"So Ace is fucking gorgeous as he sleeps. He's on his side, mouth slightly opens with a few strands of hair covering his eyes. Sabo would just touch himself to the sight of it right there but Ace had moved his legs when turning to his side and his thigh is pressed up right between Sabo's legs. It doesn't take much to wake Ace but he figures if he moves slow enough Ace won't stir. Basically Sabo humps leg slowly and struggles to keep quiet about it"
warnings/tags somnophilia, grinding, coming in pants, non-explicit consent
ships saboace
Ace is fucking gorgeous when he sleeps.
It's annoying, often, because Sabo can't help but be jealous of how easily Ace can fall asleep, and how deeply he sleeps full stop, but-
Well, there are benefits to being Ace's favoured bed partner. There are benefits to the fact that Ace trusts him so much that he's almost impossible to wake up, and number one is that when Sabo wakes up in the middle of the night with an itch in his blood and precum in his boxers, he knows Ace won't give a flying fuck about how Sabo gets off.
He turns, fighting the blankets for an inch of freedom, and catches sight of Ace lit by moonlight and streetlamps, silver over his pretty, parted lips and yellow-orange-softness barely catching on his hands and his hair, making the dark strands look half gold. He's about as precious, and looks so peaceful that Sabo presses his lips together hard to make sure he doesn't make a sound.
When his hand slips into his boxers, however, he can't stop the soft breath that leaves him, the way he has to press his heel against the bed as he strokes his cock slowly. The dark demands stealth, demands subtlety, and so his movements back his muscles tight. He bites his lip to stop a wayward moan, a tiny touch of the noise escaping on his breath, and then Ace makes a noise, a mumble, and fumbles for him in the bed, twisting in the blankets and tangling them together. His leg slides between Sabo's thighs, knuckles just barely grazing his cheek, and Sabo only just manages to stop the punched-in-the-gut grunt that would've escaped him.
"Ace," he breathes, then regrets the sound, teeth quickly sinking into his lower lip and watching Ace's face with wide eyes. His brow is furrowed, just a bit, and he shifts again to get comfortable, inadvertently rocking against Sabo's half-hard cock.
A tiny, choked moan leaves Sabo's lips, and he can feel red hot burning start in his cheeks and crawl down his neck, the pressure of Ace's thigh and Sabo's own hand against his cock sending heat rushing through him. His lower lip trembles when he sinks his teeth into it, and he shifts his hand ever so carefully to get comfortable, bracing his palm against Ace's shoulder.
It's stupid to think that he looks prettier like this, leaning into Sabo and pressed like a warm line against Sabo's cock, but, then again, he's pressed against Sabo's cock and now all Sabo can think about is rocking against him; can barely stop himself from moving without a shred of remorse for inadvertently waking Ace up.
But Ace is so pretty when he sleeps, and Sabo wants to see-
"So pretty," he mumbles, voice hoarse and low, and shifts his leg further between Ace's, chasing the pressure and the heat and trying not to moan. He has to move slow, and only move in small motions, a measure that drives him crazy and blood-boiling hot all at once, but with each movement he can feel Ace's shorts ride up just slightly, pressing more of Ace's warm skin against the inside of Sabo's thigh, making him shudder and whimper as friction drags against his cock. "Ace," he breathes again, just as soft, but needing it now, some deep pit in his stomach craving more pressure, more touch, more-
He presses himself harder against Ace's thigh with a soft grunt, desperate to chase the sensation, but then Ace grunts, a frown twitching on his face, and Sabo, a choked noise building in the back of his throat, clenches at the blankets and manages to stop himself.
Ace gives a sleepy mumble, this time, and his hands have more agency as they reach out, dragging Ace closer to Sabo. His forehead presses against Sabo's collarbone, and each breath Ace makes sending hot breath racing down Sabo's skin. His knee he shoves even further between Sabo's thighs, rolling himself half on top of Sabo, and Sabo chokes. Ace's weight pressing him just that ever-so-slightly further into the mattress, Ace's warmth leaning against him, Ace's voice dragged into a sound from deep in his throat, incoherent but needy. His hands press at the blankets, at Sabo's shoulder, and he rocks against Sabo's thigh.
Sabo, who's just managed to get his breath back, almost chokes again. He can barely swallow past the tight band around his throat, sure that the noise is audible, even through Ace's sleepy haze.
But Ace, movements uncoordinated as he chases whatever he's dreaming of, doesn't notice how Sabo's voice is getting pulled into soft, then louder, whimpers. He tries to choke the noises back, but Ace rutting unsteadily against him just makes the noise go high and unsteady at the sensation. His hand flutters to Ace's hip, fingers digging into the skin, and at first he thinks he should get Ace to stop, but then another brush of hot air rushes over his skin and Sabo moans again, unable to stop his hips from jolting forwards, into the rock of Ace's thigh.
He can feel Ace's cock now, pressed against the muscles of his leg, the way Ace whimpers and whines for him in his sleep, needy, and can't help the curve of the grin that pulls his lips up, in the darkness. "You are so good to me, gorgeous," he murmurs, and times the roll of his hips to Ace's desperate humpings of his leg, breathy moans escaping him at the pressure.
Ace's hands scrabble to touch him, sloppy in his sleep, sliding over Sabo's skin, but it's the way his mouth goes slackjawed when Sabo shifts them and presses himself against Ace's thigh that have Sabo shuddering and sticky cum flooding his boxers.
But Ace, still sleeping, can't catch the rhythm or the force he needs to get off, and he's sounding frustrated now. A wider grin comes to Sabo's face, and he shifts his hand to brush Ace's fringe from his eyes, admiring the softness of Ace's cheek under his knuckles.
Ace presses against him again, whimpering, and Sabo shifts so he can stick his hand between them, pressing his palm against the damp patch on Ace's boxers so he can join Sabo in having messy underwear come morning.
Afterall, what are boyfriends for?