Chapter Four

After a quick workout and a shower, Quentin felt somewhat decent. He didn't know how long Snow would be gone, but he knew he couldn't let Snow catch him up and about. Quentin also knew he couldn't simply resign himself to being weak again. He had lost hope of walking on his own a long time ago. Now that he had forced himself back on his feet, he wasn't ready to quit.

Adam came through the door, carrying a box. Pink was on his heels, dragging two suitcases. Snow followed with a backpack over one shoulder, an overnight bag and his sketchbook. Quentin shook his head at the sight.

"I see you haven't even tried growing your wardrobe the last few months."

Snow's head whipped toward the sink where Quentin stood, eating a sandwich. "Why are you up?"

Quentin flashed him a guilty smile. "Because I can be. I didn't use to be able to say that." His gaze moved Pink's way before Snow had a chance to lecture him. "Hey. I'm glad you accepted my invitation."

Pink dipped his head and blushed. "Yeah. Thanks. I'll find a way to be useful."

He was sweet. "That's unnecessary. This place is big enough for an army and I like knowing it's filled with love."

Pink looked uncomfortable.

Quentin didn't know how to fix it. He didn't know Pink well enough yet to help. "Adam looks ready to get you settled."

For some unknown reason, Adam didn't meet anyone's gaze. He simply walked away with his box, forcing Pink to scramble after him.

Quentin looked Snow's way. He raised his eyebrows in question.

Snow shrugged and crossed the room. "Will you please sit down? For me."

With a sigh, Quentin carried his sandwich to the table and sat.

Snow kissed his head. "Thank you. Let me run these bags to the bedroom and I'll be right back."

Quentin nodded and went back to eating. He wanted so badly for things to move along as if Snow had never left. He knew it was a Pollyanna way of thinking, but that was what he wanted.

Snow was back in no time. "Okay. Bags dumped. What are we eating?"

With a chuckle, Quentin handed Snow the other half of his sandwich. "I don't know. John fixed it. It's some type of Cajun chicken thing."

Snow took a bite. "Mhmm." He moved to the pantry and grabbed a bag of chips, then a Coke from the fridge. He joined Quentin at the table. He opened the chips for them before pulling his chair close enough for them to share.

Quentin's eyes unexpectedly stung. They had shared every meal just like this. They sat squished together at the head of the table, savoring each other's company. Quentin had been closer to Snow than anyone else in the world. There was still this thing sitting between them, no matter how much Quentin wanted to ignore it. But fuck, he wanted his friend and lover back.

"I just want it to disappear," Snow said suddenly, as if reading his thoughts. He looked over and met Quentin's stare. "I want to wish the past few months away. More than anything, I want to undo what I did. It feels like this terrible thing is lurking in the shadows, ready to sneak up and rip us apart again, and we're pretending it isn't there."

Sometimes, it was like they shared a brain. And Snow was right. There was this thing just lurking over them. "So then, let's talk about it. Let's talk it to death. We can shine so much light on it that it can't hurt us anymore. Say every thought you've had the last few months."

Snow went silent. He stared at the table. Sadness rolled from him, choking Quentin.

"Okay," Quentin said when Snow didn't speak. "I'll talk. You're my best friend. At least, I thought so." Snow's chin lifted. His burning stare held Quentin's as Quentin unburdened himself. "There was, still is, nothing you couldn't tell me. If you had told me what was going on that night, I could've helped. We could've figured things out together. But you didn't." Quentin took a shaky-sounding breath. He hated to say the words, giving voice to the pain he felt that night. "But worse than that, you chose that night—after ten years of friendship and sleeping next to each other every night—to make love to me. To tell me you love me. When I saw that video of you letting those people into our home, to hurt people I swore to protect, I felt like what happened between us was a lie. I felt like you had just been distracting me from what you planned." Quentin swallowed. Despite his best efforts, his eyes burned with tears. "You shattered me."

Snow blinked. A tear ran down his cheek, taking Quentin's breath. "Before you, I had nothing to lose. When they threatened your life, if I didn't let them take Charon, I had never been that terrified. It made me incapable of thinking clearly. I felt like I had wasted so many nights scared of losing you if you found out I was in love with you. Before that night, I had honestly believed I would rather spend every night next to you in silence than risk you rejecting me and taking away my only reason to keep going." Snow sniffed. His breath came out sounding shaky. "But I knew you would be finished with me if I did what I had to do to keep you safe, and I couldn't let you toss me out before I told you how I felt." He swallowed. "I don't know what I expected. Maybe I just hoped love would save us. But everything I did and said that night was real. We are real."

A weight lifted from Quentin's chest. Confessing how that night had broken him, giving a voice to his insecurities, took away their power. He hadn't wanted to admit how used he felt that night. They had shared something beautiful, only to have it turn ugly almost instantly. He wanted that beauty back. Quentin needed what had been stolen from him back.

Someone had to be the one to start. He took a deep breath. "I love you and I forgive you."

A second tear fell, choking Quentin. Snow cleared his throat. "I don't deserve it, but I love you too. So fucking much. I won't ever fail you again."

Quentin wiped the tears from Snow's cheeks. "I know." He shrugged. "Despite everything, I honestly believe I know you and your heart. Like I said, you're my best friend. You belong here with me."

Snow leaned over and touched his forehead to Quentin's. They held each other's stare. Snow was so incredibly beautiful. Quentin never got enough of simply staring at him. Unfortunately, he was going downhill fast after overdoing it.

Adam came into the kitchen, breaking the spell.

Quentin looked his way. "Hey. Where's Pink?"

Adam made a dismissive motion that was somewhere between he didn't know and didn't care.

Snow answered instead. "Pink works late nights. He usually sleeps during the day."

Quentin nodded. That was fair. "Speaking of sleeping, I'm getting tired too."

Snow immediately shot to his feet and swept Quentin from his chair.

A tired-sounding laugh burst from Quentin. "I can still walk."

"Humor me," Snow said, heading for the bedroom.

Adam shook his head as they passed.

Quentin wasn't fooled. He saw the small smile hovering on Adam's lips. No matter his arguments against it, Adam was glad to have Snow home. That was good. It was permanent.

In his heart, Snow had never stopped being Quentin's personal caretaker. Like he had every night for ten years, Snow sat Quentin on the edge of the bed and went down on his knees to help Quentin undress.

"I don't really need help like this anymore."

Snow didn't meet Quentin's gaze at his words. "I don't do it for you. It's always been a selfish move. This gives me an excuse to touch you." His chin lifted. Their gazes collided. "To dream."

Quentin didn't shy away from his stare. "Thankfully, I look a little better now. Not so diminished. For now, anyhow." Quentin sounded sad.

"You're incredibly beautiful. Always have been." He peeled off Quentin's shirt, but he never looked away from Quentin's gorgeous blue eyes. All he saw was Quentin's soul. He was the greatest and kindest person Snow had ever met. There was no way Quentin could know what it was like to go from the cruelty of hell to living with him. Snow hadn't stood a chance against loving him.

A sad smile touched Quentin's lips. "I always wished I looked like you, so you would want me the way I want you."

The confession confused Snow and angered him more than a little. "Why would you want that? I'm covered in scars inside and out. I don't even have the option to strip to survive the way Pink does. This entire body is nothing but a ragged roadmap of abuse. My hair was white by the time I was twenty." It didn't matter Snow's specialty was seduction, getting close enough to silently kill. The academy had honed that ability, but he hadn't been spared the whip.

Quentin stroked his shoulders. The love never dampened in his eyes. "What scars?"

The fury bled from Snow.

Quentin brushed his fingertips down Snow's jaw. His thumb stroked Snow's bottom lip. "You got on your knees just like this every night and I ached. Still do. You were right about what you said at the charity event the other night. I would beg for you. There isn't anyone else out there who can do for me what you can."

An inferno raged through Snow. He fought the urge to fall on Quentin the way he had at that event. "I shouldn't have manhandled you like that. You kept talking to that same guy and I couldn't handle it. He probably matches you in every way: money and status. I'm nobody." Snow held Quentin's stare and let him see his lust. "But I'm the man who loves you and wants you. I'm the person who would kill for you."

A sweet smile touched Quentin's lips. "That guy wouldn't stop following me to tell me about his golf swing."

A surprised laugh burst from Snow, taking away the building darkness inside him. He knew how much Quentin hated golf. "That sounds awful."

Quentin's smile slipped. "It was. Everything has been that way without you. I miss your hands on my skin. I miss everything."

Snow didn't need to hear more. He would always have everything Quentin required. Snow did all the things he used to do. He took his time, removing Quentin's socks before slowly stripping away his pants. His heart ached a little more with every inch of skin he bared. Bruises covered Quentin's body, as if everything that barely brushed his skin left behind its mark.

His eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. "Damn, Quen. You don't deserve this. I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not." He reached for Snow's shirt. Snow fought the urge to stop him. He didn't want to be the reason Quentin's skin was left marked. As if reading his mind, Quentin held his stare as he dragged Snow's shirt upward. "I promise. It doesn't hurt. But not having your bare skin against mine is slowly murdering me."

That was all Snow needed to hear. He came to his feet and peeled off his clothes. Quentin settled back against the pillows and watched. The way his hungry gaze ate Snow alive was such a mind fuck. Snow hadn't been exaggerating earlier. Underneath his clothes, Snow's muscles might be hard and cut, but he was nothing but ugly ragged scars on the backside of his body. It seemed wrong for such a flawless man to touch his damaged body. There was no denying Quentin's lust. Quentin wanted him. It was obvious he didn't see what Snow saw when he looked at himself.

Snow set one knee on the mattress at Quentin's hip. Quentin's fingertips immediately found Snow's thigh and stroked, as if he needed to touch Snow. Snow straddled Quentin's body, keeping his weight balanced on his knees. No matter Quentin's reassurance to the contrary, Snow hated the idea of hurting him. Quentin was the type to say he wasn't in pain to spare Snow.

He eyed Quentin's body. Snow saw the changes Quentin was so proud to achieve. They didn't matter at all to Snow. He was so in love with Quentin's soul. Snow was nearly blind to everything else.

"The way you look at me takes my breath away."

"I need you to keep breathing." Snow had never meant anything more. He lowered his body, bracing his weight as he slowly moved in for a kiss. Quentin's head shot up, claiming his mouth, as if he didn't have the patience to wait. Snow's body throbbed with desire. His soul ached. He forgot about everything but the pleasure. Quentin's hands touched his hips, making Snow suck in a sharp breath. Then his hands moved to the globes of Snow's ass. Snow's entire being focused on those hands and what they would do next. Quentin pulled Snow closer, ensuring the lower half of their bodies met. A shiver ran through Snow as their erections met. Their tongues played. Snow rocked against Quentin.

"God. I want to be inside you."

Snow nearly came at Quentin's groaned words. They had never talked about preferences. Since they had only ever made love that one time and Snow hadn't dared cross any lines before then, the topic had never been broached. He would make love to Quentin like this for the rest of his life and be fine, but damn. Snow really wanted to feel Quentin inside him.

"Then do it." The demand sounded way too forceful, even to his ears. It was out of Snow's control. He wanted this.

"I don't have any protection. You know I've never had a reason to keep anything like that."

Snow held Quentin's stare. "I haven't been with anyone else since before I met you. You know how heavily I've tested since then." For sanity's sake, Snow always needed reassurance the academy hadn't permanently ruined his life in that way.

Quentin touched his hair, as if he couldn't resist feeling Snow's curls. "I know."

Snow blinked. He didn't want to feel rejected. Quentin, pretending not to immediately get the gist of what he was suggesting, kind of left him feeling unwanted. "Have you been with someone else?"

A sweet smile touched Quentin's lips. "Of course not."

He wondered if he would hyperventilate. "Do you plan to be?"

Quentin's features softened. "Of course not. I just don't want you to think I don't care about you. You should be the one to choose. I'm…" The way Quentin trailed off broke Snow's heart. He knew what Quentin had stopped himself from saying. He was dying. Unprotected sex wouldn't matter for him.

It didn't matter for Snow either. Neither of them would ever be with anyone else again. Even if the worst happened, Quentin was it for Snow. Snow had gone more than a decade without sex. It wasn't beautiful with anyone else. It had to be beautiful for his mind to accept the act. Too many times, it hadn't been. Snow's sanity depended on Quentin's healing love.

Without a word, Snow climbed from the bed and headed for the bathroom. He found the lube before heading back to bed. Quentin watched his every move, making Snow hotter by the second. He coated Quentin's cock, making it slippery. This time, when he straddled Quentin's body, he guided Quentin's dick to his asshole. Holding it in place, he slowly lowered himself. They held each other's stare. There was no awkwardness between them.

Snow sucked in a shaky breath as Quentin stretched him wide. It had been a long time. Too long. The moment wasn't as comfortable as he liked, but it was Quentin. The flush on his cheeks and the lust in his eyes had Snow ready to do anything. He hadn't thought he would get to see Quentin like this again. Snow thought he had ruined every chance.

"I love you." The words came from Snow's soul.

Quentin linked fingers with him. "I love you too." He squeezed Snow's hands. "Stop if you need to. I don't want to hurt you. All I want is to love you."

Snow fell forward and claimed Quentin's mouth. He wouldn't fail Quentin in this the way he had in everything else. Snow forgot about anything but the pleasure as he rocked himself on Quentin's cock. Quentin hit that internal button that sent his mind spiraling. Snow held that position and moved at that angle until they were both making noises like they might die.

"Holy shit, Snow. I won't make it. You feel too good. I've wanted this too long."

"Blow for me," Snow begged, wanting it. "I need your cum inside me. I need to know I'm yours."

Quentin took Snow's face between his hands, forcing Snow to hold his stare. "You're mine."

An orgasm slammed into Snow, stealing his breath. He sucked air as he coated Quentin's stomach in cum. Quentin cried out beneath him. His expression burned into Snow's brain. He wanted to remember Quentin exactly like this. For a moment, everything disappeared except their love. The past no longer mattered. Fears of the future vanished. It was only them. Beautiful. Perfect. As white as snow.