Relika Nox (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
electrumicity) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bifolding2024-06-23 10:56 pm
electrumicity) wrote in bifolding2024-06-23 10:56 pm
Entry tags:
Good Morning
Title: Good Morning
Fandom: Alan Wake
Pairing: Scratch/Alan
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Of Rain and Coffee AU fic. CW for consensual somnophilia. ilu saory
Present Alan would very much like to kick Past Alan firmly in the ass. There's nearly an infinite amount of reasons this would be so, of course, but it's the Alan-of-about-six-hours-ago that he has a grudge against right now. Specifically, the fact that he'd forgotten to close the curtains fully. A bedroom with windows facing east with an amazing view of the rising sun over Manhattan sounds like an amazing idea on paper and on real estate listings. That is, of course, until you forget to close the aforementioned curtains and wake up earlier than you want because there's a bright fucking ray of sun in your face.
The writer grumbles as he buries his face into his husband's shoulder. They'd been up late the previous night thoroughly enjoying each others' company. And while he doesn't regret a moment of it, never does, he'd been intending to get more sleep than this. It wasn't always easy for Alan to fall asleep once he'd been woken up. Right now is one of those times, only amplified by the light that the sun seemed to be personally weaponized towards him.
Fine. Maybe he'd just lay there a bit. Wait for the sun to move enough so that particular ray was out of his face. Alan can't bring himself to get up right now, not feeling as tired as he is. More importantly, not feeling as comfortable (minus the sun) as he is. He's spooned against his other half, arm wrapped around his waist, pressed skin to skin. He can feel Scratch's heartbeat against his chest, strong and steady, and damned if that isn't always a comfort on its own. They'd gone through enough that any reminder that Scratch is there and okay is immensely welcome.
A quick glance at the clock tells Alan it's just a bit past six. Over an hour before Scratch needs to get up for work, then. Alan doesn't want to wake him; god knows the man has gone to work tired after sleepless nights following the nightmares that still plagued the writer from time to time. He can't help but place a few kisses on Scratch's shoulder, however, smiling at the sleep warmed skin against his lips.
God, he really is the luckiest man in the world. Even after everything that's happened, everything he'd done, life sought fit to bless him with a now happy life and happy little family. A husband who knew him inside and out and accepted every last bit of him, and children in the form of two amazing cats he would probably kill anyone over.
He pulls Scratch a little closer to him, though there's barely any space between them to begin with. They really did have a late night, his doppelganger having decided that he wasn't fully satisfied until three rounds of wringing Alan dry. Not that Alan was anywhere near complaining, of course. He'd been more than happy to keep up the best he could.
Alan takes a deep breath and inhales the man's scent. Addicting as it always is. He can never get enough of it, whether pressed up against him as it is or his face or his face buried into his pillow when Scratch was at work. He felt ridiculous at times, but damnit, he's crazily in love with his husband. Who could blame him?
The hand resting at Scratch's front absently moves across his skin, tracing the lines of his abdomen. It slides backwards, gliding down his side, up his hip and to the swell of his backside. Something he can never quite get enough of, if last night was any indicative. Scratch really had put him through the wringer, and Alan can see the faint bruises of his own fingers on the man's hip where he'd gripped it tightly while being ridden.
Fuck.
He shivers a bit, unable to halt the memory from creeping back into his head. The way Scratch had gripped at Alan's shoulders, grinning down at him. How hot and tight his body felt around him, no matter how frequently they'd done this. Scratch's legs wrapped around his waist when he'd been pushed onto his back, his voice murmuring both the softest and the filthiest words into Alan's ear that the author had ever heard.
Alan doesn't realize he's hard until he shifts a bit against him and feels his erection rub against his skin. Fuck. Maybe he'd just gotten like this, maybe he'd woken up like this, he didn't know and it doesn't particularly matter. Figures. Not only is the light keeping him awake, now this little issue will as well.
(Well, maybe not so little, considering some of the things Scratch had been moaning just hours before. Which isn't helping matters, recalling that as well.)
From the sound of his breathing, Scratch is still fast asleep. The writer doesn't exactly want to wake him up, especially just for a reason like that, when he deserves more rest before going to work. But as he lays there pressed against his body, thoughts of the previous night still replaying in his head, the neediness in him only grows.
Maybe…just a little to take the edge off…
He moves his hips, his cock sliding within the crease of Scratch's backside where it'd been nestled. Slowly, gently, so as not to disturb his husband from slumber. Alan feels his face grow warm; it's a little embarrassing, even now, to not have the ability to control himself. Scratch always got that out of him, that youthful desperation and impatience and want and need. Even, apparently, at six in the morning.
Just a little, he swears to himself, which is why he forces his hips to freeze when he feels the head of his cock catch against Scratch's entrance. That's it, Wake, you had your fun, now behave and go the hell back to sleep or get up and make coffee before you do something stupid.
Though…he does recall a conversation they'd had. A mutual kink they'd admitted to each other. Blanket permission and consent to act upon it. Scratch had already partaken a few times much to Alan's subsequent pleased surprise, but Alan himself hadn't gotten around to actually doing it himself. Logistically, mostly because Scratch was usually the first of them to awaken, needing to get up for work while Alan could technically laze in bed until he deemed it time to haul himself to his coffee machine then typewriter.
It's probably bad timing, he tries to tell himself. Scratch has to get up for work soon, and he needs all the sleep he can get. He really should wait for some weekend. But the idea is there in his head right now, and his cock is actually throbbing at it. Alan knows there's no way he's going back to sleep now, not with this thought assailing him.
He lays there for several minutes debating with himself before coming to the conclusion that he is an extremely weak man, both in general and for his stupidly hot husband.
Alan carefully reaches back behind him, blindly groping at the nightstand until his fingertips brush against the bottle of lube left there during last night's activities. He grabs it and brings it closer to him, drizzling a generous amount onto his cock before dropping it onto the mattress. He bites the corner of his lip as he gives himself a few strokes to slick it up properly.
He knows that Scratch won't mind; if anything, he's probably going to be pleased as punch about this, though he still can't help but feel a little bit of shame. It only lasts so much longer, though. Specifically, until the point he starts to press himself inside of Scratch. The man is relaxed from sleep, body still pliant from how it'd been so thoroughly fucked just hours before, so there's absolutely no resistance as he slides in.
When their hips meet, Alan takes some time to gather himself. There's no going back now that he's quite literally balls deep in it. His arm wraps around Scratch's chest the way it had been when he'd first awoken, keeping him close. Scratch hasn't stirred yet, his breathing still deep and steady. Alan wonders how long it'll take for him to wake up. The man was sometimes a deep sleeper, and hopefully, now would be one of those times.
After giving himself several moments to bask in the moment, Alan begins to move. It's a far cry from the erratic nature of last night, this time as slow and gentle as he can manage without going insane. Finally indulging in this little desire of his, he absolutely understands now the gleeful look on Scratch's face when he'd woken up one day pinned and mid-fucked underneath said doppelganger. Alan had been thrilled himself, but hadn't reciprocated yet. Until now.
He bites back a moan as he continues. Scratch's body is so hot, so tight, so perfect. It's never anything but. Alan knows he'll be addicted to him for the rest of their lives (which, if suspicions are correct, may be quite some time). Addicted to his scent and heat, the touch of his hands, the warmth of his voice…
"Scratch…" he murmurs, unable to keep himself from mouthing at his shoulder as he continues to thrust inside of him. He's still trying to stay at least a little in control, take it slow and steady, though it's becoming more difficult by the moment. Alan suddenly stops when he feels Scratch shift a little next to him, but there's no further movement or sign of him having woken up, so it isn't long before he goes back to it.
Unable to help himself, Alan's hand trails lower on Scratch's body. Lower still, and— Oh. He smiles against his shoulder as he wraps his hand lightly around Scratch's erection. His body had clearly responded, even in the midst of slumber, and that's a thrill in itself. Alan doesn't really move his hand, but Scratch's cock gets pushed into it anyway with each little thrust. He's trying not to jostle the doppelganger too much, but there's still going to be a bit of movement at least.
It takes all the self control Alan can muster to not just go pounding away at him. While he's sure Scratch wouldn't mind it, he's still trying not to disturb his slumber. Whether he'll get through all of this without waking him up, Alan doesn't know, but he's beginning to think it may not be much longer at all. There's a thrill in finally partaking in this desire that makes it all hit so much harder.
Even with the slow pace, Scratch's body feels too fucking good around him. Alan groans softly against his shoulder, moving just a fraction quicker. He knows he's not going to need much more than this. His hand moves to start properly stroking Scratch's cock, unable to help itself, thumbing at the head. All the while, he grows closer and closer to the edge, breath coming in short pants. If he could, he'd never leave this bed, never leave his husband's side, stay wrapped around him every moment of every day.
"I love you," he whimpers, words instinctual and natural as he bucks against him. Alan lets himself get lost in the high, lets himself be completely overwhelmed. Faintly, he feels Scratch's body tighten around him, and something warm hit his hand.
By the time he comes back down, he's ready to fall fast asleep again, sunbeam be damned. But he suddenly feels a rumble against his chest, and his ears pick up on chuckling.
"G'morning to you too, babe," Scratch greets him, voice rough with sleep.
Alan's eyes fly open, and he (rather reluctantly) pulls out of him. His face is sheepish and nervous when Scratch turns around to face him, but it melts away with a slow kiss.
"I, uh… How long've you…?" he asks.
Scratch laughs softly again, kissing the tip of his nose. "A few minutes? Really, honey, I've been waiting for ages for you to finally do that."
Though he huffs, Alan tucks his face into Scratch's neck, smiling against his skin. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm guessing you liked it too?"
Raising an eyebrow, Scratch lifts Alan's hand to his lips and darts his tongue against the come staining his skin.
"Oh. Okay. Yeah, that'd do it."
Silence hangs between them for a few moments before the two of them begin to laugh. Scratch musses up Alan's hair with one hand and kisses his forehead, and the writer happily melts into it. At moments like these, he feels like even the Dark Presence itself couldn't destroy this brightness.
"Hmmm… Half an hour before I need to start getting ready for work. We could just cuddle for a bit, or…"
"Or…?"
Alan lets out a little sound of surprise as he's suddenly rolled onto his back and pinned to the bed. Above him, Scratch smiles brightly.
A good morning, indeed.
Fandom: Alan Wake
Pairing: Scratch/Alan
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Of Rain and Coffee AU fic. CW for consensual somnophilia. ilu saory
Present Alan would very much like to kick Past Alan firmly in the ass. There's nearly an infinite amount of reasons this would be so, of course, but it's the Alan-of-about-six-hours-ago that he has a grudge against right now. Specifically, the fact that he'd forgotten to close the curtains fully. A bedroom with windows facing east with an amazing view of the rising sun over Manhattan sounds like an amazing idea on paper and on real estate listings. That is, of course, until you forget to close the aforementioned curtains and wake up earlier than you want because there's a bright fucking ray of sun in your face.
The writer grumbles as he buries his face into his husband's shoulder. They'd been up late the previous night thoroughly enjoying each others' company. And while he doesn't regret a moment of it, never does, he'd been intending to get more sleep than this. It wasn't always easy for Alan to fall asleep once he'd been woken up. Right now is one of those times, only amplified by the light that the sun seemed to be personally weaponized towards him.
Fine. Maybe he'd just lay there a bit. Wait for the sun to move enough so that particular ray was out of his face. Alan can't bring himself to get up right now, not feeling as tired as he is. More importantly, not feeling as comfortable (minus the sun) as he is. He's spooned against his other half, arm wrapped around his waist, pressed skin to skin. He can feel Scratch's heartbeat against his chest, strong and steady, and damned if that isn't always a comfort on its own. They'd gone through enough that any reminder that Scratch is there and okay is immensely welcome.
A quick glance at the clock tells Alan it's just a bit past six. Over an hour before Scratch needs to get up for work, then. Alan doesn't want to wake him; god knows the man has gone to work tired after sleepless nights following the nightmares that still plagued the writer from time to time. He can't help but place a few kisses on Scratch's shoulder, however, smiling at the sleep warmed skin against his lips.
God, he really is the luckiest man in the world. Even after everything that's happened, everything he'd done, life sought fit to bless him with a now happy life and happy little family. A husband who knew him inside and out and accepted every last bit of him, and children in the form of two amazing cats he would probably kill anyone over.
He pulls Scratch a little closer to him, though there's barely any space between them to begin with. They really did have a late night, his doppelganger having decided that he wasn't fully satisfied until three rounds of wringing Alan dry. Not that Alan was anywhere near complaining, of course. He'd been more than happy to keep up the best he could.
Alan takes a deep breath and inhales the man's scent. Addicting as it always is. He can never get enough of it, whether pressed up against him as it is or his face or his face buried into his pillow when Scratch was at work. He felt ridiculous at times, but damnit, he's crazily in love with his husband. Who could blame him?
The hand resting at Scratch's front absently moves across his skin, tracing the lines of his abdomen. It slides backwards, gliding down his side, up his hip and to the swell of his backside. Something he can never quite get enough of, if last night was any indicative. Scratch really had put him through the wringer, and Alan can see the faint bruises of his own fingers on the man's hip where he'd gripped it tightly while being ridden.
Fuck.
He shivers a bit, unable to halt the memory from creeping back into his head. The way Scratch had gripped at Alan's shoulders, grinning down at him. How hot and tight his body felt around him, no matter how frequently they'd done this. Scratch's legs wrapped around his waist when he'd been pushed onto his back, his voice murmuring both the softest and the filthiest words into Alan's ear that the author had ever heard.
Alan doesn't realize he's hard until he shifts a bit against him and feels his erection rub against his skin. Fuck. Maybe he'd just gotten like this, maybe he'd woken up like this, he didn't know and it doesn't particularly matter. Figures. Not only is the light keeping him awake, now this little issue will as well.
(Well, maybe not so little, considering some of the things Scratch had been moaning just hours before. Which isn't helping matters, recalling that as well.)
From the sound of his breathing, Scratch is still fast asleep. The writer doesn't exactly want to wake him up, especially just for a reason like that, when he deserves more rest before going to work. But as he lays there pressed against his body, thoughts of the previous night still replaying in his head, the neediness in him only grows.
Maybe…just a little to take the edge off…
He moves his hips, his cock sliding within the crease of Scratch's backside where it'd been nestled. Slowly, gently, so as not to disturb his husband from slumber. Alan feels his face grow warm; it's a little embarrassing, even now, to not have the ability to control himself. Scratch always got that out of him, that youthful desperation and impatience and want and need. Even, apparently, at six in the morning.
Just a little, he swears to himself, which is why he forces his hips to freeze when he feels the head of his cock catch against Scratch's entrance. That's it, Wake, you had your fun, now behave and go the hell back to sleep or get up and make coffee before you do something stupid.
Though…he does recall a conversation they'd had. A mutual kink they'd admitted to each other. Blanket permission and consent to act upon it. Scratch had already partaken a few times much to Alan's subsequent pleased surprise, but Alan himself hadn't gotten around to actually doing it himself. Logistically, mostly because Scratch was usually the first of them to awaken, needing to get up for work while Alan could technically laze in bed until he deemed it time to haul himself to his coffee machine then typewriter.
It's probably bad timing, he tries to tell himself. Scratch has to get up for work soon, and he needs all the sleep he can get. He really should wait for some weekend. But the idea is there in his head right now, and his cock is actually throbbing at it. Alan knows there's no way he's going back to sleep now, not with this thought assailing him.
He lays there for several minutes debating with himself before coming to the conclusion that he is an extremely weak man, both in general and for his stupidly hot husband.
Alan carefully reaches back behind him, blindly groping at the nightstand until his fingertips brush against the bottle of lube left there during last night's activities. He grabs it and brings it closer to him, drizzling a generous amount onto his cock before dropping it onto the mattress. He bites the corner of his lip as he gives himself a few strokes to slick it up properly.
He knows that Scratch won't mind; if anything, he's probably going to be pleased as punch about this, though he still can't help but feel a little bit of shame. It only lasts so much longer, though. Specifically, until the point he starts to press himself inside of Scratch. The man is relaxed from sleep, body still pliant from how it'd been so thoroughly fucked just hours before, so there's absolutely no resistance as he slides in.
When their hips meet, Alan takes some time to gather himself. There's no going back now that he's quite literally balls deep in it. His arm wraps around Scratch's chest the way it had been when he'd first awoken, keeping him close. Scratch hasn't stirred yet, his breathing still deep and steady. Alan wonders how long it'll take for him to wake up. The man was sometimes a deep sleeper, and hopefully, now would be one of those times.
After giving himself several moments to bask in the moment, Alan begins to move. It's a far cry from the erratic nature of last night, this time as slow and gentle as he can manage without going insane. Finally indulging in this little desire of his, he absolutely understands now the gleeful look on Scratch's face when he'd woken up one day pinned and mid-fucked underneath said doppelganger. Alan had been thrilled himself, but hadn't reciprocated yet. Until now.
He bites back a moan as he continues. Scratch's body is so hot, so tight, so perfect. It's never anything but. Alan knows he'll be addicted to him for the rest of their lives (which, if suspicions are correct, may be quite some time). Addicted to his scent and heat, the touch of his hands, the warmth of his voice…
"Scratch…" he murmurs, unable to keep himself from mouthing at his shoulder as he continues to thrust inside of him. He's still trying to stay at least a little in control, take it slow and steady, though it's becoming more difficult by the moment. Alan suddenly stops when he feels Scratch shift a little next to him, but there's no further movement or sign of him having woken up, so it isn't long before he goes back to it.
Unable to help himself, Alan's hand trails lower on Scratch's body. Lower still, and— Oh. He smiles against his shoulder as he wraps his hand lightly around Scratch's erection. His body had clearly responded, even in the midst of slumber, and that's a thrill in itself. Alan doesn't really move his hand, but Scratch's cock gets pushed into it anyway with each little thrust. He's trying not to jostle the doppelganger too much, but there's still going to be a bit of movement at least.
It takes all the self control Alan can muster to not just go pounding away at him. While he's sure Scratch wouldn't mind it, he's still trying not to disturb his slumber. Whether he'll get through all of this without waking him up, Alan doesn't know, but he's beginning to think it may not be much longer at all. There's a thrill in finally partaking in this desire that makes it all hit so much harder.
Even with the slow pace, Scratch's body feels too fucking good around him. Alan groans softly against his shoulder, moving just a fraction quicker. He knows he's not going to need much more than this. His hand moves to start properly stroking Scratch's cock, unable to help itself, thumbing at the head. All the while, he grows closer and closer to the edge, breath coming in short pants. If he could, he'd never leave this bed, never leave his husband's side, stay wrapped around him every moment of every day.
"I love you," he whimpers, words instinctual and natural as he bucks against him. Alan lets himself get lost in the high, lets himself be completely overwhelmed. Faintly, he feels Scratch's body tighten around him, and something warm hit his hand.
By the time he comes back down, he's ready to fall fast asleep again, sunbeam be damned. But he suddenly feels a rumble against his chest, and his ears pick up on chuckling.
"G'morning to you too, babe," Scratch greets him, voice rough with sleep.
Alan's eyes fly open, and he (rather reluctantly) pulls out of him. His face is sheepish and nervous when Scratch turns around to face him, but it melts away with a slow kiss.
"I, uh… How long've you…?" he asks.
Scratch laughs softly again, kissing the tip of his nose. "A few minutes? Really, honey, I've been waiting for ages for you to finally do that."
Though he huffs, Alan tucks his face into Scratch's neck, smiling against his skin. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm guessing you liked it too?"
Raising an eyebrow, Scratch lifts Alan's hand to his lips and darts his tongue against the come staining his skin.
"Oh. Okay. Yeah, that'd do it."
Silence hangs between them for a few moments before the two of them begin to laugh. Scratch musses up Alan's hair with one hand and kisses his forehead, and the writer happily melts into it. At moments like these, he feels like even the Dark Presence itself couldn't destroy this brightness.
"Hmmm… Half an hour before I need to start getting ready for work. We could just cuddle for a bit, or…"
"Or…?"
Alan lets out a little sound of surprise as he's suddenly rolled onto his back and pinned to the bed. Above him, Scratch smiles brightly.
A good morning, indeed.