warnings: angst/cute
A/N; when i wrote this i was very, very tired. i haven't read it after i wrote it so its probably some mistakes.
"Hey"
You're leaning against the doorway, wrapped up in his shirt, and Brad is on the couch in his boxers and an oversized jumper. He looks over at you quickly, his brown eyes slightly larger than usual, and he nods.
"Hey," he rasps his greeting.
"You okay?" you ask him.
He closes his eyes and shakes his head.
"Told you to stop askin' that," he mutters.
You sigh, shoulders deflating some, "I just want you to be okay,"
He sighs and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his face with his hands,
"M'fine"
"You're not fine, Brad I promise it wasn't even bad"
"Don't" he shakes his head, turning his gaze back at you, "It was bad enough for you to use it"
It.
Your safe word.
In all your time together, you'd never said it, not once, and he'd prided himself on that. He never wanted you to have to use it. If you used it, if he pushed it that far, he'd failed you. And today, he did.
He'd pressed it a little too hard. Gone a little too far. Made a sting a little too harsh to the point where you'd felt unsafe enough to make him stop.
He wonders if he'd missed something. A non-verbal cue, an elevation in your voice, panic, anything...
His stomach knots and he hopes he didn't miss something.
It wasn't stopping that bothered him, it was the need. He'd stop anytime if it was what you. needed, and the fact that you needed it so bad today, and that he didn't understand it, broke him.
Christ, what if you hadn't said the word? The thought makes him want to shudder and his jaw to tighten.
"You didn't do it on purpose," you tried again. You consider your next move before gliding into the room and crawling up on the couch next to him. Putting one arm around his shoulder while the other massaged his scalp.
"Doesn't bloody matter f'I didn't" he inhales sharply, forcing himself yo pull back his temper. You've done nothing wrong.
You hate seeing him like this. You can see the torture in his eyes (when he lets you see it)and there's a tension in his body that refuses to leave even under your circling fingertips.
You lean your forehead against his head and he turns in slightly but halts at the last moment. He's restraining himself, you realize.
"I still love you," you whisper.
This makes him take a pause. You're desperate for him to understand, desperate for him to feel better.
"Hey," he says hoarsely while he shakes his head. "Listen t'me, come here"
He drapes his arm across your back and pulls you in so you're perched on his lap. Both your arms are around his neck now and the corner of your lips are turned down in a slight frown, but he touches his thumb to your chin.
"S'not your job to make me feel better with this"
"But I–"
"No" he cuts you off. "Listen. My job is to make sure that you're safe. Your job is..." Brad swallows hard,
"Your job is to pick that up when I'm not doin' my best. Do not" he stresses very seriously, maintaining eye contact with you for the longest time since it happened, "feel guilty or blame yourself. You did the right thing"
"But you're hurting"
"I'm fine, my ego is just banged up"
You frown a bit and his thumb moves to rub your bottom lip.
"You did the right thing, I don't ever want you to feel like you can't or you shouldn't look out for yourself. We need you safe. An' that's why we have it, innit?"
You nod slowly.
"Do not ever," he starts, "let me push it too far. I.." he trails off, eyes wide and lost in the possibility of what that would be like and what it might mean.
You kiss his cheek. He covers your hand on his chest with his and squeezes, turning his face into your neck at last.
"I trust you not to let that happen, yeah?" he asks, voice muffled.
"I promise," you whisper back.
It's a long time until you can convince him to touch you like that again. He reverts to a gentler demeanour that is present even in the roughest of encounters, but he won't lay a hand on your bum even if you place it there yourself.
You miss it. You miss the thrill, and the sting, and the safe, consensual nature of it that. draws you both closer as you try to understand the other's limits. It isn't until you are söö but crying against his mouth saying,
"Please...please, I need it, I want..." that he nods and agrees.
He nearly stops right away when you shout upon the first collision of his hand, but he doesn't hear anything dangerous or negative in its tone. When you whine and push back against him he delivers another, and another.
It isn't exactly what you want, but at least he's trying, and on the last smack he gives, you can feel some of his old energy returning, having his ears plagued by your shouts and moans and nods and pleas for more, please, another, BRAD!
You're pleasantly lightheaded and tingly in the toes when you're in his arms after, and his fingers are shaking as he drags them over your skin.
"You're okay?" he asks breathlessly.
Your eyes are unfocused but there's a light in them and your lips are curving upwards.
"Yeah," you moan, leaning in and catching his mouth in a quick kiss. You laugh into it and he feels the tightness in his neck start to relax.
"Yeah, I am, thank you" you whisper, "are you?"
He nods, "Mmm" he hums, "That was..."
He starting to smile again.
"That was good"
"Yeah?" you whisper, kissing him again.
"Yeah," he sighs, chuckling into your kiss and cupping the back of your head.
