Instead of laying down next to him or taking Samandriel in his arms Michael sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees as he ran his hands over the back of his head. Under that dark hair was a mess of scars, his fingers traced a few as he mentally took stock of himself. There was no pain, anywhere. His headache was gone, his eyes didn’t hurt, his shoulders weren’t tied in knots, the dull aches of his old bullet wounds that usually bothered him after being so physical might as well have never been there. He couldn’t really remember the last time he had felt pain free, even before his head wounds. It wasn’t just the sex either. His last week in the hospital he had seduced the attractive Pakistani intern who had been tending to him. Being with her had been wonderful, life-affirming and perhaps his way of saying ‘fuck you’ to death, but he had been in pain during and after. He really couldn’t find a reason why he was all the sudden pain-free, aside from the possibility of his prayers being answered, though given the general Catholic stance on what he had just done with another man he tended to doubt it.
Turning his head a little he glanced at Samandriel, who he swore was even more breath-taking in the afterglow. “What did you do to me?” it was a joke on his part, the half smile and soft tones in his voiced proved that. Still, he did have to wonder just what was so special about him that his largely broken body responded to.
No matter how he appeared, Samandriel wasn’t some teenage boy to roll over and take a nap the minute after he’d come. He was just as aware of Michael as he had been at the start of the night. He couldn’t tell if that was guilt or confusion pulling at the other man. He didn’t like the way he was hunched over like that, and he was about to offer to leave when Michael spoke. The young angel got up and knelt behind Michael.
Samandriel ran his fingers slowly down the almost elegant curve of his back, pressed a kiss to a scarred shoulder. “Do you want me to leave?” It turned out that he couldn’t quite escape that, the desire to please and avoid spooking his unknowing celestial brother as much as he could. There was another question lingering just in those scant few words, one that asked Michael if he was sure he wanted to know the actual answer to the question. He kept his fingers moving gently, soothingly, with the kind of reverence reserved for poets and proper lovers.
“No,” he hummed contentedly, feeling those skilled hands on his skin again. “You can stay if you want.” Usually he was only too happy to find himself alone, especially after something like this. The aches and pains and the pounding of his head usually meant he would want some solitude as he medicated and tried to sleep. But there was no pain now, nothing driving him to want to be alone. It was a nice change even if he didn’t see it lasting beyond tonight, eventually someone or something would get on his nerves or trigger a headache, but he was going to try to enjoy this while it lasted.
He straightened, mostly so Samandriel wouldn’t have to worry over how the scars stood more when he was leaning forward, and maybe so he would look better. “You were right before, that I was a military officer. Marines. Did some time in Iraq and Afghanistan before I was injured.” Michael knew he wasn’t ‘normal’ even if he usually tried pretty hard to be when he was around others. But he had his strange moments, moments that some occasionally noticed. Samandriel seemed clever, clever enough to have probably realized that there was something off about the former marine. It was simply easier for them both if he explained it rather than let him figure it out. “Head wound. Bullet or bullets cracked my helmet, drove fragments through my skull. Since then I’ve been a little…”
Straightening or not didn’t matter to Samandriel. He continued to map Michael’s skin, seeing no reason to be anything but tender over unmarred flesh and scars alike. “You’ve been in a lot of pain,” he said calmly, hoping to make it clear to Michael that there was no need to downplay anything. “I know,” he whispered.