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"Langa." It's a whisper close to his face, and tentative, warm fingertips smoothing the long hair back from his temple.
"Mm," Langa murmurs.
"You awake?"
"Mm-mm." He tries to shake his head. There's a little burst of cool air against his cheek from the laugh that Reki lets out through his nose.
"Liar." Reki's lips brush his jaw. His legs shift under the covers, a soft rustle as their legs entwine like knobby roots. Reki’s feet are freezing, and when he bends his knees a bit further he can press his cold toes to Langa’s shins. It makes the taller one wince and groan. Reki always seems to run colder than him, and making it Langa’s problem is one of his favorite hobbies.
"What time is it?" Langa asks, out of habit. It's not uncommon anymore for them to spend the night at the other's place on a school night, but like many other parts of dating and being new and bad at it, it's disorienting. Blissful. Frightening..
"It's Saturday," Reki reminds him. "But seven. It's seven." He adds a kiss to Langa's cheek, an innocuous peck that doesn't match the fluttering of his heart against his ribs.
"Why," Langa groans. Way too early for a weekend. Even on weekdays, Reki isn't normally the one rousing him for school. It's usually the other way around.
"I had a really good dream," Reki mumbles. He doesn't elaborate.
“Ah, good.” Langa murmurs absently. “Goodnight.”
“Nooo,” Reki croons. Langa can feel his smile in the next chaste kiss that the redhead plants right next to his lips.
Their bodies are pressed close in Langa’s narrow bed, and Langa is just barely aware of Reki's heart pounding against his, their rhythms kicking up in unison. He’s starting to feel more awake, now, much to his protest. He finds, slowly but surely, that his hand is on one of the globes of Reki's ass, casual, like he forgot it there. The fabric of his boyfriend’s boxers is just over the line of too scratchy and Langa wants them off. Reki has one arm folded over Langa’s shoulder, a lazy hand tracing little circles onto his back through his soft t-shirt, and Langa allows himself to let out a little self-indulgent sound of approval.
Their mouths find one another in the warm dimness under the sheet. Reki always likes to pull the covers up over their heads to block out the morning sunlight, and it gives their makeout sessions the atmosphere of a secret cave, a little warm world where it’s just them, alone, together.
Warmth spreads through Langa’s body quickly; Reki slips a hand up his shirt, and Langa winces briefly from the sting of his cold skin. He puts a hand on top of Reki’s, over his shirt, to warm it faster against his chest. The sound of their breathing, of their lips meeting and their tongues mingling, are amplified in their ears over the rush of their blood.
“Reki,” Langa breathes it against his mouth. There’s a tightness in the crotch of his flannel pyjama pants, and he’s aware, now, of the slow, almost imperceptible movement of the other boy’s hips against his like a low tide lapping at a shore.
“Mm,” Reki mumbles. “Is your mom…?”
“She won’t bother us. Don’t worry.”
Their eyes meet. Reki's eyes are practically twinkling with excitement, Langa thinks, and he watches him quickly put the pieces together in his head. It’s a silent agreement to perform their little ritual: the furthest they’ve gone as a couple, jerking off next to each other while swapping spit.
Reki mercifully shucks off his boxers and kicks them down into the abyss at the end of the bed. They slip out of their shirts. Langa hesitates over the waistband of his pants; it’s chilly without them, but he’ll live. He slides them down to his knees.
They’ve only done this a few times. Most of the nights they’ve spent together have consisted of daring to just sleep in the same bed, fully clothed -- especially at Reki’s, with his younger sisters and his mom always popping in unannounced --, which has been frustrating, somewhat, but manageable. Langa isn’t even really sure if the little things they’ve been doing even are sex, so it doesn’t much feel like they’re getting away with anything shameful.
He thinks his own mother probably knows, at least on some level, that he and Reki do… something. Maybe not necessarily sex things, but he’s noticed himself becoming more honest. She was confused at first, when his feelings were vague, in the beginning stages of something he himself didn’t quite understand and didn’t know how to properly explain to her; but breaking the news to her that the object of his affection (and recent emotional turmoil) was actually a guy didn’t seem to throw her. She’d accepted the information with the same care and concern as with anything else, though he knows she still worries. It’s just what she does. It’s a different brand of mothering, though, than Reki’s mom. At Reki’s, Langa knows -- somehow, practically on a psychic level -- that there’s no guarantee of privacy, that there’s always a pair of ears on the other side of the door eager to catch them in the act. But what the consequences for this might look like, he’s never been able to tell.
“You’re hard,” Reki snickers.
“So are you,” Langa shoots back, a strained whisper. He doesn’t know why he says it like they’re both to blame for something.
“I know.” Reki is grinning like an imp, and his right arm starts moving, his shoulder rolling and rustling the covers over them. “I almost came right when I woke up, but… I saved it… for you.”
Langa isn’t sure if he wants him to shut up or if he wants him to keep talking. Talking during this is about the same level of awkward as not talking. Langa doesn’t try to look down; he watches Reki’s face, the slight changes in his expression when he touches himself in a different way, rubbing a different spot or in a different direction. For some reason it makes Langa less likely to start laughing from nervousness if he focuses on kissing him. He reaches down to shove the head of his own cock into his fist and gives it a few tugs. When Reki’s lips make it to the side of his neck, one of his most sensitive places, it snatches the faintest, muffled moan out of him, and his shaft twitches in his grip.
“Are you okay?” Reki asks, breathless. He stops jerking his dick and pulls away a little to look at him.
“Yeah.” Langa nods his head. “I’m good, I…” He wants to say things he hasn’t said before, like how being right there beside him has made it harder and harder to get himself off and not think lewd thoughts about Reki’s hand or mouth around him, or how badly he wants to slide down and do things to his body that he’s only seen in porn. He knows he likely wouldn’t even be “good” at any of that stuff, anyway, at least not on the first try, but if they never try…
He doesn’t want to think like that. Rationally -- or maybe irrationally -- he knows he’d be content with literally anything Reki gives him. The fact that they even do anything like this is a miracle in itself. He doesn’t want to be the only one wanting more.
“Hey,” Reki says softly, “do you wanna… um…” He’s searching for words that won’t be embarrassing to say, Langa can tell. But there’s really nothing he could say that won’t do it to both of them. They’re both the new kid in these situations.
“What?” Langa prompts, gently, not envying him for how much courage this actually takes. These conversations always seem much easier to have in the rom coms they watch together.
“You can… touch mine, if you want to.” The lump in his throat bobs as he swallows his nerves. “I could touch yours, too. If you want.”
“Really?” Langa tries to keep the eagerness out of his voice, but it douses it anyway.
“Well, yeah,” Reki mutters. “We’re together now, right? Like, we’re dating.” He swallows again. “Aren’t we?”
“Yes,” Langa answers. He doesn’t have to think about it.
“So, I wanna make you... feel good.”
“Me, too.”
“Oh.” Reki’s eyes light up again. “Really? Wow.”
Langa bites his bottom lip, but it doesn’t stop him from laughing. “Yeah.”
“Are you making fun of me?” Reki whines, too loudly, and Langa hisses through his teeth to shush him, but he’s laughing too much to be serious about it.
“I’m happy,” Langa whispers, and Reki is smiling again now.
“Okay. Good.”
“Also, Reki…”
“Huh?”
“I can’t breathe in here.” Langa swings an arm up over their heads and shoves the heavy bedspread tent off of them, letting in a rush of cool air. It doesn’t feel uncomfortably cold now that they’re both breathing harder, flushed, their bodies revving on the inside like machines. “Just don’t be loud,” he adds, and Reki looks like he wants to protest but doesn’t.
They kiss more to stall the anxiety of it, something physical and preoccupying to fill the space between those words and acting on them. Langa assumes that Reki will do something first, since in most other areas of their lives Reki is the one who sets things in motion. He keeps Langa on his toes, keeps him firing on all cylinders. It’s the reason Langa learned to skate, and the reason he fell for him.
Reki doesn’t move, though. For what seems like a long time, they clutch each other at the shoulders and ribs and face and their dicks bob aimlessly between them, sometimes grazing each other, bumping heads. It’s erotic in its own way, but the anticipation of a more concentrated effort hasn’t left Langa’s muscles.
Just do something, he tells himself. He wants to. He even suggested it. Just do it, or you’re never going to. Count to three. One, two, three… Do it. Come on.
“Reki,” he whispers, helplessly, his eyes still screwed shut and their mouths on each other. I’m sorry I’m such a coward. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m sorry. I love you.
Just hearing his name is enough; Reki understands him, innately, the same way he was able to understand Langa as a skater. He knows this guy -- and his body, for that matter -- better than Langa probably thinks he does. It isn’t that difficult to figure out what he wants in this moment, sure, but…
Reki’s hand plunges under the covers, sliding haphazardly down the slope of Langa’s abdomen, faltering briefly when he reaches the rough hairline of his pubes. He feels Langa’s belly respond, his breath catching and his muscles there seizing up under the touch like it’s ticklish.
“Hey,” Reki murmurs, “can I look at it?”
It seems like such a simple, silly thing, but Langa realizes they’ve never really bared it all to each other before. They’ve focused so much on hiding it, muffling the sounds and motions and listening for footsteps in the hallway, that they’ve basically never even seen each other completely naked.
“Ah, yeah,” Langa breathes. “Go ahead.”
“Okay.” Reki gently tugs the covers down off of him, not stopping until his knees where his flannels are bunched up around his legs.
Langa follows his inquisitive gaze, stares down at his own erection. What if he thinks it’s weird? What if it’s gross? Is he turned off? Am I disgusting? He wishes he could turn off his inner monologue as easily as it comes on.
“Wow,” Reki whispers.
“Is it weird-looking?” Langa blurts out.
The redhead glances back at him, grins, lets out a breathy laugh. “No, dummy, it’s not that. You’re just bigger than me. I knew you were holding out on me.” He shakes his head a little, and a sly pout paints his face. “Jeez, Langa, you’re always so calm and collected with everything else… everyone thinks you’re so cool.”
“No, they don’t,” Langa shoots back out of habit.
“If any of your many admirers could just see how much of a big dope you actually are…”
“I do not have ‘many admirers.’’”
He doesn’t have the focus for any further banter, suddenly, because there’s a warm hand cupping the red mushroom head of his dick and squeezing.
“H-ah,” Langa exhales, winces.
“Sorry,” Reki whispers, dropping it and letting it land smackdown against Langa’s abdomen. “Did I hurt you?”
“It only hurt when you dropped it,” Langa grumbles.
“Tiiiiiiimberrrrr,” Reki snorts laughing.
“Reki! God.” Langa slaps a hand over his flushed face.
“Sorry.” Reki smiles, leaning over him again. “Sorry, I should have warned you. Can I do it now?”
“Yes,” Langa huffs, exasperated. His whole length aches now, and it’s not from pain.
“Okay.”
Reki starts stroking, slow and steady and with a delightful curve to his wrist movements that seems almost… practiced. Of course, Langa thinks, he’s obviously done it to himself. He knows what to do, and he doesn’t seem nervous at all now. Langa can’t meet his gaze for fear of melting into a stupid puddle on the mattress.
“How’s that?” Reki asks, and his voice has turned as velvety as it could probably get. The tone of it sends a lightning bolt of desire down through the center of Langa’s belly.
“Unh… Good.” Langa’s hips roll against the air above him without him thinking them into action. It feels… good. Really good. Reki's grip is firm but loose, playful but also methodical. Every time his thumb slides up over the plush ridge of his glans, he sees stars.
“Reki,” he murmurs, and his own hand strays toward Reiki’s chest. He plants it on his ribs without much of a plan for it, other than to touch him however he can. The covers are still gathered around his body; the redhead smiles and pushes them down. Langa lets his eyes wander.
Reki’s right about being smaller, but that doesn’t matter. He’s hard, too, and his shaft is so smooth and the glans is bright pink and puffy from stimulation. It’s a very attractive thing, he realizes. A very pretty thing. The desire to see what he might be able to make it do, the urge to see it leaking all over the place under his touch, is suddenly overwhelming. It grips him harshly in his groin and makes his breath hitch.
Something changes in Reki’s expression when Langa finally gets his palm around him. Something seems to spark like flint in the darkness of his pupils as they blow wide. They lie close together and their hands work in unison on the other’s shaft, pumping in a rhythm that’s both lazy and urgent, somehow, at the same time. Langa finds the sensitive ridges around Reki’s tip with his thumb and mimics his teasing swipes, and it sends a thrill up his spine to feel the little pearl of pre-ejaculate that adorns the slit under his fingertip.
“Langa,” Reki moans. It’s soft and breathy and he turns his face to try to muffle it in Langa’s pillow. “Shit, that feels... so nice…”
“Do you always… get this wet?”
“No.” Reki peers at him across the pillow with one eye. He’s smiling, blushing. “Only with you.”
“Let’s rub them together,” Langa says, bluntly, and Reki has to ask if he heard him right before he shuffles closer. Langa lines them up together and ruts, their cocks sliding slickly over one another, one wet mushroom caressing the other.
“Fu- unh,” Langa gasps, and the sound of the involuntary buck of his hips smacking into Reki’s is louder than he expected. Their hands are still wrapped around each other, jerking fast and uneven, their hearts thudding against the other’s ribs when they press closer to kiss. It’s wet and loud and Langa doesn’t care. “I’m close,” he huffs. “I’m really…”
“Me, too,” Reki whispers, and his quickened breaths tickle the shell of Langa’s ear. “Shit… hah… hah!” His whole body seizes under Langa’s arm, the muscles in his shoulders and back and hips and ass all at once. He shoves his mouth against Langa’s, his lips stinging from the swelling, one hand squeezing Langa’s dick and the other tangled in his long, silky hair always the color of moonlight on snow.
Langa cums, too. He doesn’t want to fight it. Reki has the sense to cover Langa’s slit with his fingers to keep the jet of his ejaculate from hitting them both in the face. Langa, however, doesn’t have that foresight. He works Reki’s little pink plum until it bursts, and he watches as Reki turns to bite the pillowcase and muffle a deep growl, his cum splashing Langa’s chest and throat without restraint. It doesn’t disgust him; in fact, as he’s swiping it off his skin with his fingers, he has to force himself not to lick it off of them. He rolls over onto his back and snatches a few tissues from the box on the bedside table, wiping sloppily at the mess while Reki catches his breath.
“I really… liked that,” Reki pants. “We should… do it again.”
“Right now?” Langa huffs.
“Maybe not… right this second, but...” Reki accepts the tissue handed to him, and he winces at the oversensitivity of his cock when he swipes it dry.
“Okay,” Langa answers simply.
Reki bends at the waist to grab the edge of the bed covers that have been shoved down the bed and quickly yanks them up over their bodies again. The afterglow of this is chillier than the build-up and he’s already getting goosebumps again.
They find that comfortable, close position again in each other’s arms, with the blanket tucked under their chins and their lips close enough for Reki to steal another kiss, still almost shy. Their breathing slows again. They find that their gazes once again meet over the pillowcase.
“Are you okay?” Reki asks. It’s hardly a whisper. His long, amber look asks it for him, most of the time.
“Yeah,” Langa says, easily. “Are you?”
“Mm-hmm.” Reiki’s eyes close. “So, did we… Did we just do it?”
“I think so.”
“Mm.”
“Is that okay?”
“Yeah.” Reiki’s eyelids flutter open.
“Okay.” He’s so adorable, Langa thinks. He is so, so beau-
“Langa, I love you.”
Langa’s thoughts grind to a halt. His heart skips, pulses thick and loud under his ribs. “What?”
“I love you.” Reki's brows twist a little in that signature pout. “You don’t have to say it back. I just want to tell you.”
“I--” Langa reaches for him, pulls him closer to his chest, and Reki rests his cheek on the other boy’s shoulder. A familiar thing, a trusting thing. He knows what Langa will say before he says it.
“Me, too,” Langa croaks, unable to stop his face from splitting into a smile. “I love you, too.”
The morning sun goes on rising, and they sleep.