Archive of Our Own ^beta

He’s not sure what wakes him. The soft patter of raindrops on the windows is more comforting than anything, a gentle susurrus intertwined with the low, steady sound of Serizawa’s breathing.

When Reigen blinks his eyes open, two night skies are looking back at him. “’Tsuya?” Reigen reaches between them and curls his hand around Serizawa’s hip. “You alright?”

Serizawa nods, barely perceptible in the dark. Sometimes he has nightmares, but if everything’s fine, whatever invisible thing that’s wakened Reigen must have wakened him too.

“Go back to sleep,” Reigen whispers. He squeezes Serizawa’s hip with just the barest amount of force.

“I will,” Serizawa murmurs back, and Reigen's eyelids begin to droop until he feels Serizawa’s fingertips gingerly brush his face. Pushing hair away from his eyes, running down his cheek to cup his jaw. Reigen blinks awake, halfway between sleep and consciousness, Serizawa’s touch pulling him toward the latter. Sending sparks through his veins, his nerves.

“Love you,” he says, as if it’s an answer to the way Serizawa touches him.

“I love you too,” Serizawa says. He never forgets the I. Serizawa’s body can carry the weight of sleep or anxiety or exhaustion, but his affection never lapses. Love you. I love you.

They gaze at each other, twin surveillances. Reigen can’t see the entirety of his face, but he can see lines and shapes illuminated by the golden streetlight peeking through the blinds. The shimmering reflected in his brown irises. The slope of Serizawa’s nose, the shape of his lips. The curves of his cheekbones. Light silhouetting the suggestion of curls, outlining the firm line of his jaw.

Reigen’s man. Strong, noble, beautiful.

“I love you,” Reigen says again, and Serizawa presses the same words against Reigen’s lips.

His hands are soft when they cup Reigen’s face, draw him in. Fingertips skim Reigen’s cheeks, nudge into his hair before curling around Reigen’s ears. Reigen feels the words inside him, pulsing with every beat of his heart. I love you, I love you.

I love you.

He’d say it again, clutch at Serizawa’s shoulders and push him back just to repeat it; in moments like this he can’t think of anything more adequate to describe how he feels. Serizawa’s the only person who’s ever made him feel like this. It’s like Reigen's gone out, found some new flower, discovered a new jewel, wants to drag it back and lay it at Serizawa’s feet. Like an animal dragging its prey to the only one who loves him. Nudging it towards Serizawa, what do you think of this, what do you think of this? Watching Serizawa take it in his hands, I love you, I love you.

The hand pressed between Reigen’s face and the pillow skims down to nudge into the space between his hip and the sheets. The other hand, large and broad, falls across his shoulders, drags down his spine and rests in the small of his back. Reigen shivers. He’s not much shorter or smaller than Serizawa, but things feel different when they’re in bed together. Serizawa has a way of taking up so much space, taking everything Reigen has and gives him. Fingers splayed, his hand almost spans the entire width of Reigen’s back.

Serizawa halts their kisses, trails his lips down to Reigen’s jaw. “Arataka.” He breathes the name across his skin.

Reigen twines their legs together, wraps his arms around Serizawa and drags him even closer.

The kisses smooth under Reigen’s jaw, then down his neck, and Reigen lifts his chin to allow Serizawa more room. Serizawa knows how this makes him feel, makes heat simmer beneath Reigen’s skin, and he wasn’t expecting this upon waking but now that’s it’s proposed, it’s everything he wants.

“Yes,” he whispers, pushing the word into the air, and Serizawa’s hands move to his waist. Ten individual pressures placing Reigen exactly where Serizawa wants him. Reigen loves Serizawa's hands, has been enamored with them even before he was enamored with everything else. His teeth clamp down on his bottom lip as he thinks about how Serizawa’s powers silhouette his hands with light, bring him into stark relief. It’s everything—that intent look on Serizawa’s face when he expertly wields his powers, the sharp lines of his jaw and shoulders and arms, but all that light, gods, all that light.

Serizawa pushes the hem of his sleepshirt over his hips, fingertips alighting on Reigen’s stomach, and Reigen’s never loved this part of his body but Serizawa makes him forget about all of that. He touches all of Reigen with the same reverence—well, there might be a slight preference for his hands, and now Reigen thinks about that too, the feeling of Serizawa’s tongue curling around his fingertips.

Just when the thought arises, Serizawa nips his neck, soothes the sting with the swipe of his tongue. Reigen’s cry is clipped and sharp, and despite all of his previous warnings about biting above the collar—it’s unprofessional!—he leans into the feeling of Serizawa’s teeth against the side of his throat. If anyone can lay claim to Reigen’s body, it’s Serizawa Katsuya. Reigen is Serizawa’s to mark, Serizawa’s to own.

“Is it alright?” Serizawa asks, and Reigen nods, and he knows Serizawa can feel it. Hands fist in his waistband, tug on the fabric, and Reigen helps by lifting his hips so that Serizawa can pull his pants down and off. Serizawa tosses them down the mattress, their impact against the sheets soundless, and he rubs his hands up Reigen’s thighs, pushing Reigen onto his back. Reigen goes willingly, allows Serizawa to hover over him, lay kisses to his collarbone, rucking up Reigen’s shirt and kissing his sternum too.

There are so many sensations—the warmth of Serizawa’s breath, the sheets cool against Reigen’s skin, their lavender scent surrounding Reigen like the sound of the rain, falling against their windowpanes and causing the glass to shudder in its frame.

Serizawa’s hands ghost over the clothed bulge in his underwear. Reigen shifts, arms falling onto the mattress, and the hands come up to slip off the garment.

“Katsuya,” Reigen says as the clothing is pulled down his thighs, his legs. “You, too.”

Serizawa stills, like a deer in the eye of a headlight, and then he moves, tossing off his own pants and underwear, throwing them in the vague direction of where he’d thrown Reigen’s. They’re still wearing their shirts; Reigen threads his arms around Serizawa’s shoulders and pulls him in to kiss him, contenting himself with the warmth that bleeds through the fabric, the pressure and presence of Serizawa’s body on top of him, against him.

One hand clasps Reigen’s thigh, another sliding up his body until their lips part with a smacking sound and the heel of Serizawa’s palm rubs against Reigen’s lips. It’s muscle memory now, bringing to Reigen’s mind office rendezvous, onsen trysts, and so many nights just like this one. Reigen pushes his tongue past his lips, laves up Serizawa’s hand, takes his fingers in his mouth and sucks. His eyelids fall, brow furrowing as he takes in the leather-y texture of Serizawa’s fingers, the clean taste of his skin.

Slowly, his thighs edge apart, and slowly, Serizawa draws his fingers from his mouth, and slowly, Serizawa’s hand wraps around their cocks, pulling them together, tying Reigen’s insides into a knot and then smoothing them out again.

Reigen moans, the sound punched out of him as if he hasn’t had this so many times, felt this so many times. The feeling is familiar and yet so new again. The knowledge heats him up—that there is a man in the dark touching him like this, that the man is a man Reigen loves, that this man is Serizawa, that Serizawa wants him in that languid, murky place between nightfall and sunrise. Serizawa wants him, Serizawa hungers, looks at Reigen in the same way Reigen observes the width of his shoulders, the thickness of his thighs.

There’s a nose skimming up his cheek, and Reigen turns, lets Serizawa take his mouth again. All the while, that hand is moving between their thighs, moving them together. Reigen wishes he could see it in the light. He knows what it looks like: Serizawa’s length pressed against his, the flushed heads of their cocks pushed through the circle of Serizawa’s fist. But this night isn’t for that, for observing with the eyes. It’s for listening to Serizawa’s harsh breaths in his ear, feeling a hot puff of breath in the space between his neck and shoulder. It’s for feeling Serizawa shudder against him as his hips jump into his own touch. It’s for writhing beneath the touch of Serizawa's other hand, clasped to Reigen’s thigh, the width of his fingers almost spanning it, holding him open for Serizawa to have.

A sudden surge of electricity rockets up Reigen’s spine. “Katsuya,” he gasps, and he hears Serizawa’s breath catch in his throat. “I’m gonna, I—”

“Arataka,” Serizawa breathes, and it sounds like a plea and a prayer all at once, and Reigen’s jaw drops, mouth opening to emit a silent scream. He stares at the ceiling, unseeing, as he erupts, come slicking down Serizawa’s cock and his knuckles. Serizawa is studding reverent kisses down his neck and across his collarbone and digging his teeth into his shoulder, the pain dulled by Reigen’s shirt, and then he is coming too, mumbling nonsense into the fabric between his teeth.

Their bodies heave together in the comedown. Serizawa buries his face in Reigen's chest, his hand still limply held in a clutch around them. One of Reigen’s hands moves to his back, rubs up and down as his brain puts itself back together again. The rain hasn’t ceased, and he feels a sudden wave of fatigue wash over him, that kind of tired contentedness that means he’ll curl into Serizawa and won’t wake until the clock hits—oh, say ten.

Reigen's other hand scratches through Serizawa’s hair, feeling the damp of sweat on his scalp. Serizawa hums, releases them and lays his arms on the mattress, on either side of Reigen’s body. Reigen huffs a laugh.

“Come on, we’ve gotta clean up.”

“In a minute,” Serizawa says, nosing into Reigen, and Reigen cups the side of his head with his hand, rubbing his thumb over the shell of Serizawa’s ear. Finally, Serizawa plants his hands on the mattress and pushes up, and Reigen tries not to think about the mess of their sheets.

When Serizawa returns, his hands are cool on Reigen’s skin as he cleans him off with a cloth. He must slip his own pants back on, because he helps Reigen with his, and then he’s flopping back on the mattress, the mattress springs creaking with the impact.

One arm wraps around Reigen’s waist, and Reigen knows better than to turn—they can’t fall asleep like that. Instead, he stays still, a silent acquiesce for Serizawa to bury his nose in his hair and breathe. Serizawa knows by now—Reigen will always want him. He will always want his touch, he will always want him around.

“Goodnight, Arataka,” Serizawa says, lips moving against Reigen's hair. Reigen closes his eyes. A smile ghosts his lips.

He’s asleep before he can reply.