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Once, Yasuo’s dreams were haunted by visions of the day Yone died. Images of a terrified expression across Yone’s face, a pair of blades split into fragments, a scythe’s blade longer than he is tall cleaving him in half. In those dreams, Yasuo is always stuck a handful of steps too far away, sometimes behind a window just so he can pound uselessly against the glass as he watches Yone’s blood and guts spill across the floor. There were many times when he would wake up and rush to the bathroom to throw up everything in his stomach. Eventually, he figured out that if he drank until he passed out, his sleep would be full of blissful nothingness, and those nightmares became less common.
Nowadays, with Yone being resurrected and his death having a little less weight to it, Yasuo doesn’t dream of the scene nearly as often. That doesn’t mean the nightmares stopped, though. Instead of dreaming of Yone’s death, he dreams of Yone’s resurrection. Yone, recently undead, walks aboard the Morning Star, and Yasuo’s so happy he cries, until the charade falls apart, revealed to be one of Jinx’s pranks (she would never do that to him), or a cruel hallucination crafted by his brain, or just a strange lookalike who resembles Yone less and less the more Yasuo looks at him. Stuff of real horror.
It doesn’t help that he doesn’t drink anymore (because Yasuo has responsibilities now, has people he cares about that look to him for guidance, has something nice he kinda really wants to hold onto), so he’s lost his one defense against those nightmares.
“Your worst fear is a world without your brother. Your mind will construct any possibility to realize this fear, but you must not give these thoughts any power, captain,” Sona, who recently expanded her role as the Morning Star’s medic to include therapy (which they all needed badly, apparently), tells him. “Consider engaging in relaxing activities before you go to bed, like reading or meditating, to help relax your state of mind and prepare it for rest.”
Sure, whatever. His crew needs him to stay sober, and Yasuo cares about them, despite himself, so he will practice his healthy coping mechanisms and keep a book by his bedside instead of a bottle.
It’s one of those dreams he's thinking about after being scared awake in the early hours of the morning by Yone turning out to be a wax figure that slowly and agonizingly melts in his arms. He finds Jinx talking to Space Lizard in the kitchen, the former engaged in a heated discussion about something while the latter nibbles on a plate of leftovers. He gives them both a pat on the head in greeting. Jinx immediately switches targets, telling Yasuo all about the new upgrades he’s thinking about for the ship and other technical jargon Yasuo can’t possibly comprehend this early. He just lets out occasional grunts in response as he searches for the coffee maker. When he does, Yasuo’s pleasantly surprised to discover a pot already brewed and untouched.
“Hey, thanks,” he says over his shoulder.
“Oh, I didn’t do that,” Jinx replies. “Your brother did. Oh! Did I mention Yone’s on board?”
All the drowsiness in Yasuo’s body evaporates at that one sentence. He almost hits his head on a cupboard door as he stands up ramrod straight. “What?”
“He showed up and boarded in the middle of the night—I was awake, obviously, driving, duh—and I was gonna go get you! But he said to let you sleep, so I did. He was in the kitchen earlier, but then he left, so I think he’s probably in his quarters now?”
Yasuo barely hums a reply as he sets down his half-emptied mug and wanders out of the conversation.
“I’m guessing you’ll be too busy for Sona’s first spacewalk later, then?” Jinx shouts after him.
Yasuo shouts back, “Uhhh, might be, we’ll see,” not wanting to disappoint Jinx and the rest but also knowing full well exactly what he’ll be doing for the rest of the day.
After coming back to life, seeking out Yasuo wasn’t in fact the first thing Yone did. It wasn’t even like the third thing, which is a little messed up if you ask Yasuo, but Yone did eventually show up on the Morning Star’s metaphorical doorstep seeking time and reconciliation with his brother.
Yasuo’s not mad. Yone has already said he’s busy. Apparently, the afterlife gives him more duties than working full-time in Demaxia without any of the vacation benefits. There’s something about people’s fears and inner demons taking physical form after coming into contact with leaked ora, and Yone’s responsible for cleaning it up because the ora is a part of him now (or he’s a part of the ora, that part’s a little confusing). Yone’s not around much, but he still tries to be around, and Yasuo can be understanding and still mildly disappointed whenever Yone has to go.
(He thinks Yone could afford to be a bit more disappointed, though. Yasuo had brought up his woes once, and Yone had drawled, with a voice just flat enough that Yasuo almost failed to catch the sarcasm, “It really is such a shame. How I long to remain on the Morning Star, where my power may be put to real use, in winning pair-based board games and singing karaoke.”
“Hey, we do real work,” Yasuo had argued. “I’ll have you know, everyone’s busting their balls trying to hire the saviors of the galaxy.”
“I’m sure they are,” Yone had answered, a small smile on his face giving away the sincere pride behind those words. That had made Yasuo too embarrassed to continue the topic.)
The point being, it’s always a good day if Yone’s aboard the Morning Star. Just seeing his face is enough to make Yasuo forget all about his terrible morning.
He actually doesn’t find Yone in his own room but instead on the way there, loitering in the hallway outside Yasuo’s quarters like it’s a common occurrence. Before Yone can get in a word of greeting, Yasuo is pouncing on him, pushing him against the closed door so he can taste the inside of his mouth. They kiss for a long time, Yone complacent to Yasuo’s whims as his tongue makes a home inside him, licking eagerly and sloppily, not unlike a dog.
When Yasuo feels generous enough to let him breathe, Yone manages to get out, “Hello to you too.”
“Missed you,” Yasuo mutters before immediately leaning back in. Yone presses one fingerprint to his lips.
“It hasn’t even been a month,” Yone says, a smile in his voice. “Let’s go inside.”
Yone’s concerned about their privacy being compromised, which is fair and responsible considering the placement of Yasuo’s room being right at the entrance of the living quarters, but Yasuo still pouts about it. He’s not sure what exactly the rest of the crew know about his and Yone’s relationship status (especially Sona, who’s always giving Yone weird looks and saying ominous things like “Yone, the ora within you is powerful; wield it with care” or “Captain, did you know that excessive ora exposure can lead to corruption of the mind and body?” Yasuo’s not sure if she just has a general concern over their safety or if she knows exactly where that ora’s been). Still, it’s safe to say, no one wants to stumble across a shameless makeout session between the captain and his brother while on their way to breakfast, so Yasuo unlocks his door and lets the two of them inside.
Upon entering, Yone immediately asks, “What’s this?”
His eyes were drawn to the new addition to Yasuo’s room, a large, almost ceiling-tall viewport with automated shutters displaying a gorgeous view of the swirling nebulas outside. Yasuo has programmed it to close at night when he sleeps and open come morning so he can be awoken by the starlight shining in, not that it was the light that woke him up today. The viewport was definitely commissioned on an impulse, but Yasuo is growing to love it, even if it did eat up the majority of his personal savings.
“I thought it’d look cool,” Yasuo says, with what he approximates is a normal amount of excitement. “Feels like you can see the whole galaxy from here, doesn’t it?”
Yone, knowing, arches a perfect eyebrow. It takes Yasuo back, to when Yone would make that face at all of Yasuo’s rash and impulsive life choices. “How much?”
“Is that important?”
“Is it confidential?”
Sheepish, Yasuo mumbles, “Five hundred thousand.”
“You paid five hundred thousand clips? For a window?”
“Well, when you put it like that…”
“This piece of glass is worth more than the bounty on Malphite’s head,” Yone says, sounding at least a little amused now. He walks over and knocks a delicate finger against the surface, only once, before drawing his hand away.
“Well, it’s a good thing I wasn’t planning on turning him in to finance it.” Yasuo joins him, making a point of brushing against Yone’s side before leaning his back against the glass, just to show he’s not afraid of smudges. The corners of Yone’s lips turn downward as a slight wrinkle manifests between his brows.
“Why did you purchase it, exactly?”
“Just look at the view! Y’know, I spend a lot of time in this room, reading, working, sleeping. Makes for a killer backdrop to all of the above.”
“Mhmm…” Yone closes the distance between them in two short steps, placing an arm next to Yasuo’s ear. When he speaks, his voice is dangerously close to Yasuo’s face. “So why did you really buy it?”
Damn. Even after all those years apart, even after dying and coming back to life, Yone can still see through him like fucking paper. Yasuo bites down a grin and admits, “Makes a good backdrop for sex, too. A lot of that happening in this bedroom.”
“Slut,” Yone says with no heat behind it. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips as he grips Yasuo by the hair on the back of his head. “Is there anything going on in my little brother’s head besides drink, swords, and sex?”
Yasuo groans when Yone tugs, tilting his head back and leaving his neck exposed and vulnerable. Yone’s quick to get his mouth on it. “Yeah. I can think of at least one other thing.”
“Oh?” The sound vibrates against his pulse. “Tell me.”
“You, Yone. You know you’re always on my mind.”
Yone scoffs in a dismissive response, but Yasuo can feel the curl of his lips that says he appreciates it. While Yone busies himself marking up the skin on his neck, Yasuo reaches between them, well-practiced fingers shoving aside the layers of fabric to find the buckle of Yone’s belt.
“Is that… hah… that a photann pistol in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?”
“Why don’t you see for yourself?”
With an invitation like that, Yasuo does so happily. Yone pushes up his pajama shirt to mouth at his chest as Yasuo undoes his belt and zipper, slipping his hand into his underwear just to feel what he already knows. Yone’s cock is half hard, but it doesn’t stay like that for long as Yasuo strokes him lightly, tracing the thick vein on the underside and following the path of its curve upward.
Yone returns the teasing in kind, tongue darting out to flick at one of Yasuo’s nipples as he rolls the other between his fingers. Yasuo looks down at him and then immediately has to squeeze his eyes shut because the sight of Yone sucking his tits, lust-darkened eyes looking right back, might make him come in his underwear.
In an attempt to regain some control of the situation, Yasuo tightens his grip on Yone’s dick. He runs his thumb through the wet tip until he gathers enough slick to make the drag of his palm nice and smooth. Yone’s groan resonates through his chest, making Yasuo feel like he’s winning until a hand reaches behind him, lightly nudging at his asshole through layers of fabric. Not expecting it, Yasuo’s knees almost buckled in excitement. He pulls his hand out, his fingers stained with a substance resembling pre, and grinds shamelessly against the tent he’s left in Yone’s pants. “On with it, Yone.”
Yone slides his pants down a little, just low enough to smack one asscheek. “You really have no patience. Nor manners. What am I to do with you?”
“You want me to say please? Call you big brother? Oh, big brother Yone, would you please put that fat cock inside me?” Yasuo fakes a high-pitched whine, which quickly becomes real when Yone retaliates by shoving two long fingers rather meanly into Yasuo’s hole. Yasuo’s surprised to feel they’re slick with something, maybe spit or some ora magic he couldn’t possibly understand. Yone himself has a surprised look on his face, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as his fingers stretch open Yasuo’s insides far too easily. When he redirects his gaze from Yasuo’s genitals to his face, Yasuo gives him a shit-eating grin. “Last night. What, a guy can’t get lonely around here?”
“I should’ve known.” Ruthlessly, Yone drives the tips of his fingers directly into Yasuo’s prostate, earning a violent jolt and a moan from Yasuo. “What were you thinking about?”
“What—what else? You, me… ahh… shoving me up this window… pulling my hair while I blow you… that one time you broke my headboard…”
“You don’t have to bring that up.”
“It was hot.”
Amusingly, Yone doesn’t disagree. Yasuo would keep making jabs at it, but he’s too distracted by Yone’s fingers, three of them now, steadily pumping in and out of his hole. He tries to sneak a hand between them to give his own cock some relief, but Yone catches him too quickly and shoves him away. Typical. Sighing, Yasuo wraps his arms around Yone’s neck and holds on for the ride.
It takes some time before Yone deems him ready, by some metric or another. He removes his fingers and pulls his cock out of his pants, much to Yasuo’s delight. The impressive length slides against his stomach, tip drooling and smearing molten gold against his abs. Yasuo wonders if ora has anything to do with it, or if Yone was always so gifted, even in this, when he was alive. He considers asking, but, then again, nothing would put Yone out of the mood quite like talking about the time he died, and Yasuo’s pretty invested in where this is going.
So instead, he lowers his eyelids, puts on his best fuck me smile, and purrs, “Fill me up with ora, brother.”
Yone frowns. “Don’t talk about ora like that,” he replies, completely serious.
Despite that, he’s still lining himself up with Yasuo’s hole the next moment, and Yasuo can only eagerly keep his eyes on that space between them as more and more of Yone’s cock disappears between his legs. Yone was meticulous in stretching him, but that was still hardly enough to prepare him for the sheer size of the cock being squeezed into him, each inch slowly, agonizingly forcing his hole to open up and give way. It’s splitting him apart. It’s delicious. Yasuo thinks there’s spit spilling out of his open mouth.
By the time Yone’s hips are flush with his own, Yasuo’s legs are shaking. Yone hauls one of his knees up, hooking an elbow under it, so he can press even deeper. The position leaves Yasuo relying his entire weight on the viewport behind him and Yone’s arms. It’s a good thing he has faith in both.
Yone gives him a moment to adjust, and Yasuo leans back, trying to distract himself. He thinks about the cold glass against his back, the natural slingspace lighting illuminating Yone’s skin, the stars he can see reflected in Yone’s eyes… fuck, Yasuo was so right about the window.
His thoughts must show on his face. Yone asks, “What?”
“Just remembering I’m the luckiest man in the galaxy.” Nudging his nose against Yone’s cheekbone, Yasuo mouths at the corner of his lips before committing to the kiss. His next words make it almost completely into Yone’s mouth: “You’re so beautiful.”
Yone doesn’t say anything, which is his typical answer when Yasuo says something like that, but the pink coloring the tips of his ears is impossible to miss. There’s the urge to tease him about it, but, as if he sensed it, Yone pulls his cock out from Yasuo almost entirely before thrusting back in hard. Yasuo’s helpless moan is encouragement enough for Yone to keep going, fucking every bad impulse and thought straight out of his brain.
Yasuo has to scramble for purchase, digging his fingers into Yone’s back and burying his face into Yone’s neck. He bites down on the delicate skin there without thinking, readily taking in the taste of salty sweat.
“Yasuo,” Yone hisses, his throat bobbing with exertion against Yasuo’s nose and his dick twitching against Yasuo’s walls.
If Yasuo had a moment to think, he’d tell Yone how much he liked hearing him say his name. Instead, Yasuo can only groan as Yone keeps fucking him with the same brutal pace, rocked up and against the window by the force in his hips. He lets his head roll back into it, his cranium at least slightly cushioned by his long hair splayed out behind him. Yone’s cock reaches so deep inside him with each thrust, fat head constantly nudging his prostate until he’s drooling in pleasure.
Something captures Yone’s attention, however briefly. Yasuo wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t stop moving, so when Yone suddenly pulls out, leaving him feeling so, so empty, he says, “What—Yone, what’re you—”
Yone flips him around, shoving him into the glass face first, and inserts himself again with the same tempo as before. Yasuo groans at the reentry but adapts quickly enough to match Yone’s rhythm, open-mouthed moans smearing saliva on the previously pristine pane of glass. He’s climbing closer and closer to the edge again when Yone says, “Open your eyes, Yasuo.”
He does, a little confused, gazing out at the endlessness of slingspace through the glass. He’s ready to ask what the fuck Yone wants from him when Yone takes him by the ponytail and forces his head up and to the left.
From this angle, he can just make out the hull of the Morning Star, the light of a nearby sun bouncing off the reflective surface. He also sees a gathering of figures hovering close by, each of their space suits connected to the ship by a long tether. It takes a few blinks for Yasuo’s foggy brain to piece it together.
Jinx mentioned a spacewalk, didn’t she. Shit.
Yone doesn’t stop moving. If anything, he starts thrusting into him harder, pressing himself against Yasuo’s back and squishing him between a cock and a hard place. Each time Yone’s hips meet his ass, his cock is perfectly angled to drag along Yasuo’s abused prostate, and Yasuo can only catch his breath between moans enough to say, “Yone, Yone—wait, fuck—outside—”
“I know. You got so… tight when you saw them. Are you that excited by the thought that your crew might see us together?” Yone’s voice is low and so cruel, the dishonorable accusation spoken directly next to his ear. “That they’ll see how much of a slut their captain really is?”
“That’s not…” Yasuo whimpers, protests dying on his tongue when Yone wraps a hand around his cock, already steadily staining the window with precum. “Yone.”
He can’t say much else because Yone’s right. The sight of the crew outside hasn’t made Yasuo any less hard, and he’s still moving his hips along with Yone’s just as eagerly, forward into his hand and backward onto his cock. As he stares out into the brightness of starlit slingspace, his eyes start to water.
“It isn’t just them, is it?” It feels like Yone’s speaking directly into his brain, the sound echoing through Yasuo’s empty brain and folding in on itself until it loses all meaning. “Look outside. The whole galaxy can see us. Why don’t you show them how you come for me?”
Yasuo’s eyes roll to the back of his head. He feels Yone’s cock deep inside him, feels the eyes of a million stars on him, and, as if he’s on a trigger response, comes so hard he almost blacks out.
Yone comes too, with a low moan; Yasuo feels it spilling in spurts into his hole.
When Yasuo gathers the scattered pieces of his brain back up, he’s embarrassed enough by the cum dripping down the glass to reach for a nearby button and close the shutters. In the darkness that follows, it becomes easy to see the faint yellow glow at the stretch of skin just below his belly button, the magic of the ora Yone just shot into him.
Yone’s attention is on it too. He places a hand over the light, rubbing the area almost possessively.
“Talk about afterglow, huh?” Yasuo jokes. Yone snorts as he pulls his now softening cock out from Yasuo’s ass, letting more thick, luminescent liquid leak out and down his thighs. “Hey, you think ora can get me pregnant?”
“I told you, don’t talk about ora like that.”
That night, Yasuo goes to sleep happy and satisfied, limbs splayed out over Yone like an overly clingy starfish.
He has the same nightmare again, Yone standing in the entry port of the morning of the Morning Star, smiling at him. Yasuo sees too many teeth in his grin and a slit in his pupils and a seam like the edge of a mask around his neck. He knows the thing isn’t his brother but a creature taunting him with the possibility. The imposter beckons to him, asking him to come closer, and Yasuo stands, petrified, because a part of him really wants to, even knowing the creature intends to devour him.
“Yasuo, it’s not real.”
Like a gentle breeze washing over him, the fear flows out of his body and evaporates into the air. The imposter’s second skin is sliced in half, peeling away to reveal a bug-like critter dripping with ora. Yasuo feels a presence behind him, a pair of arms enveloping him, and even without turning around, he knows he’s safe.
Yasuo wakes up on his side. It must still be nighttime because he sees the closed shutters of his viewport, visible from a soft light being emitted in the room. There aren’t any lights on though. He rolls over to find the source—Yone, sitting up at the edge of his bed, eyes the same glowing golden color as the sword by his side and the blood in his veins. The sword dissipates when Yasuo drags him back down onto the bed, and when they go back to sleep, Yasuo’s not even the slightest afraid of what he’ll see in his dreams.