#sherrie

The room was dark, but not dark enough. The city lights still made their way through the curtains. Steve lay on the bed as Neal  pushed his arms up over his head, like he always did when he wanted to touch him for real. His mouth found the soft skin inside Steve’s elbow. A kiss. Another. Almost warm. Then he bit.

“Don’t,” Steve said quietly. “No marks.”

Neal exhaled through his nose but didn’t argue. He never did but he always made it obvious that he hated being told.

He went back to kissing, dragging his mouth along the skin, slower now, sucking just enough to make Steve tense. Not enough to leave a mark, but close. He was doing it to piss him off. And Steve let him.

He didn’t have the energy to fight tonight.

“I’m tired,” Steve said.

Neal stopped. Lifted his head. “It’s okay,” he said. “We can just sleep tonight.”

Steve closed his eyes and flinched, just barely. But Neal didn’t see it. Or maybe he did and pretended not to. He was too busy kissing his neck now, soft enough to hint at something neither of them wanted to admit. 

Neal coming over to his hotel room for sex was one thing, but him coming over to sleep? That felt too messy, and he was probably planning on holding Steve close since he was incapable of keeping his hands to himself. 

“I have to tell you something,” Steve murmured.

Neal stilled. “Yeah?”

“Sherrie’s coming tomorrow. She’s joining the tour.”

The pause was instant.

Neal pulled back like he’d been hit. He moved away, letting himself fall onto the other side of the bed.

“So what?” Neal said, he was angry already, that fast. “You kicking me out?”

Steve sighed. “I didn’t say that.”

But he didn’t say he wanted him to stay, either.

He turned on his side, faced away. Hoping Neal would decide for him. The silence felt like a knife. After a while, he felt the bed move and Neal’s hands were on his hip again. Not asking. Just taking.

When Neal kissed his shoulder, Steve didn’t stop him.

He didn’t stop him when the kisses turned into more. When Neal moved over him again, slower this time. The way he pushed Steve’s thighs apart like he’d done it a thousand times…because he had. The way he looked down at him, eyes dark, like he was seeing too much. 

Steve let him.

He let him push in deep and slow, let him take his time. There was no rush. The kind of fucking that felt like something else. Something neither of them wanted to face.

And Steve didn’t say no when Neal pushed his arms back up again, above his head, pinning them there with one hand. He just breathed hard and let it happen. Let Neal take care of them both. 

They moved together for what felt like hours. He was close when it happened. Neal’s mouth found the inside of his arm again and this time he bit. Hard. And the sensation pushed Steve over the edge. 

“Fuck! Neal!” Steve jerked under him. That was definitely going to leave a mark.

But Neal didn’t stop, not until he came, buried deep inside. And even then, he didn’t move right away. Just rested his forehead on Steve’s shoulder, breathing heavily.

Steve shoved him off, hard enough to make Neal stumble back.

“What the fuck,” Steve snapped, wiping his arm, checking the mark. “I told you. No fucking marks.”

Neal sat up, still catching his breath. “You scared she’s gonna see it?” His voice was sharp, almost cruel.

“Jesus,” Steve said, fingers still touching the sensitive skin. “You’re an asshole.”

Neal stood, grabbed his jeans off the floor. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Good luck explaining that one to her.”

Steve flinched like it was a slap. He didn’t answer.

Neal didn’t say goodbye. Just slammed the door.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the mark on his arm. It hurt. 

Sometimes, he thought they hated each other.

But it wasn’t hate.

It was everything else they didn’t know how to carry.