Archive of Our Own ^beta

Caleb really was desperately attracted to his boyfriend. It was a good thing too, because, by all accounts, Molly felt much the same way. The days and months that followed his foray into his past left him exhausted and somewhat off balance. He had had an understood image of himself and his life for the longest time, and in a matter of three days, that had been completely obliterated. He was left afloat, with no idea what he was supposed to do with himself after.

Luckily, Mollymauk was there, and Mollymauk had plenty of ideas of what to do with him. Caleb couldn’t deny the unadulterated, raw sexiness of Mollymauk Tealeaf, not was he the kind of person who put too much thought into sex. He liked it, sometimes he needed it, and before he had met this motley crew of misfits, he had taken it where he could. Caleb was fragile, sometimes, but he had no qualms about flirting his way into the pants of whomever he chose that evening. It was business. It was a transaction. He knew that he was getting what he needed and the other person was getting what they needed, and afterwards, they would go their separate ways. They never had to see too deeply into him. They never had to know the cracks inside of him.

But Mollymauk could see inside of him. Mollymauk had seen him at his worst. He had seen the things that made Caleb’s soul ache.

And that was dangerous.

Caleb knew that Molly wouldn’t hurt him. He knew in his head that Mollymauk would never use any of the information that he had to harm him. But there was an instinct in him that made him curl away from that intimacy. To bear his chest to someone else was to give them the ability to tear at his heart.

Molly didn’t tear. Molly kissed at it.

Caleb was somewhat obsessed with Mollymauk’s lips. They curled lovingly around his sharp teeth, twitched into smiles and frowns and spat out words in languages he couldn’t understand. And they lavished the skin of chest, hot and slick and biting at bits of him, leaving a trail of bruises down the line of his ribcage.

Caleb had his fingers tangled in Molly’s hair, gripping at his head, tugging slightly. Molly hummed into his skin, slinked up his body, curved to the right, and bit at Caleb’s nipple. He tossed his head back, his grip on Molly’s hair tightened and tugged. He moaned deep in his chest.

“What can I do for you, darling?” Molly growled. He did a lot when he was splayed on top of Caleb, dressed loosely in his briefs and his flowered kimono. Caleb couldn’t love it more.

He couldn’t find any words. He couldn’t figure out exactly what he wanted. Mostly his brain just chanted Molly, Molly, Molly.

“Bren,” Molly said, his voice softer, lacking an edge. It caught Caleb’s attention, brought him back to himself. Caleb focused in on Molly’s bright eyes, his head resting on Caleb’s chest. “Baby, are you good?”

And to be honest, Caleb didn’t know. He was somewhere between himself and someone else, drifting in a way that was sometimes good and sometimes bad. He couldn’t quite decide. What he would want first. What part of Molly he would want to hold, kiss, or tear into. He knew that he just wanted him.

Molly seemed to see the overwhelm on his face and he moved up, sliding into place next to Caleb. Without the stimulation, Caleb’s head began to clear, the soothing, gentle stroke of Molly’s hand rubbing circles in his chest grounding him.

Caleb didn’t know why Molly did this. He was always very careful to ask Caleb what was okay and what wasn’t; to hear him say so out loud. ‘Enthusiastic consent,’ Molly had called it. Caleb has never had someone treat him so carefully in bed.

Molly propped himself up next to Caleb, long, purple locks falling down into Caleb’s eyes.

Astrid has never been this kind.

He had no idea where that thought had come from.

He sucked in a sharp breath. She had never asked him what he wanted. She had never even asked him if he wanted sex in the first place. Astrid was the kind of person who took what she wanted. ‘No’ was not a word she was used to hearing, and not one that she heeded often.

Molly’s hair danced across his face and he moved up, gasping for Molly’s lips. He dug a thumb under the waste line of Molly’s briefs. He drew Molly forward, guided his hips until he was straddling Caleb’s stomach. Molly’s fingers played over his chest hair as he practically purred.

“So that’s what you want, hmm?” Molly reached across him to grab the lube that he kept in large supply in both of their bedside drawers. Molly always took his time with foreplay. He liked to watch Caleb squirm. One hand made its way to Caleb’s shoulder, holding him where he was. The other, coated in the strawberry flavored lube that Molly seemed to bulk order, moved behind him. Caleb couldn’t see Molly’s hand, but he could hear the wet sounds of his fingers working in and out of himself, and the soft moans that escaped from Molly’s throat. Mollymauk’s breath was hot on his lips, and his hair smothered out Caleb’s air. He could almost hear Molly whispering into his mouth, could almost hear those words again.

“This is for you, Bren,” Astrid would whisper to him, “this is how it’s supposed to go.”

He relished in the ache in his chest, the rise of panic from his stomach, the feeling of Molly’s, of Astrid’s hands on him.

Molly growled in his ear, bit at the shell of it, and sat up, arching his back as he guided Caleb’s cock as he sunk down onto it. Molly was tight and warm around him, the curve of his ass slotting against the dips in Caleb’s pelvis. He couldn’t help but jerk upwards, his fingernails digging into the skin of Molly’s hips. Warm and wet and familiar, Molly began to rock slowly, setting a pace lazy enough to drive Caleb mad.

Astrid was always fast. She didn’t care to ease him into it. She got what she wanted out of it, and guided Caleb’s hands where they were meant to go, ignored the tears that sprung to his eyes, the air that felt stale in his chest.

Caleb’s hands wandered on autopilot, arousal coiling in his stomach as Molly bounced up and down on his cock, lewd noises slipping through his perfect lips. Breathless, head thrown back, one hand balancing himself on Caleb’s hips and the other tugging on his own dick, the smell of strawberry and sex smothering his senses.

He was mumbling under his breath in German, chasing the dizzying flashes of Astrid, the suffocating feeling of Molly, Molly, Molly.

He didn’t realize that he was hyperventilating until Molly stopped, frozen on top of him and took his face in one hand, searching his eyes for something. Breath was moving too quickly in and out of him and his hands on Molly’s hips were beginning to go numb.

Molly moved, slipped from his perch over Caleb’s torso, and wretched the blankets from the bottom of the bed, covering Caleb up. Molly tied his kimono around himself, his erection tenting the translucent fabric.

“Breathe,” Molly ordered, taking Caleb’s hands in his, “just take a second and breathe with me, okay?”

Caleb followed his orders, let himself be guided through the exercises, and felt sensation return to his body.

“Why did you stop?” He asked, tugging on Molly’s hand, as though to pull him back on top of him, to chase that mixture of pleasure and pain. Molly looked at him like he’d been slapped.

“You were having a panic attack.” Molly squeaked, his voice tight with something akin to disbelief. “Did you expect me to ride you while you dissociated?”

“You’ve done it before.” Caleb said, closing his eyes and trying to assess the state of his erection without being obvious about it.

“I’m sorry, what?” Molly whispered, his voice cold and dangerous. Caleb had never heard his voice quite like that before. He didn’t know exactly how to answer. “Caleb, have you had a panic attack or dissociated while we had sex before?” There was something horrified in Molly’s voice.

“Yes,” Caleb said. “It’s fine.” Molly shook his head.

“Who the fuck made you believe that that’s fine?” Tears were springing to Molly’s eyes that he blinked away. Caleb felt guilt rise to his chest. Had he done something wrong?

“You were feeling good, ja?” He asked, sitting up and gathering the blankets around him. He felt suddenly very vulnerable.

“I mean, yes, but Caleb,” Molly rubbed at his face and tugged at the the end of his hair, “if you’re not, then we have to stop.” Caleb felt that familiar frustration growing in his chest.

“Okay,” he said, without meaning it. “Would you like to continue?”

“No,” Molly said too quickly.

___

Caleb had Molly pinned to the wall, his hands slowly exploring beneath Molly’s crop top. He absolutely loved the metal piercings in Molly’s nipples. They were cold and sharp against Molly’s warm, soft skin, and they kept his nipples erect and visible through almost all of his clothes. He lavished them with tugs and pinches, eventually lifting Molly’s shirt up, ducking his head, and sucking on them one at a time. Molly keened, arched his back, and wove his fingers through Caleb’s hair. Caleb kissed at Molly’s sternum, raking his nails over his ribs, slipping his hands into Molly’s too-tight jeans.

It was easy, working all of the spots that he knew made Molly melt. It didn’t require thought or patience, not like it did the first few times. He was a quick study, and this was quickly becoming a specialty.

The down side to that, of course, was that his mind was allowed to wander. While he worked away at Molly’s cock with his jeans around his hips, Caleb’s mind drifted to far less lovely things.

“That’s it,” Molly said, Astrid said. His hands pinning him, her to the wall, practiced and coached. He was being taught how to dominate, taught how to do what she liked. It was right, she would say, for the man to know how to take charge. Otherwise, what sort of man would he be?

Caleb’s breath hitched, but he kept moving, kept going, doing exactly what he was supposed to do. Hooked Molly’s, Astrid’s leg over his shoulder. So flexible. She had always been so flexible. Rutting up inside of him, so warm, so tight.

“That’s it, Bren, so good,” Molly moaned, Astrid moaned.

He managed to finish before he fell away from himself completely.

He came to in the bed, wrapped in several blankets, Molly carefully running his fingers through Caleb’s hair. It was a grounding point, a thing to hold on to when there were so few foot holds. He held on to the feeling of those long fingernails just barely scratching at his scalp, pulling him back to himself.

“ Quierdo?” Molly asked, finding the life in his eyes. “Baby, are you there?” Caleb hummed and turned his face towards Molly, chasing his warmth. “God, you scared me.” He whispered.

“Why?” Caleb asked, startled by the admittance. She had always left, no matter what state he was in afterwards. It was nice that Molly would stay, but he had no idea why he would have any reason to be scared.

“You were just gone,” Molly whispered, “I mean, one second you were there and we were having fun and the next, you were gone.” Molly sounded so frightened, like he was scared that he had done that to Caleb.

“I’m fine,” Caleb said.

“Are you?” Molly replied, bright eyes pouring into his, “Because this isn’t the first time this has happened during sex. And if there’s something we need to talk about, then we should. And I’m hoping that the only reason that you didn’t ask to stop is because you didn’t realize or it didn’t kick in until you were gone.”

“ Ja,” Caleb lied.

“Bren,” Molly whispered, deadly serious, “it's very important to me that we don’t lie to each other. Especially about sex.” Caleb screwed up his brow and sat up, shucking a few of the blankets that Molly had wrapped him in.

“It’s nothing.” Caleb said, worrying over a section of his hair. “It’s fine.”

“Except it's really not.” Molly let out an annoyed huff. “This isn’t the first time and I’m not going to fuck you while you’re having a panic attack, nor should anybody!” Molly wasn’t yelling, exactly, but he was on his way. Caleb responded in kind.  

“That never stopped her!” He hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t meant to say that. He could feel panic building inside of him again. Molly looked at him with those shocked, pity-filled eyes.

“Who, Caleb?” His voice was barely above a whisper. Caleb caught his breath in his chest and tried to stay calm.

“It doesn’t matter.” He said, shaking his head so that his hair whipped around him. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t tell me it doesn’t matter, baby, it clearly does,” Mollymauk’s voice was still quiet and frightened.

“She was helping me!” Caleb couldn’t stop the words, couldn’t stop talking as soon as he started. “After they caught Wulf and I, she tried to help me, to teach me a better way. She was just helping me, she helped me.”

“Bren-“ Molly started.

“Don’t call me that!” Caleb interrupted, shooting up from the bed and pacing the floor, tugging at his hair.

“ Caleb,” Molly said, slowly following him, arms outstretched. “Baby, slow down. Take a deep breath. Talk to me.” He held his arms open and Caleb collapsed into them. He breathed in Molly’s lavender perfume. Lavished in the soft feeling on Molly’s skin. Molly didn’t speak until his breathing was normal again. “Who is she? ” Molly asked. Caleb took several more deep breaths, thick with the smell of Molly before he answered.

“Astrid.” Caleb felt Molly tense around him. “Astrid.”

“You said they caught you and Wulf?” Molly asked. His voice was a raised in a question, soft, unassuming, a clear out if he didn’t want to talk about it.

“In the showers.” Caleb added, rubbing his lips against the velvet of Molly’s shoulder, catching the feeling of his scars. “They broke my ribs.” Molly made a soft sound of distress in his throat and pulled Caleb that much closer.

“That’s why-“ Molly said, connecting dots he hadn’t known existed. Caleb nodded and stepped back from his arms. “Caleb why-“ Molly cut himself off and tugged at a strand in his hair, “-why have you always pushed through? Because I’ve tried to make it very clear that all you have to do is tell me to stop and I will. There is no danger in that at all with me, even if there was with people in the past.” He said quickly. Caleb scratched madly at his arms, resting his elbows in his knees. Molly sat in his desk chair, looking shell shocked and sad.

“I-“ Caleb stopped himself and tried to make it sound as good as possible. “I like it.” He finished lamely. Molly looked at him like he was insane. “I like the feeling. The pleasure and the pain. The panic.” Molly shook his head back and forth minutely, slowly.

“ Why?” He asked finally. Caleb felt the panic returning to his chest.

“Because I deserve it.” He finally said, hanging his head. “I deserve it.” He’d never told anyone anything like this before. He felt ashamed, but he knew it to be true.

“Caleb,” there were tears in Molly’s voice, thick and terrible, “you can’t use me to hurt yourself.” He said finally. “That’s what you’re doing isn’t it?” Caleb nodded his head slowly. “And you realize how much that hurts me too?” Molly was all but sobbing now. Caleb couldn’t find it in his hollow chest to cry. Oh well. It had been so nice while it lasted. So very nice. “We need-“ Molly cut himself off. “We can’t-“

“It’s okay,” Caleb said calmly. It was okay that Molly was breaking up with him. It was fine. He was hurt. It made sense.

“We can’t have sex while you’re doing this.” Molly said, carefully stroking his thumbs over Caleb’s cheeks.

That was... not the solution that he had expected. He wrinkled his brow but leaned into the touch, chasing the feeling of Molly’s skin against his.

“I mean it,” Molly added, “really. If sex is going to be triggering or if you’re going to abuse it to hurt yourself, then we can’t do that anymore. And that doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore because I do. It means that we’re going to have to deal with a lot of shit and talk about boundaries before we can have sex again.” He dipped his head and rested it against the crook between Caleb’s neck and shoulder, his breath hot against the skin there. Caleb melted into the feeling of him. “Are you okay?” Molly asked, his voice a rumble in Caleb’s ribcage. Caleb thought about lying, about smiling and saying he was fine and letting the thing drop, but he couldn’t find it in him. He couldn’t find the energy or the will.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to.

Maybe he didn't want to hide things from Molly anymore, even the things that he had every right to. Maybe he didn’t want to sit in his pain silently for one more minute. Maybe he wanted somebody else to hear it, to see it, to know that it was there. Maybe he was wrung out and exhausted and maybe the feeling to telling someone, of whispering those things that he had locked so deeply inside of himself and allowing them to see light was freeing. Maybe he was falling into place. Maybe he was just falling.

“No,” he whispered back. Molly laughed a wet, sad laugh.

“Me either.” he responded. Caleb hummed and tangled his fingers in Molly’s hair.

“Boundaries?” Caleb asked, sometime after they had sunk back into bed, wrapped around each other in a desperate attempt to hold on.

“Like how I ask you not to do anything to my right knee.” Molly said. “To keep us both safe.”

“I never thought about it keeping you safe too.” Caleb muttered.

“It distresses me,” Molly said, “when you’re having a panic attack. I care about you and I know that those hurt. Plus, now I have the knowledge that you were using me to bring about that attack. It doesn’t feel great.” He whispered. There was nothing accusatory in his tone, nothing laying the blame on Caleb’s shoulders. He felt it there anyway.

“Hair in my face,” Caleb said after a few moments, “that’s one of the things...”

“I’ll start tying it back,” Molly quickly said. The message was clear. Caleb didn’t have to explain. He didn’t.

“I love you, Mollymauk.” He said softly into the dark room.

“I love you too.” Molly answered, pressing a soft kiss into his jaw.

He stared up at the ceiling, counting Molly’s breaths until they slowed. Caleb didn’t sleep.