Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10547496.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Eerie_Crests_(Webcomic)
  Relationship:
      Blake_Basinger/Malek_Solh
  Character:
      Blake_Basinger, Malek_Solh
  Additional Tags:
      Arguing, Rough_Sex, sort_of_at_first, Make_up_sex, unhealthy
      relationship, Mental_Illness
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-04-05 Words: 3836
****** Shovel Sugar Over the Grave ******
by Seth_Cain_Abel
Summary
     When Blake tries to break up with Malek on his birthday his plan
     backfires.
Notes
     Written by Cain
They always went in the same cycle: honeymoon, crash and burn, make up sex,
repeat. It was tiring and angry and unhealthy and Blake was absolutely addicted
to it. Addicted to him. Malek was careless when they were like this - rough and
grabby, desperate to bury the conflict between them. He would fill the hole
with pleasure; he would shovel sugar over the grave Blake tried so hard to dig.
It was Malek’s birthday, and Blake had the tendency to derail his own plans.
It was simple, really. Blake had been poking and prodding at Malek for weeks
now. It was a tug-of-war of “he loves me, he loves me not” in Blake’s mind, and
when the final petal had fallen he’d been standing on the frayed not end of the
rope. So he did what he did best. He undermined himself in the form of fucking
with Malek’s head. He left him.
Of course, when Blake said the words he had prefaced them with a mighty fight.
Accusations of infidelity, of not supporting him enough… He had accused Malek
of having eyes “only for Weir.” Malek had actually sputtered at that one,
clamoring to come up with an excuse better than the telltale ”no I don’t!”
Blake had to admit that it hurt a little to see that reaction. It confirmed his
fears; he wasn’t good enough - he was crazy to think Malek could ever love him
and him alone. He was selfish and stupid and Malek could do so much better. So
he said it, just as easily as he’d said all the other hateful words he’d come
to regret before this. “We’re over.”
And Malek, oh Malek… Poor Mal, having been saddled with his burden for so long,
did nothing more this time than shrug. “Fine, Blake. If that’s what you want.”
His eyes were so resigned to the fact of it. The green was faded into old moss
- not the type that he wanted to rub his fingers against, but the sad kind that
had already fallen from the tree. Blake heard the words leave Malek’s mouth,
but he couldn’t quite understand them. This wasn’t the response his lover
normally gave him. The fight was gone. Suddenly, Blake was the one thrown for a
loop, floating in space like an astronaut detached from their ship. “What?”
“You heard me!” Malek threw his hands up into the air in an exasperated
gesture, taking a step back before moving to grab his jacket from Blake’s desk
chair. “If you wanna leave then leave.” He turned quickly (pivoted, really, on
his heel) and fixed Blake with a stare that betrayed how upset he really was
beneath the facade. “No, better yet, I will.” They were in Blake’s house, after
all. They stood in his room, feet bare against the cold hardwood as the anger
rolled off of their bodies in waves. It was hot, stifling, and Blake bet if the
AC were up any higher steam would be fogging up his windows. Malek pulled on
his jacket anyway. Blake himself remained frozen in place while Malek gathered
up his cds, shoving them into the front pocket of his soft case, and only
emerged from his stupor when his boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) slung the strap over
his shoulder and turned away for the door.
As though he were desperately attempting to hit rewind on a broken VCR, Blake
threw himself into action. He called out “Wait-”as he moved, crossing the room
in three strides in order to grasp at Malek’s sleeve. The other paused, and
Blake took it as a good sign. If Malek was stopping it was because he didn’t
want to go. He wanted to stay, which meant he hadn’t fucked it up as bad as he
thought, right? He just had to… convince Mal. Make him see that he was wanted -
and that Blake was worth keeping.
Without giving more than a moment’s pause, Blake turned Malek around. The
guitar in its case clanged against the door as Blake shoved himself up against
Malek and pressed their open mouths together. This was how he could prove it.
Let Malek use him in whatever ways he wanted and just… reiterate over and over
how much he loved him. He did. He loved him so much his heart wanted to beat
frantically out of it’s cage in his chest. He was panicked. Malek was okay with
leaving,how could he possibly be okay with that?!He took Mal’s bottom lip
between his teeth and bit sharply as his hands pawed between the jacket and t-
shirt he wore. This was how they always made up.
Except again, Malek tossed a wrench into his plan. He pushed Blake back,
focusing on a spot above his head and not looking at him why wasn’t he looking
at him?! “Blake, stop.” He sounded so tired, of their cycle or of Blake, well,
he wasn’t sure. And Blake… He listened. He pulled himself away from Malek,
horrified that he had ruined the one good thing he’d had going for him.
Malek was kind enough (or cruel enough, maybe) to at least spare him a glance.
Blake’s eyes were blown wide with dread and watched him carefully, as though he
were afraid to breathe; as though if he made any movement at all Malek would
turn to dust before him. But that wasn’t what made him dump his case
unceremoniously to the floor and sweep Blake into a crushing kiss, stealing the
air from his lungs as he tasted for the millionth time what the inside of his
boyfriend’s mouth was like. What spurred him to that particular action was how
Blake’s eyes shone wet, hazy like streetlights in a storm.
It took basically no effort at all to back Blake up until his knees hit the
side of his bed and he collapsed. They were a tangle of hands and fabric,
hungry and frenzied for each other like sharks swarming a feed. Blake wouldn’t
be able to remember later how Malek had been relieved of his jacket and shirt,
all he knew was that it had happened somewhere between Mal nipping a trail down
his neck as he guided him where to go and shoving him down onto the mattress.
As Blake hastened to yank his own henley up and over his head (getting caught
on his own chin because desperation was the most prevalent personality trait he
had) Malek settled one knee between his own and reached over to the end table.
There was a small drawer, and hidden way in the back of it were individual
packets of lube and condoms. Blake didn’t have time to blink before his shirt
was over his head and Malek’s mouth was back upon his, searching for atonement
and god knew what else.
He had no idea how Malek managed to shift them upward until he felt his back
meet the headboard. A loud groan filled Mal’s mouth like smoke from a
shotgunned joint as he palmed Blake’s jeans roughly, familiar fingers grasping
at his own pants blindly. Blake clung like his life depended upon every motion.
He was needy. “Please.” He gasped, Malek popping his button with one hand as he
held Blake’s shoulder to the headboard with the other. He wasn’t gentle, but he
wasn’t overtly mean, either. Malek knew exactly what Blake needed in times like
this, which was to be held but controlled. He needed to be a pillow princess,
splayed out and adored, but he also needed to be a slut. He needed Malek to
fill him with praise.
He had almost wiggled and shimmied his jeans down to his knees (no thanks to
someone) when Malek kissed him again deeply, bumping his head against the
wooden board behind them. But it was random, finished before it had even
started, and Malek was pinching the lube packet tightly between his fingers,
eyeing Blake’s body as though he were a starving man looking at a feast. He
wanted… He lusted, and he wasn’t subtle about it. Crushing the packet in his
palm, he moved to grip the bottom of Blake’s jeans and help pull him out of
them. “Turn around.” He breathed, eyes dark as he stood to kick his own jeans
down and off. Blake didn’t need any more instruction; he knew how they did this
after they fought. They were too ashamed to look at each other, too vulnerable
as they fucked their brick walls back up. He obeyed easily, silently, pulling
his boxers off and discarding them on the heap of their jeans before settling
his palms against the wall above the bed.
Instantly, Malek was back on him, pressing lips to his shoulder, the base of
his neck, burying his nose in brown waves and breathing deeply. It was hot, and
Blake leaned back against the body he found flush with his spine. He could feel
the tickle as Mal dragged his fingers down his sides (they had always been
sensitive) and sighed to the ceiling. This was how he fixed it all. This was
how they showed exactly how much they cared for one another. Malek was hard
against him, held against his ass and bucking ever so slightly as he reached
around to wrap a tight fist around his boyfriend. There was no hope of Blake
holding back the loud moan that tumbled from his body as he jerked into the
grip, head rolling back to lean against Malek’s shoulder. How long would he
fool around? How long would he tease Blake cruelly? It was always torture, this
part, when Malek looked him over and inspected every inch of flesh. He knewwhat
it did to Blake, and he did it anyway.
Maybe Blake hadbroken them, he thought with squinted eyes as Malek skipped
their regular practices and probed at him none too gently. It didn’t hurt,
honestly. He could feelgreen eyes locked onto him, watching from the odd angle
for any sign of discomfort. “Please, Malek.” He hummed again, pushing back
against the fingers until Malek removed them. “Te quiero. Te amo. Por favor,
coge- AH! Fuck cogeme!” Malek had used his babbling to cover the sounds of the
lube being ripped open, and had bequeathed Blake’s request, entering him with
two digits while his other arm wrapped tightly around his torso. “Are you
okay?” He asked in a voice heavy and low as they rocked together, Malek
stretching Blake to a litany of whispered curses. All he could do was nod,
loving how close they were, how intimate the moment was. He couldn’t have
broken them. He was fixing things. Malek didn’t hate him or they wouldn’t have
gotten this far. Kisses were soft as they littered his skin, a harsh
juxtaposition to how Malek dug into his body, hollowing him as best he could.
Blake could feel the hole in his chest open as his body did the same.
He wasn’t sure if it had been too long or not long enough when Malek left him
empty and sort of… gooey feeling. He hated this part too, if he was being
honest with himself. But he also hadn’t been satisfied, so he was half crazed
for the next step. Thatwas the part he liked - being taken apart. Malek was
gone for a good moment, but Blake didn’t dare look back. He fought with his
mind the entire time instead, the steady mantra of ”he doesn’t really want you,
he just wants to get off”thrumming alongside his elevated heartbeat. Malek
didwant him. He lovedhim, god damn it, and this was how it manifested.
One hand reached out to cover his own against the stark white of the wall as
Malek crowded closer again, lining himself up. He didn’t ask if Blake was sure,
didn’t need to judging by the way Blake all but mewled in anticipation. And it
stung when he finally slid in, he couldn’t lie. Malek was gifted. Every time it
took some getting used to. But Malek was patient as well, and waited while
Blake bit his lip, body quaking for an extended second. He knew Malek didn’t
wantto wait, that he wanted to dive into him and get lost, and that he was
probably tired of doing this every time. It was why he hadn’t fought back when
Blake had tried to leave him. Maybe he didjust want to get off. Maybe Blake
hadscrewed them up.
No. “Esta bien.” He mumbled to his own chest despite the tightness that
threatened to overtake it. He needed his boyfriend to just fuck this doubt out
of him already. Malek pressed his mouth to the column of his neck and sucked
there, waiting just a pause before thrusting experimentally, eyes looking
somewhere around the area of Blake’s elbow. He took the shaky gasp as a good
sign, which it definitely was.
This was where they fell back into their usual regimen. His bed didn’t squeak,
but the room was by no means silent. It was filled with a cadence of sighs and
soft ”dios mio”. Mostly, though, there was Malek’s praise. Affirmations of “I
love you, Blake”, “you feel so good -you're so good to me.” Curses in multiple
languages. Directions of what to do - “arch more, yes, fuck you’re amazing”
“Don’t stop, dios, that angle.” Malek bit him once directly where his neck met
his shoulder, severely, forcing him to cry out in pain that mixed deliciously
with pleasure. Blake was trembling as he reached down to wrap his hand around
himself, trying to keep up with Malek’s rhythm. Malek had his forehead pressed
to Blake’s shoulder blade, slick with sweat. His hands gripped hips tightly
enough to be able to move Blake should he need to; not that he did, considering
Blake was greedily fucking himself back onto Malek without prompting.
But something was different. There was a tension in Blake that had Malek
lifting his head, hearing the softest sniffle as it was caught up in an uneven
breath. Blake was still stroking himself, but he had turned his face away. It
was weird, usually he was one to toss his head back - to groan and gasp and let
Malek know what he was doing right. And this… Blake was crying. This
definitelywasn’t right.
Just like that, Malek felt the air sucked from the room as if they were trapped
in a vacuum-seal. He had made Blake - who never let himself be that genuinely
vulnerable - cry. “Blake. Baby.” He had paused, which had only served to make
Blake tense more, back straight and rigid as he adamantly kept his face turned
the opposite direction of Malek. It took Mal’s hand trapping his chin for Blake
to actually look up. This time, his eyes weren’t just shining with unshed
tears. They fell, round and loaded, onto Malek’s wrist. Blake was in pain, lip
pulled between his teeth, and he looked uncomfortably bare in that moment.
“Oh my god, sweetheart… Are you alright?” The words fell before he could think
of a different response, and Blake cried harder, releasing himself in order to
clamp his hand over his mouth as he choked on sobs. Where had this come from?
Had he hurthim?
Pulling out slowly and carefully, Malek kept a watchful eye on his boyfriend.
Did he wince? Was there blood? The bite mark he had left was red and raised on
his flesh, had he been too careless? “Blake.” He was overly gentle when he
turned his boyfriend to face him full on, moving Blake’s hand away from his
face so he could rest one of his own on either cheek, keeping him from turning
away again. Good godhis dick ached. “I can’t fix it if you don’t let me know
what’s wrong. Talk to me. Please?”
There was long bout of silence now, hung in the air like the low fog that crept
from the forest. They stared at each other, Blake quaking and almost limp in
Malek’s hold and Mal himself searched Blake’s face for anything at all.
Finally, after what seemed like the most pregnant pause of his life thus far,
Blake spoke. The words were soft and unsure, and Malek knew they were candid -
Blake was warring with himself like he alwaysdid. “Do you hate me?”
There were probably reasons Malek could think of that could easily lead to
resentment toward his lover. Blake was needy and desperate for validation, like
he had no sense of self without the confirmation of others. He picked fights
and shut down emotionally instead of trying to talk it out. He threw blame
around at everyone but refusedto take it upon himself. But did Malek hate him?
“No.” He answered sincerely, hoping that his tone conveyed just how much he
meant it. “Of course I don’t hate you.” He loved Blake so much it ached deep
within his chest. And Blake… he followed it up with another question, just as
quiet and shaky as the first. “Are we really breaking up?”
Again Malek thought of the plethora of reasons why they could. But he shook his
head, repeating lovingly and with a ghost of a smile “no, of course not.”
It unleashed a fresh wave of tears, but Blake moved to grip his shoulders like
Malek was the only thing grounding him to the earth. Sometimes Malek wondered
if he was. Blake nodded twice and pulled his lip back into his teeth, doing
nothing more than looking at Malek - taking him in as though he’d disappear any
time.
“Please don’t leave me.”
It was less than a whisper. Malek wasn’t even sure if Blake realized he had
said it out loud. But he had, and Malek understood exactly how Blake was
hurting then. He didn’t respond verbally. Instead Malek pulled Blake in and
kissed him, nicely this time - gingerly and full of warmth. He let his mouth
and body do the talking; he slid his hands away from Blake’s face and downward,
brushing over the bite mark and still further over shoulder blades. He pulled
the other in with one hand on the small of his back and the other on his upper
arm, not gripping, just holding. Although they were still perched on their
knees over the comforter, they kissed languidly like this for a long time.
Blake’s mouth was sticky from his tears, face drying so slowly, but Malek
really didn’t mind that much.
As things tended to do with them, the moment grew heated once more. But it was
vastly different from before. There was no anger, no resentment or hiding of
faces in shame. They weren’t rushed - Blake had the house to himself for the
weekend anyway. There was only openness and acceptance. There was catharsis, in
a sense. Malek lay Blake back this time so he could rest against his pillows
and soft bedspread. They kept kissing as Malek settled his weight onto Blake’s
body, fit between his knees, and they only stopped when Mal moved his attention
down down down to Blake’s collarbone and chest. He stared at his ceiling and
swallowed thickly, hushing the voice that told him Malek was lying. No he
wasn’t. He’d had the opportunity to leave and he chose to stay. That meant
something. It meant everything.
When Malek pressed himself tentatively to Blake again, he made sure to ask. “Is
this okay?” Blake nodded, but he asked again, allowing the other to control the
situation - to stop and escape if he so chose. “Are you sure?”
“Dios, Mal…” Blake let his gaze drop to Malek’s hair. He loved how it always
seemed to know where to fall and what to do, even when it was caked with dried
sweat and stuck to his forehead. “Te quiero. Cogeme.”
As much as he enjoyed being fucked roughly, he lovedwhen they were soft with
one another. Malek had this thingabout breathing in the scent of his hair, and
it left Blake feeling so close, so intimate… He was free to help himself along
with one hand and fist the other against Malek’s scalp, keeping him there.
Again the room slowly filled with sighs and hushed groans. Blake was
exponentially quieter now, but Malek knew everything was okay; the fingers
furling and unfurling in his hair spoke volumes. He shifted a little and
elicited a louder sound, the grip on his head painfully tight as Blake clenched
around him. Keeping it up earned him a dreamy ”right there” and loosened
fingers as Blake inhaled shallow gasps, and Mal took advantage of the
opportunity to pull his head up and really look at his boyfriend. They were
sweat soaked again and Blake had screwed his eyes shut, mouth fallen open to
help him breathe. His forehead and cheeks were still reddened from crying, but
Malek was struck by just how handsome he was when they were like this. He was
glad he hadn’t walked out before Blake could stop him - he would have regretted
it immediately.
When Blake came with a broken cry his fingers snapped back in Malek’s hair,
yanking his head up quickly and making him moan right back in reply. Their
stomachs were slick where they met, and Blake blankly dragged his hand up
through it as he swam blindly. He was so tight around Malek that it almost
hurt, and Mal wasted no time in taking two of Blake’s soiled fingers into his
mouth as he picked up the pace. Blake loved overstimulation, and the mixture of
Malek fucking against his prostate at the optimum angle, rubbing against his
verysensitive dick, and licking his fingers clean… he was all but writhing
beneath the other. “Hurry, hurry, fuck” he hissed as Malek sucked hard, burying
himself as far as he could repeatedly until finallyhe too came, hips jerking
erratically and fingers falling from his lips. He loved Blake. He could never
leave him. He never wantedto.
They used the sheet (and Malek’s lazy tongue) to clean their mess, and Malek
didn’t bother to throw away the condom as much as he tied it off and dropped it
over the side of the bed where one of them was guaranteed to slip on it later.
They had all weekend to just bask in one another. Cleaning could wait. Blake
was nuzzled warmly into his side, Malek drawing small swirls into Blake’s side
and hip from where his arm was slung around him, and his eyes were fluttering
closed as he futilely fought the slumber that was quickly claiming him. Malek
thought it was most wonderful scene he would ever be privileged to witness. “‘M
sorry for being crazy,” the slurred apology floated to his ears. “Happy
birthday. Love you.”
Malek waited until he knew Blake had almost fallen under before responding.
“You aren’t crazy, sweetheart.” He pressed his lips to Blake’s head and assured
“Thank you. Te amo tambien.”
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!