Work Text
“Love yourself as I do, John.” Joseph’s hands run down John’s tattooed arms; he kisses the SLOTH marking scratched just below John’s collarbone as his fingers trace its larger, jagged counterpart on his left arm. He’s only recently taken the bandages off, and the scar that runs straight through the letters has left them warped, disjointed. John swears it was an accident, that he’d sliced his arm open on a piece of metal while working on a plane. Joseph doesn’t believe him. John sniffs, wipes his eyes with his free hand and presses closer to Joseph. He makes a small, wounded noise when Joseph moves back, pained by the perceived rejection. But Joseph kisses his head again and repeats, “Love yourself, John.” John’s eyes widened. For a moment, he seems shocked out of his distress. “Seriously?” He asks. Joseph smiles. “Of course.” He knows the weight of his word, knows that a suggestion, a giving of permission, is as good as an order to his flock, and to his little brother. If John has any misgivings, he ignores them and takes himself into hand, giving himself a more physical sense of the love Joseph has for him. Joseph doesn’t look at what John’s doing to himself, doesn’t touch himself the same way. Instead he does as he did before, running his hands over John’s skin and pressing his face into his hair. He takes his satisfaction from the small noises John made, the soft whines and grunts as he pleasures himself. “Joseph,” John croaks. “Good,” Joseph says, curling his arms around John’s shoulders. “Good, John, you’re doing well.” John makes a sharp sound; he comes on Joseph’s thigh, and once he’s calmed down enough to realize it, he says, “Sorry.” “It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine. Don’t hurt yourself again, John,” Joseph murmurs into his ear. “I won’t,” John promises, pressing his face into Joseph’s chest.“I love you.” “I love you too, Joseph.”-End