not sleepy enough to give it up
Written for @herbeloved82 as part of the @theoldguardevents Gift Exchange 2020
You wanted Joe and Nicky, and you wanted NSFT, and so this... yeah, this is PWP. But it’s also the season for soft things, and so this has become altogether rather soft, which I hope is fine by you.
Title is from Mary Oliver’s I Don’t Want to Lose, which I thought was very fitting for them and this fic. Enjoy!
When Nicky comes back from the kitchen with his glass of water, Joe is still fast asleep, sprawled out on their bed. It’s dark in these early hours of the morning, but his body is washed in the warm glow of the lights Nile strung up on their window the day before.
I don’t want to lose a single thread
from the intricate brocade of this happiness.
I want to remember everything.
Which is why I’m lying awake, sleepy
but not sleepy enough to give it up.
Just now, a moment from years ago:
the early morning light, the deft, sweet
gesture of your hand
reaching for me.
At the time, Nicky frowned a little, but even Andy let her room undergo the 'Christmas treatment' and so he'd let her be. It’s not that they never celebrate Christmas, and he certainly wasn’t going to hamper Nile’s enthusiasm while she adjusted to living with them, but he didn’t quite see what constant illumination of their room was going to do to help them ‘get in the spirit.’
Now, though. Now the light splays over the muscles of Joe’s back, smooths into a shadow at the dip of his hip bone, directing Nicky’s gaze ever so gently to the curve of his ass, the little happy trail leading into his boxers. Oh, yes. Now, Nicky sees.
He leans against the doorframe and takes a sip of his water, thinking not for the first time how unbearably lucky he got all those years ago. Didn’t feel like it at the time, of course. But it’s rung true every time since, and not just because Joe is, what’s that expression Nile uses? Very easy on the eyes.
Joe makes a little snuffling sound and buries his head deeper into the pillow, the hand splayed out in front of him patting the bed in jerky little movements. And it shouldn’t be this endearing, is the thing, that Joe reaches for Nicky even in his sleep, takes less than five minutes to notice he’s gone. It’s not even new information to Nicky at this point, but he can’t help it. Even if Joe wasn’t the most beautiful man in the universe to him, Nicky would still feel that hopeless pull in moments like this, that warmth and longing coursing through his body that he knows will only go away once he’s snuggled up against Joe again.
He’s been standing in the doorway for too long. Nicky pads over to their bed, careful not to make too much noise, and sets his half-empty glass of water down on the nightstand. Slides back under the covers facing Joe, angling his cold feet away from Joe’s thighs where they’re still tucked up to fit against Nicky’s like they were made for it. The thought still makes him giddy sometimes.
He should turn around, pull the blanket back up to shield them from the cold, but he can’t quite bring himself to look away from the warm swathes of light on Joe’s body yet. He’s beautiful in everything he wears, but never more so than wearing just this. As if sensing that Nicky is back, Joe reaches for his waist, still clumsy in his sleep. Tries to pull Nicky close once he gets his hand on him, nearly making Nicky topple from where he’s propped his head on his arm.
Nicky stifles a chuckle but it’s too late, Joe’s eyelids are already fluttering open. His hand tightens on Nicky’s hip and he’s blinking up at him with wide eyes.
“Babe, why are you staring at me?” His voice is scratchy with sleep and he looks so disoriented Nicky doesn’t know what to do with all the fondness welling in his chest.
“Babe?”
Joe shrugs with sluggish limbs. “It’s modern.”
“Just right for us, I see,” Nicky says, but he can’t help smiling, couldn’t stop if he wanted to. He wonders sometimes if he’d be half in love already, just at the sight of Joe’s curls if they met in an ordinary life, or if it would take until Joe smiled up at him. It can’t be much more than that, if the way the combination of both makes his throat constrict now.
Joe makes a little keening sound, tilts his head in the way that Nicky knows means he’s angling for a kiss. And who is Nicky to deny this man, well—anything, really.
He leans down to press his lips against Joe’s, the hand that’s not holding him up coming to slide over Joe’s torso, cupping his neck, his jaw. It’s a soft kiss, unhurried in the way kisses can only be when they’re traded early in the morning, without direction, to keep warm. There’s no intent behind it either, or at least there isn’t until Joe’s hand slides under Nicky’s t-shirt, holding him close as he turns onto his back, pulling Nicky on top of him. Doesn’t take much from there for the kiss to deepen, grow sloppy with spit and slack jaws as their lips slide against each other. Nicky pushes his tongue into Joe’s mouth once, twice, just to hear the sound Joe makes low in his throat. Feels his hot fingers dig into his back again, hips pushing against Nicky’s in a needy little roll.
Joe seems definitely interested in something more than kissing happening, but when Nicky pulls back to look at his face, his eyes are closed again, his breaths coming slow for all that they hitch when Nicky grinds down on him. Joe makes a growling sound at the loss of contact, his free hand sliding into Nicky’s hair and trying to pull him back down for more kisses. The warm light from the window has rendered Joe’s features both soft and steeped in shadow, and Nicky is smiling despite himself, he can’t help it.
“What do you want, my love?” He noses Joe’s jaw, and Joe’s hold on him grows firm for a moment, then melts back into a tight embrace.
“Just you,” Joe sighs, but his hips have begun rolling, the hard line of his dick pressing against Nicky’s hipbone over and over. It’s slow, and probably really ineffective, angle-wise, but it’s also seriously doing it for Nicky, is the thing. He presses his mouth to the side of Joe’s neck, just under his ear and presses an open-mouthed kiss there.
“Sorry, I should have specified. How do you want me?”
Joe’s sighs under Nicky’s mouth but only turns his head to nuzzle Nicky’s neck, which is nice but unhelpful.
Nicky kisses his neck again. “I’d ride you but I’m worried you’d fall back asleep while I open myself up for you.”
The sound Joe makes at that is more of a whine, the hand on Nicky’s lower back pulling him closer as he rocks up into his hip. “Nicky,” he growls, his voice deep with both sleep and arousal now, and Nicky can feel something hot pool low in his belly, “you can’t just say that and then not follow through.”
Nicky chuckles, but it sounds more like a breathless huff, even to him. “I’d also let you fuck my thighs, but the rhythm you’re setting is more that of a lullaby.”
“Hayati,” Joe complains, flicking his eyes open to glare at Nicky, but it’s ineffective, because then they’re kissing again, and this time they’re not even close to holding back.
“Much better,” Nicky gasps in between kisses, and he’s not sure if he means the term of endearment or the pick-up in pace, Joe’s tongue meeting his own now, Joe’s hands slowly roaming up and down Nicky’s back, sending shivers all over his body. God, but he loves this man.
“I don’t care how I’ll have you,” Joe pants when they’re both catching their breath, “I just want you. Need you.” He punctuates the last sentence with another roll of his hips, but while they were making out the angle changed, and his dick now slides against Nicky’s, separated only by their pyjama bottoms. Nicky hisses at the contact, the sensation travelling straight up his spine until he can feel it tingling at the bottom of his scalp. “Just want to be close to you. Feel your skin on mine.”
“I think we can do that,” Nicky says, and pushes himself up a little to help Joe where he’s pawing at the hem of his t-shirt. Pulls it over his head and drops it over the side of the bed, then dives back in to kiss Joe, slow and lingering, grinding their hips against each other. It’s a languid rhythm that has him almost mad with want in no time at all, Joe reaching down to push his hands into Nicky’s pants, cup his ass, pull him impossibly closer.
“Touch me,” Nicky gasps, teeth catching on Joe’s lower lip. Joe does.
It’s a miracle, Nicky thinks, that it can still feel like this, after all these years, like it did the first time. All the words they've spoken, all the blows they’ve come to, all the times they’ve fucked each other senseless since. And every time anew, Nicky yearns for Joe’s touch, craves it, feels like he’ll combust if Joe doesn’t get his hands on him right then, right there.
They both wrestle with their pants, struggling them down their legs before kicking them off at the bottom of the bed, which takes longer than it should, but they can’t stop kissing, can’t stop touching each other now.
Joe has his hand around Nicky’s dick, stroking him with the same languid pace Nicky used to kiss him earlier. Makes a sound low in his throat when Nicky wraps his fingers around Joe's own length, and Nicky wants to drink him in, devour him.
“Sure you don’t want to fuck me?” he asks against Joe’s lips, both of them too uncoordinated by now to kiss properly.
“I would,” Joe says, and his eyes are a sight to behold, blown wide and glistening in the light, “but I don’t think I’d last.” He brings the hand he isn’t using to get Nicky off up to his neck and holds Nicky in place to press their foreheads together. “And you’d be a fool to think I’d let you get up now to get the lube when I’ve got you here, like this. So warm, so close. A feast for my eyes, and hands. Mine to touch and mine alone.”
He twists his wrist on the next upstroke and Nicky moans into his mouth. “Always so—hnngg—verbose. Even half asleep.”
“You love it,” Joe whispers, twisting his wrist again as he picks up the pace, and it’s all Nicky can do to hold on to his shoulder, his own strokes getting frantic.
“I do,” Nicky says, so low he’s surprised Joe even hears it, “love it. Love you. Very much.”
“I love you,” Joe says against his skin, “I love you even when you wake me in the middle of the night, I love you even when you’re being deliberately difficult, but I love you the most like this, making those sounds, and your hands, your h—” He cuts himself off, sucking air through his teeth, and Nicky knows he’s close, grips him a little tighter, speeds up. “Nicky, your hands,” Joe half-whispers, half-shouts and then he’s surging forward, kissing Nicky like he wants to drown himself in him, and comes all over Nicky’s hand.
Nicky hums in the back of his throat, stroking Joe through his come-down. His hand is sticky and slippery now, but he doesn’t care. All he feels is warm, and keyed-up, a coil in him strung so tightly he feels like he might be driven out of his body when Joe nips at his lip one final time. Picks up the pace with his hand and says: “That was so good, hayati, I’m going to fuck you so good later, hard and fast, just how you like it.” Nicky closes his eyes, and Joe kisses both of his cheeks. “Maybe in the shower so the others don’t hear you scream when you come,” and Nicky very nearly does just that when Joe twist his wrist around the head of his dick one final time. Has to muffle himself against Joe’s shoulder as his orgasm rolls over and out of him, riding it out against Joe’s body, his hand, his beautiful mouth on Nicky’s temple.
They lie like that for a while afterwards, just breathing against each other. Nicky can feel Joe’s heartbeat all over, and whenever he blinks his eyes open, he just sees their bodies entwined, awash in the golden glow from the lights in their window. Only when he hears Joe’s breathing even out again, on the verge of sleep himself, can he rouse himself to dig around for a tissue on his nightstand.
Joe makes an unhappy sound immediately, reaching for him, and Nicky rolls his eyes, chuckles, as he gives them both a perfunctory wipe down. Drops the tissues somewhere and lets Joe drape himself across his back, snake his arm around Nicky and hold him tight. Nicky sighs as Joe nuzzles into his neck, threads their fingers together and closes his eyes. He can just about press a kiss to Joe’s knuckles before sleep is already tugging at his eyelids.
He is warm. He is content. He is with the love of his long, long life.
And everywhere there is light.
