It was a mistake. It was a mistake made in desperation and adrenaline and anger and it should never, ever be repeated. Doing so would threaten the tenuous friendship that had just started to grow between us. Hell, doing it once might have destroyed it already.

I don't know what moved me to say what I did.

"Would you... would you mind if this happened again?"

He wrapped my towel tightly around his hips and stepped out of the shower, grabbed his clothes and went around the corner and out of sight. I sat on the edge of the tub and stared at the mirror while he got dressed and told me all the reasons I already knew, throwing in age for good measure. I silently debated brushing my teeth and wondered why it was so hard to make a decision. By the time I had the toothpaste in my hand he had left with a damn final sounding goodbye.

Three days later I found myself pinned to the kitchen counter as he bit into my shoulder hard enough to make me bleed.

It was nice.

He ended up spending the night. In the morning, the scratches and indentions left by my auto-mail sharply stood out on his pale skin, but he never seemed to mind. He'd stretch and rub whatever it was and make some smartass comment about my bed hair, but he'd never complain. I never brought it up. I told myself it was because I didn't care, but really, I was afraid that I'd lose the closest thing I'd ever have to a relationship.

After dozens of... intimate encounters, he asked me. I told him the truth; that I wasn't ready to... go the whole way just yet. Every so often he'd get this look in his eye and run a hand over my thigh and lick the shell of my ear, but he'd always stop when I'd shake my head. Even though I was worried about losing whatever we had, I wasn't willing to... let him... so for almost half a year we stuck to everything but that, falling into an almost comfortable routine of desperate looks, aggressive sex, and passing out on my bed.

He's always complain about me ruining the afterglow by yelling at him for being a moron... but once, when he was dead tired and too lost in a sex induced haze to guard his words, he told me that it was the one thing keeping him level. He didn't seem to remember in the morning so I didn't bring it up. I did a little more yelling every night after that and he kept climbing up out of the hole he'd dug.

Sometimes all it takes is one little nudge to send you back to the bottom.

I'd given him a key ages ago so we could get to the 'pinned' phase right away, telling him that I'd strangle him if he ever showed up at an unholy hour. When he shook me awake at two in the morning, I just about did.

I froze when he turned on the light and I could see the tears running down his face.

He tried to say something, but it would be nearly a full twenty-four hours before he would get it out. I'd been around him long enough to know his pride had taken a heavy blow; he didn't reach for me. After a minute of taking in the broken look on his face I gently ran the back of my good fingers along his cheek.

A second later I was pinned to the sheets with a hungry mouth devouring mine. I wanted to know what caused this new brand of desperation but I couldn't hold onto anything when he was pressing into me like that. In an almost pathetically short time I was arched up against him and putting everything I had into the intense kiss. We were pressed too close to breathe through our noses, so he broke it to draw a long, shuddering breath. On pure instinct I pushed his head down and started kissing away the wet salt on his face.

After a couple pecks I realized what I was doing. Caring. What we had was about simple human contact in heavy doses, not caring. It was supposed to be hard and fast and exhausting, not soft and gentle. Hell, I'd already broken the rules by reaching out to him the way I had.

Already broke one rule...

Never was one to follow them in the first place...

After a moment's pause I went back to tenderly wiping away his tears. When he'd caught his breath enough to realize what I was doing he slowly locked up in shock. I didn't say anything, just went on with my lips and tongue until he was 'clean,' then rubbed the lingering moisture off my own face. When I finally met his eyes he was mostly done being shocked. Actually, the look he gave me was almost... curious.

He propped himself up on his elbows. His black eyes were full of things I should be scared of, but I wasn't. I never broke his gaze as he carefully tucked my bangs behind my ears, only closed my eyes when he cupped my cheek and leaned in to me.

Our kisses were normally intense. That was the best description for the hard, bruising mess of tongue and teeth and lips and more than often a little blood that we never noticed because we were too wrapped up in pure sensation.

The kisses we shared that night were an entirely different kind of intense. Long, slow, not quite gentle but close enough. Hands rubbing at neck and spine instead of leaving deep marks on wrists and shoulders. Soft sounds of contentment versus rough predatory growls. It was a strange new flavor I'd never tasted before, and I wanted more.

So did he.

I only wore boxers to bed so he didn't have much to remove. I'd managed to get his shirt off and pants undone before he pushed me back to the pillows and started kissing his way down my chest. Before long he had me writhing under a new kind of pleasure that made me forget how we were supposed to be; I asked for more instead of demanding it. He did things with his tongue he'd never done before and it turned me senseless.

Suddenly I remembered another man with gentle hands.

"Moan for me."

Roy was so caught up he hadn't noticed me freeze as blue and white danced in front of my eyes. I looked down at him and he bent his head again, brushing his lips over sensitive skin. Again he spoke, in the same breathless voice:

"Please," a hot tongue took another taste and I tensed, "moan for me," another taste of bitter pleasure, "Edward... please..."

The please... my name... maybe that's why I pushed him away just long enough to rummage around the bedside table drawer, finding what I needed and then pressing the tube and condom into his hands. We were both shaking and both staring at those two little things that meant so much. My doubts returned until he pinned me again, still gentler than our other encounters but still on the rough side. It was enough to be different. It was enough to keep the memory at bay long enough to get lost in the feeling of him inside me.

The sex was different that night, so it made sense that the aftermath would be too. Normally we pretty much passed out after I called him an idiot, but that night we actually kinda cuddled a little. Since it didn't seem right to sleep in the mess I told him to grab a quick shower while I changed the sheets. After he was done I stepped in for a rinse. I walked out toweling my hair as he was smoothing out the comforter on my bed. Sleeping next to him was always uncomfortable for both of us, and that night was no different... but it was.

It was nice.