Archive of Our Own ^beta

He awakes to darkness. It isn’t the first time this has ever happened, Yuzuru is a very light sleeper, prone to jolting awake at even the slightest sound in the night. His alertness is a side-effect of his training, one that seems somewhat superfluous in the Seisoukan apartments, with their security and solidness. Still, he doesn’t want to get over-lax, comfortable, and so makes no effort to develop deeper sleeping habits.

This is certainly for the best, isn’t it? Because he wakes up to the sound of his young master shuffling out of bed. Yuzuru keeps still so as not to let Tori know he’s awake just yet. If he’s just getting up for a drink of water or a trip to the restroom, there’s no need to accompany him. Yuzuru can give him that much freedom, at the very least. He fully expects Tori to head out of the room, seeking one of those destinations, and so is surprised when Tori comes instead to his bedside.

His eyes are mostly closed, like he’s sleepwalking, which he hasn’t done since he was very small. Yuzuru isn’t sure what to do. If his young master needed something, he could fulfill that need, but sleepwalking is inherently irrational. He sits up then, about to coax Tori back to his own bed, when Tori falls onto his lap. Yuzuru jolts and catches him easily. His young master is really so adorable, isn’t he? He thinks about how Tori had said he was excited to share a room with him. They had been together since they were young, but had obviously had their own bedrooms growing up. 

“Bocchama…?” he asks, trying to wake him gently. Tori mumbles something, then snuggles close to Yuzuru’s chest. He’s always been a sound sleeper, doubly so when compared to Yuzuru, and Yuzuru sighs, shaking him a little now. His pulse always quickens at Tori’s touch, and this really isn’t the time. If he lets that sort of adrenaline start to course through himself, it will take hours to get back to sleep. “Bocchama, you need to go back to bed…”

Tori mumbles something before pushing himself up, bleary-eyed and beautiful. His hair is a mess from sleep, and Yuzuru wants so desperately to comb it for him. To sit him down and perform an act of service. They’ve been better-behaved as of late, both of them, Tori no longer teasing him in that adorable, unintentional way and Yuzuru no longer actively craving him like breathing and threatening to give into his desires.

He’s adorable, though, he really is. If Yuzuru were a worse man, he’d let himself follow that train of thought to some sort of confusion. If Tori were not his master, but instead an equal, he’d put him back in his own bed and get in with him. Instead, he gently nudges him, holds out his hand so Tori can use it to stand back up. Tori holds onto his hand but doesn’t get back to his feet, instead he simply presses closer to Yuzuru. He’s meeting his gaze now, the green of his eyes barely visible in the dark. Yuzuru feels his throat dry up.

He wants Tori to stay right here. He doesn’t even need it to be anything else. He wishes he could live in this moment forever. He wants to touch, he really does. Every time he thinks about someone else touching his young master, he can’t decide if he wants to break their fingers, or his own.

Tori glances up at him. “What’s the matter, Yuzuru…?”

“I…” Yuzuru begins, but his master goes on.

“I had a nightmare. Can you help me feel better…?”

He’s dreaming, he realizes, very suddenly. He is dreaming about having woken up, when in reality he’s still asleep, and Tori is asleep, both of them in their separate beds, and they’ll awaken come morning like nothing happened.

But it feels real, and that makes Yuzuru anxious. If it isn’t a dream, and he fails to attend to his master’s needs, even so late at night, that would reflect poorly on him. He wraps an arm around Tori’s waist as he sways again, intending to steady him. He’s worried that his young master is still on the verge of sleepwalking, but the action prompts a soft sound in the dark. 

Tori shifts, adjusting his position so that his legs are beside Yuzuru, but he’s still sitting mostly on his lap. He leans his head against Yuzuru’s chest. It’s so lovely, the way he looks. On the verge of sleep, but stubbornly resisting it. He said he had a nightmare, but he doesn’t look anxious. In fact, with his half-closed eyes, he looks—

“Well… can you help me or not…?”

Tori’s voice slams into the wall of Yuzuru’s thoughts. Yuzuru’s mouth dries up a little. He’s had a dozen fantasies that have started just like this, and he wonders how his young master got such a look into his mind that he can say just what Yuzuru most wishes to hear.

“Bocchama…?”

Tori trails a hand down his chest, as if gesturing to himself. Yuzuru follows the motion of the hand with his eyes until Tori stops at the hem of his shirt. “Yes, Yuzuru?” he whispers. “Come on, don’t you know what I want? I can’t order you to do this… but…”

Yuzuru feels his brain short-circuiting. Tori’s meaning is clear enough, it’s the line that he can’t grasp. What exactly is needed of him? He places his hand on Tori’s stomach and plays with the hem of his pyjama shirt before undoing the bottom-most button. This prompts a good reaction, Tori’s breath hitching adorably. He thinks that if it weren’t so dark, he could see a faint pink in those cheeks.

“Like this, Bocchama…?”

A nod, quick. Like that indeed. Tori looks up at him, eyes wider than before, adrenaline replacing his earlier sleepiness. “You… you wanted this, too?” he whispers. Yuzuru’s heart beats faster, but he does his best not to let that show on his face. His indulgent smile never fades. Well, if this is what his master wishes of him, how can he deny him? He is dreaming, so this is perfectly safe, and he can indulge, just a little.

His fingers trace along the slight curve of Tori’s stomach, prompting a hitch in his breath. Tori is so thin, with only the faintest hints of fat and muscle, something Yuzuru has certainly noticed but not really had a chance to feel most of the time. He’ll always touch when he can make an excuse for it—a hand on Tori’s back to steady him, both hands on his sides to lift him during complex choreography, and so on—but those moments are rare. Because of that, and the uncertainty over how real all of this even is, Yuzuru keeps his touch light.

It’s still enough to prompt a soft gasp from his master, though. Lips part in the dark, and Yuzuru instinctively presses his fingers to them. Those pretty lips part further, his tongue flicking out to ghost over the very tip of Yuzuru’s index finger.

He withdraws his hand quickly, to no objection, watching as Tori’s brows furrow but his lips close. His other hand is still on his stomach, feeling the inhale and exhale coming from the presence in his lap. Tori sits up just a little, just enough so that he can press his lips to Yuzuru’s neck, feather-light. Yuzuru closes his eyes, shifts a little, and lets out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. He slides his hand up Tori’s shirt and inhales sharply. Tori smells like floral shampoo and honey and sleep. Yuzuru undoes each button on Tori’s pyjama shirt. How can he stop now that he’s had a taste? Tori certainly doesn’t object. Obsession is a godless place, one Yuzuru visits daily, even as he keeps the secret of that frequency to himself, locked tight. 

He touches Tori’s stomach, then his chest. When his fingers brush over one of Tori’s nipples, it prompts a gasp. Sensitive, then, just as Yuzuru had always imagined. He wonders if the Tori that exists outside his dreams is the same way as he pinches his nipple, just playing with it between his fingers, mostly gently. Tori squirms on his lap and Yuzuru smiles at him, so softly.

“What’s the matter, Bocchama? Isn’t this what you wanted?” he whispers. Tori nods and tries to make a sound, but it comes out more like a high whine. Yuzuru’s smile doesn’t fade, his expression soft and affectionate. “If you’re looking so adorable just from this, I don’t know how you’ll handle the rest.”

“The rest…?” Tori manages between gasps. He’s drooling just a little, eyes slightly unfocused. Yuzuru wants him to keep making that face, at least for the rest of this dream. He trails his hand down, his fingertips brushing against Tori’s skin on the way to the waistband of his pyjama pants. They’re adorable pants, light blue with tiny polka dots that he can’t make out in the dark, but they must go. 

He pulls them all the way off with one hand and Tori immediately crosses his legs in embarrassment. That just won’t do. Yuzuru pushes his hand between Tori’s thighs, parting them with ease. His skin is almost unbearably soft, and if Yuzuru weren’t already excited, this fact would make him more so. He squeezes one thigh, feeling soft flesh yield a little beneath his fingers. Tori has been gaining more muscle lately, but he’s still easily the softest member of fine and Yuzuru selfishly hopes he will stay this way forever.

“Yuzuru…!” Tori finally manages, like he’s surprised at the shamelessness. Yuzuru doesn’t have any experience with this in reality, apart from what he’s seen in videos he wasn’t supposed to watch, but in his dreams he’s done this before, and often enough. He never tires of thinking about it. Were their positions different, he would take a near-limitless delight in undoing Tori at every turn, learning every inch of him until he can make him come apart at a moment’s notice. If Tori weren’t his master—

But he is, so Yuzuru contents himself with his own thoughts. He pushes Tori off his lap and onto the bed beside him, keeping a hand between his legs so he can’t close them as he kneels in front of him and wraps his lips around Tori’s now-hard cock.

“Yuzuru!”

It’s a cute cock, as cute as the rest of him, and easy to fit in his mouth. Tori makes a sound above him and grabs at his hair. He takes a moment to assess the grab, decides from the fact that there’s no actual pulling that Tori doesn’t want him to stop, and puts his mouth to work. He’s slow, methodical, each movement of his tongue or bob of his head accompanying a moment’s pause as he awaits a reaction and proceeds based up on what he hears and feels from his master.

“Yuzuru… I—I… Yuzuru…?”

Tori’s babbling with not a shred of coherency, something that excites Yuzuru terribly. He grabs his thighs, squeezes, lifts him up a little. Unsurprisingly, it takes very little before Tori is spilling into his mouth, and he swallows it all, greedily, unbothered by the taste.

When he pulls back, Tori is breathing heavily. The aftermath of the orgasm leaving him shaking.

“Acceptable, Bocchama…?” Yuzuru whispers, watching him almost reverently. He has always longed to hear he’s done well in this sort of context, so this, too, is a staple of his wet dreams. Tori nods, still out of breath and shaking. Yuzuru pays no mind to his own erection. That is never part of the fantasy.

“Yes,” Tori whispers, his eyes already falling shut. 

Yuzuru is still on his knees before him and he helps him back into his pyjama pants, buttons his shirt for him, runs his hand through Tori’s hair and carries him back to his own bed, tucking him in.

Yuzuru aches for some release, but he makes no effort to pursue it as he climbs back into his own bed, content. Denial, too, is part of what he craves. If it were Tori’s hand around his cock, he may feel differently, but he has no desire for his own, so he merely closes his eyes. Falling asleep in a dream is peculiar, normally he wakes before this part, but his eyelids are heavy, so he doesn’t spare it much thought, and he’s asleep before too long.

When the first suggestion of dawn allows light to creep between closed curtains, Yuzuru awakens, right on schedule. He takes a moment to look over at his sleeping master, a fond smile on his face, and he reaches out to brush Tori’s bangs back for a moment. Tori sits up slowly, blinking sleep out of his eyes.

“Morning, Yuzuru, I…” he begins, before he yawns and whatever other words he’d been about to say are swallowed by the sound.

“Bocchama, there’s no need for you to be up this early,” Yuzuru says. He has quite a bit to do before Tori’s alarm will go off, after all. Making breakfast and tidying up and preparing Tori’s clothes for the day, not to mention his own morning routine. “Did you sleep well?”

“Of course I did,” Tori says, then yawns again. “You made me feel way better after that nightmare I had…”

Yuzuru freezes, replays his dream in his head, realization dawning on him. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” he says slowly, trying and failing to sound unconcerned, like he’s merely curious.

“You know. When you…” Tori begins, trails off. Yuzuru watches him swallow, follows the bob of his throat with his eyes. “Yuzuru, don’t make me say it, it’s embarrassing…!”

“Ah, yes, that,” Yuzuru manages, feeling the strain in his throat. Tori’s eyes are wide.

“Did it really not mean anything to you?” his master demands, and Yuzuru feels some of the tension in his chest loosen at being reprimanded.

“No, I simply—I had thought—” I was dreaming, he does not say. He thinks about it, but the words die on his lips. He’d at least suspected it was real, hadn’t he? It lacked the usual hallmarks of a dream, the over-perfection of a fantasy, the rush of feeling like he had gotten away with something that often accompanies the safety of a dream.

“You’re going to make it up to me! You had me acting so embarrassing!”

Yuzuru immediately snaps to attention. “Of course, anything you wish.”