Chapter Text
Under no circumstances, no matter the context, would Oz discuss the certain demon they named as the assailant.
And not from lack of effort on Liam’s part to get him to open up, and offer solace— every time he mentioned Gwilliam, by name or implication, Oz got borderline hysterical. And perhaps fits of crying spells would’ve been easy enough to try and collect him from, but it wasn’t that simple; when Oz got agitated, he turned wildly distrustful and accusatory towards Liam.
By dusk, Liam had to withdraw from his own room a total of six times, each of which marked a fit Oz threw that the vampire couldn’t bring him down from. Instead, it usually came to a point where Liam had leave him alone on Oz’s request. Or demand, moreso.
And it was hard to not be frustrated. At even the mention of anything from the night before, Oz would push him away, verbally ranting about how Liam needed to let it go, stop making it seem like a big deal, and admit he really did look at Oz differently from it. Even after the whole trial of trying to convince Oz nothing was different between them, it was the first accusation Oz would bring up at the topic: if nothing changed, then Liam shouldn’t have a need to keep bringing this up.
If he had gotten this behavior from any other lover he has had in his long existence, Liam would not have tolerated it, and would be more than willing to attack back with his own heated words. But this was different. Oz was different from all those strings of lovers.
So he tolerated it. All day long he tolerated it.
They would rekindle from the last fit within an hour, usually on account of Liam periodically checking up on him, and then have a grace period of cuddling and hushed conversations, only for Liam to inevitably bring up the Gwilliam situation again. Ergo another fit, ergo another cycle.
It’s not like he knew Oz was going to take it well. But discussion, openness, and acknowledgment of the situation was something Liam couldn’t keep off his tongue. And the more Oz refused to talk about it, the more Liam’s frustration rose.
But he will tolerate it. He has to tolerate it.
He loves Oz, and he’s hurt about Oz’s pain himself, as there is natural sorrow that arises from watching a beloved suffer. But each time Oz returned his sympathy and care with cold accusatory words, that little part of him that wanted to retaliate waxed, intensifying and wearing thin on his already agitated mind.
It wasn’t a feeling like he wanted to hurt Oz, or physically lash out in any way— aside from being deeply morally against violence, Liam would never resort to such an act as compulsive and animalistic as that. The retaliation inside him was purely verbal; words he wanted to say but could only scream in his own head, distress he wanted to express but had to stifle to be an anchor for Oz.
And with gritted teeth and sealed lips, Liam stood silent and tolerated it. Again. And again.
Checking the time once more on his phone, the vampire had noted that it’s been almost twenty minutes since he was last kicked out again, just for suggesting that Oz write down how he feels about the situation if it is so hard for him to talk about it, in hopes it will lift some of the emotional burden of those festering feelings of fear and shame. Only for another outburst to ensue, and Oz to scoff at the idea of writing poems or entries about his feelings as a form of relief. He criticized Liam for even suggesting it would help; at his insistence on the idea, Oz grew hysterical once more, yelling for Liam to stop bringing it up. When Liam had tried to hold him, comfort him, calm him down— Oz squirmed out, pushing him away, sobbing to be left alone, sobbing for Liam to stop touching him.
And, being as considerate to his wishes as he could, Liam did as asked. No rebuttal to Oz’s repeated fits. Just subjecting himself to be the outlet for his lover’s pain and frustrations. But at every fit, that patience and self-control inside of him wore, more and more.
But he shall be tolerant. Tolerant for Oz’s sake.
Gently, he gave a small knock at the door.
“Are you feeling a bit better now? You should probably eat, you haven’t ate since this morning.” Liam cracked open the door to his bedroom, just slightly, finding his boyfriend laying on his side atop the covers of his bed, staring blankly into the wall— only upon Liam’s entrance was there some light restored to his glassy stare, and with a couple recalibrating blinks to focus back on the world around him, Oz moved his eyes towards him, without even bothering to turn his head.
“What?” His voice was raspy, an obvious accumulation of strain from sobbing so much throughout the day, with no help from the yelling and screaming during his hysterical fits.
“Food. You need to eat,” reiterating patiently, Liam took Oz’s distant demeanor as a sign of calm. He had come down from his fit, and will be responsive to Liam’s presence, provided he doesn't bring up last night again.
“Oh. Well, ‘m not hungry right now,” with a sluggish crawl of his words, Oz shifted to sit up, with cheeks still wet with broken-up tear trails that forked unevenly. The movement caused the streaks to briefly catch and reflect the direct light from the hallway behind Liam, momentarily illuminating them in a flash, and in that split moment it was as if Oz was crying lightning.
With a somber tilt of his head, meek and innocent as if he hadn’t screamed at Liam to leave him alone less than a half-hour ago, Oz outstretched a dark hand towards him.
“Lay with me?” He requested on the breath of his exhale, fatigued and quiet as if he had no more energy left to be angry with his boyfriend. It was hard to be mad for long, and it was easy to rest in his comforting arms.
“Only if you promise me you’ll try and eat afterwards,” Liam bartered, earning a court nod from Oz, mindlessly agreeing. With a sigh, he gently took the offered hand in his, and sat on the bed beside his lover.
Oz eagerly made room for him, scooting aside as Liam laid with his upper back against the pillows lining the headboard’s border. The arm he had near Oz lifted, inviting him to lean into the crook and nuzzle against his torso, to which the other monster followed suit with a clingy hand rested atop the vampire’s chest. Idly, Oz’s fingers curled in, holding the slack of Liam’s button-down in a loose grip.
“I’ve missed you.” Whispered low with the side of his bruised cheek pressed against his boyfriend’s shoulder, Oz took advantage of his position to avoid eye contact.
“You told me to get out. So, I got out, and gave you some space.” Liam responded rather flatly, suppressing the slight bitterness in him that would have normally arose in a response like that. Every urge for sarcasm or attitude had to be stifled, held back, erased for the time being while Oz was in a sensitive state.
But oh, did the desire to be snappy boil over on Liam’s back burner.
“I know what I said,” Oz began, breaking up Liam’s thoughts. “And I know I’ve been saying it a lot today. But, I don’t know, when things get too much it’s hard to be with you.”
The unintentional offense pinged another sarcastic retort in his head that Liam immediately disregarded. Instead, he gave a few seconds to fabricate a considerate and understanding response.
“If it’s what’s best for you in those moments, then do what you must.”
Wincing, as if Oz knew very well he wasn’t making any good decisions for himself as of late, he replied with a voice far from confidence. “It’s not that I don’t want you with me when I’m upset. It’s just… hard.”
With a subtle shift to finally meet Liam’s eyes, Oz held in a sharp inhale from the sting of his cut-up cheek shifting against Liam’s shoulder.
“I know you mean well, but when everything gets bad, you’re no exception,” his eyes were hazy, fatigued and watery, “It doesn’t matter what you say, it doesn’t matter what you do. Everything just feels off.”
Liam quirked an eyebrow up, ever so slightly, confused by the statement. It took him another second to formulate another choreographed response.
“Do you think I’m lying to you?” Unintentionally, his tone came out flat again, and Liam consciously made an effort to not sound cavalier with his next words. “When I say we haven’t changed, when I say I don’t look at you differently, do you think I am lying?”
Another pitiful wince escaped Oz, and he sheepishly dropped his eyes down and away from the vampire’s golden ones. “I don’t know. I… when you say it… I-I just don’t know.”
“So a yes, then? You think I might be lying?”
“I said I don’t know. It’s hard to read you. It’s hard to tell the difference in what you mean and what’s in my head.” Oz nervously tightened his grip, balling up the fabric of Liam’s shirt in his hand. Holding onto something when there’s nothing else to hold onto. “You don’t understand. I know you don’t understand— but when I say I need you to get away, please just let me be alone.”
Liam’s jaw clenched with mild frustration, but again he suppressed it. Tolerated it.
Yet it still somehow tainted his next words, despite his continuous self-control over how he expressed himself.
“I’ve been leaving you alone. I’ve been doing everything you ask of me. If you weren’t so guarded, maybe I could understand better and actually help you.”
Oz pushed back, breaking out of the hold bitterly. For someone who has been wearing Liam’s tolerance thin all day, he was surprisingly upset the moment his own tolerance had to be exercised.
“Liam. We aren’t talking about this.” His sentence lacked specifications, but the cold glare Oz gave him was warning enough. Try to get him to open up about the assault, and Liam will get kicked out again.
“Talking about what? I’m sorry, apparently I don’t understand what you’re referring to,” finally, the thin wall of tolerance Liam had been struggling to hold up shattered, and his words practically dripped with frustration. “How much longer do I have to dote on you while you treat me like the villain here?”
“Fuck, Liam, you’re not the villain. Is that what you wanna hear? You wanna feel like the righteous good guy?” Oz hissed back, not quite teetered into the realm of distress just yet, but gathering enough tears in his eyes to expose he was walking the border. “I’m not your little project for you to exercise how compassionate you can be to your shitty boyfriend. That probably makes you feel good, doesn’t it? Being a fucking saint to me??”
“That’s not why I’m doing this! I’ve been doing everything to make you happy and you’ve been acting like a fucking brat all day!” Without meaning to, Liam growled, not taking the empathetic route this time. Not having the tolerance to do so again. “All I want is to help you. Do you have to make it so goddamn hard!?”
The volume of Liam’s voice— perhaps along with the sharpness of his tone— earned a sudden jump of Oz’s shoulders, and his eyes instinctively filmed over with fear. It was momentary, but still very much present in that split second before being filled with hurt; the reflection of terror in Oz’s eyes, of dread that Liam’s rage against him would’ve held darker intentions. As if fear was already becoming second nature.
He’s never, ever, ever looked at Liam like that before.
“You don’t help,” Oz began, unsteady in his weak voice, already an octave lower than moments before when he was enraged, “Making me constantly have to think about last night doesn’t fucking help.”
Liam was still fuming, still obviously upset, but caught himself in a stabilizing exhale and recalibrated his approach. Oz wasn’t in a position to take yelling or anger well, at least not in such a disturbed state he was in; with newfound feelings about the night before still fresh and festering, Liam knew better than to agitate him further. “Then tell me what to do, stop leaving me in the dark. This isn’t easy for me either.”
Slowly, overfilled with enough hurt to drop his eyes down to the sheets he had bundled up in his tight grip, Oz hissed, more like a wounded animal defending itself than an aggressor attacking. “I’ve already told you what to do— stop bringing it up. You think this is easier for me? You think I wanna tell you how I fucking feel about all this!?”
“Of course you don’t. But god, Oz, I want to hear how you feel anyway.” He insisted, albeit a bit worn, a bit softer. “Even if you despise every second talking about it, the more I understand, the more I can really help you.”
Eyes still downcast, Oz’s lip trembled. The water in his eyes blurred everything, blurred and burned and blemished the world— until a blink sent a hot tear rolling down his cheek, over the trail of scabs and bruises, and a split moment of vulnerability leaked though. Not another string of bitter words at Liam, not another command for him to leave. Just silence. Silence for Liam to continue. Silence to gather his thoughts.
“Can you talk to me?” Even softer this time, a subtle check-in, Liam leaned in and set a supportive hand atop Oz’s.
The response he got was nothing short of a mournful croak.
“I-I don’t wanna say it. I can’t. I-I can’t, I can’t—“
“Please. Your thoughts are safe with me. I love you, Oz.” Liam lifted the other’s hand for a brief kiss on the back, before returning it back to the sheets with a index finger idly tracing a supportive circle where his lips had met the skin of Oz’s hand.
The tender words made Oz’s heart ache, and he slumped into himself in shame as his candid thoughts finally clawed their way out his mouth.
Liam watched as a tear hit the sheets, leaving a single stark damp stain. Betraying the shame he carried before Oz even spoke.
“I-I was a virgin,” he rasped, the sorrow thick on his vocal cords, barely audible through the half-sob it came out on. “I… I couldn’t even on prom night. We were going to wait. You were going to let me wait.”
“Until you were ready, yes. I know.” His voice was as hushed as Oz’s at this point.
“I-I wanted to, but g-god, I was just so nervous to be touched down there,” Oz ended with a stressed chuckle, as if his hesitations around sex were silly in retrospect, “b-but you understood, and were okay with it, so we were gonna wait.”
He swallowed a heavy lump down. It only ended up balling up nausea in his stomach, like a knot getting progressively more tangled.
But Liam waited patiently for him to continue, now drawing a figure-eight on the back of Oz’s hand with his gentle touch. Coaxing him to open up. Using physical contact to keep his lover grounded.
“I-I probably would’ve let you, if you would’ve tried. I don’t know… m-maybe a week or so ago I thought about it?” With an icy shudder, Oz tilted his head slightly to the side, as if his own thoughts were foreign and confusing to him. “I thought, if you would’ve tried to tug at my waistband or slip your hand in my boxers, I would’ve been fine with it. I-I was kinda excited, that I was comfortable enough to have our first time. Whenever it happens, that is.”
As if his heart was still one that beat, Liam felt a dull ache spread in his chest. Already tightening his jaw in anticipation to where this train of thought was going to end. Already feeling his own heartache dot a few sparse tears on his lashes.
Oz’s next words were practically frozen.
“But… you weren’t the one to first touch me there. He was.”
What Liam first thought was a shiver on him was actually an escalating tremble, and the next words from Oz were strained against the backdrop of a breaking sob, “And I-I can’t even remember the way he touched me. The closest feeling I know is when you’ve had your hands on my body.”
Finally, like the gentle circles on the back of his hand wasn’t enough to feed that starved part of himself, Oz turned to Liam and immediately leaned into a clingy embrace, desperate for physical comfort to ease the crawl under his skin. To sate the empty feeling growing deeper the longer he repined over something special he felt he lost.
“I-I wanted so bad for it to be you that touched me. Even if it meant the bruises. Even if it meant the bleeding.” Heaving, Oz buried his face hard into Liam’s shoulder, and the vampire struggled to keep his own composure as his arms protectively wrapped around his lover, trying to still Oz’s trembling and assure him he was in a safe place. “I-I want you to touch me, Liam. Not him, not him— just you. I w-want these to be your bruises. I want to actually remember what it felt like, even if it hurt.”
The unfiltered thought tasted sour on Oz’s tongue— he did want to remember last night, didn’t he? The mystery made for more mourning. More confusion. More of a creeping sense of powerlessness.
He wanted to know how it felt, but not from the man who had forced himself on him last night. Oz wanted to know how it felt in a loving way. To trust the one touching him.
Impulsively, he planted a needy, desperate kiss against Liam’s neck, as if trying to remind himself he was in his boyfriend’s arms. That he was with someone who loved him.
“Oz… I would never leave you bruises like that, I would never forgive myself if I had made you bleed,” the final word was emphasized with quite horror in Liam’s voice, that Oz would’ve wished his injuries were from him and not Gwilliam just for the sake of having it be dealt by someone he knows and trusts. “It’s… It’s just not what sex is supposed to be. And definitely not what love is supposed to be.”
As if Liam would have even been so careless with his virgin boyfriend in the first place, that he would have dared been anywhere near rough on their first time. That he would have been so immature as to forgo properly preparing him if Oz wished to bottom.
That he would’ve caused so much blatant pain to someone he loved.
A stir of bitterness churned inside Liam’s mind at the thought of how needlessly hurt Oz even was. It wouldn’t have been that hard to prepare him. It wouldn’t have taken that much time to slip a few fingers in first and warm him up, even if he was unconscious. If that monster would have spared five fucking minutes to ease Oz’s body up for the intrusion, Oz wouldn’t have torn so much, bled so much, and be in pain for what’s sure to be days.
Oz should never be wishing it was Liam who did this to him.
This was a blatant violation.
But, all Oz did was whimper at Liam’s response, gingerly pressing another kiss into his skin, where his jawline met his neck. He peppered a few more; Liam first thought Oz was just reassuring himself that he was with someone he trusts, but Oz’s motives grew murkier as he then moved without hesitation onto Liam’s lips.
His kisses were longing and deep, but not very chaste. Oz kept sliding his tongue into his mouth, and Liam let him, despite the bitter thoughts still swimming in his mind. But perhaps that fueled part of his motivation to allow this, to give Oz a chance to feel physical intimacy that wasn’t painful and flat-out bad.
“Liam…” the moan was hushed yet pitiful, and Oz adjusted to straddle one of the vampire’s thighs so that their chests touched with the closeness of their embrace. A hand held clingily on Liam’s shoulder, and he felt it shake subtly— Oz could act forward all he wants, but he can’t hide his nervousness.
After all, this was coming out of left field, especially after Liam expressed earlier today in the shower how much he feared unintentionally hurting Oz through intimacy while all this trauma is so fresh. Not to mention that Oz was practically throwing himself onto Liam after another crying fit; goes to show his mental state is obviously nowhere near coherent or clear.
After Oz broke another deep kiss with a pant, he leaned to the side to return back to the vampire’s neck with an all-too-personal tongue running warmly over flushed lilac skin. In between peppers of soft bites and sucks, he made an obvious up-played moan against Liam’s throat.
Briefly squeezing his eyes shut and holding steady around the small of Oz’s back, Liam’s breath came out on a shutter, enjoying the sensations but unable to stifle the curl of discomfort in his stomach for letting Oz do all this. Even though he wasn’t the one to initiate, Liam felt a bit of guilt, as if he were taking advantage of Oz.
“Slow down, love,” he groaned as Oz needily nipped into his shoulder. “You’re not well.”
“I’m well enough,” Oz insisted back on the heat of his breath, “I’m well enough and I know what I want.”
Just barely, Liam registered a warm hand slip under the hem of his shirt, as Oz ran his shaky fingers up his torso.
“I-I’m serious, Oz, this isn’t gonna go where you want it to.”
Returning a soft groan at Liam’s insistence, Oz pulled up just enough to narrow his eyes up at him. “Don’t think about where this is going. Just let it go.”
Before he could lean into Liam’s neck again, an abrupt hand on his chest stopped him.
“I know you’re hurting, love, but this isn’t going to help. New memories won’t erase bad ones.” The vampire persisted, but Oz only returned a short frown.
“This isn’t about last night. This is my choice, I’ve told you now that I’ve wanted this, so you should understand it has nothing to do with him.” Proving his words through actions, he eagerly latched back onto Liam’s neck, with bites that were obviously a little harder than they were moments ago.
“Don’t lie to me—” Liam groaned, trying not to get lost in the heated kisses and nips on his skin, and gathered a sliver of composure on a hesitant swallow. “Even if this is a complete non-sequitur to our conversation— an assumption that I am unwilling to make— you’re in no physical condition to get intimate.”
With a sudden break, Oz finally pulled off of his own volition, but only to do nothing more than glare bitterly at Liam.
“If you don’t want to have sex with me, then say it. I’ve voiced nothing but enthusiasm. So the only reason that we shouldn’t continue is if you’re having hesitations.”
Eyes widening in appall, Liam snapped back. “Of course I’m having hesitations! The problem isn’t that I’m not attracted to you, or hell, even that I don’t wanna fuck you. The problem is that you’re physically and mentally hurt from last night!” With a staggering exhale to level himself, Liam continued, “I don’t even know what we could even do that wouldn’t hurt you in some way. You’re covered in fucking bruises, Oz— god, do you know how scared I am of hurting you right now?”
Softening his grip on Liam’s shoulder, almost as if suddenly ashamed for forcing his boyfriend in such an unpleasant predicament, Oz dipped his head down in a sudden wave of regret.
“I-I’m sorry— I-I just wanted to feel what it is like, I wanted it to feel good this time…” he gave a small shake of his head, as if his desires for a pleasant sexual experience were silly for someone who had been violated just the night before. “I wanted to feel like this was something in my control. That I could have a good time if I wanted to. But, I don’t know, maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s too unfair to put you in this position.”
Knitting his brow in sympathy, Liam leaned in and peppered a chaste kiss on Oz’s cheek, showing that the roadblock didn’t mean lack of affections. “Your wishes aren’t to blame here; you deserve to feel pleasure in a safe environment with a trusted partner. Just with your physical state, I’m not sure any pleasure can be achieved very easily.” He snaked a hand up behind Oz’s head, gently carding through his hair while he considered his next words carefully, “but, if this is truly something you want with me right now, then I could try my best to give it to you. Though, if that is what you really want, I have conditions that outline my own comfort zone.”
Startled, as if he didn’t actually expect Liam to comply, Oz gave a few fluttered blinks of his wide, taken-aback eyes. “...C-Conditions?”
Liam flashed a weak smile, amused by Oz’s bewilderment. Finding it funny that it was almost like Oz didn’t expect to get this far. Or at least thinks he got this far; Liam was sure once he presents the reality of the situation, Oz is sure to shy away. “Yes, conditions. Conditions only if you are certain you really want this right now.” He hesitated, and despite knowing that Oz was going to be singing a different tune in a moment, he still presented hypothetical conditions that felt right to set if Oz really were to kept pestering for a first time right this moment.
“First and foremost: no matter what your wishes may be on the topic, I will not penetrate you. With fingers or otherwise. I don’t really care either way if you wish to penetrate me, but your body is off the table in that department.”
The explicit nature of the words rose a slight blush onto Oz’s cheeks, but concurrently managed to knit a painful stitch in his lower stomach at the mere thought of something going inside of him while his insides were as torn and sore as they were. And while his expectations for their first time did entail him bottoming, particularly due to his lack of experience compared to Liam, he hoped this didn’t mean he would have to top, what with him enjoying his more traditionally submissive role in their relationship. Nevertheless, Oz was sure there were plenty of other intimate acts remaining that didn’t involve one of them being penetrated. Without even realizing, he was giving Liam a stiff nod, unconsciously agreeing that penetration was a bad idea. To which, Liam was surprised didn’t get Oz to change his mind; and if that was the case, Liam did have other conditions, again only if Oz were to press through with this.
“Second, again regardless of your wishes on this, I will not do anything rough with you. That includes anything from scratching, to biting, to degrading dirty talk. Perhaps one day we could do those things, but if you really want to do this now, then today’s not that day.”
It was a real shame, mainly because Oz thought it was kind of hot when they got real rough during some runaway makeouts and Liam had bitten his neck or shoulder to lap at his blood. But, perhaps that kink was best left for another day, because at the moment if anything Liam did to him in an intimate setting physically hurt in the slightest, Oz knew he’ll probably start sobbing.
The notion made his heart hurt, but he shook it off so he can agree to it.
Again, Oz offered another nod; although, as the conversation became more graphic, so too did the dull ache in his stomach, clenching in phantom pain from the realization of the gravity of having his first official time right this very moment.
Oz swallowed dryly. Was this really what he wanted?
Liam bit his lip that Oz was holding out. Perhaps this was something he was going to go through with, perhaps he was underestimating Oz’s desire for a sexual encounter under his control. His next condition was thought of more carefully, since the glimpse of the possible reality that this might just be the day he and Oz have sex started lingering closer.
“Third, I need you to recognize that I’m not going to be very comfortable in this situation, but I’m willing to do this if this is what you truly want. My reservations are mostly due to the fear of causing you harm, so to facilitate a comfortable experience for us both, I’m going to have to request you be ongoingly vocal throughout the entirety to communicate your level of comfort. Lack of vocalness or lack of comfort will warrant a cease to all sexual activity. Do you understand?” The overt formality of Liam’s wording betrayed his own nervousness, and regardless of how vocal Oz agrees to be, Liam was sure he would still frequently check-up with him during any form of intimacy regardless. He thought for a moment how ludicrous it was he was even offering this, and felt a pang of guilt like he was taking advantage of his boyfriend while he wasn’t in a coherent mental state. Yet, a pang of similar guilt resonated with him at the thought of dismissing Oz completely if he was truly craving a positive sexual experience, and wished only to do with Liam what he would’ve wanted to do regardless of last night.
But, now Oz’s confidence was faltering. Somehow he nodded anyway, but his throat was tightening up. It’s not Liam, not from him— the graphic nature of the boundaries just made him think what could have happened last night, unbeknownst to Oz. Did Oz groan or whimper while he was unconscious last night, only for his vocalizations of pain to be disregarded by Gwilliam? Did Gwilliam talk dirty, vile things to him that Oz wouldn’t have ever registered?
Sour, violent twists of his stomach to those ideas made the creep of nausea escalate, and momentarily Oz had an incredible certainty that if his stomach wasn’t empty he might just throw up. How did Gwilliam touch him last night? What was every little thing he did to Oz’s body that made him feel like… this?
“... Oz, I-I don’t think you look too certain of this.” Liam noted, seeing a ghastly drop of color from Oz’s face, turning his skin a pallid sick gray.
Refocusing, Oz blinked a few times, with each flutter of his lashes restoring himself into the present. The idea of what he wished to do with Liam right now having already been done last night without him even remembering caused a distraction, a forceful mental block that refused to let him relax. He can’t be thinking of these things. He can’t contrast any of Liam’s touches or affection to hypotheticals of the night before.
But, god, it wasn’t like he couldn’t just not think of it.
“I’m certain. I promise I’m certain.” He lied, blatantly. As if Liam was someone that was easily fooled.
The vampire sighed, weary with the obvious lies Oz was pushing for a motive Liam still wasn’t certain of. “I told you my conditions so you would understand the implications of having a sexual encounter right here right now. I don’t want you to just blindly tell me you’re certain about this; Oz, I need you to really think and evaluate yourself, because I can’t do it for you: are you in a state where you can actually have sex, and is it something you’re even wanting for the right reasons?”
Momentarily, Oz flinched.
“I-I’m just a little sore, but I know you’ll be… be gentle, with me.” Meek, losing a lot of the forwardness he originally carried into this, Oz kept his eyes locked down and away from Liam’s. “And, a-and this is something I want, because it’s not fair he got to touch me like that. I-It’s not fair, I want to be touched by you, I want this to be something I have with you.”
Liam considered reminding Oz about his claims of this having nothing to do with last night, but decided against it. After all, it seems like Oz was finally touching down with some truth; he’s just trying to cover up a bad sexual experience with a good one, thinking that’s gonna be what will make the bad one hurt less.
“I know it’s not fair, love. But that doesn’t mean sex with me will help at all. And it definitely doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt you further.”
The truth made Oz wince.
“Please… But I want you, Liam…”
Soft and fragile, Oz choked out the words desperately, reaching out a hand that was quivering as much as his voice. It met with the hem of Liam’s waistband, fingers gingerly curling underneath the hem, tugging slightly as a meek request.
It was very obvious to both that neither of them were even erect at the moment.
Sucking in a defeated breath, Liam kept to his word.
“If this is what you wish, my love,” at that, his hands came up to cup his boyfriend’s face tenderly, carefully avoiding the lacerated cheek, “we can continue. But, there’s no need to rush, so let’s keep the pants on for now, alright?”
Sheepish, Oz knit his brow, but concurrently withdrew his hands.
“When do they come off?”
One of the hands on his cheek sailed down his neck, drifting over his jawline before sweeping back onto his nape.
“Hm, how about once I’ve gotten you hard?”
Liam planted a quick kiss on the skin of Oz’s jawline, right over where he’d just brushed— it felt sensitive, and the kiss only sweetened the sensation.
Oz swallowed, and squeezed his eyes shut to relish in the feeling.
It wasn’t so bad. It physically felt good, after all.
Part of him was just waiting for when it was going to feel mentally good. But maybe, Liam will guide him there.
Another kiss got planted against his jawline, this time with the greeting of a warm tongue. Oz could feel the points of Liam’s fangs graze his skin as he did so, and although he knew Liam would refuse to bite him in these circumstances it still stirred a familiar warmth in his lower stomach to think about.
Arousal, Oz identified.
He had forgotten just how hot he thought the biting and the fangs were.
When a third kiss landed, this time tongue sailing over his skin freely and fangs pressed flush against him to allow such contact, Oz found his jaw falling open with a low moan.
Liam hesitated, surprised.
That was the first genuine sounding moan Oz had given him this evening. Not to mention familiar; Liam almost felt his own body reacting warmly to hearing such engagement from his lover.
The heavy cloud of dread haunting his mind lifted.
Oz wants this. This was going to be okay.
Even if this ends up being something as simple as a handjob or as far as Liam riding him, this was going to be Oz’s true first time.
And nothing Gwilliam had done to him mattered.
Or at least, Oz could close his eyes and think as much he got lost in his lover’s kisses.