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There was a process to coming home. Not the physical one that involved finding a ship at the docks and paying for a mildly uncomfortable ride; then hopping a shuttle back to Urdnot territory while he debated if he wanted to cash in a favor to have a friendly pilot take him all the way out to their house, or if he felt like walking back from town. Enjoying what passed for a nice day on Tuchanka while he decompressed and stretched his legs, muscles sore from the collection of minor injuries he always managed to collect, no matter how well a mission went.
Really, coming home started just shy of their front porch. When he could see the holographic lock on their front door and felt that first real rush of belonging. Of shrugging off the mantle of Spectre and War Hero and Alliance Major, shrinking back down into his own skin and name and life.
Of coming home.
Even on a shorter mission, there was something…divine…about the moment when John held him once again. Sweeping him into his arms or enfolding him in a hug, a few times grabbing him and half dragging him into a messy, desperate kiss.
It sounded dramatic to think of it that way, but after so many years of not being sure it would happen, of thinking the worst and living through the worst and pleading, desperately, with a universe that had proved it was not always kind by default, he didn’t know how else to describe it.
John had died. Or something so close the difference almost didn’t matter. Had come back from a level of physically fucked that should have proved too much for anybody’s science or medicine. Had come back to a different world and a different life and a trial period that had almost broken him.
And that was before the galaxy tore itself apart over a war.
And yet here he was. Blue eyes bright in the Tuchanka sunlight that streamed into their home, his attention shifting completely from whatever it was he’d been doing when Kaidan walked in, drawn across the room like a magnet. Every time.
It felt like the chorus of one of those old poems John liked to read. The ones that told a story instead of rhyming.
The ones that usually warned of the perils of thinking the hero could ever be happy.
Up the porch steps, through the front door, greeted by his husband as if he’d been the one who’d disappeared from the world for two years and might do so again.
From there, the process became a little more flexible. His gear needed to be checked and stowed, occasionally repaired. There were reports to write and files to update. He almost always needed a shower.
But more often than not, all those things fell by the wayside, waiting their turn while John kept him close. A star pulling a stray planet back into orbit with the determination of never letting it go again.
Standing in their kitchen, debating the stove and the kind of quick fix meal he could make on it, Kaidan smiled as John’s arms adjusted around him again. His husband’s chest pressed against Kaidan’s back with not an inch to spare. His cheek resting high on Kaidan’s shoulder, occasionally lifting so John could drop soft, open mouthed kisses in its place.
Maybe this was why those old heroes were always dying miserably. Maybe, like them, he should quit running around the world risking his life to solve other people’s problems.
But Hackett and the Councils had given him time. More than he’d expected either group to allow. Time to get John back on his feet and out of his own head. To build up some protection against the demons that prowled the back of his mind, threatening to drag this man Kaidan loved back down into darkness.
Kaidan had used every last minute of that time, but now he had to pay it back. He had to serve, at least for a little while. Had to help save the galaxy, one last time.
Had to do his part and hope that, when he came home, it wouldn’t be the one time too many where he came home to the ruins of his life instead of the love of it.
But those were fears for another day. Gristle he could gnaw on when he was stuck on another transport vessel and needed a break from running the numbers again. From the “what ifs” and “could bes” and “well, shits” of a mission, because the first thing he’d learned about planning was that nothing ever goes to plan.
Like how he’d been planning to find something to eat - something that wasn’t ration bars or the safest looking local street food - and instead he found himself humming tunelessly as one of John’s hands slipped under his recently untucked shirt. Long, clever fingers sliding over the soft skin of his stomach as Kaidan automatically relaxed into John’s hold, his eyes fluttering closed.
John’s lips found his ear, his touch almost too gentle to be a kiss. “I missed you.”
Fuck . This was what Kaidan was learning he missed the most when he was away. The endless variety of ways he could be close to John. The physical side of things, yes, but also the words and the emotions and the simple, straightforward release of breath that was just being in the same room on a hard day. He could feel that first tingle of interest singing softly in his veins, but the feeling in John’s voice was what sealed it.
That soft, almost unbearable need.
The echo of an ache Kaidan had caused by leaving, and soothed simply by coming home.
“I missed you, too,” Kaidan breathed. He kept his eyes closed as John’s hand continued to wander, sliding over skin and scars, relearning the shape of him as John’s other arm held him close. The nearly inaudible hum of John’s voice, low in his throat, before he nosed his way under Kaidan’s collar and pressed his lips to warm skin in a lingering kiss.
Letting his head tilt back to rest on John’s shoulder, Kaidan sighed through his nose as John grew bolder. His hand sweeping up to let his fingers play in the hollow of Kaidan’s throat, Kaidan’s shirt hiking up along the way to give John the access he sought.
He shivered, even though the room wasn’t cold. “John…”
John left another lingering kiss, this one pressed against his neck, and Kaidan felt himself relax further into the embrace. Felt tension – even though he was always sure he left it at the door — leave him, like it always did, because there were things about him only John would ever know. Parts of his own personality that Kaidan somehow missed or forgot, it seemed, just so John could step in and know them. Accept them. Meet them halfway.
John’s hand slid back down, the soft fabric of his shirt dragging satisfyingly over now sensitive skin. Kaidan’s breath hitched as John’s fingers dipped below his waistband, teasing. Suggesting. Tempting.
“John…”
“Let me.” John’s lips brushed Kaidan’s ear as he said it. Splitting Kaidan’s already diminished focus. “You’re always so good to me, my love. Let me…”
Turning his face so his nose brushed John’s cheek, Kaidan nodded. Felt his breath catch again as John’s nimble fingers made quick work of his belt, his other hand finally releasing Kaidan’s waist just long enough to help with the zipper before John’s arm was back, wrapped securely around Kaidan’s waist as his other hand slid beneath the fabric of his pants
Kaidan groaned at the touch. He’d only been gone a few weeks, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know how to look after himself. But what person, having found someone who loves them mind and soul and body, wouldn’t crave that other person’s touch more than their own? Who, in this whole galaxy, could know what it feels like to be wanted this way and not take every opportunity to indulge, to delight, to reciprocate?
One hand had found its way to his waist, covering John’s and gripping instinctually as John’s dexterous fingers wrapped around his cock. The other hand threaded its fingers through John’s short brown hair, pulling gently as Kaidan’s breath stuttered out of him. Quiet, aborted moans as John continued his exploration, dragging the teasing pad of one finger up the underside of Kaidan’s cock before cradling his balls as if they’d been the real target all along.
“Kaidan?”
Kaidan nodded again, hips pushing forward into John’s hand. Happy to exist in this state of anticipation and percolating lust. Happy to let John take the lead this time; Kaidan would pay him back later, laying John out on their too big bed and making his own well-learned map of the marks life had left on this wonderful, kind-hearted man.
He grunted softly as John’s hand released him, pulling free from his pants as Kaidan turned the sound into a low whine.
He could feel John’s smile high against his cheek. “It’ll feel better with a little help, love.”
It took a moment for his hormone-addled mind to catch up, but his ears caught the sound of something being set on the counter. Piecing the meaning together from countless similar sounds, Kaidan’s lips parted on a louder sigh, the air escaping him as John’s hand returned, coated in a familiar slickness that John slowly, meticulously, spread over his prize.
There was something utterly distracting about John’s voice in his ear. “Better?”
He meant it as a nod, the uncoordinated movement abandoned as John’s hand set a slow, even pace. Dragging upwards with just the right kind of firm grip before twisting gently on the way down. His thumb flicking over Kaidan’s head at the end of a stroke, only to leave him breathing hard as John kept to his pattern and started back up again. His cheek rested against Kaidan’s jaw, the rest of John supporting him as Kaidan’s legs started to go a pleasant kind of numb.
It did feel better, and being the sole focus of John’s attention - his hands, his mouth, his voice, his mind - was undoing the mess of knots that Kaidan’s chest always filled with while he was away. Filled with and forgot about, because he couldn’t do his job if he was distracted by all the worries in his life.
Like how he couldn’t help if - when - John’s nightmares kicked in while he was gone.
But he was home, and they were both safe, and John wasn’t going to let him focus on those worries right now, no matter how hard Kaidan tried.
And he wasn’t trying very hard.
Instead, another wave of affection and desire flooding him with warmth, Kaidan tugged gently on John’s hair. “John.”
“Hm.”
Kaidan let out another breath through his nose, slowly this time. “Faster?”
“Faster?” John asked the question with a note of mischief in his tone that had Kaidan bucking helplessly into his hand. “You want me to move faster,” Kaidan gasped as John slid along his cock more quickly this time, making him squirm, “or you want me to move things along?”
Kaidan bit his lip to muffle the sound as the tip of John’s thumb drew tight little circles over the spot on the underside of his cock. The spot that John had found one day, down on his knees and driving Kaidan to distraction, and had pointedly never forgotten about.
Dragging the pad of his thumb across the spot next, John nipped Kaidan’s ear as he groaned, the sound stuttering out of him. “Care to have an opinion, Alenko?”
He had an opinion. It was around here somewhere. Probably in his duffle over by the couch -
“Or,” John dropped his mouth back to Kaidan’s shoulder, nosing his way under his collar again before leaving a line of nips over the skin he could reach, “shall I guess, and we’ll see what comes of it?”
It wasn’t really formal speech, just a slightly old-fashioned way of phrasing the question. But with John’s hand down his pants, the rest of him holding Kaidan firmly in place, and definite proof of John’s enjoyment and interest pressed against his ass, it was enough. It was close enough. It was more of those old poems and stories, read or recited in John’s even manner, his attention on the story but not all of it, because he always held some back to see what Kaidan thought of it -
“Kaidan?”
Fisting the hand in John’s hair, Kaidan surprised himself with a faint cry. A needy, pleading sound that couldn’t be anything but desperate. “John -”
All the tension fled him at once as John’s hand started moving again. A kind of reset that let John wind the spring in Kaidan’s gut tight all over again, building the warmth and the heat and the pressure — and whatever other words there were for it — as he paired dexterous fingers and a firm touch with his continued exploration via lips and teeth and tongue.
Arching up onto his toes, Kaidan choked on a groan as John dragged his tongue slowly up the side of Kaidan’s neck. A comparatively soothing gesture against the way his hand had just fisted around the base of Kaidan’s dick, stopping him cold when he’d been so close. “John -”
“Say it.”
Eyes fluttering open, Kaidan tried to focus. On the ceiling, on a spot on the wall, on the cabinets on the far side of the kitchen. He couldn’t think. “Say what?”
John’s voice was soft, and distracted as he was, Kaidan heard the ghost of hurt John tried to hide. The specter of loneliness. “Say you love me.” He pressed a kiss to the spot where Kaidan’s shoulder met his neck, as if he could trap the demand there. The guilty request. “You haven’t said it, yet.”
“I haven’t?” Kaidan asked, faintly.
“Not since you got home.”
Because there was a process to Kaidan coming home, and it wasn’t all about what Kaidan needed to feel whole again.
In his musings, he’d missed a crucial step.
Sliding his hand down to cup John’s cheek, Kaidan waited for John to lift his face. Pressed a kiss to the side of his nose because it was the first part he could reach. “I love you. So much.” The words caught on a hitch as John resumed his work. “I missed you.” A kiss, soft against the underside of his jaw. “I love you, John.”
Fingers once again tangled in John's hair, Kaidan gasped and bucked as John changed his rhythm. Sighed as John buried his face in Kaidan’s neck. “I love you.” Soft words, spoken softly. “I missed you.” Repeated against his skin, interspersed with the unspoken. Thank you, for coming home.
Because John had been the one to tell Kaidan all those old stories. Of doomed heroes and star-crossed lovers and waiting widows. Kaidan wasn’t sure he was a hero, and he’d missed, happily, his chance to be a widower. But they’d crossed the stars more times than he could count, and no Muse, no Bard, no Teller of Tales would take John from him.
The Collectors had tried, and the universe itself had given him back.
So Kaidan would always come back.
Hips rocking steadily against John’s hand, rolling back into John’s hips still tight up against him, Kaidan felt his mouth hanging open; short, helpless sounds tumbling forth without thought or intent. No words, not this time - words were for when John needed them. For when praise and a handful of commands were all that stood between them and that blissed out look on John’s face. Stretched out beneath him on their bed, draped contentedly over the couch, or on his knees, grinning up at him before John turned the tables and took Kaidan apart like it was all he wanted to do that day.
Feeling the spring in his gut tighten one last turn, Kaidan tried to say something. Choked on air as his head dropped back on John’s shoulder, his whole body going stiff as John pushed him over the edge. Pushed him even as he held on, his arm still around Kaidan’s waist as he bucked and gasped and felt the last of the tension he’d been carrying for the last three weeks drain out of him. Starting at his head and draining all the way down to his feet and out into the yellow stone floor of their home.
Unlike when he was in charge, tempting and teasing John along until his husband was pliant and pleading beneath his hands, Kaidan stayed where he was now that his high had been reached. Didn’t move immediately to clean them both up. Didn't even think about the towels in the bottom drawer or the fact that he’d definitely need a shower now.
Once the fog of oxytocin started to disperse, he’d be cheerfully annoyed with himself over the walk of shame he hadn’t had to do in months. But that was for a good five minutes from now.
Right now, he was tugging weakly on John’s hair, trying to string together the handful of words needed to ask if John wanted him to return the favor. He wasn’t especially confident in his own abilities at the moment, but a messy blow job was still a blow job. And John had never complained before.
John’s hand - slick with an entirely different substance this time - retrieved itself before wiping off the evidence of Kaidan’s climax on his pants. Kaidan smiled at what seemed a fair trade, a smile that widened as John wrapped his arms around Kaidan in a hug once again, keeping all that wonderful physical contact.
Keeping them as close as they could be, tangled up in each other and letting their emotions spill out all over the room.
Even if Kaidan’s words were all still trapped inside his own muddled brain.
But of course John heard them anyway. “I’m good, my love. This one was for you.”
Kaidan hummed, memories of a plotted reciprocation surfacing briefly before he settled again into the moment. Into John’s arms and John’s gentle voice, murmuring soft phrases of affection. Into the last pieces of the process that left the Gallivanting Hero and Weary Soldier at the door.
Snuggling back into John’s chest, smiling contentedly at the lazy afternoon ahead of them, Kaidan sighed happily and came home.