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Oranges and reds streak across Bass' skin from his temple to the small of his back, disappearing underneath the sheet. They've been traveling, keeping odd hours without much sleep. The first sight of a bed, they took it. Dirtied it up with all the filth and sweat two unwashed men can make clinging to each other in the middle of the Texan summer. Bass' breathing changes before he makes any noticeable motions of waking. Old habits die hard and, well, it's kept them alive this long. Miles watches in silence as Bass first blinks open his eyes, squinting against the light of the setting sun. Then he's caught staring. Won't be the first time or the last. And there's that look again.
"Stop it."
Bass' brow furrows but he offers a confused smile anyway, wrapping his arms around his flat pillow. "Stop what?"
"Stop being surprised every time you wake up and I'm still here." Miles locks eyes with Bass' wide ones. "I'm not going anywhere, Bass."
Unlike Miles, Bass doesn't throw out a well-deserved Well, it wouldn't be the first time. He just looks so fucking hopeful. It's a wonder 'Monroe', the stone-faced butcher, ever existed. All it's ever taken Miles is a few words one way or the other and he could split Bass wide open. It still scares him, even now. Having that much power over someone. What'd he do when he had it before? Ruined him. Broke him down and built the world up around who he needed Bass to be. Then ran away when he finally saw what he'd done. Couldn't kill him. God, never Bass. But maybe if he wasn't around he couldn't keep fucking him up more.
Nobody ever called him the best decision maker.
Miles' eyes shift away from Bass' intensity. He opens his mouth to say he doesn't even know what, but in the end just purses his lips and crawls out of bed. Bass doesn't call him on it or reply at all. He does climb out of bed himself, though, strolling naked and shameless to the bathroom. Because of course Bass would get them an en suite. The belt to Miles' pants hangs open and frozen in his hand as he follows Bass' trek across the room. Dirty looks good on Bass. Always has. Miles just gets to enjoy it more now that it includes 'thoroughly fucked'.
He can see Bass in front of the mirror from where he's standing by the bed blindly searching for his shirt. Bass' fingers are prodding at his throat, pressing into dark marks littering his neck. Okay, so it's tacky. But Miles can't seem to stop. It's like if he can just cover every inch of Bass' body with a sign he's been there, it'll prove he's not going anywhere in a way his words don't. Or hell, maybe he's just an animal that really needs to keep marking his territory. Either way, Bass doesn't seem to mind. He's got this barely there smile on his face, something dark and lust-filled in his eyes when Miles meets them in the mirror. Because yeah, they both knew he'd end up in here, too.
Miles drags his fingers across Bass' skin. Over ribs that ricochet tension over his whole frame (because Bass is ten kinds of ticklish. He can't stand that Miles isn't at all. Says it's not human.) and resting them flat in the middle of his chest. The heat coming off Bass seeps into his palm and Miles lets it sit, counting heartbeats silently in his head.
He almost lost him. Hell, he thought he had. Kept telling himself he should be glad. Rachel finally did what he couldn't. But all Miles could think about that night was sitting with Bass by the graveside of his family. What the hell would I be without you? Nothing. He's nothing but an empty shell without Bass.
"Hey." Bass' hand covers his. "I'm right here."
Miles doesn't have time to question how he knew because Bass lifts his palm to his mouth. He places a kiss there, on the swell of his thumb, and again on the inside of his wrist. The wet slide of Bass' tongue follows and Miles doesn't miss the upward curve of his lips at the wounded noise it pulls from him. An overwhelming urge to just hold him comes over Miles, to simply feel the strength and reality of him under his fingers. And for once Miles doesn't fight it. He wraps both arms around him tight until they're flush and buries his face in Bass' throat.
"I know you are." You're always there for me.
Laughter bubbles out of Bass and he reaches his arms up and behind, tangling fingers in Miles hair and gripping the back of his neck. Muscles flex and shift under Miles' hands; Bass' body on display just for him. He rolls his hips back against Miles' growing erection and grins wide and beautiful in the mirror.
"No, really. I'm right here. Why'd you put on pants exactly?"
A huff of laughter blows out of him as Bass works his hands between them.
"No goddamn idea."
The belt hits the floor with a clang. Miles closes his eyes, pressing his face into Bass' skin as heat wraps around him, calloused fingers creating a perfect friction. He pulls no punches, Bass, twisting round the head of his dick, thumb brushing over his slit with every pass.
"Fuck" startles out of him as a nail rakes across the next and Bass is grinning gleefully when Miles glares at him in the mirror. "You little shit."
So of course Bass does it again.
Miles' eyes are still rolling back in his head when Bass' hand disappears completely. Grunting unhappily, Miles catches fingers on hip bones and pulls him close, fitting between the cheeks of Bass' gorgeous ass.
"Patience is a virtue, Miles."
One you've got in spades. Waiting on me. But then Bass' hand is wrapping around him again, this time slick with homemade lube. The lube that he thought had still been lost in the bedsheets.
Miles laughs. "Aren't you a boy scout."
Bass doesn't say anything, just leans his head back on Miles' shoulder. The look in his eyes is heady, clearly getting off on just touching him like this. It knocks the breath out of Miles. So he takes it back, gripping a fistful of Bass' hair and pulling until he can get at his mouth. The scruff of his beard had been surprisingly easy to get used to. And leaves his mouth red for hours, which Bass seems to like as much as Miles does his marks.
"Gimme some of that."
Bass hands him the bottle without breaking his gaze. Miles has no idea how he went so long without seeing how fucking beautiful he was. Never again. He slides one slick finger inside, a chaste kiss catching the vibration of Bass' soft moan. Miles bites his lip, drags the tip of his tongue across it. Bass demands more, grabbing the back of Miles' head and opening up for him in every way.
Bass' body rolls back into the second finger, panting against Miles' mouth and eyes fluttering every time he rubs against his prostate. When Miles' wraps his other hand around his dick, Bass gives in, falling back against Miles' shoulder and just taking everything he's giving him. Miles wants to give him everything. He finds the bruise Bass had been smiling at earlier; sucks it fresh. Can't get enough of Bass' skin.
"Bass, look at me." His cock is pushing right against Bass' stretched hole, rubbing against his rim in a way that's driving Bass crazy if the way he's pushing back against him is anything to go by. "C'mon, baby. Open your eyes."
Bass looks distinctly bitchy when he does, so Miles rewards him with a grin and a kiss to his jaw.
"I want you to watch. Watch what you do to me." He runs his nose up Bass' throat. "Watch what I do to you."
Bass shifts forward, gripping either side of the long broken sink. "I'm watching, Miles."
Grinning, Miles grazes his eyes down the long line of Bass' back, watching the play of his muscles as his finger glides down his spine. Gripping his hip, Miles meets his eyes and pushes in. Bass' mouth falls open, neither of them breathing until he's balls deep, both of them ghosting out sighs together. Kissing his shoulder as he thrusts, Miles' whispers low in his ear, "Keep watching, Bass."
Watch me fall apart for you. Because of you.
Bass' dick hangs heavy between his legs, which shake minutely when Miles grabs hold of it. Miles loves the feel of him in his hand, how hard he is, how wet with his own slick. He does that to him. Bass pants louder, never taking his eyes off Miles, and when he tugs on his balls, Bass slams his hand up beside the mirror and rocks down on his dick.
"Fuck, Miles. Fuckfuckfuck."
"I've got you, Bass." He brings his free hand up, covering the marks on his throat ."I'm not going anywhere. Not without you." It's a struggle keeping his own eyes open. He pulls Bass back by his throat, bites at his jaw, lost in how good it feels getting lost in Bass. Blue eyes remain wide on his. "You're mine. Everybody's gonna know it."
"Everybody's always ...known that ...Miles. Jesus god, right there."
"Yeah. Probably." Bass pushes against the hand at his throat, not enough to cut off his air but more than enough to know it's there. Like he wants that power in Miles' hands. Because he trusts it. Miles tightens his grip and Bass just grins his fucking beautiful smile. "God, Bass, I'm yours, too. I've always been yours."
Bass' smile falls from his face, but when he clenches around Miles and gasps, Miles realizes it's because he's coming. Hot and slick over his fingers and the fact Bass didn't know that in his bones makes him thrust harder, guilt swelling inside him.
"I'm yours. I'm yours and you're mine. Way it's always been. Way it's always gonna be."
He grips Bass' hips as he thrusts hard and fast, more bruises for him to find. The urge to push his face into the back of Bass' neck and just feel is overwhelming but he wants Bass to see even more. So he presses close, cheek to cheek, and the rising wave inside him breaks with a simple, "Miles."
Bass is everything. He always has been. That bond and the want and need that clawed its way up out of it is written on every inch of his blissed out face. There is no Miles without Bass. Those years apart from him were the worst of his life. He thought he'd been doing them both a favor but he'd just broken them further. He knows that now. And there's nothing Bass can do to push him away again. Bass could kill a thousand men and Miles would be at his back the way he always was. But Bass won't. Because Miles doesn't want him to. Told him no. In the end, all Bass ever wanted was to follow his lead. So now they're puppies holding kittens and all that. As long as no one provokes the puppies, everyone's good. And his brain's gone out with his dick but he doesn't care because Bass is smiling that fucking smile again. The one that gets him every time. The one that always got Bass his way with Miles and every goddamn body else.
"I believe you, Miles."
"Good. My work here's done." He sobers quick, though, guilt rising up again. Kissing the new marks on Bass' throat, he murmurs a promise into his skin. "I'll never fail you like that again, Bass. I won't."
"Stop." Bass squirms in his arms only to turn and face him. "You're gonna ruin my freshly fucked good mood." He smirks, small and pleased with himself. "Now come clean up with me and let's see if we can find some decent booze in this place. Then I'll work on getting you back to saying those sexy needing me things."
Miles snorts and, because it's impossible not to when Bass is this happy, lets him take him wherever he wants to go.