"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.
"Sorry, I'll rush next time." He teases, sinking his teeth lightly into Hector's inner thigh as he pulls his pants off.
He doesn't go straight to business - instead his mouth wanders along the younger man's skin, nipping gently at the sensitive spots around his inner thighs, running his tongue slowly over his balls and up the length of his cock. It's almost like he's doing this on purpose, torturing Hector with slow and careful motions as he gently explores the body he already knows quite well.
There's only a little bit of reprieve when he adds a hand to the mix, slowly stroking Hector as he glances up with a devilishly charming smile. "You look real gorgeous from here, y'knwo."
He snorts, but when he goes to say that's not what he meant, Dodger sinks teeth into his leg and all that comes out is a breath of noise. He's rendered to nothing but that, soft noise and shaking limbs, his fingers curling like claws in the blankets of the bed.
His face is flushed by the time Dodger gets a hand on him. He still manages to scoff anyway.
"You always say that. I'm starting to think you don't know what the word means," He laughs. "It's meant to denote beauty, not just getting what you want."
"And you're beautiful, when you're sitting right where I want you." He laughs softly, leaning back up to sink his teeth into Hector's neck this time, just beside his throat. He has to be careful, the demonic influence has left his teeth sharp and jagged, but the soft flesh is almost too hard to resist. And he pulls back to press a kiss to Hector's lips instead.
"Why don't you sing for me, songbird?"
Finally he slides back down, pausing just long enough to tease with his mouth barely touching the tip, before he starts to slowly suckle on the head of Hector's cock. And he'll move down but slowly, making the man whine and beg for every inch.
He tries to roll his eyes but then Dodger sinks in his teeth. He exhales heavy, shudders and hums. He returns the kiss, smiling into it, but then he freezes.
Well well, what have we here? A little songbird in Hell? Will you sing for me...?
He jerks into motion. His knees swing up, whacking Dodger on the way. He drops back down, unable to curl up with Dodger on half of him but hiding his face in his hands all the same.
Dodger doesn't have any time to react, before Hector's knee cracks against the side of his head. It takes every inch of self-control not to bite down on him, but he chokes a bit and yanks backward to catch his breath.
He isn't sure what he did, but it was too much. Something was too much. He hesitants before worming his way between Hector's legs, gently sliding his hands back the musician's wrists to uncover his face.
"Hey. You're fine." He hesitates before stealing a soft kiss. "I'm sorry. I'll go slower."
There's a terrible moment when Dodger grabs his wrists that he thinks that that monster will be the one pulling at him. He tenses easing slow only because the grip is light, hardly a grip at all.
But his expression is twisted miserably, even when Dodger kisses him.
"That's not it. That not it." He shakes his head. "Wasn't you. I just remembered something. The songbird... I'm sorry."
Under the fear now, he just feels terribly ashamed. How embarrassing.
Dodger's brow knits, and he slips his hands around Hector to hold him. He'll tangle their bodies together as much as the man will let him, to let him know he's safe.
"Don't apologize. I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't know." One of his hands finds Hector's hair, and he runs his fingers through it softly, pressing another kiss to Hector's brow. "If you need me to stop, I will."
He still feels so stupid, half-naked like this but he lets Dodger move over him, wrapping himself around too. It makes Dodger a shield, but the danger's only in his head.
It takes him a minute, a long few minutes, before he can breathe right, let alone answer. He closes his eyes a while and just feels the man's warmth.
"Was before I met you." He's not sure why he needs to make the distinction. Maybe to say that it wasn't the demons of Hell exactly, not the same thing he pulled Dodger out of the bar for way back when. "They made monsters of men. He found me. I thought he wanted a song. He..."
He moves his hands. He turns them over, palm up. There's a sharp line on one and a messy scar on the other, a show of knives, one of them twisted. He's got Hell's healing to thank for moving them at all.
"Pinned me on a table in the kitchen. He took apart my guitar. And me." His hand traces over his own chest. There's a line along his collarbone, making a T shape down his sternum and stomach. "I can't remember it all. But he called me his songbird. He wanted me to sing. I'm such a mess. I'm sorry. I don't want to punish you because I'm... stupid. Just... just give me a bit." And as if Dodger would even say no, he asks, "Can I keep holding you?"
His brow furrows a bit, and he takes one of Hector's hands to press his lips to the scar. His lips travel down, pressing soft kisses all along his wrist and his arm.
"I..." He pauses, and lets out a quiet sigh. "Whatever you need. Stay close to me, just breathe."
In the meantime he slips a hand into Hector's hair, playing with the strands idly while he watches over him.
"Lots of people have been leaving, lately... you think that man's still around?"
He gives in to the feeling of Dodger playing with his hair. It eases his breath further. He'd almost forgotten the comfort he used to seek, the reason he'd ever felt he needed Dodger at all. He wanted the man more than he did then, but he also needed him less these days.
"No," He admits softly. "He's been gone a long time." Which is a solace, but also just shows how foolish this fear is. On the other hand... "It was never really him. The monster they made of him, he was nothing like the man he was. He was so guilty after. I didn't even recognize him until he spoke."
He's quiet for a long moment. He sits there listening to Dodger's pulse.
"I forget about him sometimes, would you believe that? It just doesn't cross my mind. But I think about him, those early days. Everything's different. You. Me. I wonder if I'd recognize myself."
He turns and he reaches out. He pulls Dodger closer to him and this time it's he who goes for a kiss.
"Thank you. We had a rough start... and some part in the middle... but I'm glad you're here." A beat. "Not in Hell, just in general. With me. Does that make sense?"
"You never call me stupid for being afraid of the men who hurt me. So don't call yourself stupid for what he did to you."
Dodger leans into the kiss, and then settles into the bed. His breathing slows and he just holds him, and that last admission makes him laugh under his breath.
"Sometimes you make me wish I could love you. That we could just... it could just me us. Like in that VR thing, but... better." He hesitates, "Traveling around, singing songs together, just... us. Not worrying about anyone else."
It feels like treason. The exact same way he'd strayed from Ivar the moment they became official, he's cast his eyes on a greener pasture. It muddies his expression, and the ghost of a smile fades from his face.
"I'm glad I have you, Hector. I don't know how I'd manage without you."
It hits like a pang, but he doesn't argue it. He wouldn't call Dodger stupid for all that. Never.
And so, he's forced to acknowledge his hypocrisy. For now.
He listens to Dodger's confession and it actually manages to draw his smile back. He shakes his head. Dodger might might be thinking this makes him stray but...
"No you don't," He says back, warmly. Fond. "You don't want to love me. Even in that dream I longed for home. To stop and simply be. I couldn't take a life like that. Not anymore. And if you'd caught me all those years ago, a younger man..." He laughs to himself. "No, I think that would still be too much chaos for the both of us." What a disaster that would be.
He brushes some of Dodger's hair back from his face.
"We would be better friends. Far better. If we could stop messing around."
"Then I'd follow you home. And we'd... I don't know. Get some dogs, adopt a kid. I'd run a bike shop and you could just make music for yourself. We could just let the world get on without us."
It's a pointless fantasy. And a dangerous one. But he can't help wanting to reach for that glimmer of hope, the thought of finally being happy.
"You're right, y'know. You're always right."
And yet even as he says that, his hands are straying down to Hector's hips and then down to grope his ass, while Dodger tugs him into a deeper, more passionate kiss.
"You'd hate it," He says, still gentle, but making up for the lack of reason and logic in Dodger's dream. "Presuming my family just didn't exist, my town is still small and the bikes you know don't exist yet besides. A dog would be another mouth to feed who couldn't help out, and we'd never be allowed a child between the two of us. I'd stop making music to take another job and we'd need the town to support whatever we did. We'd be forbidden to love, and after all that, you would still love Fran."
They have, as he's thought many times but perhaps not said enough, very different worlds. Dodger says he's always right and he leans into the man. He wishes that were true.
He's groped, the noise he makes lost in that kiss. And always, he kisses back, because he's weak and stupid and wanting. His heart has a piece torn out for this man. Yet, he feels like he's the one who's going to have to put some distance. He's a little dazed, more than a little longing, when the kiss breaks.
Still, he says, "You love Fran. You love him, not just wishing you did. He makes you feel different. And he hasn't asked all the hardest things of you. You'll figure out yourself and then you won't need to wonder these things that you do." He kisses softer. His voice turns to a whisper in Dodger's ear. "Take me this time. Then, next time, let's try it the other way, without this. Okay?"
Of course Hector has to be realistic. And it's not as if his own world would be any better. Hector would be a liability, Dodger would have to hide him away from the world or they would hide their love to keep Hector safe. Dodger's criminal record is four inches thick and he's classified as a high-risk mutant, he'd never be allowed to adopt. And Francis...
...He isn't sure he would still love Francis. The connection isn't as strong as the one Hector has with his wife. He's moved on so easily before, who knows how long his love for Francis will last.
It sets something off, gnawing at the back of his mind, but he tries to ignore it. Because Hector is still talking and fuck, it's exactly what he needs. The reassurance and... the offer. He opens his mouth as if to speak, wavering, but there aren't really words for what he's feeling. He just cups Hector's cheek and pulls him closer, kissing him almost desperately as his other hand tugs his shirt off, tosses it aside and guides Hector's hand down toward Dodger's belt.
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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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He doesn't go straight to business - instead his mouth wanders along the younger man's skin, nipping gently at the sensitive spots around his inner thighs, running his tongue slowly over his balls and up the length of his cock. It's almost like he's doing this on purpose, torturing Hector with slow and careful motions as he gently explores the body he already knows quite well.
There's only a little bit of reprieve when he adds a hand to the mix, slowly stroking Hector as he glances up with a devilishly charming smile. "You look real gorgeous from here, y'knwo."
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His face is flushed by the time Dodger gets a hand on him. He still manages to scoff anyway.
"You always say that. I'm starting to think you don't know what the word means," He laughs. "It's meant to denote beauty, not just getting what you want."
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"Why don't you sing for me, songbird?"
Finally he slides back down, pausing just long enough to tease with his mouth barely touching the tip, before he starts to slowly suckle on the head of Hector's cock. And he'll move down but slowly, making the man whine and beg for every inch.
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Well well, what have we here? A little songbird in Hell? Will you sing for me...?
He jerks into motion. His knees swing up, whacking Dodger on the way. He drops back down, unable to curl up with Dodger on half of him but hiding his face in his hands all the same.
"Sorry. I'm sorry."
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He isn't sure what he did, but it was too much. Something was too much. He hesitants before worming his way between Hector's legs, gently sliding his hands back the musician's wrists to uncover his face.
"Hey. You're fine." He hesitates before stealing a soft kiss. "I'm sorry. I'll go slower."
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But his expression is twisted miserably, even when Dodger kisses him.
"That's not it. That not it." He shakes his head. "Wasn't you. I just remembered something. The songbird... I'm sorry."
Under the fear now, he just feels terribly ashamed. How embarrassing.
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"Don't apologize. I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't know." One of his hands finds Hector's hair, and he runs his fingers through it softly, pressing another kiss to Hector's brow. "If you need me to stop, I will."
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It takes him a minute, a long few minutes, before he can breathe right, let alone answer. He closes his eyes a while and just feels the man's warmth.
"Was before I met you." He's not sure why he needs to make the distinction. Maybe to say that it wasn't the demons of Hell exactly, not the same thing he pulled Dodger out of the bar for way back when. "They made monsters of men. He found me. I thought he wanted a song. He..."
He moves his hands. He turns them over, palm up. There's a sharp line on one and a messy scar on the other, a show of knives, one of them twisted. He's got Hell's healing to thank for moving them at all.
"Pinned me on a table in the kitchen. He took apart my guitar. And me." His hand traces over his own chest. There's a line along his collarbone, making a T shape down his sternum and stomach. "I can't remember it all. But he called me his songbird. He wanted me to sing. I'm such a mess. I'm sorry. I don't want to punish you because I'm... stupid. Just... just give me a bit." And as if Dodger would even say no, he asks, "Can I keep holding you?"
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His brow furrows a bit, and he takes one of Hector's hands to press his lips to the scar. His lips travel down, pressing soft kisses all along his wrist and his arm.
"I..." He pauses, and lets out a quiet sigh. "Whatever you need. Stay close to me, just breathe."
In the meantime he slips a hand into Hector's hair, playing with the strands idly while he watches over him.
"Lots of people have been leaving, lately... you think that man's still around?"
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"No," He admits softly. "He's been gone a long time." Which is a solace, but also just shows how foolish this fear is. On the other hand... "It was never really him. The monster they made of him, he was nothing like the man he was. He was so guilty after. I didn't even recognize him until he spoke."
He's quiet for a long moment. He sits there listening to Dodger's pulse.
"I forget about him sometimes, would you believe that? It just doesn't cross my mind. But I think about him, those early days. Everything's different. You. Me. I wonder if I'd recognize myself."
He turns and he reaches out. He pulls Dodger closer to him and this time it's he who goes for a kiss.
"Thank you. We had a rough start... and some part in the middle... but I'm glad you're here." A beat. "Not in Hell, just in general. With me. Does that make sense?"
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Dodger leans into the kiss, and then settles into the bed. His breathing slows and he just holds him, and that last admission makes him laugh under his breath.
"Sometimes you make me wish I could love you. That we could just... it could just me us. Like in that VR thing, but... better." He hesitates, "Traveling around, singing songs together, just... us. Not worrying about anyone else."
It feels like treason. The exact same way he'd strayed from Ivar the moment they became official, he's cast his eyes on a greener pasture. It muddies his expression, and the ghost of a smile fades from his face.
"I'm glad I have you, Hector. I don't know how I'd manage without you."
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And so, he's forced to acknowledge his hypocrisy. For now.
He listens to Dodger's confession and it actually manages to draw his smile back. He shakes his head. Dodger might might be thinking this makes him stray but...
"No you don't," He says back, warmly. Fond. "You don't want to love me. Even in that dream I longed for home. To stop and simply be. I couldn't take a life like that. Not anymore. And if you'd caught me all those years ago, a younger man..." He laughs to himself. "No, I think that would still be too much chaos for the both of us." What a disaster that would be.
He brushes some of Dodger's hair back from his face.
"We would be better friends. Far better. If we could stop messing around."
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It's a pointless fantasy. And a dangerous one. But he can't help wanting to reach for that glimmer of hope, the thought of finally being happy.
"You're right, y'know. You're always right."
And yet even as he says that, his hands are straying down to Hector's hips and then down to grope his ass, while Dodger tugs him into a deeper, more passionate kiss.
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They have, as he's thought many times but perhaps not said enough, very different worlds. Dodger says he's always right and he leans into the man. He wishes that were true.
He's groped, the noise he makes lost in that kiss. And always, he kisses back, because he's weak and stupid and wanting. His heart has a piece torn out for this man. Yet, he feels like he's the one who's going to have to put some distance. He's a little dazed, more than a little longing, when the kiss breaks.
Still, he says, "You love Fran. You love him, not just wishing you did. He makes you feel different. And he hasn't asked all the hardest things of you. You'll figure out yourself and then you won't need to wonder these things that you do." He kisses softer. His voice turns to a whisper in Dodger's ear. "Take me this time. Then, next time, let's try it the other way, without this. Okay?"
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...He isn't sure he would still love Francis. The connection isn't as strong as the one Hector has with his wife. He's moved on so easily before, who knows how long his love for Francis will last.
It sets something off, gnawing at the back of his mind, but he tries to ignore it. Because Hector is still talking and fuck, it's exactly what he needs. The reassurance and... the offer. He opens his mouth as if to speak, wavering, but there aren't really words for what he's feeling. He just cups Hector's cheek and pulls him closer, kissing him almost desperately as his other hand tugs his shirt off, tosses it aside and guides Hector's hand down toward Dodger's belt.
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