He mutters that into his fingers, not lifting his face. Dodger might laugh and smile but it really doesn't feel good to him. Call him old fashioned.
He doesn't miss that look Dodger has when talking of Squalo though. There's a moment of sympathy, right before the wince again. He sighs heavily.
"God is judging me," He says. "More importantly, I am." He lifts his heads mostly so he can hugs his arms close. "I didn't like them, you know? Those men. They knew they broke the hearts of those women-- sometimes worse. Reputations, livelihood, lives. But they figure, what are those women going to do? They don't even see them, they're just bodies. Those men don't love. They don't care. And I always just looked right past it. Because I was pathetic." He scoffs bitterly at himself. His head shakes. "I don't want that. I don't want to be just a body to someone. I don't want anyone being that to me. You weren't."
He flashes a warm smile while he's at it, just so Hector knows it isn't a big deal... not that he thinks it'll change much.
He's silent while Hector talks, his expression sobering a bit. Yeah, he can see the weight of it. He's always seen it, but this is the first time he's taken a good look at how much he's putting on Hector just with his affection, and it's enough to make him just a bit guilty.
"You weren't for me either." He lets out a soft huff of laughter. "There's a lot of people I don't see. I'm not gonna pretend I'm not that sort of man. But there's people... people like you, like Squalo and Francis, that make me see them. And it's hard to get them all out of my head." He shifts, so he can watch Hector more comfortably, "I'm not trying to change your mind. We don't have to do anything you don't want. But I... I don't want you to think you mean less, just because I'm with someone else. I still love you, and your body."
Dodger lets out a sigh, and sits up so he can reach over and run his fingers along Hector's cheek.
"Love. Sort of." The smile still hasn't left his face; he's in too good of a mood to lose it, which is just odd for him. "I don't know, we're still finding our footing. I'm trying to hold back and... I guess what I want is a friendship where we can still fuck around. Just... not feel guilty if it ends up happening. Not expect that it's gonna go anywhere."
He leans down, presses a light kiss to Hector's lips.
"Besides, it's not like Hell is gonna let us stop sinning that easy, right?"
"Love sort of," He repeats dryly, brow lifted. But, he doesn't interrupt further. He's still happy for Dodger. He doesn't want to let his own moods sour that.
Despite himself and his guilt, he's not unresponsive to that kiss. His chin lifts. He has the idle thought of it being a fairytale position and he just about laughs.
"To blame Hell for all my sin seems to miss the point of Hell itself," He says, amused.
Then he sighs.
"I'm not good at this. I don't do well, mixing these things with friendship. I tried but I couldn't keep it up. With you..." Or with Nekane. "Bastard I may be, I'm not those men. I care too much. And you, likewise, can't tell me you love me and admit that it's love you wish to give exclusively."
He reaches up, a soft smile and weary eyes. He touches Dodger's cheek.
"Is it easier for you to stop loving me or easier to stop wanting? I know what the answer for me is."
"Give me a break, will you? I'm not a romantic like you."
He slaps Hector's cheek lightly, but follows it up with another kiss because he really can't help himself. He is listening, but... he can't help being caught up in how close Hector is. How gorgeous he is.
His brow knits lightly while he listens to Hector. That's a hard question, one that Dodger honestly can't figure out an answer to. He just sighs, and rests his chin on the younger man's chest, reaching up to guide that hand from his cheek to his hair.
"I don't know. It's hard to stop anything. You're really irresistible, y'know, in every sense."
He pauses and sits up, fast enough that it betrays he's had an Idea.
"Fuck... I forgot to show you. I got a tattoo. Something that... reminded me of you, and what you've done for me. You wanna see it?"
He makes a noise, something cross between a snort and a noise of offence at the slap. It's cut off and muffled regardless by the kiss. Again, he leans in, and again, like always, it twists inside his ribcage. It's becoming less a dagger and more an angry creature, clawing at him from within.
But, it's all in his mind, or else Dodger simply doesn't notice it, resting his head there. He lets his hand be taken and moved. He doesn't know what to say to that, because irresistible is not something he really considers himself to be. The limits of his not knowing what to say are pushed further.
"Wh-- you got-- you... you got a... tattoo? For me...?" He must have scrambled because he's sitting upright now. "I... I suppose."
No reason to really say no. Even if it feels like his mind has been wiped clean of anything intelligent at all.
Dodger nods, reaching to pull his shirt off, "Been meaning to for a while. You've really changed how I see the world and... every time someone makes a mark on me, I get a tattoo."
The tattoo in question is small, just a few symbols along his rib. XII:X. Honestly, he probably didn't need to entirely take his shirt off, but that's never stopped him before.
"It's uh... a bible verse. Romans 12:10. Love one another with brotherly affection, outdo one another in showing honor." His face turns a bit redder as he studies Hector's face; it's the first time he's actually shown a tattoo off to its inspiration. "What do you think?"
There is a lot to take in here. He wishes he could pause time to process it, lest Dodger take any cue from his silence to assume anything.
A man has marked his body in ink in a very permanent way, in order to honor him. It's not music or anything else he'd think that defines him, but rather, a phrase of kindness.
It feels undeserved. Deeply so. Even if he did try to show Dodger another path existed, to be honored for it makes him feel like a fraud, an imposter playing at goodness when he's really just as much a sinner as anyone else, added to by the facts that this is Hell and he is damned. He feels in over his head, like, he's pushed someone on a swing only to see that it's going out over a river and the rope is oh so very thin. He's terrified suddenly of what it will mean if Dodger fails, or if he fails Dodger, one way or another.
Less pressing, but still throwing him sharply enough to show on his face, is seeing the biblical numbers settled just under what is, pretty much undeniably, a symbol of satanic worship. There are more symbols, a foreign script he can't read and another he can just begin to guess at, but his eyes are drawn back again and again to the contrast of the good book and the devil. And, of course, the unsurprising sin carved into his chest.
He needs to get his thoughts together and he needs to do so quickly. Those other marks were all before. The quote of love and care is new. It's a grand gesture, a show of love more than anything else.
"... I don't know," He admits, blinking. "I think I'm a bit overwhelmed." His own face is a touch red. He brings his gaze up to Dodger's face. "You did this for me?"
Dodger falters a bit, waiting for Hector's reaction. He knows it's a lot - fuck, everything he does is a lot. Out of everything he's learned in Hell, he's still having trouble with subtlety.
It's not outright disgust, though. And honestly... Dodger doesn't mind Hector studying his body. Not that that's a surprise to anyone.
"You know what I was like when I met you." He tips his head playfully, "I know you don't see it, but... you make everyone around you a better person. You made me want to get better, you... I feel like there's a chance of being someone worth while. Thanks to you."
He holds his hand up, showing the eye on the back and then closing his fist to show the word L I V E tattooed across the knuckles.
"I always get tattoos for the people that mean something. They're like... reminders. Of the lessons I learned from them. You're the only person I've wanted to honor like this, since I got here."
He pauses then, and chews his cheek. Finally he sighs, and lays back on the bed.
He does remember the Dodger that was. He always saw something, someone, sad. He saw a man twisted up and swallowing his own poisons-- a terrible metaphor now.
He takes in the word, then the eye. He briefly thinks of the eye he has, a scar on his back. He does wonder about all these tattoos and what each one means. He holds off asking for the moment.
"It is a lot," He confirms.
He lays back again, with Dodger, just by him, not atop or leaning into him. Just close.
"It sounds good. I'm glad you... I'm really glad you're feeling better than you did. You should. No one should feel like that." At least, no one he's actually met. "And I'm... it's a lot, you know? To be... immortalized. I can't tell you what something like that means. Especially for someone like me."
He swallows then, pushing back that hint of waver.
"Do you remember how you'd say you thought you'd ruin me?" Like some maiden fair robbed of virtue, or a man robbed of sense. He supposes that would be true in a sense, but not through Dodger's work. "I'm just afraid I'm going to do that to you. You'll get so far and I'll be the one to disappoint you. That's scary, to think I'm responsible."
He turns his head, looking at Dodger. He finds those green eyes.
"Whatever happens, I hope you don't lose that. Even if I lose my mind and crack completely or something."
Dodger's expression sobers a bit, and he nods along with Hector talks. He likes this, laying together and just... talking. Being close. Meeting those brown eyes, and feeling safe.
"I'm still afraid of ruining you. But Hector... you can't do any worse than the other men I've lived for. I've been.. beated, starved, locked in cages, had my powers sapped from me. As long as you don't hurt me on purpose, you're doing plenty."
He reaches a hand out, maybe to shake Hector's or maybe just to hold.
"Either way, I mean... you've seen the worst sides of me and still jumped to my defense and that's more than I could ask of anyone. I'm not gonna forget that, man, no matter what happens to you."
He reaches back for Dodger. Whatever Dodger wants to do, he's fine with there.
But his words, that makes him smile sadly.
"You're wrong," He says, gently, almost a whisper. "You've always taken to men who hurt you. I've talked plenty about it. I know you've been through some unimaginable cruelty. But there is a difference. If you've ever been hurt by someone who you really thought loved you, then you know."
He looks away for a moment. He thinks of Ernesto and closes his eyes.
"When you're hurt by someone who hurts people, you expect it. You can say you got what was coming, things like that. But when you're hurt by someone who raises you up above it all or who you want to raise up yourself, someone who you make a part of you... that hurts much more. It makes you think yourself a fool for ever believing. It makes you want to destroy yourself to rip out every part they made. That's why it's scary. I don't want to leave you in ruins. I don't want you to live for me. I want you to live for you."
He looks over once again. And once again, he puts on the smallest of smiles.
"Don't reward me for being better than those people before. If you can remember those words you've got tattooed now, then I should hope you'll find plenty of people better than me. But, with that said, I am grateful that you're choosing to remember me. It's kind of flattering you think I'm worthy of a quote from the good book."
Those words, that description, that's enough to finally wipe the smile from his face.
"I've always been that person to others. I've never had to taste it." He hesitates, "The men I've followed, I thought I could trust them. And there were little signs, things I should have noticed sooner, and they built up. And built and kept building until I was bursting, until all I could think about was- escape."
Burn. Break. Kill.
His hand tightens on Hector's, just for a moment. He still won't let himself show too much emotion.
"You always put yourself down..." He lets out a sigh, his free hand reaching out to trace the line of Hector's jaw. "I don't know why you don't see yourself the way everyone else does. And I don't know how to show it to you. But you're an angel, Hector. If anyone in Hell is worthy, it's you."
It's damning, but it's not surprising. Dodger has left his marks on him. Albeit, not as badly, and at least, unlike with Ernesto, he knew what he was getting into.
"Be careful," Is all he can say to that. Because, that's really all anyone can do in that position. Be careful not to lose themselves.
He squeezes Dodger's hand back. But in the next moment, he's laughing softly.
"You know there are actual angels down here? Wings and all. And heroes. People who fight to save their worlds and everyone around them. Good people. People who are risking it all when they owe the world nothing." There's admiration in his voice. Pride in those people. But his head shakes. "That's not me. I don't imagine it ever will be. I've got room in my heart for those nearest to me."
"Yeah, I know." He sighs quietly, "They're all the same thing, you know. Angels and heroes and mutants. Humans make judgement calls, decide who's a hero and who's a psychopath, but no one owes the world anything. And anything you call brave could be some mutant's publicity stunt. I mean, fuck... back home, it didn't matter if someone was following the law. If they used their powers in public, they got labeled as a dangerous individual. God forbid if they tried to hurt someone in self defense."
He sets his jaw, and manages to stop himself before he actually gets upset about it.
"My point is.. that people like you matter more. Loyal people that just look out for the people they love. People that don't try to get involved in the whole world's business. 'Cause the world sure as fuck doesn't care who gets hurt in the process."
He listens. He takes it in, the glimpse od Dodger's world. It does, certainly, paint a picture. He's got some points, but still, Dodger misses his.
He rolls over. It just about puts him half on top of Dodger, looking up.
"That's not what I meant," He says, a little amused. "I don't care for law. Or what people are deciding is the correct path and people. I know well how that goes in my own time."
It's his turn to reach and touch Dodger's jaw. He leaves his hand there.
"I'm talking about the people who actually care. Who save the world because they're just... good. Who help people, as much as they can, because it's right. They make the world beautiful even if they never see that day. And I won't deny that they get more than their share of hurt." He draws his hand back but still smiles up. "But they're the people I count on. Those are the people who would make sure that my family has a world to live in. They're too rare as it is for those people to be cast down here too. But in any case, besides the literal makings of Gods, those people are angels. I'm a man who's trying his best." He sits up a little. "...Though, I suppose, I am human. That's up to you if you'll believe me."
Dodger raises his brows a bit, when Hector moves on top of him. But he isn't arguing, especially when Hector touches his face. Instead he melts, settling into the bed and sliding a hand up to hold Hector by his waist.
"What you're describing is my job back home. And you don't think I'm a hero, right?"
No, he really doesn't get it. And there's a twitch in his expression when Hector draws his hand back, questioning him, just for a moment. It's enough to distract him when Hector starts to sit up, and his fingers tighten a bit against his side.
"You really make it hard to resist you." But he doesn't rise up, doesn't chase if Hector doesn't want it. He just watches him, with that cloudy look in his eyes.
"Your job back home is in the mob, murdering people and then some for your terrible boss. No, I don't think it's the same. Or that you're a hero. I'm sorry if that crushes your ideas a bit."
He really does sound apologetic. His smile is too.
"But, that doesn't mean I think you couldn't be. Someday. You surprise me sometimes. Maybe you'll really take that tattoo to heart, look out for those you can. Like you told me you and your mother did, when you were young."
As for resisting...
"And I'm sorry," He says. "I'll try to do better. I suppose it's a learning curve for me too."
Dodger lets out a huff of laughter, but he isn't going to push his point. His world feels too different from everyone else's, and he isn't sure how much of that is true and how much is the part of his world he lived through.
"I'm probably dead, back home. Who knows where I'll end up, if I work off my sins... but wherever it is, I'll do what I can. And you're... kinda right. I mean, the point of Atlas was to make things better for everyone, but we... lost sight of it. Or maybe that was never the real point. I don't know."
That smirk slides back onto his face with the apology, though.
"Oh, no you don't." He tugs Hector onto his lap. A pause, and he struggles for a moment with his thoughts. "I want you close. Please."
I'll do what I can. It makes him happy to hear that, visibly so. Maybe Dodger will never be a hero, but he does hope the man will keep some spark of goodness in him.
He considers the name of the group; Atlas. He who lifts the world on his shoulders. A burden. At least, here, Dodger's free.
He laughs then as he's tugged over, flushed and maybe a little charmed despite himself. He pulls Dodger's arms around him and holds them there.
"At some point or other," He warns, "I'm going to have to tell you no more." For himself or for Dodger. But at least now Dodger's distracted him a little from his guilt. "And how do you want me? Just like this?"
"At some point, sure." He runs his hands over Hector's back, gently leading him down while he leans up to steal a kiss. "But for now..."
He rolls them over, pinning Hector to the bed with his hands on the younger man's wrists and a knee pressed between his legs. He pauses there, hesitating and pressing another kiss to his lips.
He kisses back, but he's given no chance to catch his breath. He's turned over, arms up, Dodger looming over. There's a thrill in him, a tangling feeling in the lowest bit of his guts as he heats. His heart picks up its pace.
The next kiss is softer, followed by quiet as he really tries to think the question over. He's got his own experiences, good and bad, to contented with.
"It's alright," He affirms, decisive in that. "I'll tell you if it's not. I promise."
Dodger lets out a quiet laugh, as his lips travel down Hector's chin and along his neck.
"I'll hold you to that."
His hands slide down Hector's arms, his palms warmed just until the air feels cold without them. He moves to unbutton Hector's shirt, pressing kisses along his skin as he uncovers it. His motions are slow, soft, checking every so often to make sure Hector is still enjoying it.
He finally pauses when he reaches Hector's belt, glancing up just to reassure himself again before he starts to unbuckle it.
His head goes back, arching to give Dodger better access to his skin. His breath comes a little heavier. It's easy to forget the little trick of Dodger's right up until he works that magic and makes him shiver.
He watches Dodger move slowly down, eyes dark and heady with growing lust. But, his amusement is growing also, each time that Dodger double-check.
"Ay, you're so careful," He says. He shifts and tilts his hips so Dodger can do with his pants as he wills.
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He mutters that into his fingers, not lifting his face. Dodger might laugh and smile but it really doesn't feel good to him. Call him old fashioned.
He doesn't miss that look Dodger has when talking of Squalo though. There's a moment of sympathy, right before the wince again. He sighs heavily.
"God is judging me," He says. "More importantly, I am." He lifts his heads mostly so he can hugs his arms close. "I didn't like them, you know? Those men. They knew they broke the hearts of those women-- sometimes worse. Reputations, livelihood, lives. But they figure, what are those women going to do? They don't even see them, they're just bodies. Those men don't love. They don't care. And I always just looked right past it. Because I was pathetic." He scoffs bitterly at himself. His head shakes. "I don't want that. I don't want to be just a body to someone. I don't want anyone being that to me. You weren't."
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He flashes a warm smile while he's at it, just so Hector knows it isn't a big deal... not that he thinks it'll change much.
He's silent while Hector talks, his expression sobering a bit. Yeah, he can see the weight of it. He's always seen it, but this is the first time he's taken a good look at how much he's putting on Hector just with his affection, and it's enough to make him just a bit guilty.
"You weren't for me either." He lets out a soft huff of laughter. "There's a lot of people I don't see. I'm not gonna pretend I'm not that sort of man. But there's people... people like you, like Squalo and Francis, that make me see them. And it's hard to get them all out of my head." He shifts, so he can watch Hector more comfortably, "I'm not trying to change your mind. We don't have to do anything you don't want. But I... I don't want you to think you mean less, just because I'm with someone else. I still love you, and your body."
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He sighs and flops onto his back. His legs hang off the bed.
"You confuse me," He says. And it's in more than a few ways but he'll focus on one. "Where is the exclusive part? The body or love or...?"
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"Love. Sort of." The smile still hasn't left his face; he's in too good of a mood to lose it, which is just odd for him. "I don't know, we're still finding our footing. I'm trying to hold back and... I guess what I want is a friendship where we can still fuck around. Just... not feel guilty if it ends up happening. Not expect that it's gonna go anywhere."
He leans down, presses a light kiss to Hector's lips.
"Besides, it's not like Hell is gonna let us stop sinning that easy, right?"
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Despite himself and his guilt, he's not unresponsive to that kiss. His chin lifts. He has the idle thought of it being a fairytale position and he just about laughs.
"To blame Hell for all my sin seems to miss the point of Hell itself," He says, amused.
Then he sighs.
"I'm not good at this. I don't do well, mixing these things with friendship. I tried but I couldn't keep it up. With you..." Or with Nekane. "Bastard I may be, I'm not those men. I care too much. And you, likewise, can't tell me you love me and admit that it's love you wish to give exclusively."
He reaches up, a soft smile and weary eyes. He touches Dodger's cheek.
"Is it easier for you to stop loving me or easier to stop wanting? I know what the answer for me is."
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He slaps Hector's cheek lightly, but follows it up with another kiss because he really can't help himself. He is listening, but... he can't help being caught up in how close Hector is. How gorgeous he is.
His brow knits lightly while he listens to Hector. That's a hard question, one that Dodger honestly can't figure out an answer to. He just sighs, and rests his chin on the younger man's chest, reaching up to guide that hand from his cheek to his hair.
"I don't know. It's hard to stop anything. You're really irresistible, y'know, in every sense."
He pauses and sits up, fast enough that it betrays he's had an Idea.
"Fuck... I forgot to show you. I got a tattoo. Something that... reminded me of you, and what you've done for me. You wanna see it?"
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But, it's all in his mind, or else Dodger simply doesn't notice it, resting his head there. He lets his hand be taken and moved. He doesn't know what to say to that, because irresistible is not something he really considers himself to be. The limits of his not knowing what to say are pushed further.
"Wh-- you got-- you... you got a... tattoo? For me...?" He must have scrambled because he's sitting upright now. "I... I suppose."
No reason to really say no. Even if it feels like his mind has been wiped clean of anything intelligent at all.
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The tattoo in question is small, just a few symbols along his rib. XII:X. Honestly, he probably didn't need to entirely take his shirt off, but that's never stopped him before.
"It's uh... a bible verse. Romans 12:10. Love one another with brotherly affection, outdo one another in showing honor." His face turns a bit redder as he studies Hector's face; it's the first time he's actually shown a tattoo off to its inspiration. "What do you think?"
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A man has marked his body in ink in a very permanent way, in order to honor him. It's not music or anything else he'd think that defines him, but rather, a phrase of kindness.
It feels undeserved. Deeply so. Even if he did try to show Dodger another path existed, to be honored for it makes him feel like a fraud, an imposter playing at goodness when he's really just as much a sinner as anyone else, added to by the facts that this is Hell and he is damned. He feels in over his head, like, he's pushed someone on a swing only to see that it's going out over a river and the rope is oh so very thin. He's terrified suddenly of what it will mean if Dodger fails, or if he fails Dodger, one way or another.
Less pressing, but still throwing him sharply enough to show on his face, is seeing the biblical numbers settled just under what is, pretty much undeniably, a symbol of satanic worship. There are more symbols, a foreign script he can't read and another he can just begin to guess at, but his eyes are drawn back again and again to the contrast of the good book and the devil. And, of course, the unsurprising sin carved into his chest.
He needs to get his thoughts together and he needs to do so quickly. Those other marks were all before. The quote of love and care is new. It's a grand gesture, a show of love more than anything else.
"... I don't know," He admits, blinking. "I think I'm a bit overwhelmed." His own face is a touch red. He brings his gaze up to Dodger's face. "You did this for me?"
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It's not outright disgust, though. And honestly... Dodger doesn't mind Hector studying his body. Not that that's a surprise to anyone.
"You know what I was like when I met you." He tips his head playfully, "I know you don't see it, but... you make everyone around you a better person. You made me want to get better, you... I feel like there's a chance of being someone worth while. Thanks to you."
He holds his hand up, showing the eye on the back and then closing his fist to show the word L I V E tattooed across the knuckles.
"I always get tattoos for the people that mean something. They're like... reminders. Of the lessons I learned from them. You're the only person I've wanted to honor like this, since I got here."
He pauses then, and chews his cheek. Finally he sighs, and lays back on the bed.
"I'm sorry, I know it's... I'm. A lot."
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He takes in the word, then the eye. He briefly thinks of the eye he has, a scar on his back. He does wonder about all these tattoos and what each one means. He holds off asking for the moment.
"It is a lot," He confirms.
He lays back again, with Dodger, just by him, not atop or leaning into him. Just close.
"It sounds good. I'm glad you... I'm really glad you're feeling better than you did. You should. No one should feel like that." At least, no one he's actually met. "And I'm... it's a lot, you know? To be... immortalized. I can't tell you what something like that means. Especially for someone like me."
He swallows then, pushing back that hint of waver.
"Do you remember how you'd say you thought you'd ruin me?" Like some maiden fair robbed of virtue, or a man robbed of sense. He supposes that would be true in a sense, but not through Dodger's work. "I'm just afraid I'm going to do that to you. You'll get so far and I'll be the one to disappoint you. That's scary, to think I'm responsible."
He turns his head, looking at Dodger. He finds those green eyes.
"Whatever happens, I hope you don't lose that. Even if I lose my mind and crack completely or something."
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"I'm still afraid of ruining you. But Hector... you can't do any worse than the other men I've lived for. I've been.. beated, starved, locked in cages, had my powers sapped from me. As long as you don't hurt me on purpose, you're doing plenty."
He reaches a hand out, maybe to shake Hector's or maybe just to hold.
"Either way, I mean... you've seen the worst sides of me and still jumped to my defense and that's more than I could ask of anyone. I'm not gonna forget that, man, no matter what happens to you."
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But his words, that makes him smile sadly.
"You're wrong," He says, gently, almost a whisper. "You've always taken to men who hurt you. I've talked plenty about it. I know you've been through some unimaginable cruelty. But there is a difference. If you've ever been hurt by someone who you really thought loved you, then you know."
He looks away for a moment. He thinks of Ernesto and closes his eyes.
"When you're hurt by someone who hurts people, you expect it. You can say you got what was coming, things like that. But when you're hurt by someone who raises you up above it all or who you want to raise up yourself, someone who you make a part of you... that hurts much more. It makes you think yourself a fool for ever believing. It makes you want to destroy yourself to rip out every part they made. That's why it's scary. I don't want to leave you in ruins. I don't want you to live for me. I want you to live for you."
He looks over once again. And once again, he puts on the smallest of smiles.
"Don't reward me for being better than those people before. If you can remember those words you've got tattooed now, then I should hope you'll find plenty of people better than me. But, with that said, I am grateful that you're choosing to remember me. It's kind of flattering you think I'm worthy of a quote from the good book."
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"I've always been that person to others. I've never had to taste it." He hesitates, "The men I've followed, I thought I could trust them. And there were little signs, things I should have noticed sooner, and they built up. And built and kept building until I was bursting, until all I could think about was- escape."
Burn. Break. Kill.
His hand tightens on Hector's, just for a moment. He still won't let himself show too much emotion.
"You always put yourself down..." He lets out a sigh, his free hand reaching out to trace the line of Hector's jaw. "I don't know why you don't see yourself the way everyone else does. And I don't know how to show it to you. But you're an angel, Hector. If anyone in Hell is worthy, it's you."
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"Be careful," Is all he can say to that. Because, that's really all anyone can do in that position. Be careful not to lose themselves.
He squeezes Dodger's hand back. But in the next moment, he's laughing softly.
"You know there are actual angels down here? Wings and all. And heroes. People who fight to save their worlds and everyone around them. Good people. People who are risking it all when they owe the world nothing." There's admiration in his voice. Pride in those people. But his head shakes. "That's not me. I don't imagine it ever will be. I've got room in my heart for those nearest to me."
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He sets his jaw, and manages to stop himself before he actually gets upset about it.
"My point is.. that people like you matter more. Loyal people that just look out for the people they love. People that don't try to get involved in the whole world's business. 'Cause the world sure as fuck doesn't care who gets hurt in the process."
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He rolls over. It just about puts him half on top of Dodger, looking up.
"That's not what I meant," He says, a little amused. "I don't care for law. Or what people are deciding is the correct path and people. I know well how that goes in my own time."
It's his turn to reach and touch Dodger's jaw. He leaves his hand there.
"I'm talking about the people who actually care. Who save the world because they're just... good. Who help people, as much as they can, because it's right. They make the world beautiful even if they never see that day. And I won't deny that they get more than their share of hurt." He draws his hand back but still smiles up. "But they're the people I count on. Those are the people who would make sure that my family has a world to live in. They're too rare as it is for those people to be cast down here too. But in any case, besides the literal makings of Gods, those people are angels. I'm a man who's trying his best." He sits up a little. "...Though, I suppose, I am human. That's up to you if you'll believe me."
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"What you're describing is my job back home. And you don't think I'm a hero, right?"
No, he really doesn't get it. And there's a twitch in his expression when Hector draws his hand back, questioning him, just for a moment. It's enough to distract him when Hector starts to sit up, and his fingers tighten a bit against his side.
"You really make it hard to resist you." But he doesn't rise up, doesn't chase if Hector doesn't want it. He just watches him, with that cloudy look in his eyes.
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He really does sound apologetic. His smile is too.
"But, that doesn't mean I think you couldn't be. Someday. You surprise me sometimes. Maybe you'll really take that tattoo to heart, look out for those you can. Like you told me you and your mother did, when you were young."
As for resisting...
"And I'm sorry," He says. "I'll try to do better. I suppose it's a learning curve for me too."
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"I'm probably dead, back home. Who knows where I'll end up, if I work off my sins... but wherever it is, I'll do what I can. And you're... kinda right. I mean, the point of Atlas was to make things better for everyone, but we... lost sight of it. Or maybe that was never the real point. I don't know."
That smirk slides back onto his face with the apology, though.
"Oh, no you don't." He tugs Hector onto his lap. A pause, and he struggles for a moment with his thoughts. "I want you close. Please."
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He considers the name of the group; Atlas. He who lifts the world on his shoulders. A burden. At least, here, Dodger's free.
He laughs then as he's tugged over, flushed and maybe a little charmed despite himself. He pulls Dodger's arms around him and holds them there.
"At some point or other," He warns, "I'm going to have to tell you no more." For himself or for Dodger. But at least now Dodger's distracted him a little from his guilt. "And how do you want me? Just like this?"
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He rolls them over, pinning Hector to the bed with his hands on the younger man's wrists and a knee pressed between his legs. He pauses there, hesitating and pressing another kiss to his lips.
"...Is that alright?"
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The next kiss is softer, followed by quiet as he really tries to think the question over. He's got his own experiences, good and bad, to contented with.
"It's alright," He affirms, decisive in that. "I'll tell you if it's not. I promise."
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"I'll hold you to that."
His hands slide down Hector's arms, his palms warmed just until the air feels cold without them. He moves to unbutton Hector's shirt, pressing kisses along his skin as he uncovers it. His motions are slow, soft, checking every so often to make sure Hector is still enjoying it.
He finally pauses when he reaches Hector's belt, glancing up just to reassure himself again before he starts to unbuckle it.
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He watches Dodger move slowly down, eyes dark and heady with growing lust. But, his amusement is growing also, each time that Dodger double-check.
"Ay, you're so careful," He says. He shifts and tilts his hips so Dodger can do with his pants as he wills.
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