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It wasn't meant to get to this point, really. But Flame was just so persuasive, and, really, a part of him wanted it to be true. Wanted it to be real.
But then Flame gasps out his name again, a whiny “Lomedy” and he's here again. And it is real. Flame in his lap - slowly riding his cock. His hands gripping onto Flame's waist. He can't get his lover's (are they even still lovers at this point?) name past his own lips.
A mere grunt leaves him as Flame comes down again. He can't deny that the sensation of heat engulfing his cock feels good. It's just-
Flame flutters his eyes open, mouth still agape with a moan, and stares Lomedy straight down. Lomedy knows what he looks like, staring back at Flame. His eyebrows are borrowed in a frown, and maybe, maybe Flame is lost in the moment enough to just excuse it as focus. He hopes so. Doesn't really know why he hopes so, why he still cares, but he does.
It'd started about an hour ago, Flame showed up at his door. Again. After he'd told him not to over and over and-
“Come on, bro. At least this doesn't have to change.” Flame has this almost desperate look in his eyes. Maybe that's what persuaded Lomedy. He's not quite sure he's ever seen Flame desperate for sex before. Flame likes sex, sure, but he's also fine without. Always has been. They just did it for the intimacy. Or to blow off steam. Or to get Flame out his head. But Flame would never straight-up beg. Sure, maybe if they were already going, as part of sex. But never just- like this.
Lomedy had averted his gaze, but when his eyes fell on Flame's… They looked almost wet, glossed over as they were. He tried to stop it, step away from Flame again, a deep sigh and a “Bro…”
Ultimately, he relented.
There wasn't anything else he could do.
Not when Flame looked at him like… that. Like he'd maybe, just maybe, deserved one more chance.
Lomedy couldn't do it, though. He couldn't. He'd already decided long before that they were done.
And every time Flame fluttered his eyes open to look at him, moaned on his cock, said his name, it ached. His heart ached.
He tried. Averted his gaze from Flame without letting him know, feel, anything. He ducked his head down, laid it in Flame's neck. Feigned pleasure.
Closed his eyes, sucked a mark down, and maybe, for a second he wasn't there, now. For a second he was back to months ago - before he knew all of this. Before he knew of all those deaths, pointless deaths.
But when he closed his eyes all he could see was that cemetery. He'd passed through it. Just once.
He could still recall the etching of every name, every ‘Unknown’ etched into the stone there.
Every death. Caused by the man on top of him.
He bit down, without meaning to.
A low moan pulled him out of it. He opened his eyes, again, pulled away a bit.
Shit. He could see the mark starting to form there. Hadn't meant to leave anything - any traces of himself.
Ah, fuck it.
He let his head drop to Flame's chest instead, let his hand drop to Flame's dick. A low whine was let out above him.
It didn't take long, after that. Flame moaned out his name again and Lomedy swore his vision whited out with, for the first time, anger pointed towards Flame.
He bucked his hips up, roughly fucking into Flame, as he quickly jerked Flame off to completion. With a high pitched moan, the man in his lap came.
Lomedy's anger faded away.
Now just settling into a mellow, faint stream under his skin.
Always present.
And maybe he needed this. One last thing, just, that. To cement it.
There was nothing left, here. It's over.
Whatever they had, it's gone. Broken by a lack of trust.
He didn't spare Flame a glance again, after that. It's not like he noticed - Flame was far too lost in the ecstasy of his orgasm and then haze of his post-orgasm to notice that Lomedy hadn't even come.
He pulled Flame's limp body off his cock, laying him down on the bed. He wasn't rough with Flame's body - couldn't bring himself to be rough with him.
He laid down, himself, too. Body facing away from Flame.
His body shuddered, as he heard a soft “Thank you” muttered into the air behind him.
By the time Flame's breathing had eased out into a soft, easy sound, Lomedy quietly left the bed.
He turned around at the door. Wasn't even sure why he did.
Maybe he just needed to look at Flame, one last time.
Flame, on his bed, laying there peacefully. Chest rising with each slow breath.
His eyes fell on that mark, just on the edge of Flame's collarbone.
It'd probably fade, soon enough.