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Ryo often feigned sleep when Sawashiro spent the night in his bed, because to sleep would be a waste. If he slept through the night, he might not notice the strong arm wrapped around his waist, or the hot lips resting against his neck, or the broad chest pressed to his back, slowly rising and falling until the two men were breathing in sync.
After fucking regularly for a couple of months, they inevitably fell asleep in each other's arms one night. Now, they slept together after almost every time. Ryo never should have let this become routine, but Sawashiro's body was so warm in the bitter, cold weather that still seized his breath years and years after he was ‘cured’, a learned fear. The instinct to steal some of that warmth for himself was buried somewhere deep within his ribcage.
Sawashiro’s hand on Ryo's waist squeezed lightly, and he wondered if he was awake too. He realized that was certainly the case when Sawashiro pulled his hand out from under him, so slowly, as if he was trying not to rouse him. Disappointment started forming a pit in Ryo's stomach as he expected him to get up, but instead that hand started wandering. Calloused fingers drew a line up his belly, traced the scars under his chest, and stalled when Ryo shivered.
“... Sorry. Are you awake?”
Ryo didn't answer. He was oddly shaken by the gentleness of the touch. Sawashiro was a rough fuck. He liked to bite, to pull hair, to lift the smaller man by the waist and toss him on the bed or bend him over the furniture. He liked to wrap his hand around his throat, but he never once squeezed. Even now, Ryo's shoulders and collarbone were marked up in pinks and purples, and some stipples of deep red in the vague shape of Sawashiro's teeth.
Since they started sleeping together afterwards, though, Sawashiro had grown somewhat clingy. In a way, he was always like that, always sticking close by his side even when he was little, always jumping at the opportunity to run him errands, or escort him, or even just be alone with him. As soon as he was old enough to think like that this, he was suspicious of the intentions of a grown man who was that desperate to insert himself into the life of a weak, helpless boy— but it really wasn't so bad to be wanted.
Of course, nothing happened between them until Ryo demanded it of him in their adulthood. Sawashiro resisted, but naturally gave in, just as he'd always known he wanted to.
“Waka?”
“Hm?”
Ryo lifted his head and looked over his shoulder, and his mouth was immediately covered with Sawashiro's. He let out a muffled, surprised little “ Mm—? ” but embraced it, bringing a hand to the back of Sawashiro's neck and parting his lips. Sawashiro accepted the invitation without hesitation.
“You want another round, huh?” Ryo pulled back just long enough to ask, a short few seconds before their mouths were fitted together again. Sawashiro answered his question by licking his tongue. A small, dejected voice in the back of his head said, ’So that's what he wanted,’ but he waved it away.
They were still nude under the sheets, skin hot and a little sticky with dried sweat. Sawashiro's breath tasted stale, like sleep, and like the cigarette he had after they fucked. The room still smelled like sex. It was all just a little dirty, just slightly too intimate, but that was turning him on in itself, so he let it happen.
The wet, hungry sounds of the two men sucking each other's tongues overtook the sounds of the light rainfall against the windows. Sawashiro's hand found Ryo's messy hair and stroked it, while his other hand resumed its exploration of his body. He touched him like it was his first time doing so, like it was his first time touching anyone, curiously pressing his fingers into every spot with a hint more softness than the rest of him. He slid his hand up the back of his thigh to grope his ass, and Ryo’s small gasp broke their kiss.
Because they were still pressed together nude, Ryo felt it when Sawashiro's cock stirred, poking him in the back of the leg, waking up in time with the both of them. Ryo tried to turn over on his back, but Sawashiro wrapped both arms around his shoulders to lock him firmly in place.
“Don't move.”
Sawashiro’s voice was still heavy with sleep. Ryo let out a little laugh through his nose. “You're impatient. I'm grabbing lube, it'll take five seconds.”
“You're warm. Just… Just stay like this.”
Sawashiro's tone was so pleading, so earnest, it immediately wiped the smirk from Ryo's lips. They were both still, silent aside from the sound of their restrained breathing. Ryo's chest ached.
“... Alright.”
Sawashiro kissed the back of his shoulder in response, and Ryo imagined he was wordlessly thanking him. He resigned to see what he would do, because for as rough as Sawashiro was, he would never dare to hurt him, no more than he wanted. He was being uncharacteristically gentle now anyway, dragging his lips over his shoulder, and up his neck. Ryo sighed and laid his head back against the pillow, giving him more access to his sensitive, vulnerable throat.
“Sawashiro…” Ryo breathed, scooting backwards, rubbing up against him. Sawashiro hummed into his skin in response. He never used his name, any of his names. He would always be his master, and he liked it that way, but sometimes he wished he could hear his name in that deep voice, dripping with lust, just to know what it sounded like— but never enough to ask it of him.
Fingers appeared under Ryo's chin, and Sawashiro urged his lips open with his thumb. Ryo eagerly took it into his mouth, circling it with his tongue, moaning a little as he sucked it— to show off, yes, but also because he was getting hard now himself. Sawashiro replaced his thumb in his mouth with his pointer and middle finger, and Ryo didn't need to be asked to get them wet, sliding his tongue between them and breaking Sawashiro's breath.
When Sawashiro pulled his fingers away, and reached between his own legs, Ryo naturally assumed he was planning to try using the saliva as lube for penetration (why he didn't stop him, he wasn't quite sure). Instead, a few moments passed, and Sawashiro's slick cock slid between his thighs. Ryo moaned as if he were indeed penetrated.
“That feels fucking good.”
Sawashiro only huffed through his nose in response, never one to talk much in sex, but they fucked often enough that Ryo could tell it meant he was pleased. It really did feel good too, surprisingly good, with Sawashiro's cock head rubbing up against his taint as he continued putting his lips everywhere they could reach. Hot breath hit his ear, punctuated by teeth in his earlobe. He shivered.
Sawashiro's hand was still slightly wet when he brought it to Ryo's cock, and he used the precum weeping from his tip for a little more lubricant. He was panting into Ryo's shoulder now, rubbing his shaft, drawing little gasps from his lips. Even this was so much gentler than it usually was.
“That's so good, Sawashiro,” he said again, pushing back against Sawashiro as he built a clumsy rhythm to the symphony of desperate panting and skin slapping skin. Sawashiro groped at his ass, his hips, the thighs he was fucking, then returned his hand to Ryo's cock to jerk him off with more vigor.
He wasn't sure how to feel about sex that lacked violence. Pain was an exhausting constant for the first half of his life, and now it was something he could control, particularly through this man with the leash he held him on. So, to have him treat him so tenderly was more than unexpected. It made him feel something he didn't know how to name.
They were both sweating again, so Ryo shoved the sheets down a little, just enough to expose the top halves of their bodies. He knew he was going to cum quickly when he heard himself breathe, whining and broken up with little moans. “I'm close,” he whispered, “Keep going, just like that.”
Sawashiro took his free hand, combed Ryo's damp hair out of his face, and kissed his cheek right by the corner of his mouth. A hard lump appeared in his throat. The only other times in his life he'd been touched like that were by his father, when he was afraid or in pain, when he was so young he hadn't developed his stubborn aversion to being touched, when he was too young to grasp the entirety of what his father's actions had cost him. Maybe that was what was so wrong, so perverted about this— that it felt simultaneously like two equal partners making love, and like a father gently violating his son while they shared a bed.
Yet that was the last thought he had before he finished, taking a handful of his sheets in his fist for leverage and cumming into Sawashiro's hand, drawing in a gasp like he was fighting for oxygen. He rocked his hips through the aftershocks, squeezing his thighs, which apparently sent Sawashiro over the edge too. He hissed (he never made as much noise in orgasm), and sank his fingers into the softest part of Ryo's hips as he thrust once, twice, three times more and finished between his shaky legs.
Worn, panting, and stickier than before, both men fell into a long silence. The rain outside had slowed to almost nothing, shyly tapping on the windows. Ryo's jaw shook, and he bit his tongue, saving himself from tearing up just in time.
It was Sawashiro that spoke first. “I'm sorry. I'll get a towel.”
“... It's fine. Wipe it off on the sheets. I'll have them changed tomorrow.”
“Really, I'll—”
“Just stay like this.”
Those were the last words either of them spoke. Sawashiro rested his forehead between Ryo’s shoulder blades, and Ryo resigned to the knowledge that neither of them would ever acknowledge this in the daylight. He held his breath for a moment, waiting to release when Sawashiro did, so they could fall asleep breathing in sync again.