The sliver of hallway light thinned and disappeared as Omare shut the door. He was there. Of course he was – he said he would be, and he never lied. He laid beneath a single silken sheet, back to the door, hair spilling over one shoulder into a blue-black pool, and anxiety loosened its grip on Omare's chest at the sight. He slunk to bed, dragging off his clothes as he went.
Omare slipped beneath the sheet, huddled his body against Rensai's, and pressed his frown into the tattooed back in front of him. Maybe that would smooth it away. Maybe the dreadful twisting in his gut would ease. Rensai stirred.
"Mm. You're troubled."
"No I'm not," Omare mumbled.
"Why do you bother trying to lie to me?"
He sighed and turned over. Omare tensed, not even sure what he was braced against but certain even the gentlest mockery or criticism would see him cracked into pieces.
Instead two fingers lifted his chin and drew him into a soft kiss.
Omare held it, barely breathing, until the stress began to seep out of his shoulders. Rensai coaxed his lips apart and Omare gratefully complied: he let the kiss dim the world around him, dulling his awareness to all except warm, inescapable darkness. It was quieter and easier here. He could rest.
Rensai drew back and for a moment anxiety pulled tight once more. But he nudged Omare to turn over and then he was back, flush against Omare's body, a heavy arm draped over him and one leg pushed reassuringly between Omare's own. Long fingers dragged up and down Omare's side in lazy passes of featherlight touch. Omare shivered, drawing Rensai's presence around him like a shroud, and let out a shaky sigh.
"Give it to me," Rensai whispered in his ear. He trailed delicate kisses up Omare's neck. Each intimate tk of lips on skin nudged him gently closer to surrender. "This burden you're carrying. Let me take it from you."
Omare nodded wordlessly but Rensai had already taken his permission. His fingers were ghosting over Omare's chest and raising goosebumps in their wake. They passed over his sternum, across each of his ribs, then settled over his nipple, tracing in slow, lazy circles. He wriggled closer and Rensai hummed his amusement and pinched. Omare hissed through his teeth, then whimpered weakly when Rensai kissed his throat, sucking lightly as he rolled Omare's nipple to hardness between his fingers.
"I know what you want," he breathed. He switched to a gentle, teasing thumbing and Omare very nearly whined.
"Tell me." Omare squirmed for more of his touch. He wanted to be told, he wanted to be good. "Please."
But Rensai withdrew, lifting his fingers to Omare's lips. Dutifully Omare opened his mouth and let Rensai push inside. He knew the answer but he wanted to be told.
"You want my cock in your mouth."
Omare closed his eyes and groaned around Rensai's finger. He did. He ached for it. He needed to be good at something, he needed to do something right. And he was always good at that. Rensai had taught him what to do, first with demonstrations that left him writhing and begging and later with breathy words of praise and encouragement. Omare had thought the first felt good until he learned to thrive on the second. On more than one occasion he'd come to a well-timed rumble of "good boy" alone.
He wanted to be good.
Rensai's finger slipped from his mouth. Muzzily Omare sat up and crawled between Rensai's legs, the silken sheet hanging cool and sleek over his shoulders. Like him, Rensai hadn't worn anything to bed. They rarely did on nights like these, unless Rensai wanted to remind them both of their stations in life. Omare didn't like that as much. He wanted nothing between them, no reminder of what he was supposed to be and who Rensai had been. Who Rensai likely still was. This was better, just skin and breath and need, and relieved Omare dipped his head to lick the tip of Rensai's cock. A timid request for permission. Rensai passed a hand gently through Omare's hair.
Omare sighed his thanks and took it into his mouth, swirling his tongue, suckling lightly. He punctuated the delicate, wet slips of his tongue with the tiniest notes of appreciation, little sounds he knew Rensai liked. He could nurse here for hours, he thought, if Rensai ever let him. Spend the day between his legs. Swallow his cum and warm his cock while he awaited more. Relieve himself of every obligation except to please him.
As though reading his mind Rensai sighed, and encouraged Omare wrapped a hand around the base. He was doing well, Rensai was growing hard in his mouth, and Omare groaned around it as he shifted to grope for his own cock. He pumped lightly, then gripped tighter when he felt Rensai push himself onto an elbow to watch. Omare leaned to the side and dragged his tongue slowly up the shaft to give Rensai a better view, to let him see how much he wanted this, how good he was, how grateful. He dared raise his eyes and barely suppressed another groan. Past the long expanse of lean, tattooed torso, Rensai watched with burning eyes and parted lips. Omare took him deeper, pulling him to full hardness with his mouth and tongue.
"Very good," Rensai said softly. He leaned his head back and let out another rumbling sigh. "I knew you needed this."
Rensai's hand slid into Omare's hair again, long fingers carding affectionately. But it was only a few more blissful moments before his grip tightened and gently pulled Omare's head away. Omare made a sound of anxious protest and tried to follow Rensai's cock with his mouth – hadn't he been doing well? Rensai chuckled.
"Lovely thing." He passed his thumb consideringly over Omare's slickened lips. "Maybe I'll fuck you."
Omare shuddered with want. It felt too much to hope for, Rensai was already being so generous with him, but he gestured Omare up and settled him on his side again. Tenderly he took Omare's cock in hand and nudged his own against the cleft of Omare's ass.
"Like this," he breathed. "Deep and close. Would you like that?"
"Please," Omare begged. He turned his head and caught Rensai's mouth in a desperate kiss. "Yes. Please."
Rensai permitted it. He swallowed him up in another overwhelming kiss, so deep and dark that Omare prayed it would drown him. But he pulled back sharply and left Omare's head swimming; there was a grin in the nip of Rensai's teeth.
"Since you ask so beautifully."
His cock was still slick with Omare's saliva as he repositioned them both and pushed slowly inside. Omare gritted his teeth but a minor whimper carried him through: after a few moments he relaxed around Rensai's cock and his body thanked him for it. Waves of pleasure lapped at his nerves in time with the steady rolls of Rensai's hips. This heat, this closeness was enough to dizzy him but still he pushed back for more, and indulgently Rensai provided. He drove harder into Omare, thrust after insistent thrust, hand working between Omare's legs in relentless rhythm. He was everywhere, he was all-consuming, his presence was a crushing embrace, reliable and unforgiving.
Omare was so grateful.
"Do you feel this?" Rensai's voice was rough and hot in his ear. His fingers dug into Omare's thigh as he held him still, fucking him deep, hand tightening vise-like around Omare's cock. "This is all you are. All you need to be. There is nothing else. Do you understand me?"
"Yes," Omare gasped out. He let his relief out on a desperate moan – he didn't have to be anything for Rensai. He didn't have to be royal, he didn't have to be important, he didn't even have to be liked. He just had to be good. "Just this."
"Just mine," Rensai growled. He let out a ragged groan and each thrust came sharp and hard until Omare felt him twitch inside him, spill himself into him, fill him up, claim him. It launched Omare over the edge of ecstacy and suddenly he was crying out, frantically fucking into Rensai's hand, gasping his name like a prayer, streaking the tangled sheet beneath them with hot gushes of cum.
The haze of orgasm lifted slowly and the details of the room returned one by one. The tacky stick of their sweaty skin. The cock quickly softening inside him. The warmth of Rensai's breath as it slowed. He touched a kiss to the nape of Omare's neck.
"Now." His voice was soft and indulgent. Satisfied. Possessive. "What brought you to bed so stressed tonight?"
Omare turned over and pressed himself to Rensai's chest. He couldn't remember.