[ Enri allows his attention to be redirected, a tender, lopsided smile forming, giving a glimpse of white. He moves in to every kiss, and then cards his bloodstained hand in Darius's hair until the last lingering bite. His breath follows the tug as though drawn by Daddy's teeth: a soft exhale of surprised pleasure.
He's not worried about Rin. He's not worried about anything. He's warm and disheveled and covered in blood, and so is Daddy, and there's nothing to worry about at all.
(...Is that true?) (A niggling thought, a very distant alarm.)
There's honey at home. (Fresh?) (He can just imagine Darius going to that farmer's market three blocks down and fucking with the middle-aged couple that sells it.) His smile turns dreamy, and he leans his forehead against Daddy's with a little nudge.
They have so much weekend ahead of them. Daddy's probably got plans - a thought that thrills him through, sends a shiver of excitement along his spine. ]
I love you so much, Daddy. I'm so lucky. You take such good care of me.
[ His voice is an easy, happy drawl, slow and intimately warm like the honey waiting for him.
He thinks he ought to get them cleaned up, and this thought leads to a contented, if resigned sigh. And then to the step-by-steps - which aren't in order. They never are.
Gotta clean the blood off the chair. Gotta find a first aid kit. Gotta see about some clothes. Gotta get these clothes back on, first. Should go clean up before that, though. Wash off the blood, get the condom off -
He freezes.
He looks at Darius, feeling panic rise fleetingly, sitting in his throat alongside guilt. He forgot. He fucking - forgot. (Darius trusted him. Darius trusted him and he forgot.) He fucking forgot, how the fuck could he forget?! ]
Fuck.
[ This, followed by a thousand worries about catching something, giving something, ruining everything for both of them. He was going to wait and talk about this with Darius, he was going to do everything right and safely.
And then another, calmer thought: it doesn't matter.
It - actually doesn't.
If there's anything to catch from Darius, he got it weeks ago. Vice versa. They've been licking and sucking and everything short of drinking each other's blood. What the fuck was a condom going to protect them from? Pregnancy?
Still.
Still. Darius trusted him to do it. He slumps a little, his head falling to Darius's shoulder, and he whines another soft 'fuck' before raising his head again, drawing his hand to his mouth in frustration with himself. His fingers curl into a loose fist, and two rest at his lips; around these, he confesses miserably - ]
I forgot.
I forgot the condom.
[ Of all the fucking things for his screwy brainy to forget. Of all the things to be irresponsible about.
He breathes out a helpless, lost sound and unfurls his hand, rests his forehead in his palm. ]
no subject
He's not worried about Rin. He's not worried about anything. He's warm and disheveled and covered in blood, and so is Daddy, and there's nothing to worry about at all.
(...Is that true?) (A niggling thought, a very distant alarm.)
There's honey at home. (Fresh?) (He can just imagine Darius going to that farmer's market three blocks down and fucking with the middle-aged couple that sells it.) His smile turns dreamy, and he leans his forehead against Daddy's with a little nudge.
They have so much weekend ahead of them. Daddy's probably got plans - a thought that thrills him through, sends a shiver of excitement along his spine. ]
I love you so much, Daddy. I'm so lucky. You take such good care of me.
[ His voice is an easy, happy drawl, slow and intimately warm like the honey waiting for him.
He thinks he ought to get them cleaned up, and this thought leads to a contented, if resigned sigh. And then to the step-by-steps - which aren't in order. They never are.
Gotta clean the blood off the chair. Gotta find a first aid kit. Gotta see about some clothes. Gotta get these clothes back on, first. Should go clean up before that, though. Wash off the blood, get the condom off -
He freezes.
He looks at Darius, feeling panic rise fleetingly, sitting in his throat alongside guilt. He forgot. He fucking - forgot. (Darius trusted him. Darius trusted him and he forgot.) He fucking forgot, how the fuck could he forget?! ]
Fuck.
[ This, followed by a thousand worries about catching something, giving something, ruining everything for both of them. He was going to wait and talk about this with Darius, he was going to do everything right and safely.
And then another, calmer thought: it doesn't matter.
It - actually doesn't.
If there's anything to catch from Darius, he got it weeks ago. Vice versa. They've been licking and sucking and everything short of drinking each other's blood. What the fuck was a condom going to protect them from? Pregnancy?
Still.
Still. Darius trusted him to do it. He slumps a little, his head falling to Darius's shoulder, and he whines another soft 'fuck' before raising his head again, drawing his hand to his mouth in frustration with himself. His fingers curl into a loose fist, and two rest at his lips; around these, he confesses miserably - ]
I forgot.
I forgot the condom.
[ Of all the fucking things for his screwy brainy to forget. Of all the things to be irresponsible about.
He breathes out a helpless, lost sound and unfurls his hand, rests his forehead in his palm. ]
Sorry. Shit, I'm so sorry.