-Jack's POV-
It feels like I'd been awake so much longer than I have been. His head was still resting on my chest, his breathing finally relaxed. The palms of his hands rested on my thigh, seeming to either be protecting, or perhaps hiding the three deep scratches from last night.
Tear stains surrounded the area of my shirt where his face was, mouth relaxed and slightly opened. I took my fingers and rubbed his broad shoulders as he slept. He flinched at the touch, his brow furrowed, but soon he was calm again.
I spent most of the last two hours trying to make sense of what had happened last night. Going over the words and actions in my own head, to find out what went so wrong and when it moved from a new way to have fun to the person I love more than anything sobbing into my arms.
"Tonight, can we try something a little different?"
I sounded coy, almost playful. At least I thought that I did.
"Anything for you. What do you want me to do for you?"
He was being receptive. Romantic. Wanting nothing but to do whatever he could to make me happy.
Maybe that was the first mistake. He wasn't looking at me as a conquest, but as a treasure. Something to carry in his firm and tanned fingers, beautiful and remarkable. I needed to be cared for and admired.
This feeling of him seeing me as fragile was not a new feeling. When we first made love all of the gentleness had been so appreciated, but now, I almost resented it at times.
Was that the feeling I had? Resentment for him not believing that I could handle his strength and fierceness? Just because I was on the receiving end of the hard thrusts of his hips didn't make me less...masculine.
We had talked about the labels before. That our sex was about making each other feel wanted and loved. That it didn't matter the pitch of our moans or the tone of our sighs. It was about us moving as one heart and one mind.
I could feel myself getting angry at both of us. Him for seeing me as a delicate flower and for me so easily accepting that role. I wanted to be grabbed and held down sometimes. For him to respect that I had muscle and bone underneath the soft paleness of my skin.
"Babe? You stopped talking to me. Everything ok?"
It was ok. We were ok. Stop needing to fucking protect me.
He stirred in my arms, and I realized that I was tensing my arm muscles. I relaxed my body at once and he groaned, his face smooth and lips parting as if awaiting a gentle kiss.
The morning sun was insistent now, creeping through every opening within the bedroom, and helping his eyes to finally open up to look at me.
"Good morning, Mark," I whispered, and I waited as his mouth opened wide in a yawn, and his arms and legs shook off the remains of the previous night.
He blinked up at me twice, his expression downcast, but bracing for the next inevitable words.
"We needed to talk about what happened."
He looked back at my thigh, and touched the the redness of my skin with his hands. The area looked a lot worse than it felt, but I flinched at the pressure. He glanced back at my face, his expression terrified of hurting me further, and he retreated his hands to wrap around my waist instead.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, his hug as tight as the one he gave before he cried himself to sleep. "If you want to hold off on...the -"
His lips were forming "wedding" but the word was refusing to push past the the resting place of his jaw.
" - moving in. Hold off on moving in." he seemed to settle on instead.
"I want to move in with you," I said, kissing his forehead. "I love you so much. We can take it slow with you taking more control, if that's what you need, ok?"
"I love you too," he replied, his voice trembling, "I don't know what I would do if you...I need you so much, Sean. I'll do anything to fix this."
"I've thought about it," I said, taking his chin in my hand and lifting his face up to meet mine. "A safe word? We can try a safe word for rougher sex. Would you be ok...with trying that with me?"
He sat up and wrapped me in a hug, his face nuzzling my neck and shoulder. "Yes, of course. We can try that. I'm just so relieved that you want us to try again."
I looked at him, confused.
"Why would you think anything other than that?"
He looked at me, his eyes almost pleading for me to ask a question that he wanted to finally answer.
I took a deep breath, and pushed a tear away from his cheek with my thumb.
"Who hurt you?"
He lowered his dark brown gaze to my hands, and understanding, I reached for his fingers and interlaced them with mine.
He took a breath, and then another, and when he was ready, his fingers tighten around mine, and looked back into my eyes.
"It was Hunter."