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“We used to go so fast.”
“What do you mean?”
Owen took in a heavy breath, his fists loosening to reveal sweaty palms, cheeks red as Curt watched him crumble from across the room.
“This is stupid. Damn it, Mega. You make me so stupid.”
Owen was never soft. He was never mushy or cute. He said what he wanted to say. But for a moment, this moment, he was melting.
“We had this fight. I don’t remember what it was about. And he just looked at me.”
Owen walked towards Curt, first step slow, but by the time he reached him he built up enough force to throw himself onto him, to almost make him lose balance as he kissed him hard, holding his lip between his teeth like his life depended on it. Curt caught himself and grabbed Owen’s shoulder, eyes wide but taking it all in, the familiar scent of his sweat filling his lungs as he kissed him too deep, not a care in the world behind it. There was nothing else that could heal him like this kiss, and there was nothing that could wound him like Owen taking it away.
It felt like Owen just wanted to kiss him. As if all his worries lie in whether Curt slipped through his fingers or not, and another kiss, another smile, would assure him he wasn’t going anywhere.
“And it felt like. Oh. This could be forever.”
“Like he loved you?”
“Yeah. Like he loved me.”
“Did you love him?”
Owen held Curt’s face in his hands, hot breath against his skin, eyes opening just enough to see Curt, out of focus yet his expression so clear. “I can’t pretend anymore, Curt. I can’t look at you and act like… this,” he grumbled, before softening as he felt Curt reach to place their foreheads together, the heat between them only rising.
“Owen.”
Curt kissed him again, soft. If Owen would be soft, he would be too.
“Yeah. I did. I just didn’t have the balls to admit it.”
Curt’s hand curled around Owen’s back, his legs crossed over the curve of his ass as he buried a moan into his shoulder. Their clothes were tangled on the floor, not a thought put into where they landed once they were off. Their bodies were melded together like hot metal, silver and gold, Owen’s hands wrapped around the back of Curt’s head as he filled him over and over, deeper and deeper, breathing faster and faster. Curt forgot he’d been alive for 24 years. Today was his birth, and today was his death. He’d touched Owen previously, head buried in his skin, cries of pleasure muffled by pillowcases and the fear of being heard, yet it had been nothing like this. Nothing like the feeling of Owen’s full body pressed against his, his cock deep inside him, his hands grabbing his hair and curling it between his delicate fingers that had broken him open only a few minutes ago. It felt like an eternity had passed, yet at the same time it felt as though the world had just begun. Like they’d gone through several lifetimes by now but were still in this room, in this bed, in each other's heavy arms as they continued with their rhythmic breathing and deep thrusts, yet this was their first time once more.
Curt’s hands wrapped around Owen’s neck as he whispered words of care and love into his ears. “Gorgeous.” “Perfect.” “Fucking hell.” Curt could hardly take it, could hardly stand to listen to him speak of him so kindly, how even as he left him with no mercy, even when he pulled his hair and bit his tongue and took him higher and higher and higher until he saw stars, Owen was still speaking with an amount of praise Curt couldn’t bare. Curt wanted this every day of his life, someone not only praising his abilities but worshipping his skin, his eyes, memorizing the texture of his tongue and the way his body ebbed and flowed.
“Owen,” Curt’s voice was hoarse, ankles shoving themselves deeper into Owen's back, nails gripping at Owen’s skin, trying to control himself, to hold back more than just saying his name over and over. He didn’t want to just say his name, he wanted to beg him for more, to show Owen just how good he felt. He wanted to cry tears of sweet pleasure until Owen made him come, he wanted to feel sweat drip from Owen’s forehead to his, wanted to breathe in the scent of their shared passion, and wished to never wash it off his body.
Owen pressed into him again. Curt gripped him tighter. He shut his eyes so tight his vision became full of color in the darkness. Owen’s grunts and moans and laughter of enjoyment filled Curt’s ears, and he pushed Curt down to the bed and kissed him. He kissed him hard and fast and ran his hand over Curt’s naked thigh before dragging it back up to hold his face once more. Another deep thrust. Curt’s head leaned back and Owen caught him in a kiss, warm and needy and loving.
“It was so stupid romantic.”
Curt gasped, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping. His grip on Owen’s back continued as he coated his lover’s stomach with his release. His breathing was deep and his mind was nothing but static, hands still pressed to Owen as he lay him down, kissing his opened mouth. It was no longer hard, needy, and desperate. It was simple, domestic, and maybe just gently romantic. As if it wasn’t a declaration of love, but a reminder of it.
“I love you,” Owen pressed his forehead to Curt’s, fingers running over his temple as he straddled Curt’s sides, “I’m sorry if I haven’t made that clear.”
“Did you say anything?”
“No. What could I have said? I mean- I just don’t think I was ready for that.”
Their bodies lay warm beside each other as the world around them faded. Curt’s head lay warm on Owen’s chest, his fingers running over his scars. He’d memorized them long ago, on nights where he was woken by nightmares and found comfort in the reminders of how his lover had been broken the same way he had been. And yet, the scrapes and bruises and burns made him feel more real than anything else ever could’ve. A naked Owen, one without shame or worries of work, was a canvas of all that was good and right, of all that was gorgeous.
Owen’s fingers curled through Curt’s hair, his declaration almost forgotten, replaced by more pleasure and passion, now left with the faint memories of words that shouldn’t have meant so much.
“Do you miss him?”
“Every day. I don’t think there’s a single day I don’t think about him.”
“Would you do it all over again even if it ended the same?”
“...Yes.”
“Even after all the pain?”
Owen’s sleep had come before Curt’s, Owen’s arms wrapped around his partner's stomach as he was held close. He shut his eyes and took in the sounds of Owen’s breathing, the way he pressed himself against his back, the way he just knew his dreams were full of the life he wished they could live together.
He bowed his head in what could only be described as shame, and let out a faint breath, “I love you, Owen,” he whispered into the silent air, feeling the words disappear as soon as they left his tongue. Owen didn’t move, didn’t react, so dead in sleep it didn’t matter what Curt said. He liked it that way. Owen never had to know anything.
“Yeah. Even after the pain. I’d do it all again.”