Half Man Week

Black is the Colour of My True Love's Hair (Roud 3103) is an Appalachian ballad believed to be of Scottish origin. The Irish seem to have laid claim to it but the original lyrics reference the River Clyde so... It's Scottish. This version by Nina Simone is male-addressed and the most mournful of the ones out there. I recently found the version by The Haar and was tempted to do an edit to that one but I don't think it matches the longing of Nina's.

I love the juxtaposition of the lyrics with the scene. The gist of the song that the couple can never be together, it is song by one lover to the other. In the female-addressed versions, their lover is described as having the gentlest or the slightest hands with lips like a rose so fair. The male-addressed sometimes describes him as having a face like some wondrous fair and includes the description of the gentlest hands. Nina changes it to his face being so soft and wondrous fair with the purest eyes and strongest hands.

While sounding mournful, the lyrics are a little more optimistic. She alludes to the separation but doesn't address it like other versions do. You’ve slighted me, but I wish you well / If never on earth I no more see / I can’t slight you like you’ve slighted me / The time has passed that we have seen / But I hope the time will shortly come / Never you and I will be as one.

Others are hopeful about the separation, indicating they hope to find their lover again: And if my fate and fortune be / I would have you as you have me.

Niall suddenly developed a sixth sense and somehow was able to dodge his arm every time he tried to tug him into their usual half-hug. Ruben didn’t comment, but after a while, it was impossible not to take offence. The fuck was going on?

It had been days of Niall going to bed early, turning his back to the room, and pretending to sleep. He got quite good at it, too – slowing down his breathing, staying still (but not too still), and not reacting to any of Ruben’s ministrations a mere meter behind him. But he pushed himself to the far end of the bed, lying on his side - at a distance Ruben couldn’t easily cross.

Normally, he could just stretch out a hand and touch Niall if he wanted to. Most nights he didn’t; he would just look at him, chest rising slowly, breath deep and easy. Sometimes his eyelids would flutter, the boy not waking up, but clearly dreaming, his dark lashes on a freckled cheek. Ruben couldn’t actually see them in the dimness of the room, but he knew they were there; the evidence of long days spent in the sun, visible maybe for the first time in Niall’s life. It made him strangely proud. Like forcing Niall to box, taking him for their little lake escapades and motorbike rides meant that he finally had some life besides books and daft shows. The club was good for him, too, even if they weren’t really talking to anyone else. But they had fun together, proper fun, so what did it matter?

But now the little weasel was hiding something, and Ruben had had enough.

The night was silent, save for the groan of old pipes, as Ruben thought himself into a frustrated rage. Why Niall wouldn’t just talk to him was beyond him. They already shared so much, from scraps from each other's plates and cheap soap to acid and boxing wraps, fucking shirts and socks. He saw Niall crying, spewing, almost pissing himself from laughing at some stupid joke Ruben made, wanking in the shower that one time he decided it would be fun to barge into a clearly occupied bathroom. What was so different now?

Ruben tossed and turned in his narrow bed. Two weeks ago, he would reach across the room and brush his fingertips just so, pushing Niall’s hair back. There were no ulterior motives; he just liked to know he was really there. Safe, both of them, hidden in that little cocoon of warm space. Ruben felt his hand prickling at the thought of touching Niall right then, forcing him to spill whatever crap had made him pull away in the first place. He wanted to push his nose into Niall’s hair, smelling of their shitty shampoo and sleepy sweat; into the crook of his neck and behind the ear, where his skin was thin and sensitive. The feeling persisted, getting visceral and uncomfortable, akin to the hunger one feels after swimming, gripping and squeezing deep in his gut. Fucking feelings. Ruben had to put an end to it, Niall’s crazy be damned.

The distance between their beds was nothing. Ruben was light on his feet, taking a moment to just look at Niall, giving him a chance to turn and explain himself. Well, maybe he was actually sleeping this time around? It certainly seemed that way, his slight form buried under the duvet, face squashed funnily into the pillow. Either way, it didn’t really matter. Ruben was fixing whatever was wrong tonight, and that was that.

He slipped into Niall’s bed, instantly engulfed in warmth and Niall’s smell. That was where he was supposed to be. With no apparent reaction from the boy, Ruben shifted closer, tossing the cover away and pulling Niall's body to his chest. A heavy arm closed around him, hiding him from the street light filtering through the curtains and the rest of the world. It felt good, this blooming conviction that nothing bad could happen to them there, that Ruben would be able to protect Niall from whoever was stupid enough to pick on him. His brother. Ruben’s body seemed to finally get the message, and he started calming down. His jaw, which had been clenched for god knows how long, finally relaxed against Niall’s shoulder blade.

And then Niall tensed all over.

Ruben felt his sudden stiffness, the ramrod line of his spine, muscles flexing uncontrollably. A hand flew to the arm still holding him across the chest. Niall’s breath hitched when he realized their position.

“Ruben?” The name came out on an exhale, quiet and shivering in the night air. “What’s going on?”

“With me? Nothing, you twat.” Ruben spoke into his nape, feeling the fine hairs there move against his lips (good).

Suddenly, he was very grateful he wasn’t facing Niall.

“You can’t hide from me.” He underlined his point with a sharp squeeze.

Niall let out a short whine, seemingly cutting it off the moment he heard it leaving his mouth. Ruben felt his own neck getting warmer, realizing just then how close they really were. Not like there was any alternative, not in either of their narrow beds. Who gave a fuck.

“You’re acting all shifty lately, you wee bastard. Talk.”

“It’s nothing, Ruben. Please, let’s just sleep.” His voice small, pleading.

Good thing he couldn’t charm his way out of it with his Bambi eyes; Ruben was frankly over getting soft on him the moment Niall blinked up at him from under his lashes. They were pretty, really pretty, but there had to be a limit somewhere.

“Naw, lad. You’ve been keeping me up for a week, spill.”

“I just couldn’t fall asleep, okay? Dinnae worry over nothing.”

Ruben didn’t believe him, of course. He had been behaving weirdly, and avoided his touch. Couldn’t be that bad, then, could it? Niall wasn’t really struggling against him. Ruben decided to change tactics, pulling on Niall’s arm forcefully, so he had no other choice but to turn toward him. Eyes and lashes be damned.

His mistake became apparent the moment Ruben released Niall from his grip. Squirming, he seemed to be unable to find a suitable place to put his hands, finally setting them on Ruben’s chest, brushing the pale hair there. Suppressing a shudder was hard, but he managed before Niall got any ideas.

Before Ruben could think through the implications, he put a hand on the back of Niall’s neck, pulling him in, forehead to forehead. He had a fleeting thought that maybe that way they could skip all this fumbling around and understand each other better, finally on the same page. Whatever it was, Ruben could take care of it. Of his little brother. Scared silly, the wee bastard. Pretty as a picture, there in his arms.

“Tell me, Bambi,” he rumbled, pushing his fingers higher, into Niall’s hair.

His efforts were rewarded with a sudden inhale and an almost soundless, high-pitched keen, nestled somewhere deep at the back of Niall’s throat. A sudden need to hear it again - louder - seized Ruben. Scratching at Niall’s scalp with blunt fingernails granted him a whole-body shiver. He felt it everywhere, given how close they were. Ruben risked a sharp pull, baring Niall’s pale neck and forcing a moan out of him.

That. Ruben cursed himself internally. Of course that had been the problem all along. One night of innocent dancing, some hash, and Niall was losing his wee mind.

Thriumphant after figuring Niall Kennedy’s puzzle once more, he knew the next step was easy. He allowed a self-satisfied smile to stretch his lips.

“All you have to do is ask, aye?” He was nothing if not merciful, so he punctuated the proposition with a short roll of his hips. No need for the lad to stress more than he already had.

Niall’s mouth fell open, an almost-black cavern pulling Ruben in. He put his thumb on his lower lip, exposing a row of sharp teeth that shone in the low streetlamp light. Niall's tongue flicked out, quickly and inadvertently, and this time it was Ruben whose breath caught at the sensation of hot wetness on his skin.

“Ask me, Niall.”  The words came out through clenched teeth, barely audible.

It seemed like all pretense was gone, Niall’s eyes shining, on the verge of tears. Ruben wondered briefly if the heat in his chest was radiating from him or his brother, but did it really matter? This close, he couldn’t really tell where one of them ended, and the other started.

Figuring out before Niall what it was that he needed (as always), Ruben pushed his head lower, into the crook of his own neck. Niall sniffed, taking big, open-mouthed breaths that sent shivers down Ruben’s spine. The slope of Niall’s nose pushed harder into the hollow there, one hand still on Ruben’s chest, the other, hot and clammy, on his hip. Was he imagining the pressure of a pinky on the sliver of skin above the waistband of his pants?

Hidden against him, Niall finally could say what he had to say. “Please, Ruben. Just… please”.

Ruben felt dizzy. Powerful. A hot prickle of pride filled him, making his toes curl. His Bambi; obedient, after all. Finally understanding that he could get whatever he might need, if he only let Ruben in.

Ruben moved, turning on his back, and Niall just followed. The sharp line of his boyish hips and elbows somehow fitting around Ruben in a way that left no room for questions. That was his place. Ruben’s hand drifted to his head again, cradling it at first, then conceding and running his fingers through the curls. Under all of it, their shampoo and their soap, their laundry detergent, was Niall – smelling of clean skin and fresh sweat. Ruben opened his mouth, huffed greedily, and tried to commit it all to memory.

Niall let himself be maneuvered and pulled to half-lay on Ruben’s chest, ass pressed firmly to his lap. Someone groaned. Ruben’s hands engulfed his hips, pulling at them just like he did at the club, and –oh. With the hard ridge of his cock dragging against Niall’s, he suddenly understood why his wee innocent brother had avoided his touch. If that was the result… The sounds he was making, high and desperate; they sent a wave of animalistic need through Ruben. He had to have him. And he had to mark him. He grunted, manhandling Niall so he was under him, displayed and ready to be devoured. A picture of innocence, eyes open impossibly wide, a blush so deep and high on his cheekbones there was no hiding it, even in the grey darkness of their room.

It seemed that once Niall allowed himself to make sounds, he couldn’t stop. Ruben didn’t have a choice then, did he? He just had to quiet him down before anyone took an interest in what exactly was going on in their room.

Hot, feverishly so. The kiss landed slightly off center, but made Ruben shudder all the same. He adjusted Niall’s head, grabbing it in both of his hands, reeling at the realization that his fingers met at the back. Fuck. The want to consume him should have subsided then, with Ruben surrounding him so completely, but it burned in him with new white-hot heat, rolling in his stomach like a pint downed too quickly. Overwhelmed and not willing to admit it, he did what he always did – he started talking.

“Look at you, you wee slut… That’s what you needed, aye? Your big brother, to put you in yer place.”

It wasn’t the best tactic to keep Niall quiet, considering how Ruben couldn’t help himself and ground his hips against Niall to deliver the point. Nothing could be done about it, really, with the way his body shook under Ruben’s weight, pinned down and blessedly malleable. And he could feel, he could really feel…

“You’re leaking, aren’t ya? Wet like a lass for me?”

Niall threw his arm across his eyes at that, everything becoming too much for him, but Ruben was having none of it; not when he finally understood what his brother needed.

“Naw, I told you, Bambi. No hiding. Not from me.”

With that, he pushed Niall’s hands up, clasping him by the wrists with a tight band of his fingers, deliriously hoping they would leave a bruised ring on the skin. He wasn’t consciously making the connection when he leaned over Niall, covering him completely, and clamped his teeth on the side of his neck.

Niall stopped. Stopped making the sounds, stopped resisting Ruben’s grip, stopped even the trembling, somehow. Just a silent gasp, back arching up from the bed with surprising strength that dislodged Ruben’s mouth, and he came, cock twitching, trapped in his pants.

For a long moment, Ruben just stared. Niall, covered by his body, disheveled. A fucking beauty. He was struck by the violent urge to really see the damage, so he stretched out to the nightstand and flicked the lamp on.

“Jesus, son,” escaped him before he could stop himself, Niall responding only with a short, breathy sound.

He looked… ruined. Pinkened all over, a deep blush blossoming in bright splotches high across his cheeks, down the bridge of his nose, spilling down his neck to the narrow chest. Ruben didn’t remember when exactly Niall lost his sleeping shirt, but it happened, evidently; he brushed his hand on a raised pink nipple, and Niall made a valiant effort to escape from the touch. His hair was plastered to his forehead on one side, stuck up at a weird angle at the other. His brown eyes glimmered, pupils fat and blown out like he was high. Fecking hell, maybe he was. The angry bite mark on the side of Niall’s neck certainly made Ruben feel like he was. With that thought, he was reminded with full force that he wasn’t finished, straining against Niall’s spent wetness. Its smell riled him further, sharp and primal.

Niall twitched under him when he started grinding in earnest, gasping and almost crying from it, oversensitive and overwhelmed. Ruben wanted to imprint himself on him, more permanently than bruises and bites. His hands clasped forcefully around Niall’s hips again, lifting them off the bed. He should brand Niall. He should do something to let everyone know that it was his brother, even when he wasn’t around.

Ruben buried his nose in Niall’s neck, inhaling him greedily after having been denied for so many days. He stopped caring what kind of sounds he was making, mouth hanging open, gulps of air full of Niall’s thick smell. He darted his tongue out, licking the hot, exposed skin; it tasted like both of them.

His rightful place.

“Ruben…!” There it was, a frantic sound forced out of Niall, pleading and praying, or maybe confessing something. Enough to push Ruben over the edge.

The first thing he registered after he finally could catch a proper breath was a hand in his hair, carding through it lazily. He realized he was shivering, tingles traveling down his spine to his toes. He was overheated, but not enough to make him move from his position on top of Niall.

Of course, he had to ruin the moment.

“Move, ya muckle bastard. Ye’re crushing me”

Ruben huffed, making a show of lifting himself off Niall and crashing onto the bed beside him. Not that there was any chance to keep any distance between them; both of them barely fit together as it was. Even still, Ruben felt suddenly wary, somehow unsteady.

Maybe this time it was Niall’s turn to fix something; he seemed to read something from Ruben’s expression and lifted his hand to thread his fingers through Ruben's hair again. Pulling gently.