There was a point in which Hugh would let out some sort of bastardized whimper, his body going taut, his eyelids screwing shut, his hands searching for some kind of purchase on anything he could grip. At that point Ioan would try to grab at least one of Hugh’s hands, so those nails would not leave his back scarred and sometimes bloodied, but Ioan always left the bedroom with wounds that Hugh would eventually lick clean.
Ioan had learned this his first night with Hugh, the two of them slowly coming down from a drunken high, the faint haze of an alcoholic buzz lingering, neither of them surprised about their location. Hugh’s bed felt like Heaven, soft white linen sheets caressing their bodies as they caressed each other. Ioan had tried not to, but ended up leaving hickeys on Hugh’s neck, and Hugh had clawed at his back until the white sheets needed to be changed for various reasons.
Hugh tilted his head back, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead that didn’t seem to want to move no matter how many times he tried to push them back into place. He eventually stopped caring, his lips parted in an endless moan as Ioan grabbed him by the knees, moving Hugh’s legs from around his waist to his shoulders. Hugh looked at Ioan with wide eyes and the Welsh man grinned, tilting his hips just so –
“Oh fuck, Ioan,” Hugh gasped pitifully, his hands reaching back until they found the headboard.
Hugh almost wanted to cry as Ioan jerked inside of him. Sudden, jerking motions that wracked his body with shudders until the next. He arched his back to try and get more, but Ioan was intent on making him suffer tonight. Already Hugh could feel his toes curling, and his grip tightened on the headboard until he was sure that the wood would splinter under his fingers.
“I am,” Ioan said, his voice straining against the moans that truly wanted to escape his mouth.
And it was only then that Hugh realized he had been chanting, “Fuck me … fuck me …”
Ioan grinned as Hugh’s body began to flush from the heat, from the strain. It happened every time, the blush would start at his cheeks and soon enveloped his whole body. Ioan could see in Hugh’s eyes that he wouldn’t last much longer, but Ioan wasn’t ready for it to end just yet. Hugh swallowed hard, his breath coming out in laboured gasps as he tried to hang on to the threads of his sanity. Grabbing Hugh by the hip, Ioan pulled him closer, the other hand travelling down to the otherwise strainted and neglected cock. Ioan’s hands were calloused and rough from all of the training, and Hugh loved it even though it felt like sandpaper. He whimpered and begged for the touch, sounding utterly pathetic.
And Ioan loved it this way, turning Hugh into putty. And it wasn’t hard in the slightest. Hugh gasped and whimpered Ioan’s name, and suddenly Ioan wanted him to let go of the headboard. Wanted Hugh to mark his body with more scratches, wanted Hugh to make him bleed.
Saying something unintelligible, Ioan grabbed Hugh’s wrists, pulling his hands away from the headboard and tugging until Hugh got the hint and stopped struggling, stopped whimpering and grabbed Ioan by the shoulders, firm thighs moving back around his waist. They’d looked into each other’s eyes for the first time really that night, then breathing hard and kissing until their lips were sore and swollen. Hugh pressed his forehead against Ioan’s and sounded like he was weeping, when in actuality he was moaning, his body beginning to go taut, legs clinging to Ioan as he was pulled up onto his lap, the change in position making Hugh let out a loud cry.
Ioan could feel Hugh’s blunt fingernails digging, scraping, burning his back, and he let out a loud moan, his arms still around Hugh, he crushed the slightly younger man against his body. There was a plateau where Ioan almost screamed, the bitter-sweet dulling pain mingling with his orgasm, and he was certain that if Hugh hadn’t been fighting to breathe that he might have laughed.
Ioan laid on his stomach, sprawled out on the bed, eyes opened at half-mast, glancing around the room that was only somewhat his. He tilted his head back slowly, smiling as Hugh sat beside him, leaning over and licking the fresh wounds on his back like some sort of cat. Like he did every night.
There were some scars that Ioan didn’t ever want to heal.