I follow. And like I usually do when he’s crawling out of his skin, I climb into his lap to settle him. It’s worked before, and I think it’ll work now. Getting in his face, making it clear I’m not leaving him no matter how determined he is to give up on himself, weighing him down physically with the force of how much I’m not fucking leaving him… That’s the best I’ve got.
My legs are straddling his hips, and he’s splayed out under me with his head resting against the shower wall. Shower water and blood and tears are all mingled on his face now, and they cover an expression of unbearable anguish that I never want to see him wear again.
So he can feel me even more, I grab his face and hold it close to mine.
“It’s fine,” I whisper, over and over. “You’re okay. It’s okay. I’m here. Everything’s going to be fine. I’m not going anywhere.”
It’s all just babbled nonsense, but I need to get through to him.
And I do. He pulls himself together enough to sigh and look me in the eyes after a few minutes. But when he speaks, the voice that comes out of his mouth is completely devoid of emotion.
“You shouldn’t be here. I’m not worth it.”
It only makes me grip him tighter, my fingers digging into his cheeks hard enough that it probably hurts.
“You’re worth it to me.”
I lean forward, kissing him on the forehead. And he’s fucking trapped between me and the shower wall now, so he can’t duck away from me.
When I lean back and look at him again, his eyes are shining with unspoken emotion and hurt, so I do it again. I don’t know what to say. I just need him to understand that it doesn’t matter if he thinks he’s worthless right now, I’ll care enough about him for the both of us.
“You’re worth it,” I whisper, kissing him on one cheek. “You’re worth it. I promise, Tadhg, you’re worth everything. You don’t deserve this. I’m not going anywhere, because you’re fucking worth it.”
I kiss him on the other cheek, and maybe my words penetrate his thick skull, because he leans into it a little this time. His mouth is open, and his breath is coming in heavy pants, like just thinking about this is putting his body through a marathon’s worth of stress.
“You’re fucking worth it,” I say one more time, leaning in to kiss him again.
But this time, he leans into it even more, his features soft and his body sinking into my hold. I catch the corner of his mouth, instead of his cheek, and feel the barest pressure of him kissing me back.
I don’t know what comes over me. It’s like I spend so much time trying to figure out how to pour my affection into this man when he’ll let me. And now he’s finally letting me in. A mix of awe and euphoria hit me, and I’m so desperate to capture the feeling before it flickers out of existence again.
I turn my face the barest fraction of an inch and kiss his mouth, and he kisses me back. It’s small. Just lips pressed together. But it feels monumental.
It feels like him opening himself up to me, and I’m desperate for more.
When his lips part to take another raspy breath, I don’t let myself think before I capture his mouth again. With water running down both our faces, I kiss him, and he allows himself to be kissed.
His fingers tighten where before they were just resting on my sides. Like he’s pulling me in closer instead of pushing me away. I respond by opening my mouth on instinct, and he tentatively brushes my tongue with his.
I can’t help the pleased noise that slips out of me. That wasn’t supposed to be what this is about, but it feels like everything shifted in an instant.
Before I can process what’s happening, we’re kissing like two people starving for each other. Tadhg’s hands are everywhere, touching me, gripping me tighter to him, and I’m pressing myself closer on instinct where I’m riding his hips.
It feels like I’m losing my mind, but I don’t want to stop. It feels right. But I also don’t want Tadhg to realize what’s happening and freak out more. Then I feel him getting hard beneath me, and if I wasn’t sure how into this he was before, I am now.
He’s stiff, rubbing up behind my balls and into the crease of my ass and letting out needy little moans every time we break apart. I can’t stop myself from grabbing onto his hair to pull him back for better access, and the noise he makes at that is practically a purr.
I hesitate. Just for a second, because we really should talk about this. I’ve looked at him as a brother all my life, eventhough we’re not actually related, by blood or the law. He was my protector. And now I have my tongue down his throat.
At a time when he’s really fucking vulnerable, to boot.
But it’s that vulnerability that convinces me not to say anything. Because as soon as I open my mouth, doubt flickers across his face and I can see him retreating back to that place of self-loathing that he’s made his home.
I don’t want him to doubt how much I care about him. Not for a second. And I don’t want to give his father’s shitty voice the chance to break into his inner monologue, if he’s finally letting himself have something he wants. I can’t let him question it. I’m not fucking questioning it, either. I just want us both tofeel.
We can go slow. I’ll let him lead, as much as I’m capable of doing that. But I won’t make him voice it, or listen to me break it down. Not until he’s less… raw.
I swoop in, tightening my grip in his hair hard enough to sting and taking ownership of his mouth for a few more minutes. His hard-on does not flag in the slightest, and soon he’s rutting up against me, panting and moaning in between kisses, grabbing at my hips like he’s trying to find friction.
