Chapter Text
Xander wiped down his inner thighs, glancing over at Christian out of the corner of his eye. In his peripheral vision, he could see the way he was slumped against the headboard, broad shoulders relaxed, with a cigarette dangling from his lips.
“Christian,” Xander said quietly, approaching the bed and clambering onto it, “You okay?”
Christian gave him a noncommittal grunt as a response. “You sure?” Xander pressed as gently as he could, his hand hovering above his knee. “Because I know-”
“I'm hardly going to be hurt by sex with an omega, Xander,” Christian cut him off, tone blunt and defensive.
Xander tried not to let the words get to him. It would be foolish, he knew, to be offended. He was glad that Christian wasn't hurt when they slept together. And it was only logical for sex with an omega to not be painful, why would it be anything else? He wasn't sure why the words stung. “Yeah, of course, but I mean with what you've been through-”
“Xander.” Christian cut him off again, perfect lips curling into an ever-so-slightly patronising smile, his voice slightly affected by that commanding tinge that made Xander’s instincts to surrender come rearing. He reached up and cupped a calloused palm around the back of Xander's neck. “Don't worry about it.”
“Uh,” Xander blinked slowly at him, trying to remember why he was concerned in the first place, “...Mhm.”
“Good,” Christian hummed, his hand sliding from the nape of Xander's neck to his jaw. He paused. “Oh? What's this?” He tilted Xander's head to the side to examine the area closer.
“Hm?” Xander blinked, trying to rid his mind of any fogginess. He sobered up pretty quickly once he realised what Christian was referring to. “Oh,” he touched the mark on the side of his neck a little self-consciously, “Right.”
“I never knew you had a mate,” Christian said lightly, long fingers dancing over the mark, “Those turtlenecks hide a lot. What is it? An old flame?”
Xander tried not to let bitterness seep into his tone; he didn't want Christian to see him like that. Bitter. He didn't want to be bitter. He shrugged with as much callousness as he could muster. “Hardly. I barely even think about it.”
That, technically, was false. It wasn’t like Xander wanted to lie to Christian; of course he didn’t, he loved him, it was just… so complicated.
Besides, it wasn't like Xander recalled the “old flame”, as Christian had put it, with any fondness.
None at all.
“Is that so?” Christian mused, devastatingly beautiful face scrunched in mock-consideration. “Surely this person must have been important if they made you to give up your only chance of having a mate.”
Xander shrugged awkwardly, deciding to force the words out despite the sour taste they left in his mouth. Like vomit. “...Uh. Not really. It was just something a cop did for me back when I was in prison. For… safety, I guess. A… uh, mated omega has a much easier time there than an unmated one.”
“A cop?” Christian's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “But you hate cops.”
“Yup.” Xander bit the fleshy inside of his cheek. “I do. All of them.”
“Surely you can't have hated this one that much,” Christian probed, and something about his tone made Xander's mind feel mushy again, “If you let them mark you. That’s a lot of trust.”
Xander swallowed thickly, his mind flashing through unwelcome images of impossibly blue eyes softened with concern.
[Shhh, it’s okay, Alex. You’re okay.]
“...I guess.”
[Just breathe for me. In and out.]
“You guess?”
[Does it hurt?]
“Yeah. It was a long time ago, anyway.”
[Can I touch you here?]
Xander shook his head abruptly, shoving those memories back inside the drawer he had locked them into long ago. Shut up, shut the fuck up.
[Does that feel good?]
Stop. Get out of my head.
[Have you ever wished you could just stay in one moment forever?]
Stop it.
[I'm so glad you trust me enough to let me–]
“Xander.” Christian's voice, sharp and clear and startling, broke through his thoughts.
Xander blinked. “Hm?”
“I asked you a question.” One of Christian’s well-groomed eyebrows was arched in suspicion. Xander swallowed.
“Sorry. Just– lost in my mind for a second. What– what did you ask, exactly?”
Christian pressed his thumb into the warped, damaged skin on the side of Xander’s neck. “Which cop was this?”
“Oh.” Xander laughed awkwardly; it came out embarrassingly high-pitched in that way his voice tended to when he was nervous. “You uh… you probably don't know him.”
“I might.” Christian probed, full lips curving oh-so prettily in that way that always made Xander melt into a puddle at his feet. His nail dug into the junction of Xander's shoulder. “Who was it?”
Xander sucked his teeth. It was no big deal, telling Christian. He loved him. He trusted him. And besides, it had gone down years ago. It was merely a ghost of the past; a skeleton in his closet, per se. He knew that in order for him to prove himself as trustworthy to Christian, honesty was important. “You…” his throat suddenly felt awfully dry. He cleared it uncomfortably. Right. Complete transparency.
“...You know Ethan Collins?”
Christian’s smile froze. “Ethan Collins.” He echoed Xander faintly.
Xander nodded, scrutinising his expression to try and gauge his reaction. Was he angry..? Upset? Just… shocked? He was certain he saw hurt flash across Christian’s beautiful face, if only for an instance, but it disappeared as quickly as it had came, with Christian schooling his features back into something neutral. Xander couldn't find anything when he searched his eyes again. Perhaps he had just imagined the pain that had crossed Christian’s face. He had never been that good at reading people, Andrew had always said so.
(He had never been the brightest, but he made up for that in loyalty, didn't he? Like a dog, following dutifully after its owner, ears pricked up and tail wagging.)
Christian smiled at him again, but it was with too much teeth and didn't even come close to reaching his eyes, which bored into Xander’s own. “I must say, I'm disappointed, Xander. I didn't take you for a traitor.”
Xander stared. A traitor? “I… what?”
“Don't you know that Ethan Collins is the chief detective on the Dean case?” Christian snapped. He snapped. Fuck, he was angry. Xander had screwed up yet again.
“I–” he licked his lips nervously, “It was– before that, Christian–...”
“It was still a cop.” Christian’s tone was sharp, biting, almost like a reprimand. “You let a cop mark you, Xander. Because, what? It made things easier? I thought you were stronger than that.”
“I–” Xander was struck with the animalistic urge to shrink, to show his neck in surrender. He twitched, digging his fingernails into his palms. “It was a long time ago, Christian. I– I regret it every day, trust me–”
“I thought you said you didn't think about it. But you regret it every day? You're contradicting yourself, Alexander. Which one is it? You don't think about it, or you regret it every day?” Christian’s fingertips dug into the scent gland on the side of Xander’s neck. He resisted the instinct to flinch away and bare his teeth in a hiss. That was all it was. Instincts, and foolish ones at that. The ones of an inferior sex.
Calm down. Christian had every right to be upset at his fuck up.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, bowing his head, placing his hands palms-down on top of his own thighs. Submission. “Forgive me. Please.”
Christian gave him a once over, brown-and-cloudy grey eyes holding a huge amount of disdain, mixed with disgust and anger. Xander shuddered under the intensity of his gaze. He felt like he was being judged—because he was—like Christian was somehow seeing every single one of the moments that were flashing before his eyes and shaming him for it.
But, well. He kind of deserved to be shamed, if he was being honest.
“I— I wasn’t in my right mind,” he tried to explain, but Christian’s expression didn’t change one bit. If anything, he looked even angrier. Or maybe it was Xander’s imagination. He was way too insecure and sensitive, anyway. “I was young, and I was the only omega there. The rest of the inmates looked at me like… like…” his throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes darting across the room, looking everywhere except Christian’s judgemental stare. “Like… I was a piece of meat, or something like that. It was the only way to protect myself.”
“Right. So you would rather let a cop,” Christian said the word like it tasted bitter in his mouth. “Mark you, rather than wear one of those collars omegas wear when they don’t want to be marked?” He asked, disbelief so evident it almost made Xander wince.
“They’re not allowed in prison, because people could hide stuff in there, like weapons, even drugs,” he said softly.
Christian sighed like Xander was being unreasonable. Maybe he was. Christian had every right to be upset, after all. “Look here, Alexander. I have known you for years. And I can tell that you just wanted to be marked, to be claimed by an alpha, especially one that holds such an amount of authority,” he spoke condescendingly, almost mockingly. It made Xander want to curl up into a little ball and hide from the cruel world. “You’re strong enough to defend yourself against some old prisoners. So, you can just admit it. Or don’t. I know the truth, anyway,” Christian shrugged, placing the cigarette back into his lips.
Xander stared at him, completely stunned. Big, big powder blue eyes observing as Christian took a drag from his cigarette like he hadn’t just insulted him.
Deep breaths, you’ll be fine. Okay. People sometimes said things they didn’t mean when they were angry, and depending on the situation, they had the right to. Christian was mad. He had every right to be mad. Which meant he also had every right to reprimand him.
“What are you implying?” He spoke quietly, hating the way his voice shook faintly. He hoped Christian didn’t notice, but—judging by the way he turned to look at Xander, something that if Xander didn't know better, he might have thought resembled pride glinting in his eyes—he did.
Christian huffed, shaking his head. “Do you want me to be completely honest with you, Alexander?”
Xander blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. What did that even mean? What could he possibly be thinking that made him have to ask that? “Ah, yeah, of course,” he said, almost hesitant. But fuck it. More lies would just make everything worse. And he needed to toughen up, anyway.
Christian sat up abruptly, so suddenly Xander almost flinched, then stared at him like he was looking straight through his eyes and at his soul. “Omegas shouldn’t let themselves be marked that easily. Once you do it, there is no going back,” he said firmly. “Omegas who let alphas claim them that easily are nothing but whores.”
Xander’s lips parted in pure shock. Okay, okay. Okay. Deep breaths, you’ll be fine. Christian was just saying this for his own good, so he could learn from his mistakes and improve. He didn’t intend to hurt him. Xander was just sensitive, he always had been.
“I— I…” but still, he was speechless. It stung. It hurt. It really did. He had to remind himself that Christian was just helping him. “Are you— Are you calling me a—?”
“A whore?” Christian cut him off. “I mean, if the shoe fits, Alexander. You let yourself be marked by a cop, even though you were completely able to defend yourself. I think that speaks for itself.”
Xander pressed his lips into a thin line, frustration rushing through his veins. “I am not a whore,” he spoke quietly. So quiet it was almost dangerous. Almost.
Christian shrugged once again. Something in his expression had changed at some point in the conversation. Something subtle but… still there. Like he was… different somehow. Xander wasn’t able to tell if it was his imagination acting up once again. Christian looked at him up and down with an unreadable expression. “Fine, not a whore then. But a pretty thing that needs to have its little holes stuffed. Is that better?”
Xander gasped sharply, his hand quickly moving to cover his mouth. He hated how his vision started getting blurry, how he could feel his breath hitching as he held back the sobs that were threatening to slip from his lips. Christian could always make him cry so easily, in a way that nobody else could. In the same way that he could turn his brain to mush in that way that nobody else could.
Well. Almost nobody.
Irrelevant.
Christian pulled away, lying back into bed and extinguishing the cigarette on the ashtray that rested on the nightstand. “Look, Alexander, I’m just being honest. Like you asked me to. You shouldn’t have let him claim you like that. Don’t you realise that you will be connected to him until the day one of you dies?”
Deep breaths, you’ll be fine. Xander took long, slow breaths, until he was sure he had finally calmed down. “I— I know, but—”
Christian cut him off with a groan, rolling his eyes in annoyance. Xander felt a pang of guilt in his chest. Was he annoying him? What a stupid question—of course he was. He always did. Damn it.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered once again. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Well, you did,” Christian snapped, covering himself with the blankets and turning off the light. “Just go the fuck to sleep, we’ll talk tomorrow. You’ve fucked up the night enough for me.”
Xander’s breath hitched, his entire body stiffening at Christian’s harsh words. He looked down at his hands, even though he couldn’t see them—whether it was from the tears forming in his eyes or the absence of light in the room, he didn’t know—. “Okay,” he murmured, laying down with his back towards him, curling up into a ball. He usually hated having his back towards people; but this was Christian. So, he didn’t mind. He knew he wouldn't hurt him.
“Good night,” he murmured, voice so small and meek. He didn't want to be small and meek.
Christian replied with a grunt. “‘Night.”
So, Xander finally allowed himself to close his eyes, feeling the tears that hadn't fallen earlier dampening his cheeks and his pillowcase.
[There you are, baby blue.]