Warning: hinted abuse, cursing, fighting, ect.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Pairing: Mainly Christophe/Kyle. And hinted Gregory/Kyle.
Summary: Kyle promised Christophe that he wouldn't be weak.
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Kyle leaned back and against the bathtub, his hand clenching against the stab wound at his side, as he let out ragged gasps.
Next to him, was a frantic Christophe, his hands shaking as he tried to clean up the wound the way his boyfriend instructed him.
"I'm... sorree," the brunette whispered, "I... waz careless."
It was the truth, as Christophe thought that no one was following them out of the building, out of the mission, until they were jumped.
They made it out, with mostly minor bruises and cuts, the main exception being Kyle's stab wound.
The red-head shrugged, wincing at his swollen shoulders, before he shook his head, "Just don't do it again."
He saw the Gregory's expression when he saw him, or at least a glimpse of what he tried to cover up.
"I..." Christophe sighed, letting his fingers lightly touch the rows and rows of wounds on the male, ones that came due to his carelessness.
"Christophe," gentle emerald eyes looked deeply into dark hazel, "It doesn't hurt," he whispered.
"It doesn't 'urt much," the Frenchman grumbled.
Kyle let out a soft laugh, inhaling sharply in pain as he forced himself to calm down and wrap his arms around his lover, "You're the only person that can hurt me and have it actually hurt," the male said softly,
"You should know that by now."
Some part of Christophe wanted to know if that was the only reason why Kyle ever got hurt these days.
He was.
"Kyel..."
Worried hazel eyes stared deeply into soft emerald ones, as the male slowly came closer.
Noses and foreheads touching, Christophe carefully moved his arms to either side of Kyle's waist, and scooted closer, their breathing synchronizing, and Christophe dropped his lips down to meet Kyle's.
And like their first time, the sudden rush of adrenaline and euphoria sparked between the two.
Eyes fall shut, the kiss intensifies, and Christophe allows his hand to begin moving around the smaller body.
Kyle's hand moved to thread itself with the silky brown hair pieced that were caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood.
It wasn't the first time, meaning that it'll never be the last.
But that was okay, since they weren't weak.
Right?