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Kevin traces a finger along the still fresh cuts on Cecil’s cheeks. He’s gentle, almost uncharacteristically so, Cecil would have claimed months earlier. He knows better now.
But the not quite healed skin is still sensitive where his partner had taken a knife to it not a few hours ago. The blood doesn’t drip as freely as it had, but Kevin still does his best to spread it around. To paint Cecil in the most beautiful of colours.
His face and shoulders are already covered in intricate patterns, but it doesn’t stop Kevin from drawing more.
It doesn’t help the hurt that the skin of his cheeks is stretched out, straining, just as Cecil’s lips have been stretched around Kevin’s cock for the past couple of hours. Cecil delights in it. The pain is a constant reminder, intentionally, but not cruelly so.
Cecil can’t help but smile at the attention, letting out a soft, content hum. He could feel the organ in his mouth twitch slightly, and tries desperately to keep still. To not take it further into his throat to bring pleasure to his partner. At least in that particular way.
Kevin delights in playing with him like this. Cecil is almost as fond of this game.
Anyway, even the minute movement tears the healing skin anew. It’s almost too much to bear. It makes Cecil feel all the more alive. All the more in love.
Kevin laughs fondly in response, cupping his cheek. He lets it rest there, watching Cecil intently. Being watched constantly is a familiar feeling, but there is a special sort of intimacy when it’s someone so special to him.
Cecil would lean into the touch, if he could. Instead, he kneels patiently between his partner’s legs, head almost resting on his lap, and takes in the affectionate gestures he’s given. Kevin isn’t stringent with them in the slightest.
There is a hand stroking through his messy curls, even as the other maintains its position on his cheek, continuing to stroke the smile the man carved into it himself. The smile that would soon match Kevin’s own beautiful scars.
Each touch brings fire to his skin.
Each touch is followed by loving, gentle shushing noises.
Each touch is a point of comfort.
Cecil feels overwhelmed by it all. By careful affection. By undivided, searing attention. By the intense feeling of belonging.
“You look beautiful like this, darling,” Kevin says. And Cecil can’t not believe him. Not with all the reverence in his voice as he says it. Not with the unrestrained and obvious love present in every movement, every touch.
Something that echoed in the way Kevin spoke of him from the very beginning.
Cecil didn’t understand it back then. He might just be beginning to understand now.
And he lets himself relax, held by someone he was so afraid of not long ago. Someone he can’t bring himself to fear or despise now.
He’s safe. He's warm. He's loved.
He doesn’t need anything more.