The Stains Beneath Our Skin [mxm] ✔

25.2 | Comfort Coffee

At least the rest went normal. Cain threw his clothes in the wash instead of folding them up and then, once Casper was down to his boxers and he'd squirmed up to his nest of pillows, Cain threw the covers over him. Tugged them up right to his chest and sat on the bed beside him as he tucked in the edges. He smiled wider today, and his fingers lingered over Casper's skin.

Each touch made Casper want to giggle and squirm, but massively fuck that, so he just pulled the covers up over his mouth. Then his nose because apparently this dickhead could tell when he was trying not to laugh by his nose.

Just like Casper could tell by the way his lips pressed thin together and he rolled his eyes so he could look anywhere but at Casper's face.

Had there ever been a line? Or had he stumbled long past it before there'd been a reason to keep an eye beneath his feet?

Cain tucked in the last bit of the covers up around Casper's shoulders so he was completely bundled in them below his eyes, and then he bent in, his eyes bright, and rested his forehead against Casper's. "Don't think I can't tell you're laughing by your eyes as well."

A shock of warmth burst through Casper's chest. He pulled the covers up over his head and wriggled down, pressing his hands to his mouth to stem the noise that pushed up his throat from all this sweet warmth. Cain laughed. Fuck, he had such an amazing laugh. It made everything even fuzzier than it already was and Casper just wanted to melt.

Far across the room, the door cracked open and Cain's weight shifted off the bed, footsteps tapping off across the floor. The daylight lanced through the gap above the covers Casper opened up, and where he crouched over by the door, it illuminated Cain soft as an angel.

"Thank you, R2, that's brilliant," Cain said, and Casper pressed the bundle of covers to the smile blooming on his lips. R2. Fuck it got him every time. Cain talked to it like a person and it was adorable.

You're fucked, Roach. You're totally fucked. What the fuck you gonna do when you leave?

And what was Cain carrying over here? A coffee? Why only one? Was that...

Oh, it was. A huge mug with a tower of whipped cream and chocolate sprinkled over the top, powder and little curls of it. Soft pink brushed across Cain's cheekbones as he carried it over, a wry twist to his lips, and ever so carefully, he eased himself onto the bed. Fresh and earthy, the aroma of the coffee curled lazy through the air, and behind it, some sweet nutty smell like gingerbread.

Casper poked on of his fingers over the top of the covers at the mug. "Is that for me?"

"No, love, I thought I'd make myself a really nice coffee and drink it in front of you. Of course it's for you, you twat."

"It's got whipped cream on it."

"Yes it does. And steamed milk and I didn't have any syrup, but I did have some ginger nut biscuits which I got R2 to crumble in the cream. I ... I remember you saying you liked it when you were sad."

For him. Hidden behind the covers, Casper's lips trembled. He'd said that once. Weeks ago. While they talked about how they took their coffee and Casper had made an offhand comment about the difference between comfort coffee and slap some life into me coffee. What kind of idiot remembered that?

Why did he have to be so kind all the time?

Fucking tears again. Casper hiccupped and pressed the covers against his burning eyes. They hurt. Crying was fucking shit. It just hurt. But for once in his goddamn life nothing else did. Fluttery achy warmth filled up his chest and his stomach and his throat and every inch of him, and it wasn't a bad ache. More like the ache of sex. Good sex. Sex you wanted to have with someone you loved.