Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bdubs looked tiny underneath him.

Usually, his personality made up for his height; he was loud and bold and confident, and it had the intentional and premeditated effect of making him seem bigger than he actually was, by nothing more than sheer force of will. He took up so much space wherever he went that it was easy to forget, sometimes, that it was nothing more than a facade. It was something Etho admired about him as someone who was the exact opposite.

Then, however, Bdubs looked tiny in his hands, and Etho realized that he loved to see him like that, too.

Etho’s thumb almost reached his belly button from where he was holding him by the waist, pale skin over sunkissed tummy. It seemed far too big on top of it, almost bordering on fictional. 

His skin was soft, Etho found as we caressed it softly. Bdubs exhaled shakily.

It felt unreal to touch him like that, to know he was even allowed to do so. And yet, Bdubs was looking up at Etho with big eyes, gaze nothing short of adoring, dazed by the fact that Etho wanted to touch at all. 

It made no sense, in Etho's head. Who wouldn't want to?

It didn't occur to him that it was a matter of respect. Etho didn’t like people touching him, and Bdubs knew it. So he never reached out; he made sure to avoid contact unless strictly necessary, and made sure to clearly announce his actions when it was unavoidable. He respected Etho’s wishes.

But Etho liked touching Bdubs, and it seemed that Bdubs liked it when Etho touched him.

So he laid there, boneless against the bed, relishing the moment, and Etho let himself touch, let himself run a hand up Bdubs’ belly, then further up his chest, slowly, softly, only stopping when his palm rested on his friend’s cheek. His thumb rubbed against it experimentally. The skin was soft there, too.

Bdubs leaned into it, maybe unconsciously, probably unconsciously, but he seemed too entranced to do anything else, be it move or close his eyes or say anything at all.

Etho let out a breath. He looked beautiful. Holding him like that felt like holding something holy, something immensely powerful yet oh so fragile.

He leaned down, hesitant but longing. Bdubs made a pained sound and met him halfway.

The skin of Bdubs’ lips, Etho found, was the softest of all. He gently pushed him back down so his back hit the mattress. He obliged easily, letting Etho do with him as he wished. As he always did. As he loved to do.

Etho kissed him softly but thoroughly, kissed him until Bdubs knew he was loved, and then kissed him some more.

It felt right, as though it was the only possible conclusion to what they had, the thing that transcended logic and was just simply nature. It hadn't always been there; it had taken years for Etho to even start a conversation between them himself, but he had started doing it at some point, and Bdubs was the only one with that privilege. 

Etho was aware of it. He wouldn't be able to explain what made him special, but there was something that made him different in his eyes, something that explained why he acted like he did and why he didn't mind what was going on at all, in spite of hating the act in general.

He was out of his depth here. He was much more experienced punching and kicking people. But it was Bdubs, and Etho knew he didn't have to worry, not with him. Regardless, he was feeling so much that there was no space for worry in his chest.

Etho didn’t like touching people nor people touching him, but Bdubs was always the exception to all of his rules.

So he kissed him and basked in the warmth of his touch. And, after that, he basked in the look in his eyes when he looked at him.

Etho just– He wanted– He needed–

He kissed him again. 

He couldn't help it. Not when it was him.

It was wild to think about how they’d gotten there, how it had all started. Etho never would've imagined it.

They had been setting up to sleep their first night away when Etho voiced the question that had been stuck inside his head since the incident with Grian.

“You didn’t kill me," he had said. It wasn't phrased like a question. It was one, still.

Bdubs had paused where he was arranging his bedsheets. He sat down in his bed, slowly, putting off answering. Etho didn’t repeat himself, he knew Bdubs enough.

"Wouldn't do that to you,” Bdubs had replied eventually. “Couldn’t.”

Etho had realized, then, that it had been obvious. Bdubs would never go against him, would never oppose him, never had. And though he had known, Etho hadn’t ever really thought about it. Not until then.

The realization made him feel like he’d just been trampled, like he was then closer to asphyxiation than he’d ever been beneath water. 

So Etho had reached out.

Etho had grabbed Bdubs’s arm, almost on instinct, almost hiding behind the pretense of instincts to do what he wanted to do. Bdubs had been surprised, had looked up at him with his wide eyes at the unexpected act.

Etho knew it was strange, but he just–

“Let me?” he had asked. He didn’t know what he meant. He didn’t care; he’d figure it out along the way, he just needed to–

“Yes,” Bdubs had replied instantly. “Yes.”

Etho’s hands were on him in an instant.

It was wild to think that this all had been started by such a simple confession, nothing more than six words after the thousands upon thousands they had shared across the years. 

(Though it hadn’t, it really hadn’t. It had started years ago, in a different world, when they had first met. It had started then and a million times again after that, too. Time and time again, never leading to anything concrete, being the most stable thing in both their lives, being constant and futile and absolutely wonderful.)

Etho kissed him and touched him and made up for all the years he hadn’t.

He let his hand wander down, then further down. He broke the kiss, had to try, had to ask. Quietly, almost fearfully, although never more confident.

“May I?”

Normally, Bdubs would smile, would laugh, would still be loud and gaudy, but right then he just looked small.

“Yes,” he said, and Etho finally understood why people liked to hold other people. “Always.”

Etho undid his belt buckle then unbuttoned his pants. He’d learned over the years that the laces of Bdubs’s shoes were fake, had made fun of him for it more than once. For all that he’d laughed, it came in handy then.

He paused one last time.

“Bdubs, are you sure?”

He looked at him from his place by his legs, hand resting on his ankle before removing his second shoe—before being past the point of no return.

“Yes,” Bdubs said again, same as always, meant it as much as he had every time he’d said it before. “God, Etho, yes.”

He got rid of his shoe.

Everything after that felt like a blur. Never clearer, though. Etho could remember each and every single one of the sensations, the strange and steadfast turmoil of feelings that had made a home in his chest, and how it made it feel as though every act was blending together. 

He remembered, though, that he’d kissed him more even after undressing him head to toes, just because he could. He remembered being kissed in return, remembered the way he couldn’t finish wrapping his head around it, around the fact that it was Bdubs he was kissing, around the fact that it was Bdubs who was kissing him like that.

He remembered slowly making his way down Bdubs’s chest, kisses trailing lower and lower. He remembered kissing the old scar on his hip where he had once gotten shot during UHC, and kissing the faded stretch marks beside it, too. He remembered the look in Bdubs’s eyes as he finally wrapped his mouth around him, the specific way in which he whined and begged and sobbed.

He remembered how prettily his eyelashes had fluttered as he slowly fit a finger inside him.

Bdubs had always complained about how unfairly big his hands were. He wasn’t complaining then. He sobbed harder, though, and begged further.

He whined and begged, though he was anything but coherent. He begged for Etho to kiss him some more, to make him feel good, to just do whatever he wanted with him. And Etho had always had a soft spot for him, had always indulged him, usually after some light teasing.

He didn’t feel like teasing Bdubs then. Not when he had him under him like that.

He indulged him then, as he always did. Etho thought he must’ve been breaking him in half, surely, but Bdubs only whimpered and took it, sheets scrunched up in his fists. He took it, just like he'd always take anything Etho offered him.

But Etho really wanted to make him feel good—that was the point. He stopped, tried to give him some time to adjust. The stretch was a lot; he could feel it in the tightness around him, could see it where he wasn't even halfway in and yet Bdubs' eyes were scrunched up tight, but he wasn't telling him to stop.

It dawned on Etho that he was trusting him to be careful, to take care of him. Bdubs trusted Etho would know him and love him enough to know what was best for him.

It made Etho's chest ache. He had already known that, but he hadn't realized it until then. It made him stop altogether.

He softened his hold on Bdubs's side, touch becoming feather-like as a wave of something made its way down his body, lighting up every single one the molecules and cells and atoms that made up his body in the process. He could feel every inch of skin that was in contact with Bdubs’s keenly; the expanse of his hand resting over his lower abdomen and covering it whole, the soft hip he held carefully in his other hand, all of him.

He looked so small. Etho wanted nothing more than to take care of him, to make him feel good.

He let out a slow exhale, trying to clear his head, to stop himself from feeling all he was feeling. It didn’t work; he couldn’t manage it when he had Bdubs like that in front of him, when Bdubs was letting him have him.

He moved his hand from his abdomen to his face, stroked his cheek slowly, if only to get him to relax and look at him, and then kissed him when he did.

God, he loved him.

And Bdubs didn’t stop him, didn’t hurry him, didn’t ask for anything more. He seemed content to take whatever Etho was willing to offer.

He gasped into Etho’s mouth as he slowly finished pushing in.

He cried and smiled softly. Etho kissed away his tears. Bdubs held on to him. 

Etho kept at it, held him through it, didn’t let go of him until he was begging for just a little bit more, just a little bit more, please, please, please.

He held him as he came, tried to let go after that, to finish himself off, but Bdubs’s grip only tightened.

“‘s fine,” he said. “Want to make you feel good, too.”

Etho closed his eyes tighter and hugged him even closer, getting increasingly closer and closer to the edge until he tumbled over it, encouraged by his words and by how unexpectedly frail and lovely Bdubs looked under him. 

He held him then, and then some more after that. He just needed Bdubs to know he was loved. 

He was. He was truly, deeply loved. 

Etho would be happy to show him as many times as it took him to believe it.