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This is the first request and fill post. Please go here for the sticky post containing the rules, how this meme works, frequently asked questions, request and fill index, etc.

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Tim/Brian 1 of ?

He hit me
And it felt like a kiss

The house was quiet and dark. With no one to pay the bill, the electricity had been shut off months ago. The lights still flickered sometimes, or remained on for hours. He never bothered to question why.

This had been his home once. It wasn't anymore.

He was sitting in the living room, on the floor amongst the overturned furniture. Tim was standing in the hallway, one leg of his jeans cut away to make room for the splint Brian adjusted every morning. Tim was staring at him.

There was a washcloth in his hand, so Brian shut his laptop.

There was the sound of water running on the second floor, so Brian hooked Tim's arm over his shoulders.

They walked up the stairs slowly, taking one step at a time. Tim's fingers dug in to Brian's arm. Brian held Tim carefully around the waist. They bore eachother's weight in silence.

One night Tim had started sending Brian pictures. One after another after another, from various angles and all a little blurry, of a wide swath of bruised skin that stretched, swollen and tight, across the front of his leg. Brian had recognized the signs of a bone fracture. 10 minutes later, Brian had also recognized a bit of molding just inside the shaky frame of one of the pictures. Two hours later he had toed off his running shoes in the doorway and found Tim in the closet, his teeth clenched tight together, whimpering in his sleep.

Setting the bone woke him up quickly.

Tying the gag around his mouth hadn't, so Brian watched him scream and thrash and pant, holding his leg still with the weight of his body against his upper thigh. If the fingers of his other hand were laced together with Tim's, holding tightly, there was no one else there to see it.

That was a month ago. The first week, when Brian would leave the house for supplies and food, he would lock Tim in the closet to make sure he stayed off his feet. Sometimes Tim was still there when Brian came back. The last time, Tim had waited for him to come in the door before hitting him in the side of the head with a table leg. He'd sat on Brian's chest, staring down at him with such rare focus, slowly shaking his head back and forth. There was blood on his lips. There was blood on the mattress in the closet. Tim's hands were shaking.

After that, Brian let Tim mostly do as he pleased.

Re: Tim/Brian 1 of ?

Whoa, this was unexpectedly hot! I really like your writing style here.

Hope you come back to finish this!

Re: Tim/Brian 1 of ?

OP here, couldn't agree more. Reading just this part was the best part of my day, can't wait for the rest (:

Tim/Brian 2 of ?

Luckily, even Tim had come to realize that there were things he couldn't do on his own. Something as simple as sitting down had been precarious and painful, in the beginning. Walking up and down the stairs was getting easier, but two days ago he'd overbalanced and nearly fallen over the bannister. By mutual agreement, Tim now remembered - at least part of the time - to let Brian help him up and down them. But when it came to bathing... When it came to bathing, Tim was useless.

The tub was overflowing with hot water. The upstairs carpet was soaked through. The bathroom and hallway were full of steam. Brian left Tim, leaning against the doorway and curling his toes in the damp carpet, and managed to turn off the tap without crippling himself in the process.

While the water drained to a more reasonable level, Brian helped Tim across the solid inch of lukewarm water that now covered the bathroom floor, getting him situated on the edge of the tub. Brian didn't reprimand him, and Tim didn't apologize. They had known eachother too long and in too many ways for any of that to still mean anything.

When he knelt to help Tim out of his pants, water seeped into the knees of his jeans. By the time he managed to slide them over Tim's injured leg without disrupting the splint, they were both waterlogged, the bathroom still oppressively hot. Even their lungs felt wet and heavy.

Brian maintained eye contact with Tim throughout the entire, by now familiar, process of getting him unclothed and helping him into the bathtub. The first few times they'd done this, Tim had purposely waited for Brian to look away or become distracted with his injured leg, then flipped him over the lip of the tub into the water. Usually he would simply watch while Brian spluttered and fumbled and blinked water out of his eyes. Once or twice he'd tried to shove his head under the water and hold it there. Even on a good day, though, Brian was stronger than Tim.

This time, Tim did nothing more threatening than handing Brian the washcloth. Brian kept Tim's injured leg propped up and supported on his lap, sitting on the edge of the tub with his feet in a rapidly cooling puddle, while he cleaned around the splint, methodically dipping the washcloth into the hot water and ringing out the excess, scrubbing at the pad of Tim's foot, in between his toes and across his knee. Brian was very careful with the angle at which he held Tim's leg, not wanting water to drip down into the makeshift kitchen-towel-duct-tape-and-plank-of-wood splint that was holding Tim's tibia together. Instead of handing the washcloth back to Tim once he had finished wiping down his leg, Brian kept going, his hand trailing down the back of Tim's thigh, the washcloth brushing over his belly as Brian started to bring his hand around.

Then Tim wrapped his fingers around Brian's throat.

Brian didn't startle or try to pull away. Tim wasn't bearing down – he simply held his hand there with that familiar look, half curious and half predatory, waiting in stillness.

The bathroom light overhead flickered, but neither Tim nor Brian's gaze wavered.

Brian swallowed around the pressure of Tim's hand just to feel his fingers reflexively tighten, then gave him what he was waiting for, leaning forward even though doing so completely cut off his oxygen. Their lips pressed together softly, completely at odds with the hard grip Tim still had on Brian's throat, their mouths sliding over each other with ease, slick with the moisture and heat in the air.

Re: Tim/Brian 2 of ?

I'm not the OP, but I really hope you continue with this, Anon. This pairing is amazing, in a hot, messed-up way, and I'd love to see more.

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