Darkstache Mini-Stories

Story Nine

It's 4AM and I'm gay as fuck let's get this bread gamers warning for implied sexual content and that's all
It was only supposed to be one night, a quick moment together, and then they would leave. But, the second it started, Dark knew that this wouldn't be like other times. His skin was soft and warm, his body breathtaking, his eyes shimmering in the soft lamplight that was soon to disappear. They didn't want to use him.
Something within them, whatever it was, made their frozen heart begin to thaw, and they swore they could feel it pounding in their throat. No, they couldn't use him. He wasn't like the others. He was kind, and gentle. His lips tasted like cotton candy, and his words rang like a church bell, his arms made them feel safe, and his touch didn't sting.
They couldn't use him like the others. So they didn't. They made sure every motion was slow, they made sure to speak in a dulcet tone and hear every request he made, let this man know that they truly did care for him, for his comfort. When it was all over, they held him, they let him shiver and pant in their arms, let him catch his breath until he fell asleep.
But they didn't plan to stay. They shifted out of the bed, gathering the stray clothes that had been strewn about the room, making sure to avoid the creaking floorboards as to not wake this angelic man. But it didn't take long for him to notice that they had stood, that their arms were no longer around his waist, and their lips were no longer against his neck.
A stir in the night is what alerted them, as the room was normally still this time of night. They had been buttoning their shirt, fidgeting in the dark as their own glow was the only light they could view with. It was one word, one pleading tone, from a cracking and warm voice.
"Stay."
They didn't know how to respond to such a thing, didn't this man know how these things worked? Hadn't he sent countless men home before, in the middle of the night? You get what you asked for, and then you leave. Yet, they still stopped in their tracks, hands pausing on their shirt, but still not turning to face the one behind them. They looked like a child that had been caught making a mistake.
"Please..."
It was the break in his sultry tone that made them turn around. They didn't have to say a word, and they knew that, so they simply crawled back into the bed and draped the comforter back over themself and the man that was cuddling up to their chest. They moved their hands to hold him properly again, one in his hair, one behind his shoulders, and as they did so, felt the sting of wet on their chest.
He was crying in their arms, gripping the back of their shirt in tight fists, letting out his frustrations and choking on his breaths. All they wanted to do was help. Their touches slowed, and they pressed a gentle - almost loving - kiss to his head, leaning down to whisper in his ear.
"Easy, easy...I've got you. I won't leave."
That only seemed to make him cry harder, but somehow they knew that this was healing, that he needed to release this pain. All they did was hush him softly, one hand pulling at his bright pink curls while the other rubbed soothing circles into his back. It was all they knew how to do, the only way they could comfort.
It was only supposed to be one night, a few hours with him, and then they would leave. But this was different. It was different because they cared.