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„Are you in pain?“ Javert asked when he caught Valjean rolling his shoulders and wincing yet again. He’d noticed him moving more stiffly than usual all day.
Valjean tensed, ducking his head, Javert could see him open his mouth to deny it, but then he shook his head and put down his book. „Sometimes the scars itch. It’s not painful exactly, just irritating. But I know I can’t scratch at it or it will start hurting.“ There was that look on his face that meant he was thinking about saying something more. Javert knew if he asked, Valjean would close up, so he said nothing, but he reached over and took his hand in his, gently stroking his knuckles. After a moment Valjean continued: „I have an ointment upstairs that helps, but I can’t reach everywhere and… would you apply it for me?“
„Of course.“ Javert stood up and pulled Valjean with him. It was late enough to go to bed anyway.
He helped Valjean out of his clothes and had him sit down on the edge of the bed.
„Where do you keep the ointment?“ Javert rummaged in the drawer Valjean indicated and knelt down behind him on the bed, warming the salve in his fingers. „Does this happen often?“ he asked. The scars looked red and slightly swollen. Gently he laid his palms on his skin, moving his hands slowly up and down his back.
„Not as often as it used to. It’s something in the weather. It’ll go away on its own, but until then it feels like my skin doesn’t fit right.“ He sighed, his shoulders relaxing. „This feels good.“ He let his head fall forward and Javert pressed a kiss on the back of his neck. He felt guilty for having been part of that, but right now that wasn’t important. The only thing that mattered was soothing Valjean’s pain.
His slippery hands moved easily over Valjean’s broad back, he could feel the muscles loosening under his caresses. „You should have said something sooner,“ he chided gently. „I didn’t want to bother you with it.“ Valjean ducked his head and Javert pressed another kiss to his throat.
„It’s not a bother. I like taking care of you.“ Letting the gentleness flow right out of him and towards the man who had woken it in the first place felt so good. „Please, don’t hesitate to tell me what you need.“ Valjean was such an unassuming man. „Don’t suffer silently.“ He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. „Remember that I’m here because I want to be.“
Valjean turned his head so their lips could meet. „I know, it’s just… sometimes I get afraid you’ll leave if I’m too demanding.“
„Demanding?“ Javert couldn’t help a laugh escaping him. „Jean, you ask nothing of anyone. No one is less demanding than you. Well, except in bed maybe and you know how much I like that.“ He let his hand slide down Valjean’s chest. „But seriously, don’t hide your needs from me.“ He couldn’t bear the thought of him hiding his hurts because he thought he’d leave him if he did. „I’ll always be here for you.“
„I’ll try to remember,“ Valjean answered and smiled up at him, linking their fingers. „It’s sometimes hard to do.“
„I know.“ Javert kissed his cheek. Sometimes it was hard for him, too, to remember that Valjean loved him indeed.
His thumb stroked Valjean’s nipple and he felt him shudder. „Come to bed,“ he whispered into his ear. „And show me how demanding you are.“
Valjean chuckled and turned around, pushing Javert on his back and capturing his lips in a long, gentle kiss. Slowly he unbuttoned his shirt, pressing kisses down his chest. Javert shuddered, his cock strained against his trousers. Valjean pulled the shirt over his head, his hand slid down the length of Javert’s torso, dipping between his legs and pressing against his cock. Javert arched his back, heat pooling in his belly.
Valjean bowed down, his teeth nipping at the skin of his chest and he lifted his hips eagerly when he unbuttoned his trousers to help him pull them down. The teeth bit his nipple, hard enough to hurt, the pain shot right to his groin. He gasped when Valjean gave his cock a firm, drawn out stroke. His free hand came up to cares his throat and jaw, his thumb pressed against his lips until Javert sucked it into his mouth. He thrust into the hand around his cock.
Valjean had sat up, watching him and Javert blushed at the thought of what a sight he must be.
„I love to watch you get lost in your pleasure,“ Valjean said, voice husky.
Javert groaned, he was unable to talk with his finger in his mouth, but he thought: ‚Everything for you. Everything you want.’
Valjean smiled and dragged his wet thumb down his neck, stroking his nipple. He locked his lips with his own instead and Javert whimpered into his mouth when his hand down there let go, but then Valjean laid down on top of him, thigh pushing between his legs and he reached up to tangle his hand in Valjean’s hair. Pleasure tore through his body, making him shiver and buck against the firm muscle. He could feel Valjean’s hardness against his own hip and ground against him, making him shiver on top of him.
They rocked into each other, skin slick with sweat and other fluid. Javert shuddered and moaned, he felt Valjean’s eyes on him — let him look, if it gave him pleasure.
He arched his back when Valjean’s teeth grazed his skin. He was marking him, sucking and nibbling on the skin of his throat. He couldn’t have stopped him if he’d wanted to. Valjean was warm and heavy on top of him, only bracing himself a little on his arm to better thrust against him, but otherwise keeping him down with all his weight. He was caught, he was his, he was wanted enough to be marked by his lover. Javert’s hips jerked, his spend was warm and sticky between their bodies.
Valjean’s breath was hot against his skin, his moans loud in his ear. Javert squeezed his ass when he thrust against his thigh a few more times before he came too.
Valjean tried to roll off of Javert but he wrapped his arms tightly around him. „Stay,“ he mumbled.
„Aren’t I to heavy?“
Javert shook his head. „I like it. I feel good with you on top of me.“
Valjean smiled and kissed the red spots he’d left on his neck. Maybe he shouldn’t have, but the scars on his back were still itching slightly and he’d wanted to mark him. He rested his head on Javert’s chest, their breathing slowing down and harmonising. He closed his eyes, relaxing into the feeling of being held so lovingly.
When he woke again, it was dark in the room — Javert must have turned the lamp down and pulled the blanket over both of them. Valjean usually had a light sleep, but somehow he hadn’t woken to any of it. He’d rolled over in his sleep, his back stuck uncomfortably to the sheet, but it wasn’t as itchy as before. Javert had taken such good care of him, once he’d known what the issue was.
He should have told him sooner, but he still felt a bit hesitant to bring the scars into his focus. He found it hard to believe he didn’t look at them with disgust. If he did, he was hiding it well, but still… how ugly it must be, his back, ridged and puckered with scar tissue. How could he bear to look at it?
Valjean noticed that Javert had woken by his changed breathing. „Is everything alright?“ he asked with voice rough from sleep.
„Yes.“ Valjean stroked his cheek, dragging his fingertips through his whiskers. Javert hummed appreciatively and rolled on his side so he was facing him.
„Is your back still hurting?“ He wrapped his arm around him, palm rubbing soothingly over the spot between his shoulder blades.
Valjean shook his head. „Is it bad?“ he whispered before he could lose his courage. „The scars. How ugly are they?“
Javert’s hand stilled. Valjean couldn’t decide if he was glad he couldn’t see the look on his face in the dark or if he wished for light to better see him.
„Yes, it is bad.“ He heard him gulp. „It breaks my heart that this was done to you and I was part of it. It breaks my heart to know how much you’ve suffered. Valjean,“ he said very gently, „you are beautiful. Nothing of your body is ever ugly to me.“
Valjean closed his eyes, tears of relief gathering in his lashes as Javert resumed his gentle touch, fingertips following the ridges and dents on his back. „These are not marks of shame. If they are, it is my shame, not yours.“
Valjean sobbed quietly and he kissed his cheeks, kissed the tears away.
„My dearest,“ Javert whispered and again, „my dearest.“ His hand pressed against Valjean’s shoulder, urging him to turn on his belly. Javert bowed over him, his lips brushed the skin of his back, his touch achingly soft. „I’d kiss all the hurt away, if I could,“ he croaked.
He caressed him with his hands and lips and Valjean felt the tenseness that had built in his chest relax. „You do,“ he answered, the strain in his muscles easing. „You are so good for me.“
He dozed off again to Javert’s soft touch, easing not only the itch but also his insecurities about his body. He was cherished, with all his faults and imperfections, at times like this he could even believe it.