Chapter Text
Since the very beginning of their relationship, their sexual dynamic has remained the same. The bottom being dominant isn't exactly a standard, but it worked for them.
It was never discussed, it just kind of happened that way.
Ororon hasn't realized it, but the reason he never wanted to try bottoming despite already being submissive was fear. Of course, while he genuinely does enjoy being submissive, being the top in their dynamic gave him a sense of control and security. It made him feel safe, like he hasn't quite given himself up fully to Ifa, like he still has power in the relationship.
But now he's in bed nude next to his lover, watching him intently. He knows that look on Ifa's face — his half lidded eyes and that slight smile as he holds eye contact with Ororon. It's soft, like gentle praise. A confirmation that he did well.
Every damn time Ifa looks at him like that, body full of bliss and heart full of love.
It feels as if time has stopped, and nothing exists in his world other than Ifa.
Once the other seems to have fallen asleep, Ororon finds himself staring at the ceiling and spacing out as his thoughts begin to wander.
What would it feel like to bottom? To take Ifa fully, let him use his body however he wants?
Would it feel good?
Would it hurt?
...
Is Ifa even interested in being a top at all?
Would he look at him strange and say no?
Or would he begin to see him differently? Grow distant until he escapes from his life altogether?
Ororon feels his heart grow heavy in his chest, dread seeping into every cell in his body. He loves Ifa. More than anything else in his world.
Is it worth risking losing the person he loves, just to feed the burning curiosity and desire within him?
"What're you thinking about?" Comes Ifa's voice, gentle and soft, somewhere between dreamland and reality and snaps Ororon out of his thoughts.
"Mm... Nothing." He replies and cuddles closer to Ifa, feeling their warm bodies wrap around eachother and breathing in his scent as his lover slips right back into sleep.
Ororon just cannot afford to lose this. He could never forgive himself.
And so he promises himself to never bring this up with Ifa, to keep things just the way they are now. As long as Ifa is happy, so is he.
They haven't had sex in days.
That's not exactly unusual. Not on its own anyway. Life gets in the way sometimes — fatigue, errands, other distractions. But Ifa notices. He always does.
He notices the way Ororon's touches have become light and fleeting. The way the passion in his kisses has waned. They still cuddle as usual, Ororon fitting comfortably between Ifa's arms. But the moment his arms start drifting further, Ororon refuses to meet Ifa's eyes as he comes up with an excuse before shifting to the other side of the bed, turning away from him.
"Sorry, I'm too tired. Not tonight."
"I have to be up early in the morning"
"I have a migraine..."
Of course, Ifa doesn't pry. He doesn’t push boundaries, demanding to know why Ororon is acting that way.
Ororon pretends not to notice the other's concern. Pretends not to see the sad smile on his face as he tells him it's okay. Pretends like the ache in his chest isn't growing each night he has to do this.
Then he quietly tells himself:
Just stop thinking about it. You're fine. Everything is just fine the way it is.
But this feeling only gets stronger. The desire burns him from the inside, the desire for the one thing he won't let himself have.
The next night, Ororon decides to be the one to initiate sex.
He feels bad for depriving Ifa of pleasure just because he can't get his own thoughts in order.
And he feels desperate to prove to himself that things between them are perfect the way they are. That he isn't weird, that he doesn't want anything else than to top.
He follows their usual routine like a script. Ororon's hands wander around Ifa's body as he prepares himself, Ororon kisses down his neck and chest, brushing his sharp teeth against Ifa's nipples, earning soft gasps from the other.
Ifa looks at him with those gorgeous eyes, his cheeks flushed and lips parted.
He looks perfect.
But Ororon can't help but feel his heart in his throat, threatening to burst.
He presses his forehead against Ifa's chest. He feels his arousal throb, but it feels purely physical. In his mind, it's dulled by something entirely different.
Ifa sets himself down on his cock and moans, and that's Ororon's cue to start.
Ororon thrusts inside the other, just the way he knows he likes.
He connects their lips in a kiss to hide the way his eyes threaten to sting.
He's doing everything right. Every touch, every thrust, every move carefully practiced.
But he just doesnt feel like him. He feels as if he's an outsider, watching from across the room.
Ifa moans in pleasure — completely unaware that anything is amiss.
He pulls Ororon's hair and whispers sweet praises in his ear when he thrusts just right.
Ororon's thoughts swirl around endlessly in is head.
Ifa can't find out. How would he react if he knew? Would it ruin everything they have built together?
All he can focus on is his trembling hands and shaky breaths. He needs to get himself under control before Ifa notices something is wrong.
Ororon doesnt even realize he's stopped moving until Ifa holds his face in his warm hands and looks at him with those gentle eyes,
"Are you okay?"
Those words hit him like a truck. He fucked up. Ifa noticed.
He forces a slight smile and nods. "Yeah. Yeah. Sorry. I just..."
Just what? He doesn’t know. He has nothing to say as an excuse.
Ifa slowly strokes the back of his head,
"We can stop."
Ororon knows he should say yes. He wants to say yes. But he won't, his stupid pride and need to prove himself just won't let him.
Instead, he pushes Ifa down on the bed, and hides his face in the crook of his neck so he doesnt have to look him in the face as he lies,
"I'm fine, sorry. We can keep going."
Ororon picks up his pace again, so that he doesn't have to think about how Ifa already knows something is off.
He feels quiet tears hit the mattress next to Ifa's head, and his throat is closing. He knows he can't breathe without letting ugly sobs escape his lungs with it.
And so Ororon speeds up, goes harder. Grips Ifa's waist so tight he might leave bruises. Tries anything to make enough noise to let him breathe again without his cries being noticed.
His heart drops as he feels his head being gently pulled up. He fights it. Tries to keep his head down, his shame hidden. Despite his efforts, he finds himself face to face with Ifa.
Ororon refuses to meet his eyes. He tries to stop his tears from flowing but they just keep falling down on Ifa's chest and rolling down onto the mattress.
"Hey. Hey, Ororon..." Ifa calls out calmly.
Ororon feels himself trembling as he turns his head away and wipes his tears as he tries to return to his previous position. To fix things, to make Ifa forget that this happened.
Instead, the other cups his face once again and presses their foreheads together.
"Come on. Look at me. Please?" Ifa doesn’t sound angry, not confused. He sounds gentle and concerned. Painfully so.
Ororon chews his trembling lip as he forces himself to look at Ifa. He notices the way Ifa's expression softens as he looks into his bloodshot, tears filled eyes.
"Please stop, Ororon," he whispers. "Please stop if this is hurting you."
His whole body goes tense as he chokes on a sob before slowly pulling out and collapsing on top of Ifa, crying on his chest.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Ifa. I'm sorry—"
Ifa cuts him off and holds him tightly as he runs a hand through his hair.
"It's okay. You're okay, Ororon. You don't have to say anything right now. Just breathe..." Ifa murmurs in his ear.
And for the first time in days, Ororon lets himself be held. Lets Ifa rub his back and play with his hair and kiss his ears as he cries softly, letting himself forget all about his fears, about the need to perform.
And Ifa is ready to do this as long as Ororon needs, until he's ready to talk to him.