But he knows that, out of all the tiny chances, that one was perhaps the smallest of all, if Ren got as far as that room. I know, says the look he gives Ren.
He leans forward, to kiss him. Just a little; just to comfort him. It's been a weird two days.
He cradles Goro's face in his hands as they kiss, and leans in to extend it when Goro tried to pull away. Every movement Goro makes is proof that he's alive.
Even when they part, he doesn't speak. What's the point in saying he's sorry? No one cares. His eyes flicker up to Goro's forehead, which remains clean and smooth, totally free of bullet wounds.
Platitudes itch to spill from his tongue; he swallows them only with difficulty. Instead, he goes with Ren, lets Ren guide him, settling in his arms and then pulling him close in turn, returning his hand to tangle in that mess of hair.
"You really should text Crow back," he says, absently and not as if he really thinks so. He could have died; would have died, without insane luck on his side. Sometimes there really is nothing you can do.
Yeah, maybe, except Goro probably wasn't feeling the same self-disgust. Instead of saying so, Ren just nods.
God, he needs to do anything else. If he keeps lying here thinking about how he almost shot Goro, he'll lose his mind. Just go completely insane, screaming and frothing at the mouth and everything. "Fuck this," he says abruptly, lifting his head. His eyes burn fever-bright. "Let me finger you."
—shit. He draws back fast, eyes searching, flaring bright in turn, a challenge Ren will already know well. Like he hasn't been trying not to think about that for months, since it came up that once. The look on Ren's face, Ren's words, have gone straight to his balls—
But there's something else, too; something he can't and won't deny. "This conversation is shit, isn't it?" he murmurs, dry-mouthed, holding Ren's gaze to reach between his legs. "Here, let me—"
Don't get him wrong. He wants it like fire, and everything that goes with it. It's just—not right.
He lets it happen; it's hard to imagine saying no to Goro touching him. But at the same time, he shakes his head. "I want—" He swallows. "Let me blow you again. I can do way better than last time."
Let me hear you scream. Let me feel you move under my hands. Alive, thinking only about how good I am. The words stay locked in his throat.
Understanding, he reaches back up, brushing his hand against Ren's face, looking into his eyes. The misgiving hasn't faded, but he makes space all the same. "You'd better try, then. I'll believe it when I see it."
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He leans forward, to kiss him. Just a little; just to comfort him. It's been a weird two days.
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Even when they part, he doesn't speak. What's the point in saying he's sorry? No one cares. His eyes flicker up to Goro's forehead, which remains clean and smooth, totally free of bullet wounds.
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"You really should text Crow back," he says, absently and not as if he really thinks so. He could have died; would have died, without insane luck on his side. Sometimes there really is nothing you can do.
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He doesn't. He just doesn't want to let go. He can feel Goro's heartbeat against his skin.
Breathing in the scent of Goro's shampoo, he tries to be useful. "It didn't happen. And if anyone else tries it, I'll kill them."
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"Now you know how I've been feeling all these months," he murmurs to Ren's neck.
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God, he needs to do anything else. If he keeps lying here thinking about how he almost shot Goro, he'll lose his mind. Just go completely insane, screaming and frothing at the mouth and everything. "Fuck this," he says abruptly, lifting his head. His eyes burn fever-bright. "Let me finger you."
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But there's something else, too; something he can't and won't deny. "This conversation is shit, isn't it?" he murmurs, dry-mouthed, holding Ren's gaze to reach between his legs. "Here, let me—"
Don't get him wrong. He wants it like fire, and everything that goes with it. It's just—not right.
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Let me hear you scream. Let me feel you move under my hands. Alive, thinking only about how good I am. The words stay locked in his throat.
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