A/N: I wrote this a while ago in a notebook - or half of it, anyway. It didn't start out as a covenant fic (which is why I don't use names until the third paragraph) yet inevitably all I saw was Reid and Tyler.
Pairing -- Reid/Tyler.
Warning. SEX! There's hints of abuse. And blind trust. And, I'm trying to diversify my yaoi. But it's always been either -- SEX! Or angst ridden half rape submissive SEX! (guess which one this story is) I want to be able to write something more than that. I want to learn to write sex that doesn't even need intercourse. Sounds impossible right? But we'll see about that…
As I'm sure you've notice already -- sadomachism is a big theme for me. I'm trying to change (not completely…because I like writing rough SEX!), but I haven't changed yet, so enjoy it. And review!
---
I am not your savior
I am just as fucked as you
It had always been he who made the first move. He wasn't ever afraid of rejection. The word didn't even exist to him. A lot of words seemed to be absent from his considerably short vocabulary. Words like 'no' and 'don't.' Whole sentences continuously fell on deliberately deaf ears. 'I don't want to.' 'This isn't right.' 'That hurts'.
He knew he was attractive. He knew what they wanted and he coyly manipulated them to achieve what he wanted. Sex. Fame. Status. Empty desires carving a bigger hole into his chest until nothing else remained. Even in the 90 degree weather of summer, he still felt chilled to the bone. Cold. Unresponsive. Disconnected.
They'd been friends since elementary school. Stupid loyalty born out of isolation and need. Tyler remained loyal to him even though they both believed he wouldn't have returned the gesture. But he did. Always defending Tyler and including him. Asking his opinion, as if it would ever matter.
Tyler didn't refuse him every time he moved toward him; he couldn't look away or shake his head at Reid's atrocious advances because regardless of how adamantly he denied it, he wanted this too. Tyler wanted to feel Reid's hands grasp his thighs, even if it was hard enough to leave bruises. He liked the warmth Reid's hands radiated; he liked the way Reid's hot breath caressed his neck, how his mouth always hovered a half second, as if Reid were overwhelmed. But he couldn't be, because that word also didn't exist to him. His hands moved achingly slow, but his mouth didn't.
It's a game. It'd always been a game for him; with Tyler and all his other conquests. Tyler was supposed to shatter first; Reid wanted him to beg for it. Reid wanted to hear his voice shake and crack as Tyler pled for his touch, his kiss. Tyler wasn't a conquest, though. He wasn't going to beg. And the need for Reid's touch burned bright within him. Savagely painful.
Reid knew this. Tyler squeezed his eyes shut but the desire only screamed louder. His half hearted pleas to be left alone melted into an irritated gasp. Reid's chuckle, condescending, echoed in his head. Reid dragged his hands up, catching and pulling Tyler's shirt up. His nails left angry red marks across bronze ribs. Hands glided across his burning stomach, lingering if only for a second, before pulling his shirt off over his head. Reid's breath was hot, scolding against his neck. But he liked it there. Reid's knees were digging into his sides, but he liked them there. Hesitantly, he liked Reid so fucking close - close enough that if he wanted to, he could reach out and touch him. He didn't even need a purpose, an excuse. He could flatten his entire hand against Reid's face and keep there, and Reid wouldn't say anything. He would let him. But Tyler didn't. He didn't move, because Reid was so close.
His body was heavy. Legs straddled Tyler's, knees supporting his own weight, but not enough as to provide Tyler with an easy escape. It's the air, barely there, that separated their bodies. It hurt and Tyler's hands grasped at his hips. Contact. Barely. The air was suffocating him nearly as much as Reid was.
A tongue darted out and moistened Reid's lips and he shoved another, heavier, breath out of his lungs. "Baby boy." Reid's purr was husky, the pads of his fingers kneaded Tyler's cheeks as Reid's slender hands cradled his counter part's face. To touch so freely was to own. It was how Reid touched his clothes, or how he used his pens without asking, as if they were his own possession. That's what Tyler was, a sweat shirt, or an overused pen, a possession -- his to use. "You've been avoiding me."
"N-no, I haven't," Tyler mumbled. He wanted to look away, and even as he felt the urge, he acknowledged how telling that mere act would be. His eyes remained on Reid's, but he didn't have a choice. He couldn't look away. Reid dragged his fingers across Tyler's face and pressed a thumb against the younger boy's lips. It was a lie. Tyler had been avoiding Reid since the first kiss. Just as well, the look that crossed his face when Reid cornered him always made Reid hard. Tyler was always sore the next day. It was getting harder to conceal Reid's finger shaped bruises on his thighs, his arms, his chin.
"It's okay," Reid breathed against the nape of Tyler's neck. "I forgive you." Hands gripped his hips painfully hard. Lips pressed roughly against his neck. Teeth bit into his flesh hard enough to draw blood and a surprised yelp from the writhing boy beneath him. He was most certainly not forgiven.
Tyler's pained grunts and sharp hisses of pain and discomfort only made Reid bite harder. Tyler's nails sank into Reid's jean clad thighs but he didn't feel it. Tyler's breath was loud in his ear, hot against his own heated flesh.
Even after everything Reid had done to Tyler, the boy remained infinitely innocent. Pure. Hearing the younger boy pant was enough to drive Reid insane with lust. And seeing the boy do unspeakable acts, hesitation always tainting his own sexual desire was beyond words. Nearly as good as the sex itself. He pulled away, just barely, and tenderly licked at the bruised neck, much as a cat would lick at its own wounds. Tyler had already forced himself to relax beneath the blonde. His hands shifted from Reid's legs and disappeared beneath his shirt, the desire to touch suddenly too intense to ignore.
Reid's tongue left his own mouth seconds before he roughly covered Tyler's mouth with his own. Tyler returned his kiss just as hungrily, just as sloppy and rough. Only in the act of kissing did Tyler ever even attempt to battle dominancy. His hand searched clumsily for something he wasn't even aware of needing, as they blindly scoured Reid's chest beneath his shirt. Reid's chest was really beautiful, despite how much Tyler hated the compliment, even inside of his head. The boy was obviously toned, the pale of his chest seemingly glowed. Toned, yet soft beneath his roaming finger tips.
Reid pulled away, ever so briefly, his chest heaving with the weigh of his breathing. He tugged his own shirt off over his head and quickly tossed it away. Pale cheeks were tinged red, blond hair slightly tousled, eyes ablaze with unbidden desire.
Tyler squeezed his eyes shut again after that. In several quick movements, Reid rendered them both naked, heated flesh pressed hard against heated flush. The nips and licks were soft, but Tyler knew the truth. If they were soft, it was more so by default rather than purpose. Reid took him dry, only when he couldn't stand the wait any longer. He didn't even try to muffle Tyler's raw cry of pain. The younger boy arched against him, hands fisting around Reid's biceps, legs weakly held apart.
Tyler would never know how beautiful he looked in that one moment compared to all his other moments in life. He would never understand why Reid couldn't ever go slow, not even in the beginning, not even until the boy managed to force himself to relax. The first thrust was hard, rushed and Tyler cried out again, louder than before. Tears managed to squeeze their way from his clenched eyes. Reid paused before delivering another thrust and earning another cry. It didn't matter how loud he screamed, the house was deserted. Nobody would hear him, nobody except Reid. But it was okay, because Reid wanted to hear him the most.
He didn't notice when his thrusting had sped up, his hands clenched tightly on Tyler's thighs, unnecessarily holding his legs apart. He didn't hear it, the first time the scream died in Tyler's throat, replaced by a quiet rasp of pain. The nips and kisses melted together until Reid's mouth pressed against Tyler's skin, just there. A particularly hard thrust brought another rasp from Tyler, who instinctively tensed up all over again. The sudden pressure proved too much for Reid and he came hard, a long groan falling from his lips before he collapsed onto Tyler.
Tyler was still moving, his body shuddering beneath Reid with every hiccup of his rapidly disappearing sobs. His fingers were still curled around Reid's biceps, still hard enough to bruise. The blonde didn't even attempt to alleviate his weight from Tyler's twitching frame. It felt too nice, just laying there, slightly dazed, Tyler's legs spread and resting gentle against his sides.
It was always in lying there that Reid felt the first pangs of guilt, stabs against his heart that seemed to last longer the more he experienced them. The guilt was why he let Tyler avoid him in the first place, why he didn't just confront the boy every time he got horny; why he was so kind to Tyler afterwards. He didn't know why Tyler still bothered, though. He still expected him to shove him away, every time Reid reached for him. Every time Reid crawled into bed with him at night, he still expected Tyler to blatantly tell him to get lost. He expected the boy to at least flinch away, or glare. He expected the hatred he knew he deserved, but it never came. Tyler never hated him, and Reid couldn't understand it. Because sometimes, when he was alone, he hated himself.
There wasn't anything in him to love, and he couldn't understand what Tyler so desperately clings to. But he wouldn't ever push him away, he wouldn't ever make him go away, because Reid wanted him. He wanted him so badly that he hated what he did to him. Even as he reveled in the boy's tortured cries, Reid hated it. He hated the tears, even as they made him smile. He hated the broken expression carved into Tyler's face for days after sex, but he loved that control he had. He loved knowing that he could make Tyler cry, or grimace, or beg. He loved the power Tyler inadvertently gave him, and it was that Power that kept him from doing what he knew he should do - what any lover would willingly do - the power wouldn't let him walk away from Tyler, and save the boy heartache. He couldn't let him go, even though he knew he should.
"I'm sorry, baby." Words, muffled against sweat slicked skin, managed to pry their way into his dazed brain. He didn't want to hear them, but no matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn't not hear them. The words were worn, beaten, suddenly so very fragile. And the way Reid's voice, softer than usual, broken, caressed the damaged words could have been beautiful, given any other circumstance.
"I know," Tyler mumbled tiredly. His hands slowly uncurled, stiff and pained, from around Reid's biceps. His arms shifted, agonizingly slow, until they were wrapped around Reid, holding the boy closer. He knew Reid was sorry. Right now. At this present moment in time. Sorry, but satisfied. He also knew what would happen once that satisfaction dried up.
"I'm sorry too."