[frenetic]

by the Legendary Armor

Aching.

His chest ached as he realized he was gone again, chasing the demon of his past, lost in a haze of rage and revenge. No matter how many times he'd gone back to save him from this whirlwind of hatred, he seemed all too eager to rush right back in.

And despite that small thought in the back of his head telling him that if this man kept rushing in so recklessly, he couldn't possibly feel the way the older man felt... despite that, he kept running right in after him, trying to keep him off the road to ruin.

This time, when they were finally back in the safety of their room -- the sounds of bullets and screaming still fresh in their ears -- the older man felt his heart pounding harder than it usually did. It had been a damn close call. He'd almost lost the reckless brunette forever.

A bead of sweat slid down his tanned, weathered skin, his one eye shining in the dimmed light. He clasped his hands in front of him as amber eyes met his own, and an apology quietly found their way out of soft, supple lips.

At the sound of the ex-assassin's voice, as those words wormed their way through the veteran sweeper's heart, he leaned forward and grabbed the other's hands. He wasn't sure if he ever wanted to let them go again.

Another soft apology from the younger man. Another ache in the veteran's chest. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't stand the anxiety, the burden, the fear. Callused hands tangled themselves in brunette hair as chapped lips locked with softer ones, and something that started out so suddenly was quickly returned with more passion than either of them had expected.

There were no more words; simply a silent embrace which spoke a thousand things and more all on its own.