Work Text:
Shoma wakes in a half-sleeping panic. He knows instinctively that he’s in his own bed, but there’s never been anyone else in his bed and there’s definitely someone now. There’s an arm wrapped around him, a large hand pressed to his chest, something warm and solid at his back, soft breath at his neck. Shoma takes a deep breath and wills his pounding heart to slow.
It’s Stéphane, of course it’s Stéphane. He remembers falling asleep with his head on Stéphane’s shoulder. It’s…disorienting, but there’s no threat.
With his nervous system slowly settling down, Shoma relaxes into Stéphane’s touch. He feels a soft vibration at his back as Stéphane hums and pulls him closer from behind. After a moment of hesitation, Shoma lets his own hand rest on Stéphane’s over his heart. Shoma knows Stéphane doesn’t fear his touch, but it’s still a little hard to believe that Stéphane could feel this safe with him. He’s clutching Shoma to his chest like a teddy bear.
It’s strange to think of himself like that, something harmless and soft and comforting. It makes his chest tighten a little. Stéphane is still asleep but his hand rubs over Shoma’s heart as though he somehow knows.
Shoma glances over to the clock on his nightstand. It’s early, and it’s Stéphane’s day off anyway. Shoma had chosen last night specifically, just in case he did something horribly embarrassing. At least he would have a day to pull together some semblance of dignity before running into Stéphane in the halls at headquarters.
Shoma has an unofficial meeting today—there are half a dozen trainees terrified about their marksmanship exam tomorrow. But it’s early, and he’s reserved the shooting range at noon. He should really just go back to sleep.
Stéphane shifts behind him, his knee nudging between Shoma’s thighs, curling around him like a cat, and suddenly sleep is not going to be a possibility. Shoma’s body is very much awake, and apparently quite eager to pick up where they’d left off last night.
Stéphane’s breath is warm at his neck. He turns his face and Shoma feels a brush of lips to his skin. He bites his own lip to keep from moaning. He’s getting hard very quickly, it leaves him a bit lightheaded.
There’s nothing wrong with it, he knows that, but it feels wrong. Stéphane is asleep, completely trusting and defenseless. He wouldn’t blame Shoma for it, but it might feel like a betrayal anyway—Shoma getting turned on by his unconscious touch.
Shoma feels Stéphane start to stir, and feels relief flood him. He’ll realize, he’ll move away. Shoma can run off to the bathroom and take a cold shower.
“Good morning, chéri,” Stéphane murmurs, but he doesn’t move away. Instead he nuzzles his face against Shoma’s shoulder and neck and curls even closer around him somehow. Stéphane’s not hard of course, but the press of his hips to Shoma’s ass still has Shoma biting back a desperate whine.
“Stéphane—“ he says, his voice sounds strange and tight. Stéphane immediately moves away a little.
“I’m sorry, is it too much like this?” he asks, but Shoma clutches Stéphane’s hand to his chest.
“Stéphane, I…I’m…” He can’t quite bring himself to say it, even though he knows Stéphane probably won’t mind.
“Oh…do you want some help?” Stéphane asks gently and Shoma feels his face grow hot even as his cock twitches. He hadn’t meant it like that . He wasn’t trying to get Stéphane to do anything. It just felt wrong to be aroused in Stéphane’s arms without him knowing.
“We don’t have to,” Stéphane says gently, seeming to take his silence as discomfort. “We can just…stay like this if you’re not uncomfortable, or I can give you some time to yourself.” The words could’ve been dirty, teasing, but Stéphane says it so kindly, like leaving Shoma to jerk off would be a perfectly reasonable course of action.
“Can you stay?” Shoma asks after a moment. His body is begging for relief but the thought of Stéphane leaving makes him want to cry. “I don’t need you to…”
“Would you like me to?” Stéphane asks, and Shoma feels his pulse rushing in his ears. Stéphane kisses his neck, open-mouthed and lingering, but he doesn’t move his hand from Shoma’s chest, still waiting to see what Shoma wants. “I don’t need to touch you, but I would enjoy it.” Shoma can feel Stéphane’s smile against his skin, and he can’t think of another reason to say no.
“Can you…help me please?” Shoma asks. His voice comes out high and breathless and for a moment he hates the sound of it, but it’s not his own hatred.
“I would love to,” Stéphane says softly into his ear and Shoma bites down on his suddenly trembling lip.
Stéphane moves away a bit, and Shoma has to stop himself from whining in protest. “I want to see your face, my angel,” Stéphane says, as he lays Shoma on his back, smiling fondly. “You’re so quiet, I need to see you.” He settles comfortably at Shoma’s side and leans over to kiss him.
Shoma moans weakly into Stéphane’s mouth as Stéphane’s hand trails down his chest and stomach, caressing but not lingering too much. Shoma is painfully hard already and Stéphane isn’t going to toy with him. He’s going to help, to take care of him.
Shoma’s whole body jerks and twitches against the mattress when he feels the warmth of Stéphane’s hand cupping him over his pants. “Oh mon ange…were you waiting like this?”
“Sorry sorry…you were sleeping,” Shoma gasps with a twinge of guilt. Stéphane just kisses his cheek.
“Pants off?” he asks, and Shoma nods fervently. Stéphane pulls his waistband down, as he lifts his hips a little. His fingers trail down Shoma’s legs and Shoma tries not to twitch too much. The last thing he wants is to accidentally kick Stéphane or something.
“You can relax, Shoma,” Stéphane says with a knowing smile. There’s something a little rough and breathy about his voice and Shoma reaches for him, needing to touch Stéphane too, to have him close. Stéphane kisses him, Shoma holds his waist because Stéphane likes being held there. And suddenly Shoma forgets everything but fingers , warm and thick, long fingers around him.
“Stéphane…” he gasps, mouth hanging open while Stéphane presses his lips to Shoma’s jaw instead. “Sorry,” he whimpers as his hips buck up off the mattress.
“Mmm…” Stéphane hums against his neck. “I like this, remember?” His hand squeezes Shoma gently. “I like to touch my partner…to taste them...” Shoma gasps as Stéphane licks up his throat and presses his lips just under Shoma’s jaw. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt and suddenly he can’t help but think of Stéphane’s tongue sliding up his shaft, kissing under the head. “Would you like that?” Stéphane pulls away just enough to meet Shoma’s eyes. His mouth is reddened and swollen, cheeks flushed, but his eyes are kind and patient. His hand stills on Shoma’s cock and Shoma pants for breath as he tries to gather his scattered thoughts. He wants it, wants Stéphane everywhere, it’s just…
“Yes but…maybe not…inside?” Shoma says, chewing the inside of his cheek. He sees a shadow of pain pass over Stéphane’s face for a moment and immediately regrets his words. It’s not like that, of course it isn’t…shouldn’t have reminded him. Stéphane’s smile is a little watery-looking as he bends to press a kiss over Shoma’s sternum.
“Of course…” Stéphane whispers. “I won’t do anything you don’t want, my heart.”
“Clothes off?” Shoma asks a little breathlessly. He’s still wearing his nightshirt and he wishes he wasn’t, wishes he could’ve felt Stéphane’s lips against his chest. Stéphane unbuttons him slowly, stopping to kiss and suck at his chest. His hands are warm and gentle and Shoma shivers a little as they smooth over the unevenness in his lower ribcage—the break never healed right and it’s been over a decade now, too long to be worth fixing. “You too?” he asks hopefully and Stéphane obliges him with a kiss to the cheek. He pulls off his t-shirt—Shoma’s t-shirt—and Shoma is so busy following the graceful line of his throat he doesn’t notice Stéphane’s taking off his shorts until they’re already off. Oh…he’s hard too…
It’s a surprise, though it shouldn’t be—Stéphane did say he would enjoy it. Still it feels a bit like Stéphane has been doing him a favor somehow. He’s so patient and careful, always so mindful of Shoma’s reactions.
Stéphane is moving, kneeling between Shoma’s legs and Shoma almost wants to protest. He’s out of reach like this, Shoma wants to touch him too. And then Stéphane’s palm is surrounding him…it’s so much bigger than his own. Stéphane’s other hand is moving up Shoma’s thigh, squeezing a little, and Shoma’s hips press up into the touch. Big hands…big warm hands…
“More?” Stéphane asks and Shoma can only nod. Stéphane bends to press a kiss to Shoma’s hip. There’s a little scar there—a recent one, just a year old—and Stéphane’s eyes are gentle as he brushes his lips across the ridge of raised skin. “You’re so beautiful,” Stéphane whispers. He’s kissing across Shoma’s hips, still gently stroking him but all Shoma can think is beautiful…I’m beautiful?
The feeling of Stéphane’s lips on his cock jolts his mind to a stop. “Stéphane—“ Shoma’s eyes snap open to see Stéphane…nuzzling him? His lips just brush the base of Shoma’s shaft, eyes falling closed as he breathes in deep like he’s smelling him. “Stéphane…don’t have to…” it’s hard to form words, especially English words.
“Not inside, I promise,” Stéphane says with a smile, patting his hip, squeezing it gently. “I’m just…getting to know you.” Shoma’s face feels hot as Stéphane kisses down his thigh, sucking and nipping at the skin. It’s a little intense, having so much attention on his own body, but Stéphane is so eager, like he wants to learn every inch of skin—the look and taste and feel and smell.
Stéphane’s hand is steady on his cock, his other hand pressing firmly over Shoma’s hip like an anchor. Shoma lets himself twitch and buck into the grounding touch. When he feels Stéphane’s lips trailing up the side of his shaft, he moans helplessly, all his hesitations forgotten. It’s Stéphane , Stéphane’s kisses and licks, Stéphane’s eyes twinkling in mischief, falling closed in pleasure, Stéphane’s hands splayed almost possessively over his hips, reaching up to hold his waist.
And Stéphane is definitely enjoying himself. Shoma can feel his breath growing heavy and hot. He moans grow high and needy as he kisses Shoma’s shaft, wet and open-mouthed and wanting. Shoma wishes he could touch him more. His hands move over Stéphane’s arms, his shoulders, trying not to grip too hard, wanting to comfort him almost, though he knows Stéphane doesn’t need to be comforted.
“Shoma…” Stéphane’s voice is…different somehow. Needy and a little spaced out. Stéphane grasps Shoma’s hand in his, his face pillowed against Shoma’s inner thigh. “Shoma…” His eyes look slightly unfocused as he guides Shoma’s hand to his hair. Oh…he wants…
“You can touch me…” Shoma’s hand tightens a little in his hair without meaning to and Stéphane presses eagerly into the touch with a soft nasal sound. “You can…just keep me where you want me.” Shoma’s heart is thrumming in his ears, his mouth suddenly dry. Stéphane’s eyes are closed as he noses along Shoma’s thigh—no longer licking playfully, just…waiting, mouth red and glistening. Stéphane would probably happily let Shoma guide him to his cock and fuck his mouth and it’s a little scary.
Shoma pets Stéphane’s hair a little, not knowing what else to do. He gives the smallest pull and Stéphane gasps, nudging his face against Shoma’s hip like an affectionate cat.
“Stéphane…” He’s…so trusting… so helpless like this. Shoma wants to take care of him more than anything but he doesn’t know how. “Stéphane…” Shoma moves his hand from Stéphane’s hair to cup his cheek. He’s trying to figure out how to coax Stéphane up into his arms when Stéphane turns his face into Shoma’s palm and—
“Ahh—“ Shoma makes a strangled gasp of surprise as Stéphane’s lips close around his thumb. “Stéphane—“ Stéphane’s tongue drags up the pad of his finger, slick and rough at once and Shoma’s cock throbs almost painfully. Stéphane lifts a hand from his hip to hold Shoma’s hand to his cheek.
“Mmm,” Stéphane hums and Shoma’s hips jolt helplessly as he feels the vibration of Stéphane’s voice… wet and warm… Stéphane is licking down to his palm, sucking Shoma’s fingers deep in his mouth and cradling his hand like it’s something precious. Shoma pants for breath, hard and leaking. He’s so close— he’s only lasted this long because Stéphane has seemingly forgotten about his cock in favor of his fingers. “Mmmmm” Stéphane hums, long and unmistakably needy and Shoma moves his other hand to smooth over Stéphane’s hair.
“Good…good Stéphane.” Shoma feels a bit ridiculous saying it, but it seems like what Stéphane needs somehow. Stéphane needs something, and Shoma doesn’t know what else to give him. Shoma moves his hand to the back of Stéphane’s head, cupping behind his neck, hoping he can gently encourage Stéphane to move. It’s almost unnerving how easily he does, shifting up on all fours to crawl up over Shoma, kissing him eagerly, a bit clumsy in his desperation.
They both gasp as Stéphane’s hips press down over Shoma’s and Stéphane pulls away, his eyes wide and slightly wild. “Shoma…” his hands grip Shoma’s shoulders tightly, “Touch me?”
“Yes,” Shoma gasps, a rush of desire and relief coursing through him. His arms feel shaky as he holds Stéphane’s waist, reaches down to wrap his hand around Stéphane. Stéphane’s whole body trembles at the touch, his head falling onto Shoma’s shoulder. He’s so close…fuck how is he so close already…
“Shoma…” Stéphane begs. There’s a change in how Stéphane says his name. Shoma can practically hear Stéphane switching over to French in his thoughts. “Ouais…ouais comme ça…” Shoma feels Stéphane throb in his hand, feels his gasping breaths against his bare shoulder. He turns his head to kiss Stéphane’s hair, and the little mewling sound Stéphane makes in response is almost too much. Shoma doesn’t have enough hands, he’ll never be able to hold and kiss him and touch him everywhere he needs.
“Stéphane…” There’s a warm hand wrapping around him, fumbling fingers, quivering hips and it’s all over in a rush of shuddering gasping breath. Stéphane falls limp against Shoma’s chest and Shoma ignores the mess on his hand as he clutches him close, holds him through the aftershocks.
It feels like hours later when Stéphane lifts his head with a contented hum. Shoma moves his clean hand to Stéphane’s hair, brushing it away from his forehead. They’re quite sticky, and Shoma is just barely conscious enough to care. He reaches over to the nightstand to grab a few tissues and tries his best to wipe them up. Stéphane watches, his eyes slowly focusing on Shoma like he’d forgotten where they were. It’s like a fog clearing.
“Is it okay if I go?” Shoma asks softly. “Just to get a towel?” It feels right to ask. He doesn’t want to leave Stéphane yet, but the tissue isn’t really doing much. Stéphane nods after a moment and Shoma leans over to kiss him before climbing out of the bed and rushing to the bathroom on slightly wobbly legs.
The wet towel is much better. By the time he’s finished, Stéphane is smiling fondly—wherever he’d gone, he’s back to himself now, the Stéphane Shoma is used to at least.
“I think I owe you an apology, my love,” Stéphane says once they’re settled back against the pillows. Shoma frowns, looking to Stéphane in confusion. “I…slipped under a bit,” Stéphane’s fingers play over Shoma’s chest. There’s something almost self-conscious about the movement. “I forgot myself, I…got a bit lost.” Shoma stiffens. Stéphane seemed so happy, but… was Stéphane thinking…was he remembering... “No, no not like that,” Stéphane says quickly. “I just got carried away.” He chuckles a little, face flushed. “I forgot my manners”
“Mm…you’re okay?” Shoma asks hesitantly. He still isn’t quite sure what happened to Stéphane, isn’t sure why it would be ‘bad manners.’
“I’m much better than okay,” Stéphane says, kissing Shoma’s cheek. “But how are you?” Shoma hesitates, chewing his bottom lip. Seeing Stéphane like that was powerful, it felt important somehow and he doesn’t know why Stéphane is apologizing. It was a bit scary, but it wasn’t Stéphane that was scaring him.
“I was worried…” Shoma admits, “I was scared I would do something you don’t like? And you would let me.” Stéphane nods in understanding.
“I would let you do a lot of things,” Stéphane agrees a little wryly. “Probably most things you can imagine,” he adds with a smile. “But it was too soon for me to get carried away like that.” He pats Shoma’s chest. “It usually takes much longer before I can.”
Shoma turns onto his side, resting his hand cautiously over Stéphane’s waist. “Was it nice?” He asks hopefully, and Stéphane beams, leaning in to kiss his nose.
“Very nice. It’s like…floating,” Stéphane says with a dreamy smile. “It’s a relief to give up control.” Shoma holds Stéphane a little tighter. It’s still a little scary, thinking of Stéphane like that. “Shoma…” Stéphane says gently, reaching up to smooth his fingers through Shoma’s hair. “I trust you,” he promises, “I know you would never take advantage of me, that’s why it happened so suddenly, but it wasn’t fair to put you in that position without warning.”
“You didn’t mean to,” Shoma says with a frown. It’s not Stéphane’s fault.
“Mm…yes today I didn’t have the chance to stop it, usually I can,” Stéphane reassures him. “Or I can teach you how to bring me out of it.”
“What if…” What if I don’t want to… Shoma feels himself blush. “I think…think I like that too?” he says hesitantly. The thought of Stéphane trusting him so completely, of holding Stéphane’s helpless body in his arms and being able to make him feel good… He doesn’t want Stéphane to hide that part of himself away.
“Oh?” Stéphane’s hand stills in Shoma’s hair. “You like it?” A smile spreads across his face, sweet and a little teasing, like Shoma is the most delightful surprise. “You want to take care of me?”
“Mmm…” Shoma hums, almost a whine. It’s hard to find words suddenly. All he can think of is Stéphane blissed-out and begging for him, holding Stéphane tight just how he likes. “Don’t know how…” he manages and Stéphane cups Shoma’s jaw in his hand.
“I’ll show you,” he promises. “When you’re ready…you can have me, hmm?” Shoma can only whimper, clinging to his waist, and Stéphane leans in to kiss him softly. “My little angel.” Shoma can hear the smile in his voice.
The harsh beeping of Shoma’s alarm startles them and Shoma hears Stéphane chuckling as he reaches over, fumbling to shut it off.
“Sorry,” he says quickly. It’s a very loud alarm, especially considering it’s an alarm for ten in the morning.
“You have somewhere to be?” Stéphane asks, sounding a bit amused as he props himself up on one elbow. Shoma is slow to answer, eyes drawn to the curve of his waist, the swell of his hip.
“Mm…yes…” Stéphane smiles knowingly as he flounders. “Some trainees want to practice. I said I’d help them.”
“You’re becoming quite a good teacher from what I hear. I’ve never seen such high marksmanship results in eight years.”
“I just tell them how to shoot,” Shoma says, shrugging a little. He’s not a mentor, he’s nothing like Stéphane. But Stéphane is shaking his head, shifting to sit up so they’re eye to eye. Shoma’s face feels hot.
“I see you, when I watch my students now,” Stéphane says quietly. “I see your quiet fire. I see the trust you put in them, how it makes them strong.” His hand finds Shoma’s on the bed and grasps it firmly, like he’s trying to squeeze his words into Shoma’s body.
“Shoma, when I said you were beautiful, I meant all of you.” Shoma’s chest feels tight, he shakes his head a little but Stéphane only grows more insistent. “The way you listen, the way you care even if you claim not to,” he says with a smile, “the way you love with all your heart even when it hurts you.” Shoma feels his breath hitch in a sudden sob. He’d spent the past week half-crazy with nerves, almost called Stéphane to cancel the invitation a dozen times. He knows Stéphane is kind, that he would never mock him for how he lives, for how he clings to every little piece of Itsuki he has, but he couldn’t stop worrying Stéphane might pity him.
“Shoma,” Stéphane pulls him into his arms, guides Shoma’s head to his shoulder. “My heart…” Shoma sniffles and Stéphane just turns his face to kiss his hair. “Mon trésor…” He wipes a gentle thumb over his cheek, like his tears are something to be treasured too.
“I thought….you would think I was weak,” Shoma admits, hiding his face in Stéphane’s neck.
“ Never. ” Stéphane whispers almost fiercely. “Choosing to love—“ Stéphane’s voice breaks, and Shoma feels his hand tighten in his hair. “That could never be a weakness.”