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Summary
Felix Gaeta is crying in his arms, and the best thing Helo can think to do is leave him to it. Gaeta’s black curls are matted and he stinks of the sweat that has soaked through his shirt and jacket and strangely, of tylium as well. Helo has no idea what’s going on, except that finally, inevitably, another friend has broken, is broken.
Written for poisontaster in the Second Helo ShagAthon, 2008.
Prompt; Helo/Gaeta, domination and dirty talk. Hidden bruises.
Rated R. (Or maybe X, but I’ll go with R because no porn words were used.)