“Big mouth…”
“Yes, big…” Lashing his tongue on his lips. Tasting himself. “Big…”
Lacing his arms around that soaked back, kissing his breath away.
Chapter 9
Next morning, Spencer woke early, the sun still milky in the sky. His mouth parched, his body mildly aching, he turned to the nightstand, surprised, that there was a bottle of water there, but it felt divine, to take large swigs, letting it trickle down his chin. He wiped it off, and turned to Duncan, sleeping face down, the covers slipped down to his ass, barely covering it. His legs were bare, one arm clutching a pillow to his face. Soft breathing. Spencer’s eyes glided down his shoulders, his spine, almost tempted to glide his hand down too, on that skin marred with bruises and scars, when he caught the scars on either side of Duncan’s hips. He had maybe felt them, maybe, a hazy memory of his hands gliding down his hips as they had fucked the night before… the skin different there, but he had dismissed it, floating, stoned. Frowning when he pushed himself up to sit to see them better. Eyes going a bit wide.Surely not…he glided his hand on the right one, tracing that badly scarred, abused skin which hadn’t seen any stitches. Four cuts crossed by a fifth one.Hard lines. Deep cuts which had healed as best as they could. Same on the other side.
Duncan stirred at the touch, waking slowly, knowing where Spencer’s hand was. He kept his eyes closed.Shit…there was no way he could escape this, he knew, musing a bit on what he should say.Fuck…Turning on his back, looking up into his eyes.
“What are those scars?”
Duncan pushed an arm behind his head. “What do you think they are?”
Spencer shrugged, but that lingering horror was in his eyes. “Somebody did these to you?”
Duncan sighed, a bit puzzled Spencer seemed to care at all. “Yes.”
“But they look like…” His lips parted, waiting maybe for a different answer from the one he suspected.
“Like?”
“Like tallies…”
Duncan’s lips curled up, bitter. “You’re cleverer than you think you are.”
“That kind? Like in…” He was losing his words as he felt his breathing quicken.
“That kind. Just say it. Don’t keep it in.”
“You have tallies like these in porn… when guys keep a score on another guy’s ass or…” Spencer swallowed, a genuine fright in his eyes as he whined a laugh. “Tell me it’s not fucking true…”
“Why would I make it up?” His own heart was hammering at the memories his words had brought to the light.
Spencer was breathing softly, his eyes a bit wide, as his lush hair caught the rays of the sun licking up the walls.
Duncan’s heart melted a bit at his sight, even if he knew feeling anything was utter madness, he didn’t want to shock him either. Wondering for a moment if Spencer would let him, but then, hejust took that limp hand in his own, rubbing his thumb on that cold skin.
“It was what you think it was. When I was captured… and rescued then… you found it out, just not what I had to heal from… well, not just this…”
Spencer’s eyes flooded with wrath, but he left his hand. “How?”
“With a knife…” He pulled a small face, the memories ramming into his throat.Fuck…“Uh… let’s just leave this, ok?”
Spencer just watched him, trying to find that abysmal hate he had for him, and somehow failing. Failing, that hate melting under his tortured grey eyes, his touch, that warm hand around his trembling one, his thumb rubbing on it, on that pale skin.
“I’m sorry…” The words, soft, as if they had died on his tongue. He felt dizzy, visions intruding on the canvas of his mind, the blood draining out of his head.
“Hey…” Duncan sat up and caught him, laying him back on the pillow. He put his hand on that clammy forehead, then took the bottle of water, tilting Spencer’s head up. “Drink a bit… You shouldn’t work yourself up. It’s past history.” Trying to bottle all those memories pouring out like a dark tide. Failing a bit, but he was more concerned about Spencer also becoming sick without his morning drink. He stroked that lush hair out of his face, feeling how he had soaked in seconds. “I don’t have anything stronger here… and if we walk out together…” He was almost sure he would lose his job, though, hoping nobody had seen Spencer sneak up.
Spencer breathed softly against that sudden nausea, trying not to faint. Somehow, he had found Duncan’s hand on the sheet and grabbed it. “I’ll walk back… I’ll be ok…”
“Eat something first?”
Spencer smiled feebly. “Maybe…”
“I’ll make some pancakes.”
