“It’s okay,” Bobby says, quiet, when Buck climbs onto the bed where he lays, still too weak to stand. “It’s alright,” he whispers as Buck wraps shaking arms around him while kneeling so carefully he barely rests any weight on Bobby’s tired body. I can take it Bobby thinks as he pulls him down closer, holds back as hard as he can. “Oh, kid.” There’s the wet of tears against his neck. Let me take the weight. There is, so softly he doesn’t quite know it for what it is for a moment, the wet of lips against his neck. One of Bobby’s hand slides from Buck’s sweat damp shirt up into his curls and Buck goes entiely still.
“It’s okay,” Bobby says, guiding his face up to get a good look at him. Eyes rimmed ugly red, blue almost gray in the dim light of the bedroom. He looks exhausted, he looks lost. Terror, in the set of his mouth. Desperation, in the tilt of his brows.
“I-I just-“
Bobby says — a third time, like that will somehow make it true, a magic number — “It’s okay.” He wipes Buck’s cheek with a thumb. I should be the one apologizing. “Buck-“ I left you too long. “Buck.” Says the name so quietly he’s not sure Buck would hear it if he was any farther away than he is right now. I’d never have left you at all, if I had any say in it. You know that, right? I did everything I could to stay? To come back? He leans up, rests their foreheads together. “Whatever- whatever you need. You take it, whatever you need.”
Buck makes a sound like- relief, pain, surprise. Permission granted, he moves quickly. Like we’re at work, Bobby thinks as Buck pulls down his pajama pants, the soft ones, the only article of clothing that survived the house fire because Bobby had been wearing them the last time he’d died. You already have a plan in your head, you just need my say so and you’re off. Buck licks his palm. They’re good plans, too. You’ve come so far- Bobby’s breath hitches and hitches as Buck strokes him, and Buck groans as he shifts to straddle Bobby’s bare thigh, making tiny thrusts like he’s still trying- trying not to hurt him. Buck is hard, Bobby can feel the thickness of him through the sweatpants Buck hasn’t bothered with removing. Bobby is soft in his hand, but that’s okay. I’m so proud of you. “Yes- B- thats it- that’s good, take it-“ Do you know that, too? I’ll say it, I swear to God, I’ll make sure you know- everything- I’ll make sure you know-
Bobby’s lips bump into Buck’s chin and the kid lets out a noise that sounds like a sob — may very well be be a sob — and it’s over, Bobby feels the wet of him cumming against his leg, and the way he shakes so badly he finally can’t keep himself up anymore. The full weight of him does ache a little, makes it hard to breathe with his still healing lungs, but Bobby’s eyes flutter shut at the safe warmth of it. He shifts just a bit, trying to pull his pants back up, and Buck notices enough to help, and then Bobby nudges and pulls until Buck is stretched out, laying against him. He kisses the side of his head, Buck shudders again.
“I’m tired,” Buck says, muffled into Bobby’s shoulder. “I’m so tired, Bobby.”
“Go to sleep, then.” There’s a blanket just off to his side, he drags it over them both. Fatigue is settling back in his bones, he wont last much longer awake either. If someone finds them like this- well, at least they’re clothed again. “I’ll still be here in the morning.”
Shake, shake. “Promise?”
Bobby relaxes into Buck, into unconsciousness. “I promise.”
Re: bobby/buck, crying during sex
“It’s okay,” Bobby says, quiet, when Buck climbs onto the bed where he lays, still too weak to stand. “It’s alright,” he whispers as Buck wraps shaking arms around him while kneeling so carefully he barely rests any weight on Bobby’s tired body. I can take it Bobby thinks as he pulls him down closer, holds back as hard as he can. “Oh, kid.” There’s the wet of tears against his neck. Let me take the weight. There is, so softly he doesn’t quite know it for what it is for a moment, the wet of lips against his neck. One of Bobby’s hand slides from Buck’s sweat damp shirt up into his curls and Buck goes entiely still.
“Sorry,” Buck says, voice cracked open. “S-sorry, I-“
“It’s okay,” Bobby says, guiding his face up to get a good look at him. Eyes rimmed ugly red, blue almost gray in the dim light of the bedroom. He looks exhausted, he looks lost. Terror, in the set of his mouth. Desperation, in the tilt of his brows.
“I-I just-“
Bobby says — a third time, like that will somehow make it true, a magic number — “It’s okay.” He wipes Buck’s cheek with a thumb. I should be the one apologizing. “Buck-“ I left you too long. “Buck.” Says the name so quietly he’s not sure Buck would hear it if he was any farther away than he is right now. I’d never have left you at all, if I had any say in it. You know that, right? I did everything I could to stay? To come back? He leans up, rests their foreheads together. “Whatever- whatever you need. You take it, whatever you need.”
Buck makes a sound like- relief, pain, surprise. Permission granted, he moves quickly. Like we’re at work, Bobby thinks as Buck pulls down his pajama pants, the soft ones, the only article of clothing that survived the house fire because Bobby had been wearing them the last time he’d died. You already have a plan in your head, you just need my say so and you’re off. Buck licks his palm. They’re good plans, too. You’ve come so far- Bobby’s breath hitches and hitches as Buck strokes him, and Buck groans as he shifts to straddle Bobby’s bare thigh, making tiny thrusts like he’s still trying- trying not to hurt him. Buck is hard, Bobby can feel the thickness of him through the sweatpants Buck hasn’t bothered with removing. Bobby is soft in his hand, but that’s okay. I’m so proud of you. “Yes- B- thats it- that’s good, take it-“ Do you know that, too? I’ll say it, I swear to God, I’ll make sure you know- everything- I’ll make sure you know-
Bobby’s lips bump into Buck’s chin and the kid lets out a noise that sounds like a sob — may very well be be a sob — and it’s over, Bobby feels the wet of him cumming against his leg, and the way he shakes so badly he finally can’t keep himself up anymore. The full weight of him does ache a little, makes it hard to breathe with his still healing lungs, but Bobby’s eyes flutter shut at the safe warmth of it. He shifts just a bit, trying to pull his pants back up, and Buck notices enough to help, and then Bobby nudges and pulls until Buck is stretched out, laying against him. He kisses the side of his head, Buck shudders again.
“I’m tired,” Buck says, muffled into Bobby’s shoulder. “I’m so tired, Bobby.”
“Go to sleep, then.” There’s a blanket just off to his side, he drags it over them both. Fatigue is settling back in his bones, he wont last much longer awake either. If someone finds them like this- well, at least they’re clothed again. “I’ll still be here in the morning.”
Shake, shake. “Promise?”
Bobby relaxes into Buck, into unconsciousness. “I promise.”