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untappedbeautyI finished my kink and cliche fic for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
svmadelyn's challenge! And in time for the deadline! All thanks to sparklewitch for giving me my bunny and my beta.
Here's what you need to know: Fandom is The Forsaken, prompt is bath/water sex, it's a first-time fic, I totally have NOTHING against Alabama, and there's a real shortage of vampires for this being a fandom about vampire hunters. Oh, well. We all just really want the sex, don't we?
Nick had been focused on finding the source for so long that sometimes he forgot there were other things -- things that didn't suck blood and eat flesh -- to worry about. He got that. The world didn't have to choose such a craptastic way to remind him, though.
It'd just been so fucking innocuous. Sean and him were eating at one of those truck stops with an attached diner, this time in Alabama, and the coffee was actually good, even if there was too much gravy on the mashed potatoes. It was March, but it was already hot and muggy outside. They were both wearing flip flops, and the tips of their toes were touching under the scarred, wooden table.
It was comfortable, was what it was. Sean was grinning and making fun of him.
"The generation before us had 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand,' and we've got 'I Want to Fuck You Like an Animal,'" Sean intoned. He loved mocking Nick about that first time he'd heard him rail against their generation and typically did it as often as possible.
Nick eyed his nearly-finished chicken fried steak, fighting back a smile, then started theatrically. "Sorry, what was that? All I heard was you saying you wanted to fuck me like an animal."
"In your dreams," Sean snorted.
"Your Dreams? Is that that motel we saw a ways back?" Nick put on his innocent face and shrugged. "I guess if that's what you want, we could go there."
Sean threw his napkin at Nick. "Fucker."
Nick caught the napkin, wiped his mouth with it and tossed it down on his plate, fishing out his wallet at the same time. He made a show out of looking through it, then grinned wickedly. "Oh, you know what? We don't have any condoms, baby. Let me go get some. You just go out and start the car so we can get back to the motel as fast as possible." He rubbed a leg against Sean's and wiggled his eyebrows when Sean rolled his eyes. There'd been a time when Sean would have been aghast, not sure if Nick was actually joking, but he was used to Nick fucking around with him by now.
The woman at the booth behind theirs, who looked like she was probably there when old Benji Franklin discovered electricity, was staring at them, eyes wide and scandalized, as Nick got up. He winked and went to pay for the food.
The bell over the door tinkled when Sean pushed it open.
It tinkled again when Nick followed a couple of minutes later, bag with condoms from the adjoining convenience store swinging merrily, because what fun is a joke if you can't milk it?
Only, Sean wasn't in the car. The driver's side door was wide open, the keys dangling from the lock, and Nick's stomach dropped. No. There was no way. They were hundreds of miles from where the source was supposed to be, and it was broad fucking daylight.
"Sean?" he called out. "Sean?" A little louder, but no answer. Nick shook off the fear, realizing he was just standing there stupidly.
He ran to the car and looked inside, just to make sure Sean wasn't screwing with him, but no such luck. He didn't even have to stop to think, Nick dropped the plastic bag he'd been carrying and fumbled the gun out, shoved it in the back of his waistband so that his shirt covered it, and sprinted back into the diner.
He scanned the interior. There was the family with the little blonde twins, and there were the truckers still sitting at the counter, and the waitress was making coffee, but he didn't see Sean. Maybe the bathroom. He headed back, but saw the woman in the booth on his way. "Have you seen the guy I was with?" he asked impatiently. "Has he been back in here?"
She shook her head mutely.
"Did you happen to see where he went?"
"I think he left with some local boys. Jeannie Henderson's and Lori Duke's boys followed him out and met him at that red car."
"Where'd they go?"
She pointed toward the side of the building. "Out yonder."
"Thanks," he said over his shoulder, already hurrying to the door.
He headed around the side of the building, pulling out the gun as soon as he turned the corner. Local boys didn't just 'leave with' a strange guy. Something else was going on.
When he got around to the back of the truck stop, just behind the dumpster, there Sean was.
Getting the shit beat out of him by two guys.
One guy, who looked like he belonged on a goddamn Brawny package, if it weren't for the fact that he probably didn't know how to smile, had one arm locked around Sean's neck from behind, and was trying to hold Sean's arms with the other. That guy's nose was already bleeding, and Sean elbowed him in the stomach when his captor looked up and saw Nick pointing a gun between his eyes from about 20 feet away.
"Whoa," that guy said, and stopped moving entirely, but the dumbfuck who was in front of Sean didn't see Nick and stupidly backhanded Sean, huffing, "Fucking faggot," and pulling his arm back again before he heard Nick cock the gun.
"You don't want to do that," Nick warned, fury making his voice low and rough.
The guy turned around slowly. His t-shirt was torn at the neck and stained with blood, some of which, Nick was pleased to see, wasn't Sean's, because the guy had a slash across his cheek that was dripping freely.
Both guys looked like they were maybe in their early twenties, but the dumb twentysomethings, the ones who never left their hometown because they weren't made for college. They were made to be fucking idiots who judged people and used their fists to argue. It was good to see Sean had used his fists to argue back.
They were frozen, staring at the gun. "Let go of my friend," Nick ordered,
The guy behind Sean let go of Sean's arms, but his arm still hung limply over Sean's shoulder, and for a minute, it looked like they were two buddies who'd gotten in a fight and were leaning on each other to stand up and go get a couple of beers to put it all behind them. But then Sean elbowed the guy in the stomach once more for good measure and shrugged his arm off, face was twisted into a snarl, one eye already swelling and blood trickling from his mouth and nose.
The first guy got off easy, because Sean punched the other one in the face, putting his whole body behind it and knocking the guy to the ground. "Fucking asshole," he spat, and limped toward Nick, then past Nick and back around to the front of the building.
Nick tracked his progress but kept his gun trained on Brawny guy. "You know," he said, trying for conversational but failing and probably achieving murderous rage instead, "If you two pussies could actually fight and had really hurt him, I'd kill you both. Hell, I kinda feel like doing it anyway." Which was nothing but the truth. He bared his teeth in the closest facsimile to a smile he could manage. "I won't, but you should keep today in mind the next time you want to fuck around with faggots. Not all of us just roll over and take it."
His finger still itched to pull the trigger, but he turned and stalked back to the car, where Sean was sitting, back straight and jaw clenched, in the passenger seat. Nick threw himself into the car and shoved the gun into the glove compartment, then started the car and peeled the fuck out of there.
He'd put 20 miles or more between them and the truck stop before he finally looked over at Sean, whose jaw hadn't softened in the least. He hadn't bothered to clean any of the blood off his face, and it was dried on now.
"You okay?" Nick asked softly.
Sean grimaced as they hit a pothole. "I will be," he gritted out. "Just. Let's get to a motel."
Nick nodded, and drove. They didn't speak again for another forty miles or so. Nick passed a few motels, just to be safe, until they were far enough from The Flying J that he felt comfortable stopping.
"You stay here. I'll get us a room," was the next thing Nick said. He made sure they got one on the first floor. Sean wouldn't let Nick help him out of the car, but he let him carry their stuff with no protest, following Nick to the door and leaning heavily against the wall while Nick fumbled with the key, trying to get the door unlocked without dropping anything.
It was the regular type motel, where you didn't want to look at the dark green bedspread or carpet too closely, tacky enough without a close inspection. Sean dropped down on the nearest bed, somehow haphazard and ginger at once. "Ow," he groaned.
Nick tossed their stuff on the other bed and gave Sean a critical once-over. Besides the blood from his nose and mouth and the swollen eye that would probably be full-blown black soon enough, a bruise was blooming across one cheek, it looked like there was at least one cut along his hairline, and there was no telling what damage Nick just couldn't see yet.
He could smell the blood. It was strong to him like the scent of woodsmoke that would cling hours after being around a campfire, and it made his mouth water and his nostrils flare, but his stomach was still in a tight knot. He wouldn't let himself want Sean's blood.
"We should get you cleaned up," he said at last.
Sean shook his head fractionally. "I don't want to get up, man."
Nick sighed. "Can't say I blame you."
He went to the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth. White. He'd never understand why a motel would choose white for all its towels. He filled the ice bucket with tepid water -- it wouldn't warm up even with the hot tap turned all the way up -- and wet the washcloth, then went back and crouched down next to Sean's bed, setting the bucket on the nightstand.
Sean's eyes were closed, but he turned his head toward Nick when Nick said, "C'mere," and put a hand on Sean's knee, urging him to sit up on the edge of the mattress. Sean complied with another groan, and Nick knelt between his legs.
He started with the cut at Sean's hairline, cleaning it gently and pushing Sean's hair back out of the way. He washed the blood from the side of Sean's face, trying not to nudge Sean's hurt eye. Sean winced anyway. Nick rinsed the washcloth in the ice bucket, returning to wipe the blood from around Sean's nose -- which didn't seem to be broken, thank God -- and mouth while Sean's breath fanned against his hand, soft and warm, through parted lips, which were pretty much miraculously not split.
The washcloth got another rinse before he applied it to the underside of Sean's jaw and his neck, removing the last traces of blood. When he finished and returned the washcloth to the bucket, the water was pink, and Sean's eyes were open again, watching him. The left one was swollen half-shut, and Nick felt a surge of guilt.
"Thanks," Sean said, and Nick's guilt intensified.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Sean looked bemused. "I think the right reply is actually 'you're welcome.'"
"No. It's not. Those guys, they didn't just see you go outside and decide beating the shit out of you would be fun. They heard what I said in the diner. They did this," he indicated the bruise on Sean's cheek, hell, Sean's whole face, "because of what I said. You shouldn't be thanking me for anything."
He pushed himself up from the floor and fished the first aid kit out of his bag. "Here," he said, pushing two aspirin into Sean's hand and giving him his bottle of water. Sean swallowed them down while Nick doused a cotton ball with iodine. He dabbed it on the cut, and asked, "Is there anything else I can't see that needs to be taken care of? They shiv you in the back or something?"
"No. Just took a few punches. You got there before they could really hit their stride. There'll be bruising, but nothing we can do anything about," Sean said.
Their faces were close as Nick bandaged the cleaned cut, and Sean's voice was soft, tired. Nick stepped back to look at Sean. He still needed something for his eye. "I'll go get some ice for your eye."
Sean looked from Nick to the ice bucket. "I hope you're not planning to get it in that."
"I'll clean it out first," Nick said, chuffing a laugh.
Sean was already asleep by the time Nick got back with the ice. Nick left the ice bucket in the sink and slid off the one flip flop that was hanging haphazardly off Sean's foot and pulled off Sean's jeans, then fell asleep lying on his side, watching over Sean.
***
The next morning he woke after the same dreams he pretty much always had, of flesh and death and blood. Sean was still asleep, lying on his stomach with one hand pushed under the pillow and the other one curled up next to his face, one leg pulled up slightly, shaping his back into a sweet arch that curved up to his ass.
It was probably screwy to still want him even after Sean had gotten his ass beat because someone thought Nick was fucking him. If it'd been true, it would have been easier to be pissed off solely at those two fuckers at the truck stop. But the fact that it was just Nick wanting Sean and fucking joking about it made it feel like it was more his fault, because Sean hadn't done anything, didn't want anything, and didn't deserve anything.
Nick had thought when Sean found him, after three months of searching, that maybe they were on the same page. But nothing had happened, and Nick didn't have any reason to believe Sean wanted anything to happen, so he kept his hands to himself. Only, apparently that hadn't been enough. Fucking Alabama.
When Sean woke, it was with a groan. "Aww, fuck. Did I get hit by a Mack?" His voice was muffled in the pillow.
"Could've been a Mack, but I called him Brawny in my mind," Nick said.
Sean laughed, then groaned again. "Shit, don't make me laugh, Nick. It makes everything hurt. More."
Nick pulled himself out of bed. "What you need is a hot bath. Want me to run you some water?"
"Yes, please," Sean murmured, sounding like he was still half asleep.
Nick tested the water with his hand and let the it run until it was almost steaming before he plugged the drain and left the water running in the tub. Sean was still in bed.
"Come on," Nick said, putting a hand on Sean's shoulder. "You've got to get out of bed to get in the bath."
Nick opened one eye and stared pitifully. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, pretty sure."
Sean sighed but dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom on his own strength. Nick followed and turned off the taps. He started to leave but then turned around and hovered in the doorway while Sean stood in the middle of the bathroom, staring at the tub. "You gonna be okay?"
"Yeah. I'm just psyching myself up to get undressed and get in. That shouldn't be too hard, right? Just have to lift my arms and get my shirt off...climb Mount Everest, here." He reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up, and got it up to about his armpits and stopped abruptly. "I don't think my arms want to go up any more. Help?"
Nick padded across the tile and took the hem of Sean's shirt in his own hands, working the fabric over Sean's shoulders and head and pulling it down his arms. Seeing Sean's left shoulder, turning an interesting shade of blue-purple, Nick let out a low whistle. "Dude, no wonder you couldn't get your shirt off. Look at this."
"I don't have to look," Sean said. "I can feel it. That fucker nearly dislocated it."
He had some other bruises starting to show, and looked worse for the wear, but the shoulder was probably the worst of it. Nick backed toward the door awkwardly when Sean pushed down his boxers and slowly climbed into the bathtub. "Uh, let me know if you need anything," Nick said.
Sean settled into the water, humming softly and closing his eyes. "Leave the door open," he said. "Just in case I fall asleep, you can keep me from drowning."
"Yeah, okay," Nick said, and retreated into the room. He could hear the slowing cadence of the faucet dripping and the soft slap of water against the sides of the bathtub when Sean shifted, but he could only imagine Sean flushing with the heat, moisture beading his skin, running down in rivulets from hair wet and slicked back. He forcefully added a few bruises in, reminding him why he shouldn't be thinking sex while Sean was hurting from a fight Nick had caused.
He would have turned on the TV to drown out his thoughts, but he was supposed to be making sure Sean was okay. So he sat and waited and listened, and when Sean called out for him, he went and leaned against the doorframe, peeking his head around. Sean looked better than he'd imagined, wet and flushed.
"Yeah?"
Sean frowned. "I can't reach my back and it itches. Will you wash it for me?"
"Sure," Nick agreed. He kept his eyes fixed on the washcloth Sean held out. He took it, and Sean presented his back, leaning away from the edge of the tub to give Nick room to work.
The tile was hard and cold against Nick's knees, and he tried to focus on that feeling instead of Sean's skin as he soaped it up in small circles, starting at the back of his neck and working down, being especially careful of his left shoulder. It was still impossible to not notice how pliant and relaxed Sean was, especially when he sighed and rolled his head forward when Nick rubbed the washcloth along the very center of Sean's back.
"Mmm, do that again," Sean murmured. "That's where it itches."
He moaned when Nick scrubbed there again, and damn. Nick was half-hard just hearing him, touching him. He cleared his throat and moved on, finishing up quickly.
"Here you go," he said, holding the washcloth over Sean's shoulder for him to take. His voice came out low and wanting, and he couldn't have stopped it if he'd tried. Sean reached up, fingers brushing against the back of Nick's hand, but he didn't take the washcloth. He wrapped his fingers around Nick's wrist instead, holding him there.
Nick's breath caught.
"You know what bothers me the most about this?" Sean asked. "Remember how when you were a kid, your mom would spank you when she thought you'd gotten in the cookie jar or done something you hadn't, and it was that much worse when you were being punished for something you didn't even get to do in the first place? That's what this is like. I've never even gotten to touch you the way I want, and I still got punished for it."
Maybe it was because they weren't looking each other in the eye that Nick could say, "I didn't know you wanted to," and press a kiss to the nape of Sean's neck.
"Now you do," Sean said, pulling Nick's hand down to the center of his chest. "And I want you to touch me, too."
Nick dropped the washcloth and spread his hand across Sean's skin, feeling Sean's heart beating hard and strong, and his chest rising and falling faster.
Nick kissed a scrape on Sean's back, then the bruised shoulder, then lifted his free hand to Sean's jaw, turning Sean's face to him. He met Sean's eyes when he said, "I've wanted this. I've wanted you."
He leaned in, and their lips met softly, a bare brush a kiss, before they fit their mouths together. It shouldn't have been perfect, because Sean's neck was craned back and Nick was leaning over Sean's shoulder, but Nick licked at Sean's lips and pressed his tongue inside and tasted Sean for the first time, and it really was.
Sean pulled back first, muttering, "C'mon," against Nick's lips, and stood up, tugging Nick's wrist to bring him up off the floor. Nick's knees ached, but Sean was standing there naked and wet and hard, and Nick's knees were really the last thing he cared about.
Sean tugged on his wrist again, and Nick followed him to the room, watched him sprawl down onto the nearest bed, where the sheets stuck to Sean's damp skin and his hair dripped on the pillow. His legs were splayed, hand working his cock while he looked up at Nick, and Nick started to follow Sean down onto the bed before Sean put his other hand in the center of Nick's chest and pushed him back.
"What?" Nick said, confused.
"Sorry, but this is the naked bed," Sean said breathlessly. "You're overdressed. Only no shirt, no shoes, definitely no boxers will get you service."
Nick grabbed the hem of his shirt, then paused. "Wait. Do you like slow and sexy or fast so we can fuck?"
Sean laughed. "Fast. You're already sexy."
Nick might've broken a land speed record shucking his shirt and boxers and sliding on top of Sean, up on his hands and knees so he wouldn't jostle any of Sean's injuries. They kissed again, deep and dirty this time. Nick's hand joined Sean's on his cock., and he swallowed the sound when Sean moaned.
Nick pulled back a moment later, to watch. Sean rolled his head on the pillow and spread his legs further, and watching Sean's dick slide through their joined hands made Nick groan without even being touched. Sean finally got his other hand into the action, shoving Nick onto his side and draping one leg over Nick's, pushing his hips into Nick's so their cocks rubbed together before Sean started pumping them both, moving Nick's hand with his, squeezing them and then starting to jack them harder.
"Fuck," Nick breathed. He slid his free hand to Sean's hip, then around to his ass, gripping it hard. They breathed into each other's mouths, eyes catching and holding, ratcheting up the heat when Nick recognized this was what Sean looked like when he was about to come on Nick.
Nick shuddered in pleasure when Sean's thumb brushed against the head of his cock, but he kept his eyes open through sheer force of will. He wasn't going to miss this.
He slid his hand to the cleft of Sean's ass and dragged his fingers down until...there. His fingers brushed over Sean's asshole, circled it roughly, and Sean made a strangled sound and arched his back the way he did when he slept, pushing into Nick's fingers and clenching his eyes shut as his cock jerked and he came in their hands and across their stomachs.
Sean was panting heavily, boneless, but he opened his eyes and watched when Nick moved his hand back to grip Sean's hip for leverage and licked Sean's come off the other hand, rubbing his dick against Sean's slick stomach.
Sean kissed him when he came.
They slept. They must have, because the sun was trying to push in around the edges of the window blinds when Nick was next aware. Sean was on his back, lips parted slightly, and Nick couldn't resist leaning over to coax them open further and slide his tongue into Sean's mouth. He pulled away when Sean started kissing him back, moving to kiss his nose, then his cheek where the bruise bloomed, then the bandaged cut at his hairline, then moved back to his mouth. Sean hummed against his lips. "Are you going to kiss every hurt better?" he asked.
"Thought it might be nice," Nick said, smile curling his lips.
"Very nice," Sean agreed.
Nick moved down his chest, brushing his lips across the bruises one by one.
"I should tell you," Sean said, voice serious, and Nick looked up. "That Brawny guy kneed me in the groin."
Sean kept a straight face for approximately 0.05 seconds before he cracked up.
"Fucker," Nick said.
"Hey, it's worth a try!"
Sean laughed until Nick curled a fist around his cock and shut him up.
The end.
Yeah, so that description of how Sean sleeps, with his back curving up and pushing his ass into the air. Right here, baby:
Isn't that gorgeous?
svmadelyn's challenge! And in time for the deadline! All thanks to sparklewitch for giving me my bunny and my beta.Here's what you need to know: Fandom is The Forsaken, prompt is bath/water sex, it's a first-time fic, I totally have NOTHING against Alabama, and there's a real shortage of vampires for this being a fandom about vampire hunters. Oh, well. We all just really want the sex, don't we?
Nick had been focused on finding the source for so long that sometimes he forgot there were other things -- things that didn't suck blood and eat flesh -- to worry about. He got that. The world didn't have to choose such a craptastic way to remind him, though.
It'd just been so fucking innocuous. Sean and him were eating at one of those truck stops with an attached diner, this time in Alabama, and the coffee was actually good, even if there was too much gravy on the mashed potatoes. It was March, but it was already hot and muggy outside. They were both wearing flip flops, and the tips of their toes were touching under the scarred, wooden table.
It was comfortable, was what it was. Sean was grinning and making fun of him.
"The generation before us had 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand,' and we've got 'I Want to Fuck You Like an Animal,'" Sean intoned. He loved mocking Nick about that first time he'd heard him rail against their generation and typically did it as often as possible.
Nick eyed his nearly-finished chicken fried steak, fighting back a smile, then started theatrically. "Sorry, what was that? All I heard was you saying you wanted to fuck me like an animal."
"In your dreams," Sean snorted.
"Your Dreams? Is that that motel we saw a ways back?" Nick put on his innocent face and shrugged. "I guess if that's what you want, we could go there."
Sean threw his napkin at Nick. "Fucker."
Nick caught the napkin, wiped his mouth with it and tossed it down on his plate, fishing out his wallet at the same time. He made a show out of looking through it, then grinned wickedly. "Oh, you know what? We don't have any condoms, baby. Let me go get some. You just go out and start the car so we can get back to the motel as fast as possible." He rubbed a leg against Sean's and wiggled his eyebrows when Sean rolled his eyes. There'd been a time when Sean would have been aghast, not sure if Nick was actually joking, but he was used to Nick fucking around with him by now.
The woman at the booth behind theirs, who looked like she was probably there when old Benji Franklin discovered electricity, was staring at them, eyes wide and scandalized, as Nick got up. He winked and went to pay for the food.
The bell over the door tinkled when Sean pushed it open.
It tinkled again when Nick followed a couple of minutes later, bag with condoms from the adjoining convenience store swinging merrily, because what fun is a joke if you can't milk it?
Only, Sean wasn't in the car. The driver's side door was wide open, the keys dangling from the lock, and Nick's stomach dropped. No. There was no way. They were hundreds of miles from where the source was supposed to be, and it was broad fucking daylight.
"Sean?" he called out. "Sean?" A little louder, but no answer. Nick shook off the fear, realizing he was just standing there stupidly.
He ran to the car and looked inside, just to make sure Sean wasn't screwing with him, but no such luck. He didn't even have to stop to think, Nick dropped the plastic bag he'd been carrying and fumbled the gun out, shoved it in the back of his waistband so that his shirt covered it, and sprinted back into the diner.
He scanned the interior. There was the family with the little blonde twins, and there were the truckers still sitting at the counter, and the waitress was making coffee, but he didn't see Sean. Maybe the bathroom. He headed back, but saw the woman in the booth on his way. "Have you seen the guy I was with?" he asked impatiently. "Has he been back in here?"
She shook her head mutely.
"Did you happen to see where he went?"
"I think he left with some local boys. Jeannie Henderson's and Lori Duke's boys followed him out and met him at that red car."
"Where'd they go?"
She pointed toward the side of the building. "Out yonder."
"Thanks," he said over his shoulder, already hurrying to the door.
He headed around the side of the building, pulling out the gun as soon as he turned the corner. Local boys didn't just 'leave with' a strange guy. Something else was going on.
When he got around to the back of the truck stop, just behind the dumpster, there Sean was.
Getting the shit beat out of him by two guys.
One guy, who looked like he belonged on a goddamn Brawny package, if it weren't for the fact that he probably didn't know how to smile, had one arm locked around Sean's neck from behind, and was trying to hold Sean's arms with the other. That guy's nose was already bleeding, and Sean elbowed him in the stomach when his captor looked up and saw Nick pointing a gun between his eyes from about 20 feet away.
"Whoa," that guy said, and stopped moving entirely, but the dumbfuck who was in front of Sean didn't see Nick and stupidly backhanded Sean, huffing, "Fucking faggot," and pulling his arm back again before he heard Nick cock the gun.
"You don't want to do that," Nick warned, fury making his voice low and rough.
The guy turned around slowly. His t-shirt was torn at the neck and stained with blood, some of which, Nick was pleased to see, wasn't Sean's, because the guy had a slash across his cheek that was dripping freely.
Both guys looked like they were maybe in their early twenties, but the dumb twentysomethings, the ones who never left their hometown because they weren't made for college. They were made to be fucking idiots who judged people and used their fists to argue. It was good to see Sean had used his fists to argue back.
They were frozen, staring at the gun. "Let go of my friend," Nick ordered,
The guy behind Sean let go of Sean's arms, but his arm still hung limply over Sean's shoulder, and for a minute, it looked like they were two buddies who'd gotten in a fight and were leaning on each other to stand up and go get a couple of beers to put it all behind them. But then Sean elbowed the guy in the stomach once more for good measure and shrugged his arm off, face was twisted into a snarl, one eye already swelling and blood trickling from his mouth and nose.
The first guy got off easy, because Sean punched the other one in the face, putting his whole body behind it and knocking the guy to the ground. "Fucking asshole," he spat, and limped toward Nick, then past Nick and back around to the front of the building.
Nick tracked his progress but kept his gun trained on Brawny guy. "You know," he said, trying for conversational but failing and probably achieving murderous rage instead, "If you two pussies could actually fight and had really hurt him, I'd kill you both. Hell, I kinda feel like doing it anyway." Which was nothing but the truth. He bared his teeth in the closest facsimile to a smile he could manage. "I won't, but you should keep today in mind the next time you want to fuck around with faggots. Not all of us just roll over and take it."
His finger still itched to pull the trigger, but he turned and stalked back to the car, where Sean was sitting, back straight and jaw clenched, in the passenger seat. Nick threw himself into the car and shoved the gun into the glove compartment, then started the car and peeled the fuck out of there.
He'd put 20 miles or more between them and the truck stop before he finally looked over at Sean, whose jaw hadn't softened in the least. He hadn't bothered to clean any of the blood off his face, and it was dried on now.
"You okay?" Nick asked softly.
Sean grimaced as they hit a pothole. "I will be," he gritted out. "Just. Let's get to a motel."
Nick nodded, and drove. They didn't speak again for another forty miles or so. Nick passed a few motels, just to be safe, until they were far enough from The Flying J that he felt comfortable stopping.
"You stay here. I'll get us a room," was the next thing Nick said. He made sure they got one on the first floor. Sean wouldn't let Nick help him out of the car, but he let him carry their stuff with no protest, following Nick to the door and leaning heavily against the wall while Nick fumbled with the key, trying to get the door unlocked without dropping anything.
It was the regular type motel, where you didn't want to look at the dark green bedspread or carpet too closely, tacky enough without a close inspection. Sean dropped down on the nearest bed, somehow haphazard and ginger at once. "Ow," he groaned.
Nick tossed their stuff on the other bed and gave Sean a critical once-over. Besides the blood from his nose and mouth and the swollen eye that would probably be full-blown black soon enough, a bruise was blooming across one cheek, it looked like there was at least one cut along his hairline, and there was no telling what damage Nick just couldn't see yet.
He could smell the blood. It was strong to him like the scent of woodsmoke that would cling hours after being around a campfire, and it made his mouth water and his nostrils flare, but his stomach was still in a tight knot. He wouldn't let himself want Sean's blood.
"We should get you cleaned up," he said at last.
Sean shook his head fractionally. "I don't want to get up, man."
Nick sighed. "Can't say I blame you."
He went to the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth. White. He'd never understand why a motel would choose white for all its towels. He filled the ice bucket with tepid water -- it wouldn't warm up even with the hot tap turned all the way up -- and wet the washcloth, then went back and crouched down next to Sean's bed, setting the bucket on the nightstand.
Sean's eyes were closed, but he turned his head toward Nick when Nick said, "C'mere," and put a hand on Sean's knee, urging him to sit up on the edge of the mattress. Sean complied with another groan, and Nick knelt between his legs.
He started with the cut at Sean's hairline, cleaning it gently and pushing Sean's hair back out of the way. He washed the blood from the side of Sean's face, trying not to nudge Sean's hurt eye. Sean winced anyway. Nick rinsed the washcloth in the ice bucket, returning to wipe the blood from around Sean's nose -- which didn't seem to be broken, thank God -- and mouth while Sean's breath fanned against his hand, soft and warm, through parted lips, which were pretty much miraculously not split.
The washcloth got another rinse before he applied it to the underside of Sean's jaw and his neck, removing the last traces of blood. When he finished and returned the washcloth to the bucket, the water was pink, and Sean's eyes were open again, watching him. The left one was swollen half-shut, and Nick felt a surge of guilt.
"Thanks," Sean said, and Nick's guilt intensified.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Sean looked bemused. "I think the right reply is actually 'you're welcome.'"
"No. It's not. Those guys, they didn't just see you go outside and decide beating the shit out of you would be fun. They heard what I said in the diner. They did this," he indicated the bruise on Sean's cheek, hell, Sean's whole face, "because of what I said. You shouldn't be thanking me for anything."
He pushed himself up from the floor and fished the first aid kit out of his bag. "Here," he said, pushing two aspirin into Sean's hand and giving him his bottle of water. Sean swallowed them down while Nick doused a cotton ball with iodine. He dabbed it on the cut, and asked, "Is there anything else I can't see that needs to be taken care of? They shiv you in the back or something?"
"No. Just took a few punches. You got there before they could really hit their stride. There'll be bruising, but nothing we can do anything about," Sean said.
Their faces were close as Nick bandaged the cleaned cut, and Sean's voice was soft, tired. Nick stepped back to look at Sean. He still needed something for his eye. "I'll go get some ice for your eye."
Sean looked from Nick to the ice bucket. "I hope you're not planning to get it in that."
"I'll clean it out first," Nick said, chuffing a laugh.
Sean was already asleep by the time Nick got back with the ice. Nick left the ice bucket in the sink and slid off the one flip flop that was hanging haphazardly off Sean's foot and pulled off Sean's jeans, then fell asleep lying on his side, watching over Sean.
***
The next morning he woke after the same dreams he pretty much always had, of flesh and death and blood. Sean was still asleep, lying on his stomach with one hand pushed under the pillow and the other one curled up next to his face, one leg pulled up slightly, shaping his back into a sweet arch that curved up to his ass.
It was probably screwy to still want him even after Sean had gotten his ass beat because someone thought Nick was fucking him. If it'd been true, it would have been easier to be pissed off solely at those two fuckers at the truck stop. But the fact that it was just Nick wanting Sean and fucking joking about it made it feel like it was more his fault, because Sean hadn't done anything, didn't want anything, and didn't deserve anything.
Nick had thought when Sean found him, after three months of searching, that maybe they were on the same page. But nothing had happened, and Nick didn't have any reason to believe Sean wanted anything to happen, so he kept his hands to himself. Only, apparently that hadn't been enough. Fucking Alabama.
When Sean woke, it was with a groan. "Aww, fuck. Did I get hit by a Mack?" His voice was muffled in the pillow.
"Could've been a Mack, but I called him Brawny in my mind," Nick said.
Sean laughed, then groaned again. "Shit, don't make me laugh, Nick. It makes everything hurt. More."
Nick pulled himself out of bed. "What you need is a hot bath. Want me to run you some water?"
"Yes, please," Sean murmured, sounding like he was still half asleep.
Nick tested the water with his hand and let the it run until it was almost steaming before he plugged the drain and left the water running in the tub. Sean was still in bed.
"Come on," Nick said, putting a hand on Sean's shoulder. "You've got to get out of bed to get in the bath."
Nick opened one eye and stared pitifully. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, pretty sure."
Sean sighed but dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom on his own strength. Nick followed and turned off the taps. He started to leave but then turned around and hovered in the doorway while Sean stood in the middle of the bathroom, staring at the tub. "You gonna be okay?"
"Yeah. I'm just psyching myself up to get undressed and get in. That shouldn't be too hard, right? Just have to lift my arms and get my shirt off...climb Mount Everest, here." He reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up, and got it up to about his armpits and stopped abruptly. "I don't think my arms want to go up any more. Help?"
Nick padded across the tile and took the hem of Sean's shirt in his own hands, working the fabric over Sean's shoulders and head and pulling it down his arms. Seeing Sean's left shoulder, turning an interesting shade of blue-purple, Nick let out a low whistle. "Dude, no wonder you couldn't get your shirt off. Look at this."
"I don't have to look," Sean said. "I can feel it. That fucker nearly dislocated it."
He had some other bruises starting to show, and looked worse for the wear, but the shoulder was probably the worst of it. Nick backed toward the door awkwardly when Sean pushed down his boxers and slowly climbed into the bathtub. "Uh, let me know if you need anything," Nick said.
Sean settled into the water, humming softly and closing his eyes. "Leave the door open," he said. "Just in case I fall asleep, you can keep me from drowning."
"Yeah, okay," Nick said, and retreated into the room. He could hear the slowing cadence of the faucet dripping and the soft slap of water against the sides of the bathtub when Sean shifted, but he could only imagine Sean flushing with the heat, moisture beading his skin, running down in rivulets from hair wet and slicked back. He forcefully added a few bruises in, reminding him why he shouldn't be thinking sex while Sean was hurting from a fight Nick had caused.
He would have turned on the TV to drown out his thoughts, but he was supposed to be making sure Sean was okay. So he sat and waited and listened, and when Sean called out for him, he went and leaned against the doorframe, peeking his head around. Sean looked better than he'd imagined, wet and flushed.
"Yeah?"
Sean frowned. "I can't reach my back and it itches. Will you wash it for me?"
"Sure," Nick agreed. He kept his eyes fixed on the washcloth Sean held out. He took it, and Sean presented his back, leaning away from the edge of the tub to give Nick room to work.
The tile was hard and cold against Nick's knees, and he tried to focus on that feeling instead of Sean's skin as he soaped it up in small circles, starting at the back of his neck and working down, being especially careful of his left shoulder. It was still impossible to not notice how pliant and relaxed Sean was, especially when he sighed and rolled his head forward when Nick rubbed the washcloth along the very center of Sean's back.
"Mmm, do that again," Sean murmured. "That's where it itches."
He moaned when Nick scrubbed there again, and damn. Nick was half-hard just hearing him, touching him. He cleared his throat and moved on, finishing up quickly.
"Here you go," he said, holding the washcloth over Sean's shoulder for him to take. His voice came out low and wanting, and he couldn't have stopped it if he'd tried. Sean reached up, fingers brushing against the back of Nick's hand, but he didn't take the washcloth. He wrapped his fingers around Nick's wrist instead, holding him there.
Nick's breath caught.
"You know what bothers me the most about this?" Sean asked. "Remember how when you were a kid, your mom would spank you when she thought you'd gotten in the cookie jar or done something you hadn't, and it was that much worse when you were being punished for something you didn't even get to do in the first place? That's what this is like. I've never even gotten to touch you the way I want, and I still got punished for it."
Maybe it was because they weren't looking each other in the eye that Nick could say, "I didn't know you wanted to," and press a kiss to the nape of Sean's neck.
"Now you do," Sean said, pulling Nick's hand down to the center of his chest. "And I want you to touch me, too."
Nick dropped the washcloth and spread his hand across Sean's skin, feeling Sean's heart beating hard and strong, and his chest rising and falling faster.
Nick kissed a scrape on Sean's back, then the bruised shoulder, then lifted his free hand to Sean's jaw, turning Sean's face to him. He met Sean's eyes when he said, "I've wanted this. I've wanted you."
He leaned in, and their lips met softly, a bare brush a kiss, before they fit their mouths together. It shouldn't have been perfect, because Sean's neck was craned back and Nick was leaning over Sean's shoulder, but Nick licked at Sean's lips and pressed his tongue inside and tasted Sean for the first time, and it really was.
Sean pulled back first, muttering, "C'mon," against Nick's lips, and stood up, tugging Nick's wrist to bring him up off the floor. Nick's knees ached, but Sean was standing there naked and wet and hard, and Nick's knees were really the last thing he cared about.
Sean tugged on his wrist again, and Nick followed him to the room, watched him sprawl down onto the nearest bed, where the sheets stuck to Sean's damp skin and his hair dripped on the pillow. His legs were splayed, hand working his cock while he looked up at Nick, and Nick started to follow Sean down onto the bed before Sean put his other hand in the center of Nick's chest and pushed him back.
"What?" Nick said, confused.
"Sorry, but this is the naked bed," Sean said breathlessly. "You're overdressed. Only no shirt, no shoes, definitely no boxers will get you service."
Nick grabbed the hem of his shirt, then paused. "Wait. Do you like slow and sexy or fast so we can fuck?"
Sean laughed. "Fast. You're already sexy."
Nick might've broken a land speed record shucking his shirt and boxers and sliding on top of Sean, up on his hands and knees so he wouldn't jostle any of Sean's injuries. They kissed again, deep and dirty this time. Nick's hand joined Sean's on his cock., and he swallowed the sound when Sean moaned.
Nick pulled back a moment later, to watch. Sean rolled his head on the pillow and spread his legs further, and watching Sean's dick slide through their joined hands made Nick groan without even being touched. Sean finally got his other hand into the action, shoving Nick onto his side and draping one leg over Nick's, pushing his hips into Nick's so their cocks rubbed together before Sean started pumping them both, moving Nick's hand with his, squeezing them and then starting to jack them harder.
"Fuck," Nick breathed. He slid his free hand to Sean's hip, then around to his ass, gripping it hard. They breathed into each other's mouths, eyes catching and holding, ratcheting up the heat when Nick recognized this was what Sean looked like when he was about to come on Nick.
Nick shuddered in pleasure when Sean's thumb brushed against the head of his cock, but he kept his eyes open through sheer force of will. He wasn't going to miss this.
He slid his hand to the cleft of Sean's ass and dragged his fingers down until...there. His fingers brushed over Sean's asshole, circled it roughly, and Sean made a strangled sound and arched his back the way he did when he slept, pushing into Nick's fingers and clenching his eyes shut as his cock jerked and he came in their hands and across their stomachs.
Sean was panting heavily, boneless, but he opened his eyes and watched when Nick moved his hand back to grip Sean's hip for leverage and licked Sean's come off the other hand, rubbing his dick against Sean's slick stomach.
Sean kissed him when he came.
They slept. They must have, because the sun was trying to push in around the edges of the window blinds when Nick was next aware. Sean was on his back, lips parted slightly, and Nick couldn't resist leaning over to coax them open further and slide his tongue into Sean's mouth. He pulled away when Sean started kissing him back, moving to kiss his nose, then his cheek where the bruise bloomed, then the bandaged cut at his hairline, then moved back to his mouth. Sean hummed against his lips. "Are you going to kiss every hurt better?" he asked.
"Thought it might be nice," Nick said, smile curling his lips.
"Very nice," Sean agreed.
Nick moved down his chest, brushing his lips across the bruises one by one.
"I should tell you," Sean said, voice serious, and Nick looked up. "That Brawny guy kneed me in the groin."
Sean kept a straight face for approximately 0.05 seconds before he cracked up.
"Fucker," Nick said.
"Hey, it's worth a try!"
Sean laughed until Nick curled a fist around his cock and shut him up.
The end.
Yeah, so that description of how Sean sleeps, with his back curving up and pushing his ass into the air. Right here, baby:
Isn't that gorgeous?
