#splitdim

breaking my avoiding Rammstein streak just for the Woolf boys. bc it is them. was tempted to go with in ihren Lungen schwimmt ein Aal, auf meiner Stirn ein Muttermal but that song is already reserved for Mo and his mom and we dont need to get freudian

here's a tiny snippet of how Káz feels about it (not very Rammstein):

“Please,” he was on his knees, face close to Káz’s midriff, as if he was waiting to be given permission to melt into their skin. For a moment, he tried to deny where this was going. Mo wouldn’t, they knew each other since they were kids, why now? But his hands didn’t lie, slowly pushing his tank top up, taking his damn time to get to the inevitable. Biting down on their lip, Káz tried to swallow down the anger and shame, but it was difficult. Just another betrayal in a long line of let-downs. Maybe it would have been easier to stay dead, but the thought of the other side made a shiver ran down their spine.

Mo stopped before he reached his tits, looking up at them, hurt. His eyes betrayed a strange sort of absence, like his mind had taken him miles away. So they were both thinking about something else. Káz had been fucked by many a man before, but most of them had the decency to pay attention to them during the process, considering they were the ones pressuring him into it. So what was Mo’s plan? Did he even want this? But there was no one here to force the man, it had to be his own idea, in some sort of way.

“I thought leaving would make things easier for both of us, but without you, I just felt lost.”

Mo’s head dropped, trying to hide his shame. So there it was, an apology. Too late, too little. Kázmere didn’t have it in his heart to feel disgusted, or to feel much at all anymore. Just disappointed. It was tempting, to tell him that he had gotten lucky, getting as far away from here as possible. Away from his brother. But the man already looked like a hurt puppy, and Káz wasn’t in the business of ripping open old wounds. One look was enough to know he didn’t exactly choose an easy path either. So where to go now?

“You are the only person who feels like home,” it was a painful admission, a warning of what Mo might break if he kept pushing. But he just smiled and leaned closer, placing soft kisses on Káz skin, working his way up. They sighed, tried to stay composed. Deep breaths. There was no way out of this, so maybe it was for the best to try and make the most of it. After all, it was just Mo, sweet, caring Mo, who wouldn’t purposefully hurt him. But Káz knew that he would run again if he felt rejected, under the same stupid assumptions as over 10 years ago. So they were going to play along, let him have what he wants, as long as they could keep him around, the only person who still made a little sense after all this time, even considering what he wanted from Káz now.