I Wrote a Thing…

*If you’ve read Save you, you know that Quinn makes an emotional visit to Xavier. Dima opens the door and lets him in. I found myself wondering what went down between X and Dima after Quinn left. I imagine it would go something like this…

 

The sound of a door closing jerked Dima from a light sleep. He lifted his head from the pillow and rolled over onto his back as footsteps echoed down the hall. He remained dressed in only his jeans, his chest bare as when he’d opened the door for Quinn. He’d made his way to the bedroom once Xavier showed up, giving Xavier and Quinn their privacy.

Time to talk.

To relive the past that both men still swam in.

The door closing likely signaled Quinn’s departure, two hours after he’d shown up so unexpectedly at their front door. Dima hadn’t lied to Quinn. People got killed for far less important shit than this. But this was Quinn. Xavier’s Quinn. Dima could be tolerant.

Up to a point, though.

The bedroom door opened softly and Xavier stood in the doorway, shadowed.

Staring.

Night had fallen and Dima hadn’t bothered to turn on the light, so he doubted Xavier knew he was awake. Dima watched his lover watch watch him.

There was a tension to Xavier’s shoulders Dima didn’t like. A tension that had him regretting allowing Quinn into their home and back under Xavier’s skin.

His lover didn’t move from the bedroom doorway. He remained there as if planted, and though Dima couldn’t see his eyes, he felt Xavier’s stare.

Hot and heavy.

“What do you need?” he asked softly.

Xavier didn’t answer immediately, but he stepped fully into the room and flicked on the light switch. The grief on his face stunned Dima.

“Thought you were asleep. Wanted to watch you sleep.”

Dima sat up and shook his head. “That’s not what you need. Tell me what you need.”

He met Dima’s gaze then. Fucking pain, man. So much pain in his eyes. “Rush.”

Dima went to him, sliding a hand up his chest, touching his nape. Xavier was stiff in Dima’s arms.

Wooden.

“You blame yourself.” He murmured the words at Xavier’s ear, and his lover pulled back, stared at him with those eyes.

The pained eyes.

“Do I? How do you know?” The words were soft enough, mild enough, but Dima knew—

“I know you.” He shrugged. “I know you,” he repeated. “So I know you blame yourself for what happened to Quinn.”

“I am to blame.” Xavier wrenched away. “My family. They were my family.” He thumped his chest. “My flesh and blood, and I should have known.” The anguish tightened his voice. “I should have known better than to think they’d let me have him.”

They’d never gone here before. They’d never pulled the bandages off these wounds before. Dima could give Xavier the words, but he refused. Instead he stood there and let Xavier bleed for him.

“I missed him.” Fists balled, Xavier stared at Dima, his face a twisted grimace of rage, anguish and apology. “Rush, I missed him so fucking much.”

Dima nodded. “I know,” he whispered. That wasn’t something he or Xavier could control, and maybe if they were a different version of who they were he’d be pulling some shit, trying to prove something to himself and Xavier. But they were them, and Dima could deal with his lover having had a life before him.

A husband before him.

“I was holding on to him.” Xavier sank onto the bed, head bowed. “I was holding on to who he used to be. Not who he is. Now.” He jerked his head up, throat working. “He’s a different person. He’s a stronger man, and as I watched him today, as I hugged him today I thought…” He glanced away. “I thought, I could’ve loved that man, too. I could’ve love him, too.”

Dima cocked his head and rocked back on his heels, but he didn’t speak. Because speaking would not help. Besides, what was he supposed to say?

“I love him.” Xavier’s shoulders visibly tensed as he uttered the words. “I think I always will.”

Dima went to his knees before Xavier, placing a hand on the other man’s knee. “I think I’d be worried if you didn’t still feel for him,” he murmured. “If seeing the man you used to be married to didn’t make you feel some time of way, I’d be worried.”

Xavier stared down at him, the pain on his face melting away. The harsh lines smoothing out. “So you weren’t worried.”

“No.”

“And you weren’t jealous.”

Dima frowned. “Is jealousy the correct emotion for when your ex shows up unannounced at our door?”

Xavier cupped his face, thumb stroking Dima’s cheek. “Whatever you feel is right, as long as it’s real. And honest.”

Dima caught Xavier’s hand and brought it to his mouth, placing a kiss inside his palm. “I have never been jealous of Quinn. Your love for him doesn’t threaten our relationship.”

He could be as irrational and homicidal as the best of them, but this wasn’t the situation for it. From the moment he’d recognized Quinn in that Atlanta hospital, he’d surprised himself by being chill with it. He didn’t like that Quinn showed up at their door unannounced, simply because Dima knew how he’d affect Xavier, but as long as Quinn didn’t make that popping up shit a regular thing, Dima was good.

If Quinn did, well… they definitely would have themselves a problem.

There were a few names on his don’t kill list.

A very short list.

For now Quinn was on that list.

“I love you.” Xavier clasped Dima’s face between his hands and bent, touching their foreheads together. “You’re fucking amazing, with your enlightened bullshit.”

Dima chuckled. “I’m not that enlightened, Mr. Storm. Because you know I can turn on a dime, and I will knuckle up to defend what’s mine.”

“What’s yours?”

“This is mine.” Dima made a circling motion with his index finger. “And you know you’re a lucky sonofabitch if my mean ass likes you.”

Xavier kissed him, firm but gentle, controlled but insistent all the same. Dima tightened his hold on Xavier’s knee and tipped his head back, opening so Xavier could sweep inside and drive him insane.

The fingers on his face pinched, Xavier’s tongue rolling in and over his. He tasted like he always did.

Damn fucking fine.

But there was something else there. Something in the tremble in Xavier’s body, in the bite he gave Dima, in the way he shuddered.

Something.

Dima pulled away and got to his feet. He was aroused, always was around Xavier, but he shoved a hand in his front right pocket as he stared down at the other man. “You need something.”

“Just one thing.” Xavier’s shoulders moved. “What I’ve always needed. What I’ll always need.” He jumped to his feet.

Dima didn’t move. He just waited. And he didn’t flinch when Xavier grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the wall. He grunted, but Xavier’s mouth was on his, his hand choking Dima, fingers pressing on his windpipe as he bit down hard on Dima’s bottom lip.

Dima bucked, the pain already spreading like a wildfire through his blood. He grabbed on to Xavier when he pulled back, but he didn’t go far.

He remained there, hand at Dima’s throat, lips stained red. “You, Rush.” He squeezed and Dima’s eyes rolled, stomach contracting, nuts aching. “I need you.”

Fuck. He licked his lips, tasted the blood as Xavier’s hold got tighter and tighter. It was the stupidest thing, loving this so much. Loving Xavier so much, trusting him so much.

But Dima did. And he’d give him everything he asked for.

And kill to give him even more.

Xavier’s hand dropped away from his throat and Dima fell to the floor, gasping, coughing.

“I love you,” Xavier said above him. “And I love that you can still surprise me. Tonight,” he paused, gulped in ear. “Tonight, Rush, I need you to bring me your body. And I will bring you pain. You get me? I need to watch you bleed for me.”

Something glinted.

A knife.

Oh shit.

Knife play. Xavier’s version of it.

Dima would bleed.

Fuck, he was a second away from coming at just the sight of that sharp blade. Dima swallowed.

It hurt.

His cock throbbed.

“Rush.” Xavier got down on the floor with him, caught his chin. His face was hard, jaw flexing, oh but his eyes.

So much love, man. The love in those eyes.

“I will do more,” Dima rasped. “Way more than bleed for you.”

Xavier’s face went soft. “Ah, Rush. We ride to the death, you and me.” He struck, blade slicing neatly into Dima’s left pec.

The pain staggered Dima’s breath. He hissed, body going stiff at the lava-hot pleasure. Warmth trickled down onto his abs and he fisted his hands, trying not to move into that knife stroke, not to arch up into it.

“Gorgeous.” Xavier’s breath was loud in the room. “You painted red, Rush. Fucking gorgeous.”

Dima tried to focus, but his vision was all wobbly. Xavier was there, eyes on Dima, narrowed, full of love, lust and all the things Dima bet his life on every day.

“When we’re done, I’ll take you out on the balcony and fuck while you stare at the moon.” Xavier licked Dima’s mouth then whispered against his lips, “But right now… bleed for me.”

“Yes.”

Xavier struck again.

Dima came.