ANOTHER BOOK OF BS INSTEAD OF SLEEP

I Will Not Kiss You

"She wiped the blood from her cheek and picked up the sword.

His eyes followed her blade as she pressed it against his neck.

"Don't. Move.""

Lance only smirked.

Edge's blade at his throat meant nothing, not when he'd stolen hot kisses from behind bars, not when he'd felt up that strong, sexy body. Not when he'd buried his cock into the sexually submissive ginger, no, this blade was nothing.

Edge's cheeks were on fire, huh, so he remembered too.

Nights where he was assigned to guard (or volunteered...?) Lance's cell when he'd been taken hostage by Edge's mafia.

In the secrecy granted by the night, they'd held each other so close, pressed up against the bars of the cell door, lips and tongues delving down each others throats. Roaming hands, groping everything in reach, making the other moan idly in satisfaction.

Edge was the one who begged for it.

Letting himself into the cell so Lance would slam him against the wall and kiss him fiercely, holding his wrists with an iron grip.

Edge had been the one to wrap his arms and legs around Lance, pleading for the blond to put it inside, devour him with insatiable lust.

Edge was the one that screamed for more and more and more, begging shamelessly for Lance's seed.

This blade was nothing.

"Oh Edge..." Lance chuckled, watching Edge blush harder, trembling just the slightest bit. "...I know you won't do it."

Edge's blue-green eyes were so wide and unblinking, terrified and frozen from indecision.

Lance reached out slowly, cupping his cheek in his hand, brushing away tears that were on the verge of falling. Gently lowering Edge's blade with his free hand, he leaned in and kissed him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Edge caught members of his mafia, the shock on their faces. He struggled weakly against Lance, but those hands, god those hands felt like- no, those hands were home.

He held Lance tightly and cried, kissing him hard.

"I love you!" he gasped, pulling away, squeezing Lance's hands. Lance too had noticed Edge's fellow mafia members, and shot them in the legs. Injured, but not dead.

Edge was lost.

He held no love for his mafia, but had been their best member for so long. He did, though, love Lance. Maybe it was the sex, the sex was so damn good. So what?

Lance held him so closely afterwards, petting him and gently kissing all over his body and telling him over and over and over again, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

He drank those words in so thirstily, they felt so fucking good. He never got to hear those words, and Lance gave them to him so willingly he could cry from giddy delight.

Lance held him now and he cried his heart out, so ashamed of his betrayal but so hopelessly intoxicated by this man.

He wanted such stupid things.

Why?

Why did he crave a quiet night with Lance where they could just cuddle? They'd has casual sex before, so affectionate and soft and whole, he loved it.

He enjoyed rough sex much more, being treated like a filthy fuck toy and spanked and fucked and degraded.

The soft sex was nice too, making him feel so incomprehensibly loved that he could barely fathom it. Lance would kiss him so much, mouthing those absolutely delectable words against his lips, I love you.

He hadn't cried in so long...

Yet... Lance didn't stop him.

Lance held him, so dearly, and he cried.

He soaked Lance's shirt with his tears but it didn't matter. Lance muttered to him soothingly, it's alright. Let it out. Let it out.

Why did he crave such a domestic lifestyle?

Why did he fantasize about neatly slicing fish in order to cook dinner with Lance keeping him company and making him laugh, rather than the exciting mafia life, with all its undercover operations and his skills with various weapons?

Why did he want to wake up every morning and see Lance's face, kiss him softly on the lips and cuddle him. Maybe a quick round of somewhat soft, early morning sex before they start the day. Before he heads to work, where he teaches biology and helps students learn about the science behind the human body?

Anything would be better than teaching those same kinds of kids the science behind all the ways to kill a man.

Why, why, why?

Was he becoming weak?

Or...

Maybe... maybe he just wanted to live a normal life...