Cracks in the Mask

What Happens in the Hideout...

Notes:

Hey Descendants!

I'm back from my mini-vacay! Ready for a new week of updates?

Buckle up for this chapter, it's going to get a little intense.

So, I'll just let you get to it, one thing:

Warning, there are body modification-ish themes ahead, but everything is done with consent.

We hope you enjoy the chapter.

Lots of Love,

-Dark-

(See the end of the chapter for questions.)

He doesn't want to talk about it.

He doesn't want to talk about it.

Harry grimaces.

But why?

Why didn't he want to talk about it?

He holds up the hoodie T set out for him, glaring at it without even seeing it.

What had he done to make T run?

He absently throws the hoodie over his arm as he clears his throat.

He grimaces again. Not even five fucking minutes and he was struggling to respect that T didn't want to talk about something.

He was an asshole. A concerned and confused asshole, but a fucking asshole.

"Hey T..." He hears himself call out.

"Sup?" T questions from where he was still rummaging in one of the room's corners.

"I uh... I know ya don'nah be wantin' ta be talkin' 'bout it, an ya don'nah be havin' to," He taps his fist against his forehead, "But um, can ya just be ah tellin' me what I be ah doin' wrong?"

Several long moments pass before T leans against the door frame.

"You didn't, it's- Just, don't worry about it. It was me."

He stares at him. But what was him? And it took two for something to be wrong, and that was what worried him. "But I be doin' somethin' that be makin' ya feel somethin'."

T shifts uncomfortably. "I just- uh," He sighs, "It's-" He squeezes his arm.

He'd gone over the whole thing at least a hundred times in his head. They'd been lightly rubbing against each other, both had roaming hands. His eyes narrow as he takes in T's hand currently digging into his arm. "Please be stoppin' that." He sighs as he walks over and pulls T's hand off his arm, "Whatever be ah happenin', it ain'nah worth ya hurtin' yerself."

"Sorry," T turns away.

"Look it T, I be likin' when we be practicin' kissin', an' when we be makin' each other feel good, but I don'nah be wantin' ta hurt ya like that again." He frowns as he rubs his thumb over the back of T's wrist, frowning at the roughness. His brow furrows.

His eyes narrow, "I uh-" He blinks, "I don'nah be wantin' ta take advantage of ah situation where neither o' us be fully knowin'-" He bites his lip.

Was it the scars?

The bottom of his foot tingles uncomfortably. Was it?

"Can I um, can I be ah seein' somethin'?"

T tilts his head to the side studying him for a moment, "Okay?"

He takes a deep breath before he quickly grasps T's hips between his hands, pushing the overly large hoodie and several layers of shirts out of the way until his hands find bare skin.