Lucius scrambled to do as he was told. It was uncoordinated, like the fumbling movements of a newborn deer, but he managed. Tossed his pajama pants and boxers off the side of the bed. Corbin had turned back to him. Was staring at him through those thick, pretty lashes of his and was taking in the sight as if he were a work of art.

He shuddered, laying some of his weight against him, just his lower body so their hips could be aligned, and pushed them together that way. Corbin's breath hitched in his throat as he moved with him, planting his feet on the bed to give himself better leverage to thrust up. 

Lucius wasn't going to last long. Luckily, Corbin wasn't going to either judging by the way his breathing had crescendoed again. Lucius pushed his face into Corbin's throat, feeling the thin layer of sweat there. Taking in his scent. 

He laid his tongue against the dip in his throat and Corbin moaned, loud. Too loud. Gior and Ian were next door. What if they heard? Were they even back yet? Lucius still didn't know what time it was. 

None of it mattered. Let Corbin be as loud as he needed to be. Let them hear. Let time be lost and let this feeling last forever, if it could.

Corbin had wrapped his arms around him, was digging his fingers into his shoulders and probably leaving behind the indents of his nails.

"Come on," he breathed. "Come on. I'm so fucking close—"

"Go ahead," Lucius whispered, surprised when the words came out relatively steady. He put a little space between them so he could grab them together, thrusting against Corbin and stroking them all at once. Velvet skin slid hotly against his own. So wet and vulgar and god, he needed Corbin to come. Lucius didn't think he was gonna last even a few more seconds.

As if he'd heard the thought, Corbin suddenly threw his head back, sucking in gasping breaths as he painted his stomach and Lucius's hand both in strips of white. It was as if a scream had gotten stuck in his throat. That was a shame. What Lucius would have done to hear it.

Lucius followed closely after, letting out an explosive breath and splattering Corbin’s stomach. It felt as if his thoughts blinked out for a second. As if his mind had left him behind briefly, slow to return. He let go of them, leaning back on his heels to watch the way Corbin's chest rose and fell as he tried to catch his breath. He'd thrown an arm across his face, hiding. 

His eyes fell to the space between his legs. He’d already gone soft, and he looked more vulnerable this way. He touched him, curious for his reaction, and felt a small flicker of interest at the way he gasped. 

Lucius bent down to lick across his stomach, tasting the mix of them on the bed of his tongue. That earned him a proper moan, Corbin's hand shooting down to pull at his hair. He didn't stop until their spend was completely gone. Corbin's body went limp when he pulled away. 

"Corby," Lucius whispered. He was still hiding behind his arm. He reached for it. "Are you okay?"

Corbin slapped his hand away and sat up. His breathing had finally begun to slow, but he still looked worn out. Tired. 

"Why wouldn't I be?" Corbin asked. "Go get a damp towel."

"You were—"

"Stop talking. Go."

Lucius went to get a towel. He felt so warm. Sated. Happier than he'd felt in a while, and he couldn't remember what he'd been so worried about. He wiped himself down a bit before rinsing the towel out, ringing it, and bringing it to Corbin.

Somehow, in the couple of minutes the action had taken, it felt as if the room had dropped fifty degrees upon reentry.

Corbin took the towel from him, wiping himself down quickly. Dispassionately. He threw it at Lucius's chest when he was finished and stood to pick up his discarded undergarments. He stepped into them in silence.

"Corby—"

"Get dressed," he snapped, so cold. It shot a shiver up his spine. "What are you standing there for?"

Lucius was frozen. Unreasonably shocked. He pulled his boxers back on eventually. After many seconds that could have been hours of thinking. Trying to fight back the dread that was making a nest in the corner of his mind.

"Corbin—" he tried again and was cut off a second time.

"What?" Corbin hissed. He was holding his head as if Lucius was nothing but a nuisance. His worst, most persistent headache. As if he hated him. "Why do you always want to talk? Go to sleep."

"Why wouldn't we talk?" Lucius asked. He was beginning to feel nauseous again. "Didn't you like it?"

"I came, didn't I? What a stupid question—"

"Then why are you acting like this—"

"Like what?"

"Like an asshole!" Lucius said, raising his voice. "Like I did something wrong! You started it—"

"You climbed into my bed," Corbin pointed out, glaring at him. "You kissed me—"

"You told me to!"

"No, the fuck I didn't. What's up with you and seeing things only the way you want them to be seen? You're so pathetic—"

Lucius stepped into his space, anger flaring too fast for him to put it in check. This was unfair. Corbin was such a liar. 

"You know what you're doing," he said, voice dangerously lowered. The volume suited the moment. He was glaring back at him so close, their lashes would brush if he so much as twitched wrong. "And then you play the fool every fucking time. When will you stop running?"

Corbin's face twitched. He laughed, mocking and nasty. "Running? Why would I ever have to run from you. You don't matter to me like I matter to you."

The words were like a kick in the stomach. "Really? You just fuck anyone then?"

"We hardly fucked. We just humped each other like horny teenagers—"

"You put your dick in my mouth."

"No, I didn't." Corbin seemed to be on the edge of hysteria. Lucius couldn't feel too bad; he was right there with him. "Again, you did that. It's always you. Always your random declarations of love, you holding me, kissing me, sneaking into my bed at night and then calling me your friend. Talking about how it all means nothing. How you'll get married one day and I'll be your best man. It's always you."

"And what about you? You let me do those things, and then you act like you can't stand me! Dodging me, refusing to let me in, fighting me— Corbin, you've tried to kill me, you understand that? You've put a knife through me—"

"And yet you're still here! Begging for me as if you have nothing else!"

"I'm not desperate for you—"

"Oh, really—"

"You just make it really fucking hard to love you," Lucius said, eyes burning. A tear escaped and he stepped back from Corbin. Turning his face. Hoping he hadn't noticed. "And I really want to. That's all. If that makes me a fool, then fine."

Silence. Silence seemed to be their theme song whenever they were together. It was as good as it was bad.

"Lucius," Corbin whispered too many moments later. "My head hurts. I'm too drunk for this."

Lucius chewed holes into the insides of his cheeks. "Sure."

"We don't have to talk about it," Corbin said. His voice sounded so weak. "Go to sleep. In your own bed this time. Seriously."

Lucius, as always, listened. Like a perfectly tamed dog. He didn't even speak. He no longer had the confidence to test his voice. He no longer wanted to chance what Corbin might say in response.

He climbed into bed. Turned away from the window. Away from Corbin. The rustling of sheets behind him meant Corbin had climbed into bed, too.

Time still hadn't returned. The world went still, and it felt as if Lucius was the only thing living in it. His heart was aching, and it hurt so bad. His chest felt so tight. His vision was swimming and flooding his cheeks and everything was still besides him. 

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he blinked and the moon became the sun.

He noticed immediately that the room had been cleaned. Clothes folded and put neatly away. The trash tied. A glance over at Corbin's bed showed it'd been made and Corbin was off somewhere else. His briefest flareup of panic was calmed when he saw his luggage was still in the last place he'd seen it next to the door.

His thoughts were a temporary peace. Comically short lived.

Someone might as well have woken him up with a bucket of ice dumped over his head. It would have felt the exact same. 

What the hell had happened last night? 

He shot out of bed, rushing to the bathroom and scrubbing his face with his hands, clearing away the dried tear stains on his cheeks that served as proof that everything that should have just been a bad dream was reality. The sex. The argument. 

No. No, it still could've been a dream. He could have cried in his sleep. Corbin could be next door or with Elena and Juliet. He could’ve just stepped out for fresh air. 

None of this had to be real.

His head was pounding, sharp and maddening. It was a good thing he was already in the bathroom, because otherwise he might not have made it to the toilet in time when his stomach suddenly turned in on itself. 

He wretched until there was nothing in his stomach to expell. Kept going until his intestines had tied themselves in knots. He gasped at the way his stomach cramped, curling up on the floor. Dizzy and cold and anxious and angry and confused and a thousand other things all at once.

The bathroom door opened, slowly, and his eyes shot toward the movement. 

Corbin stepped through and it took everything in him not to burst into tears.

"Corby—"

"Hush," he whispered, his voice feather soft. He sat down on the bathroom floor beside him, leaning back against the tub. "You'll make it worse if you get all dramatic, you know? I wasn't much better hours ago. I drank way too much. You should've stopped me."

"What time is it?" Lucius asked. Only the stupid mundane questions. The easy ones.

"Eight," Corbin said. "Early wake up for you."

The words were teasing, but his tone fell flat. He sounded miserable.

Eight was early for both of them considering what had happened last night. Lucius wondered if Corbin had slept at all. 

"Last night..." he started to say and then trailed off. Why do you always want to talk, Corbin had said. He tredged on, anyway. This was important. They couldn't keep skirting around every little thing. Still, he struggled. Every possible word getting stuck in his throat. "Last night..."

"Hm?" Corbin hummed, encouraging him to continue.

"I wasn't trying to be pushy," Lucius said, figuring he should start there. "I wasn't trying to... I thought you wanted it. I'm not trying to ignore your boundaries—"

"What boundaries?" 

Lucius's brow furrowed. "What?"

Corbin looked at him for a long moment, studying him. His eyes looked empty. Sad and void all at once. Red and bloodshot, too. Swollen in his eyelids. He sighed, long and exhausted.

"I don't remember much from last night," he said, and Lucius felt as if he might wretch again. "Just... the club. Sorry about the..." He waved his hand around vaguely. "I guess I'm a touchy drunk, too. I don't know why I did that."

"Did what?"

"Pushing you down," he muttered. "At the booth. Biting you."

"I didn't mind," Lucius said quickly and Corbin snorted, derisive.

"Of course you didn't."

"You really don't remember anything that happened after?" Lucius asked. He'd hate either answer he had to give, but it was good to know. 

Corbin shrugged. "I vaguely remember making it back here. That's all. The rest of the night is blank."

Lucius hiccuped and reached out for him, shifting to lay his head in his lap. Corbin's hand fell to rest in his hair, scratching soothingly against his scalp as he cried. He didn't comment on it. On the origin of the tears or the way they were dampening his pants. He only held him— comforted him in the quietness floating serenely around them.

"You matter more to me than most things," Corbin whispered. Lucius blinked up at him and Corbin looked down at him with such care, it might have made him weak in the knees if he were standing. "I like you a lot, too. So much it hurts. I don't think I hate you— just the way you make me feel, sometimes."

Lucius's eyes widened. Where had that come from?

"I'm sorry," Corbin continued. The ball in his throat moved when he swallowed. "We're not the same. It's not your fault... I'm sorry. I don't mean to— Fuck. You're good, Lucius. Too good for me. I don't mean to ruin that."

"You don't," Lucius said. "How could you think that?"

"I ruin so much," Corbin said. "And it doesn't even take effort. It's not your fault. Nothing's your fault. It's just how I am."

"That's not—"

"Don't lie to me," Corbin interrupted. He cleared his throat. Tapped a finger against his temple. "Up. I'm gonna go for a walk. Gior's playing mother hen right now— he'll take care of you."

Lucius sat up slowly, wincing at the way it felt like his brain flipped in his head with the slight movement. 

"Corby—" 

Corbin was out the door faster than he could continue. Lucius's mouth shut belatedly.

Something was wrong. There was something that didn't make sense, and he didn't know what it was, but his instincts were screaming at him. A blaring alarm with unknown consequence. He took Corbin's advice and went to find Gior immediately.