"Sing with me, sing for the years
Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears
Sing with me, just for today
Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away."
~Dream On by Aerosmith
Ryou sucked hard as Tristan climaxed. He closed his eyes as his mouth worked around the other's member, licking, sucking, swallowing. Tristan's hands, which had been tugging on Ryou's hair, loosed their hold and started stroking the slighter teen's scalp and hair, soothing any ache he'd caused.
Tristan's eyes were still starry and aimed at the ceiling when Ryou carefully pulled back and released the brunette's flaccid manhood. He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and started to stand, moving away from the bed, but Tristan grabbed his wrist and stopped him. Ryou looked back at his boyfriend, brown eyes wide with anxiety as hazel eyes narrowed with determination.
"Let me return the favor," Tristan said as firmly as he could manage under the circumstances. "Please, Ryou."
"It's not necessary," Ryou answered breathily. He was aroused, but he would take care of it himself like he had in the past. Ryou had given Tristan a few blowjobs by now, in addition to their several make-out sessions. Whenever Tristan expressed interest in repaying him, Ryou always managed to get him side-tracked. Tristan perceived Ryou to be shy (which wasn't inaccurate), so he tried to be patient and accepting. He didn't want to demand from Ryou anything he wasn't willing to give, but he hated feeling like he wasn't giving back in the relationship.
"Ryou..." Tristan wanted to say that he could be trusted, that he wouldn't make fun of anything Ryou was self-conscious about. "If we turned the lights off, would you let me?"
Ryou anxiously bit his lip. He wasn't afraid of the intimacy itself; he was afraid of Tristan seeing his scars. He was afraid of what Tristan would think of him if he knew that he used to cut. Tristan gently pulled Ryou closer and kissed him, lips soft and patient.
"Please, Ryou? I just want to make you happy," he whispered against his lover's lips.
"Just... let me get the lights first." Ryou darted away to close the blinds and turn off the lights. The door was already closed and locked, even though they were the only ones in Ryou's house. Ryou was paranoid after the time when he and Tristan had been making out on the couch and Joey had walked in on them, almost catching them red-handed.
Standing beside the bed, he started stripping away his clothes, but Tristan found his hands in the dark and stopped him.
"Let me," he urged, and Ryou complied. Tristan was already naked, and Ryou was fully clothed, and the brunette simply wished for an even playing field.
The song was still playing on repeat as Ryou finally got naked with his boyfriend. When Tristan's roaming hands made him nervous, he tugged Tristan onto the bed with him, not wanting Tristan to notice something he shouldn't.
Tristan felt nervous, since this was his first time servicing his first boyfriend—it wasn't his first relationship, just his first relationship with another guy—but his nerves had been overcome by his desire for equality. That didn't mean that he felt like he knew what he was doing, though. Ryou lowered himself onto his back on the bed, and Tristan placed his hands on either side of his lover's pale body, which was visible even in the darkness. He bent down and kissed the center of Ryou's stomach, his lips tender against the soft flesh and drawing out a faint gasp from the other. Tristan slowly kissed his way down Ryou's stomach until he encountered something else. He shifted so that he could kneel between the other's legs even as Ryou opened his legs for him, making room for Tristan to get comfortable to do what he wanted to do.
The brunette tried to recall how Ryou had administered his attentions and did his best to imitate those slow, sensuous movements and was gratified by the way Ryou arched and moaned and called his name, his hands grabbing for Tristan's shoulders, his hair, the sheets. As Ryou hit his climax, Tristan wished that he could have seen the flush of that lovely porcelain skin, the sprawl of that snowy hair across the pillow, the sheen of telltale sweat on his forehead. But since Ryou would only do this with him in the dark, for now, he would take what he could get.
Ryou was limp and panting when he was finished, and Tristan was gentle in unwrapping Ryou's legs from his body. He crawled up the length of the bed and pulled the sheets up around them both, putting an arm across Ryou's waist as he slipped his other arm under the pillow.
"How was that?" the brunette asked softly.
"Amazing." Ryou curled onto his side and blindly bumped his nose into Tristan's cheek. "Thank you."
Next morning, Ryou was still asleep when Tristan woke up to stripes of light streaming through the blinds. Tristan looked at Ryou's peaceful face, and felt mischievous. He slid down the bed and nudged Ryou onto his back, sliding in between his legs.
"Ryou~" he called softly, then kissed his navel softly. "Ryou, it's time to wake up."
"Hm..." Ryou's eyes cracked open a little, still half asleep. He gasped as a warm, wet mouth enveloped his smooth tip. Tristan became more ardent in his attentions, and Ryou moaned in gratitude, at one point actually bucking upwards as need saturated every ounce of his being, and he lost himself to the pleasure.
Tristan licked him clean, then started kissing Ryou's thighs. That's when he noticed the scars for the first time.
"Ryou, what are these?" he asked softly, and panic pierced the fog in Ryou's mind.
"Tristan, I need to shower," he breathed out, voice shaking, and tried to crawl away from him, but Tristan held Ryou down by his hips. Ryou's hands started shaking as Tristan moved the blanket off of his head and looked into his lover's terrified eyes.
"Where did these come from?" he asked seriously, his fingers tracing over the scars of Ryou's thighs. The Brit bit his lip, and in an attempt to hide his marred skin, he reached for the blanket again. Tristan grabbed his hand, though, and held it up to inspect his wrists too. Then his eyes fell on Ryou's again, and he could see the tears just waiting to fall.
"Please, don't." The white-haired teen's plea was a mere whisper, a shaky breath that begged not to be pressured. They stared at each other for several long moments, Ryou desperately hoping that he could leave his desperate past behind him.
"Tell me." It was a demand, an order, and it was one that Ryou just couldn't obey.
"I can't." Tears finally wet Ryou's cheeks. "I'm sorry, Tristan, I just can't." He pulled away from Tristan and stumbled off the bed, running into the hall bathroom, slamming the door shut, and locking it firmly.
Tristan sighed heavily, feeling like he'd messed up. What was he supposed to do now?
