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Irenic

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He might have been awake for hours, but he isn’t exactly sure. Zero isn’t exactly sure of anything these days, except for Jude and how he feels about him. Jude’s fast asleep next to him, arms shoved underneath his pillow. He’s stretched out on the bed next to Zero, blissfully ignorant of the effect he has on Zero, even while he’s asleep. He’s man enough to admit that he’s distracted whenever Jude’s around, but he would never admit to how his mind sings JudeJudeJude, whenever the other man takes his shirt off. And right now? Jude is stretched like a cat lazing in the sun, and Zero wants.

Zero runs his fingers lightly over Jude’s spine, while the other man sleeps peacefully on. The moles and freckles that dot Jude’s shoulders and back have always been a sensitive subject for Zero. Sensitive in the sense that Zero finds it very, very hard to control his dick whenever they’re on display.

Now, though, Zero runs his fingertips from mole to mole, connecting them to one another, to the freckles that create tiny constellations on the universe of Jude’s body. Zero fights the urge to bite and lick them, though he knows he won’t be able to hold back for long. There’s always been something about Jude that attracted Zero, be it the naiveté when it comes to Oscar, or Jude’s ability to guilt people into giving him what he wants (even though Zero’s about 95% sure that Jude doesn’t even know that he’s doing it. 80%. Okay, a hard 72%). He thinks about how Jude chews on his pen when he's thinking, and how the thin skin around his eyes crinkles when he laughs. He thinks about the feel of Jude’s lips when he’s just woken up, and how he always brings coffee to the arena with him, even carrying an extra cup for his assistant.

He thinks about how tight Jude always is on the first slide in, he bites his cheeks when he thinks about how Jude can play the Imperial March on the piano. Zero looks at the side of Jude’s face, and resists the urge to brush the floppy brown hair away from his face. Instead he looks down at the skin beneath his fingertips, and the freckles peeking through the shadows his fingers leave. Zero doesn’t think about how Oscar nearly ruined Jude’s life, or about how he still wants to punch Lucas in the face. He thinks about all of the things they’ve already been through, and are still probably going to go through. For the first time, that he knows of, he doesn’t mind putting his future and happiness into the hands of another person. Zero wraps his arm around Jude’s waist, fingers resting on Jude’s ribs and he tries to match his breathing with Jude’s.

He’s perfectly content to stay here, in this moment, with Jude, in irenic silence.

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