milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Crown of Stone
[ OOM: Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore ]

Autor is in the middle of a rather vicious punch when Bar jerks him into Milliways. He's striking with the flat edge of the hand from the little finger to the wrist, out of desperation.

The boy's cheeks are tear-stained; his knuckles, shredded. His left hand hangs uselessly at the wrist, like that of a disconnected marionette's.

Approach with caution.

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Autor shakes his head rapidly, briefly. He leans into the couch--but more into his friend. Jay... wants me. Doesn't he?

The boy reaches up to trace Jay's collarbone, gazing at his face.

It's okay just to be wanted. Right? And not to be loved?

Autor reaches up and brushes his lips against the corner of his mouth.

Jay smiles softly, and perhaps a little sadly. He takes Autor's good hand in his, holding it warmly (and checking his pulse and temperature to monitor for shock at the same time.)

He returns the kiss, slowly, sweetly. He brushes his lips over Autor's, kissing him a little deeper and more firmly. If that's what Autor needs right now.

Autor gasps a little, bumping his nose on Jay's. His wet, eager kiss turns fierce, and he wishes he could thread his fingers through Jay's perfect hair--possibly tug on it a little.

The boy traces Jay's lips with his tongue, parting his own to him.

Jay rubs his thumb across Autor's cheek and ear, holding him close as his fingers thread between Autor's.

Jay takes the deepening of the kiss gladly, plundering Autor's mouth passionately. "Tell me what you need?" He asks softly between kisses.

Autor whimpers softly, and sound of pleasure and pain. He can't answer Jay, can't think under his kiss and the way Jay's holding him. The boy curls his toes in his shoes, squeezing Jay's fingers and matching the sweeps of his tongue with his own.

Autor slides his hand down Jay's waist to curl around his hip.

This is good, he thinks desperately. This is what I want. Right?

Jay eases back enough to see Autor's face, panting softly. "Autor, I want this. I want you. But I need to know you do too." And that this isn't just grief and pain talking.

Why... Why'd you stop?

Autor tries to kiss him again, but then Jay starts talking and he's saying that he wants him and--oh god, I was using you.

Tears sting Autor's eyes again, and he turns his head. "I was using you!" he whispers, nearly biting his tongue to keep from confessing. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Hey, don't do that. Don't panic and freak out on me." He keeps a firm but gentle hold of Autor, if nothing else but to stop him from bolting and hurting himself.

"It's okay. You're hurt and upset and looking for an escape. There's nothing wrong with that, nothing at all. Especially with me." And he means it too, with all his heart. "Whatever you need, I'll be here for you."

Jay's instincts are right on the money: Autor was struggling against him, trying to get away.

"I can't u-use you! That's what other p-people have done, and I- I'm not--but I did! And... oh, god, why is this happening?" he rasps, and then leans against Jay's chest, sobbing into his ribs.

"Shh." Jay soothes, rubbing Autor's back and letting him cry it out. He holds Autor like a child, like a little brother, just keeping him safe and letting his grief and panic run it's course. He doesn't speak again, not till he's sure Autor's calmer.

"Sorry," the boy croaks again eventually, sniffling. He clings to Jay's shirt, closing s painful fist around the fabric. "I- I didn't mean t-to cry on you. I'm kind of p-pathetic right now, Jay. I should just go to s-sleep."

"You're not pathetic. Not by a long shot" Jay soothes with a smile. "And it's okay, that's what friends are for."

He takes Autor's damaged hand and cups it gently, opening and checking Autor's damaged knuckles. There's blood all over his shirt but he doesn't care. "Come up to my room, let me get you cleaned up. Your knuckles need treating before you sleep."

"Okay," Autor whimpers, believing him. Wanting to believe him. He unfurls from Jay's hold, standing on wobbly steps like a baby deer. "Okay, let's-- let's go to your room."

Jay wraps an arm around Autor's shoulder to support him, leading him carefully upstairs

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