, or like, Dean, I guess- after… y’know. Christian got shot, and came back.”
“Oh.” Ethan hadn’t known Dean did that, actually. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“‘S fine.” Alex shrugged. “Kind of had that one coming.”
“I don’t think so.” Ethan said quietly.
“Well,” Alex patted his back and gave him a little half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “What can you do, right?”
“Nothing, I guess.” Ethan pressed kisses, feather-light to the broad, scarred expanse of Alex’s torso. Alex let out a nervous little giggle, fragile and uncertain in a way that made Ethan want to fold him in half and ravish him until there were no doubts left in his mind, until he was reduced to a babbling, sobbing mess. But he wouldn’t; not today, anyhow.
Ethan dedicated his attention to Alex’s abdomen and his powerful thighs, liberal with his tongue and much less so with his teeth (it wasn’t like he couldn’t be a tiny bit rough at times, but Alex was too soft in this moment, Ethan couldn’t bring himself to be anything less than gentle), Alex gasping out an explanation for each and every one of the scars, the muscles in his glutes and hips shifting.
Ethan pressed his knuckles up into him through his boxers, which were already damp and sticky-sweet, and Alex groaned, his hips bucking up sharply, unrestrained. “Are you trying to kill me here?”
“A little bit.” Ethan sucked a hickey beneath his navel, and Alex laughed, breathless.
Ethan curled his fingers, and he writhed, his legs jerking. “Stupid, stupid- stop teasing me, you little shit.”
“I’m not teasing.” Ethan tucked a hand into the back of his knee and bent it towards his chest. “Where’s this one from?”
Alex blinked owlishly down at him. “I fell when I was six. I was uhm- running, and I tripped over a crack in the pavement.”
Ethan pressed his lips to his knee. “Mhm.”
Alex bit his lip, his chin trembling. “...Mhm.”
Ethan kissed over the scars that laced his thighs. Usually, he paid close attention to the innermost parts of his thighs, one of the few places that were devoid of any lesions, because the skin there was soft, so soft, but today, he avoided them, paying heed to the cicatrixes that slashed across his flesh. When he quietly inquired where they were from, Alex paused.
“Those were because of me, actually.”
Ethan had figured, honestly. But still, hearing him admit it out loud was saddening in a different way, even if it was only confirming what he already suspected. Because the cuts were so deep and jagged. “When’d you do them?”
Alex’s broad shoulders sagged. “Can’t exactly pinpoint an exact time. I just…” he trailed off, and shook his head. “Nevermind.”
“No,” Ethan squeezed his hips gently, “Tell me, please?”
Alex’s lips twisted in a frown. “I always just… did them. Since I was like… twelve. I just… carried this blade around with me at all times. And I’d try to stop every once in a while, and I’d leave it at home because I was barely ever home, and then I would just get this itch like I needed to hurt myself but I didn’t have anything, and it just felt like- like there was these ants crawling beneath my skin, kind of like how I felt when I was- when I was trying to get sober, and God, it was just unbearable, and then- the second I got my hands on my blade again, I would feel so awful that I would just cut deeper.”
He inhaled sharply once he stopped talking, like he had stopped breathing for a bit. “God.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his head thumping back against the pillow. “I’m sorry. You- you don’t want to hear that.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.” Ethan said softly. He swallowed thickly, hesitating, words sticking to the inside of his throat. He felt too afraid to ask. But far more afraid not to. “You, uhm… you still get that itch?”
Alex exhaled, powdery blue eyes flitting open again. “No, cara mia, I don’t. Don’t worry.”
“You know me,” Ethan whispered, “I’m a worrier.”
“Yeah, you are,” Alex cupped his jaw, and smoothed his thumb over his cheek, “You’re my little worrier.”
“Mm,” Ethan leaned in to kiss him, chaste, brief, and nudged him to roll over onto his stomach, kissing down the notches of his spine. Alex stretched beneath him, long and languid, powerful muscles rippling beneath his skin. Ethan peppered kisses over his shoulder blades, his scapula. “What about these?”
Alex took a few moments to respond. “From my father, mostly.”
Ethan said nothing. Alex shifted beneath him again. “He- uhm, I-...” he made a vague, frustrated noise.
Ethan kissed the nape of his neck. “Take your time.”
“They’re the only ones that I… uhm, can’t really see. But I can feel them. They’re like… tight. Tugging. It feels like my skin is… splitting apart at the seams. I don’t know, they’re just… are they bad?”
Ethan blinked several times, willing the stinging in his eyes away. “They look painful.”
Alex scoffed quietly. “So they are bad, then.”
“Yeah,” Ethan whispered, “I guess.”
“My mama used to stitch them back together with a needle and thread. She would just…” Alex sighed, heavy, shaky. “Cry the whole time. And apologise over and over again because there was no way she could get us out.”
“...I’m sorry.”
Alex rolled onto his back again, staring up at Ethan through spider-silk lashes. There were tears beading in the corners of his eyes, like tiny, sparkling diamonds. “What are you doing? Like… right now? There are so many of them, there’s more than I can count. It’s just pointless.”
“It’s not pointless.” Ethan said gently, brushing his hair out of his face.
“I hate them.” Alex whispered.
“I know, baby.”
Alex’s eyes were red now, wet and shiny. “You… doing all this isn’t going to make me hate them any less, you know that, right?”
“...Okay.” Ethan watched giant tears well up, but not fall just yet. “Okay.”
Alex’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “They’re so ugly.”
“I don’t think so,” Ethan said quietly, “But even if they are, so what? What you’ve been through isn’t pretty. Why should it have to look pretty?”
Alex started crying, then, unshed tears finally falling, throwing his forearm over his eyes. “God, you’re the worst. Why can’t you just have sex like a normal person? Instead you have to make me emotional and shit. Asshole.” He dissolved into tears and quiet curses in Italian and Korean alike, and Ethan gently pulled his arm away from his face so he could kiss him all over.
Once Alex’s sobs had quietened down to hiccups and shaky breaths, his eyes cracked open again. Ethan brushed away the tears that were clumping his eyelashes together away gently with his finger. Alex sniffed. “I thought you said you wanted to go down on me, not make me cry.”
“Those things aren’t necessarily exclusive most of the time, anyway,” Ethan said wryly, and Alex snorted.
“Freak.”
He chewed on his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowing together. Ethan kissed the crease between them. “...Thank you.” Alex murmured.
“Mhm.” Ethan brushed his hair back from his forehead. “May I… what do you want me to do?”
Alex reached up towards him. “You know.”
Ethan did know. “Can I kiss you?”
“Please.”