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Cicatrix	By : Caia Category: S through Z > The Shield Views: 867 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Shield, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Cicatrix
- 1
Title: - Cicatrix
Author: - Caia Caecilia
Rating: - Adult
Warning: - Contains reference to cutting.
Disclaimer: - I don�t own any of the characters of The Shield so please don�t sue me.

Warm, comfortable, sleep niggling at the edges of his consciousness Vic lay in the dark unwilling to give himself up to slumber just yet. He wanted to savour every moment. His naked body pressed up against his lover. He�d grown to know the other man�s body as well as he knew his own. Each sweep of the long, lean lines had been caressed, tasted, memorized. Even now his fingertips gently traced circles and swirls on the pale flesh of one hip feeling the smooth skin under his touch.
If he closed his eyes Vic would be able to navigate his lover�s body by the familiar little imperfections of flesh that only exemplified the perfection of the whole. The mole on his left calf, and the other on his left shoulder, the three freckles that formed a perfectly straight diagonal line inside his right elbow, the smattering of pale freckles across his shoulders.
Then there were the marks left by life, the scars that he�d mapped one lazy night with his lips, and his tongue, demanding to know the origin of each before he moved on, making his lover squirm, and stammer out each short story. The pale inverted V on his left index finger where a carving knife had slipped when he was fifteen. The inch long gouge in his right knee where a bully had thrown a brick at him when he was eleven. A thin white line that started on his right forearm and snaked around towards the inside of his wrist, where answering a call to a bar fight when he was twenty-six, and in uniform, had resulted in a broken bottle being slashed across his arm. Tucked away under his hair a two inch ridge that Vic had teased with his fingers, left behind five years before when an argument had led to his drunken ex-wife throwing an empty bottle and Dutch hadn�t ducked out of the way fast enough.
Those were the visible blemishes and scars. There were others. Some carved into Dutch�s flesh too, but these weren�t acknowledged, these weren�t caressed, or alluded to. These scars had become invisible by mutual consent. On Dutch�s part by a refusal to speak about them, and on Vic�s part by not repeating his mistake of asking about them which had resulted in a stony silence and a cold, lonely bed for a week. The half dozen thin, spidery, silver lines that criss-crossed Dutch�s lower back and buttocks. So faded by time that they were barely visible, and Vic suspected that they were merely what was left of a more comprehensive testament to a past that time hadn�t completely been able to wipe clean. Then there was the neat regiment of lines on Dutch�s thighs. Small, straight, clinical, some looking more faded than others; they bespoke relief, escape, and desperation. When Vic looked at them and closed his eyes he could see the sharp glint of a razor blade and the rush of red as inner pain was excised by the hot flow of blood and the ability to finally feel.
These scars hinted at others that lay deeper and truly unseen except when nightmares would bring Dutch awake with a plea for mercy or a sob on his lips. Vic would hold him tightly; long sweeps of Vic�s hand down his arms, across his cheeks would calm him back to sleep.
But not for much longer Vic reminded himself, the pain from the thought of what was to come making Vic move closer to his lover his chest pressed against Dutch�s back, his left arm moving to encircle the other man�s waist. He shouldn�t be here now; it hadn�t been part of his plan so he was making the most of this time. Each touch, each sound, each feeling committed to memory, taken inside himself to be locked away and kept safe, cherished. Vic was going to finish it. He�d been intending to tell Dutch when he�d come over tonight but the haunted look on Dutch�s face when he�d opened the door, the way he�d held Vic so tightly as he�d whispered into his neck all about the crime scene him and Claudette had attended that afternoon, a small child neglected, beaten and finally murdered by it�s own parents � Dutch always took certain cases to heart. He could remember the feel of Dutch�s lips as he�d scattered desperate kisses over Vic�s throat, the lick of his tongue, and scrape of sharp teeth that had made Vic shudder with lust and his dick get hard so fast it made his head swim. Only Dutch could do that to his body, only Dutch could make him loose control so fast and so completely. Dutch�s voice husky with need in his ear,

"I�m empty, numb�make me feel Vic, please fuck me and make me feel."

Caught up in a whirlwind of lust and need Vic hadn�t stopped to think he�d let his body take over, and although a small voice in his head was telling him it was wrong he ignored it knowing that this would be the last time he could have it all. This would be the last time he would feel so complete, the last time he would feel this close to another human being.
It had to end though, not for him but for Dutch. Vic destroyed everything he came into contact with � things, people, lives. Love soon turned to disappointment and finally hate. He�d seen that in Corrine�s eyes and he couldn�t bear to think of seeing that look in Dutch�s eyes too. It was better to end it now. End it while he could still just kid himself that it was just a casual thing, two guys having a little fun, finding a little relief with each other. He had to end it before the truth slipped out of his mouth, before he said the words that rose up in his throat every time he reached out to touch the warm flesh that made his fingertips tingle and his heart begin to beat harder and faster in his chest. He had to end it before he whispered "I love you" in Dutch�s ear.
Laying his forehead against the nape of Dutch�s neck Vic breathed him in, another sense to be added to his memory. Dutch stirred slightly murmuring nonsense in his sleep and Vic placed a gentle kiss against his neck. A slight flick of his tongue lapping quickly at the soft skin, tasting the salt from the sweat of their earlier lovemaking and maybe from the silent tears he couldn�t stop escaping from his closed eyes.
When the morning came Vic would tell him. He�d tell Dutch that they couldn�t go on in secret like they had been, that someone would find out. He�d tell him that it had been fun while it had lasted but that now he wanted to move on. He�d tell Dutch lies, push him away and while Dutch would be hurt for a little while Vic consoled himself with the thought that he was doing the right thing. He consoled himself with the thought that this was the best thing for him and for Dutch. Dutch would get over it and move on maybe it would be another little scar added to his heart but the wound would heal faster if Vic made it a swift, clean cut.
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