The Stains Beneath Our Skin [mxm] ✔

11.2 | Slipping Skins

Shivering, Casper turned from the window. Back to Cain, who wiped away the tears drizzling down his cheeks while Casper nestled into the divot of himself still left in the mattress – his own shallow grave.

"You won't remember this," Cain murmured to him, his words heavy with the weight of deluded ages, "and I can't bear to be without you. Maybe I cocked it all up but I've done it now. At least ... at least nothing can hurt you here."

What had his words been as Casper stumbled out the front door that night? I've found you now. I'll see you again soon. Casper sniffed hard and some mucus dislodged from the top of his throat. Copper and vinegar. "Other than you."

"Other than me..."

Cain sighed and pulled his knees back up to his chest, the covers a tent across them and some unassailable urge to crawl into that space and nestle his head into Cain's lap gripped him tight in its maw. Casper's leg jerked, this misfiring nerve jolting through his back and down to his toes.

"I'm so bad at this, Cas. You'd think by now I'd have it down to a science, but I still mess it up all the time. I ... I thought you were asking me. I forget sometimes that I don't know this you yet."

The rasp of Casper's voice begged to be a tool of spite, and he wielded it now the way it'd always deserved. "Don't talk to me like we're friends."

"Of course..." Cain's head hung heavier against the cradling sling of his hands between his knees. A gloss of tears coated his dull eyes. "I'm sorry, Cas."

"I'd hate you if you weren't even more pathetic than I am."

A flinch ran through his shoulders, cringing, and a brush of pink darkened his cheeks. Cain flipped the cover back, drama queen making a sail of it that caught the air. Behind that pall, Casper hauled himself up. His back groaned, and he twisted around the twitch of his leg, brushing past the falling veil.

Casper didn't know why he did it. Only that some gnawing, ghoulish part of his mind demanded it. Cain's eyes went wide, a sharp gasp from his lips, as Casper grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Well done, Roach Boy, you've drilled straight past rock fucking bottom.

The stubble across Cain's jaw scraped his lips. Strong hands peeled away his grip and pushed him away. "Cas, don't—"

Casper twisted free of Cain's hands, stomach plunging. "Don't what?" Cold air bit his skin as he shrugged off the covers. The pout came to him easier than breathing right, same as the arch of his body into the hands he slid over his sides. Second nature. Cain's eyes devoured the sight of him, so why did he push him away? "Isn't this what you wanted?"

Was this foul worm not even deserving of the touch of his psycho stalker?

"For God's—" Cain dragged his hands over his face and back through his hair. The sunlight rippled through it, glossy cream. "I already didn't bloody sleep with you when you didn't think I was crazy. I certainly don't want to now."

No. Casper's hands fell into his lap like dead things and heat crept into his cheeks. Not even now. Even Psycho felt sick at the thought of his touch.

A palsied twitch jerked through one of his hands. Could you see the marks on his skin? Or was it just enough that Cain had finally seen those ridges down his arms and the slick, burns gnarled through his stomach? His shoulder blades stuck out like the stumps of ragged wings and his ribs pushed skeletal against the thin trap of skin.

Did he even still have all his teeth? The flash of his tongue across the back stuck on a hole – top right canine. Gone. When had he lost it? Which punch in the face? Had he deserved it? Had he punched back? Had he just fallen over too drunk and knocked it out?