“I do,” He coughs, “But what are they going to do? You can’t do shit for broken ribs.”
“I don’t know but they can do more than I can,” I tell him.
“This is all I need, Wills, I’ll be fine.”
My clothes stick to my skin, along with my hair and I sigh, knowing this is a fight I’ll lose. So, I clean him up the best I can and once we’re out of the shower, I wrap a towel around his waist and guide him into my bedroom. He sits at the end of the bed while I rush back to the bathroom, strip out of my clothes and into a robe and grab the first aid kit before I return to him. His chin is dipped, touching his chest, arms slack and his shoulders heave with his breaths.
“Bast what happened?” I ask, crouching before him.
“Got my ass kicked,” He rasps.
“I can see that.”
“You should see the other guy,” He gives me a crooked grin before he pouts as he takes in my face, “Don’t look like that, Wills. I asked for the fight, literally.”
“What does that even mean?”
He softens as he looks at me, “Don’t worry about it, Red but this isn’t the first time I’ve had to lick my wounds.”
“Yes, well can we not make a habit out of it? You got blood all over my tiles.”
The grin is back, and I roll my eyes before I tear open the packet of antiseptic wipes and start swiping them over the open cuts on his face to disinfect them. He hisses but holds still and now I can get a better look, I can see they’re shallower than I first thought but the bruises are brutal, mottling his face in shades of purple and blue.
I run my thumb over his cheek, and he meets my eyes, the softness there devastating me.
It’s strange.
Sebastian has always looked at me the way he is looking at me right now, but this feels different, like it has a new meaning – no, not new but it’s something I recognize now. He may not have said it when we first met but he wasn’t lying, he’s always wanted me. More than just the friends we were labelled as.
And I don’t know what to do with the information or even understand how I should feel about it.
Especially not now that he’s here, showing me firsthand how dangerous his life is and the fact that he has actively chosen to get his ass handed to him. That’s how I’m taking his admitting to asking for thefight. But I am morbidly curious to know what the other guy looks like if this is how Sebastian looks.
“Kiss me, Wills,” He whispers.
“You’re hurt,” I answer.
“I don’t give a shit,” He growls, grabbing me before I can fully pull away, “I have gone months craving your mouth, now that I’ve had it, I won’t be denied anymore. Fucking hurt me, Red, I’ve been wanting your kiss since I left you this morning.”
His hands cradle my face, gently bringing me in close before he tenderly presses his lips to mine.
It’s like the first time all over again and I wonder, as he firms up the kiss, pressing harder against me, despite the pain, if I’ll ever get used to it. It stirs a riot of butterflies in my stomach and makes my heart pound and I know I should pull away, let him rest, let him recover but kissing him is like breathing air into my lungs.
I feel his smile against my lips, the grin knowing. He has me, like a rabbit caught in a snare, so fucking weak for him.
I taste the metallic tinge of his blood as the wound on his lip opens and I know it must be causing him pain, but his tongue seeks entrance, tracing the seam of my mouth and I part, letting him in.
Fingers flex where they hold me and a soft, very needy groan leaves him as he goes in deeper, taking from me as if I can fix every broken piece of him.
“Sebastian,” I drag myself away breathlessly, “You need to rest.”
He pleads with me without words, reaching for more but I step away from his grasp. “I’ll get you some meds and some water, lay down for me.”
He holds steady.
“Please, Bast,” I beg, “I need to fix you.”
His eyes blink rapidly as my words sink beneath his skin and when an edge of coldness seeps into his expression, I wonder if I’ve just said the wrong thing.
