Roy isn't surprised to wake up alone.
Dick always leaves.
He's learned to live in the moment and deal with the bitter aftertaste of being loved and left. He doesn't like it, but he's not ready to say 'no'.
He holds on to him as long as he can, always with the sure knowledge that it won't last. Dick will make promises with his smile and then disappear in a wink of an eye. Roy learned this long ago but it's a lesson that keeps repeating.
The night before, Dick came by, anger in every muscle, frustration in his snarl. Something's been wrong for months but Roy can't figure it out. He let Dick yell until his own temper got the better of him and he yelled back, his voice accompanied by his fist.
Nothing new. Their relationship has always been about bruises as much as love, and maybe that's partly why it never works.
And, after the fighting, came the near brutality of sex on the kitchen floor, Roy pinned beneath Dick, teeth in his neck and a curse of desire on his lips. After the first furious orgasms, they moved to the bedroom, and gentleness came with a soft mattress and loving kisses.
He's not sure what makes it hurt more when he leaves. The sore spot on his neck, or the taste of him on his tongue.
Roy simply knows he's still not ready to say 'no'.
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