a celebration

((I tried, but it turns out I'm crap at smut. :( Sorry.))



"How about it?" Ed asks as he rolls the lit cigarette between his thumb and forefinger.

Dara takes out the left cufflink, pushes his sleeve up and nods.

---

The first time was an accident. It happened because of a combination of drink, heated argument and wild hand gestures.

Ed immediately apologised and grabbed Dara's hand to see where he had burned him with his cigarette.

"I don't think it'll leave a mark." Ed said when he finally looked up.

The expression he saw, the glint in Dara's eye, was enough to make Ed speechless.

That night Dara pushed Ed up against a wall and kissed him as though he was trying to give back the fire that had singed his skin.

---

Ed walks over to the bed. He sits down next to Dara, takes his hand and places it carefully on his thigh.

He runs his forefinger over old scars. The newest is several weeks old, the skin still slightly red, but almost healed.

He takes another drag from his cigarette and flicks the ash into a half empty glass of wine.

When Ed presses the cigarette into his skin - on the soft skin just under the wrist-, he knows Dara won't flinch, won't try to pull his arm away.

Dara shows no sign of the pain. He doesn't react at all apart from a quick intake of breath.

It only lasts a second, maybe less, but that is all Dara needs.

The scent of burnt skin is in the air.