Work Text:
Ted was bound for a long night, and he knew it the second he opened the laptop.
It wasn’t just the work.
It was everything that had been quietly stacking up behind his ribs for weeks now—plays he hadn’t finalized, emails he hadn’t answered, Henry’s schoolwork sitting half-reviewed in his inbox, the suggestion box overflowing with ideas he wanted to take seriously but didn’t quite have the energy to sort through. And beneath all of that, the quieter, more insistent worry that he was starting to drop balls he used to juggle without thinking.
He hated that feeling.
Hated the creeping sense that he was just a step behind his own life.
So he sat at the dining table long after the house had gone quiet, laptop casting a soft blue glow across the room. One hand dragged through his hair, tugging at the roots like he could pull clarity out of his own skull.
“C’mon now,” he muttered to himself, clicking between tabs. “You’ve wrangled worse than this. This is just… organized chaos.”
But it didn’t feel organized. It felt like trying to read through fog.
That’s why he’d told Roy to go on to bed without him.
Roy had not taken that well.
There had been a lot of grumbling, a very pointed “this is stupid”, and at least one attempt to physically drag Ted away from the table by his wrist. But eventually, with a glare and a reluctant kiss to Ted’s temple, Roy had gone.
Ted told himself it was the right call. No point in both of them being tired.
But now, it was two in the morning.
Ted was on his third cup of coffee—lukewarm, forgotten halfway through—and he had maybe, maybe, made a dent. Henry’s science homework was reviewed and sent back with an encouraging note and a terrible pun about photosynthesis. Three suggestions from the box had been read, considered, and flagged.
Out of… a lot more than three.
Ted leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen like it might rearrange itself into something manageable if he just waited long enough.
“Alright,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “That ain’t exactly progress, but it’s not not progress.”
He groaned and clicked open another tab anyway. Because stopping felt worse.
The house was quiet in that late-night, almost sacred kind of way—fridge humming, the occasional creak of settling wood, the soft tap of keys under Ted’s fingers.
So when he heard footsteps, soft and unhurried against the floor, it felt louder than it should have.
Ted turned in his chair.
Roy was standing in the doorway, one shoulder braced against the frame like he’d been there a second already, just watching.
He looked… soft.
Sleep-warm and rumpled in a way Roy Kent rarely allowed himself to be. His hair was a mess, sticking up in uneven directions, his eyes still heavy-lidded. He’d pulled on a pair of Ted’s flannel pants—too loose at the waist, hanging low on his hips—and nothing else.
Ted’s brain, already running on fumes, short-circuited a little.
“Teddy,” Roy said, voice rough with sleep, “what the hell are you still doing up?”
Ted blinked, dragging himself back into the moment. “Did I wake you?” he asked quickly, grateful for the dim lighting that hid the immediate flush creeping up his neck. “Didn’t mean to—”
“No.” Roy pushed off the doorway, walking toward him. “Turned over and you weren’t there.”
There was something in the way he said it. Quiet, not accusing, just… stating a fact that didn’t sit right with him.
Roy stopped behind Ted’s chair and didn’t hesitate, folding himself over Ted’s back like it was the most natural thing in the world. His chest pressed warm against Ted’s shoulders, arms sliding around his sides until his hands came to rest over Ted’s sternum.
Right over his heart.
Ted’s breath caught, just a little.
“What’re you working on?” Roy murmured, his chin brushing Ted’s shoulder.
Ted turned his head, just enough to press a soft kiss to Roy’s cheek. His fingers lifted, almost automatically, to scratch lightly at Roy’s scalp.
Roy made a low, pleased sound—something that lived dangerously close to a purr—and leaned into it.
“Suggestion box,” Ted said, voice softer now. “Tryin’ to give the people what they want. Or at least read what they want before I politely ignore half of it.”
“Mm,” Roy hummed. “Anything useful?”
“Well,” Ted clicked back to the tab, angling the screen a little, “Jamie thinks we should all bring different snacks to each game. Says it’ll ‘build morale and keep things fresh.’”
“Jamie’s a child,” Roy said immediately, voice flat.
Ted huffed out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, but he’s our child. And I think we might give it a go.”
Roy made a noncommittal noise, but he didn’t argue further. His hands stayed where they were, fingers absentmindedly flexing against Ted’s chest like he was grounding himself there.
The room settled again. Quiet, but not empty.
Ted found himself staring at the reflection in the laptop screen instead of the actual work, both of them framed in that dim glow. Roy draped over him, hair a mess, eyes half-closed. Ted sitting there, held in place without being trapped.
It did something to his chest. Made the tightness ease, just a fraction.
Roy shifted, just enough to press his lips near Ted’s ear. Not quite a kiss. Just close enough that Ted could feel the warmth of his breath.
“Come to bed,” Roy said. His lips brushed the shell of Ted’s ear, sending a jolt of electricity straight down Ted’s spine.
It was simple.
Soft.
Not a demand.
Ted’s hand stilled in Roy’s hair.
“I can’t sleep,” he admitted, just as quietly.
Roy didn’t pull away.
“Who said anything about sleeping?” Roy’s voice dropped an octave, becoming a low, dangerous rumble.
And then—finally—a kiss.
Light. Barely there. Just the brush of lips against the curve of Ted’s neck.
Ted inhaled sharply. But he didn’t move.
Roy took that as permission.
Another kiss, a little slower this time, lingering just enough to leave heat behind. Then another, trailing up along Ted’s jaw.
His hands slid from Ted’s chest down his arms, fingers curling loosely around Ted’s wrists like he was testing the weight of them.
“C’mon. Please,” Roy said, softer now. “You’re thinking too much.”
Ted let out a quiet breath, something halfway between a laugh and a sigh.
“That obvious, huh?”
“Always is,” Roy replied.
There was no judgment in it. Just a strong sense of certainty.
Roy pressed one more kiss at the corner of Ted’s mouth, closer this time, closer than before, and lingered there like he was waiting.
Ted’s resolve, already hanging by a thread, finally gave.
His grip tightened slightly in Roy’s hair.
“…Okay, Roy.”
Roy’s mouth curved into something small and satisfied against his skin.
“Good,” he said.
And when he straightened, he didn’t let go—just tugged gently at Ted’s hands until Ted stood, until the laptop and the lists and the endless tabs were left behind.
For once, Ted didn’t look back at them.
Inside the room, the air was cooler, the scent of their shared life stronger. Roy kicked the door shut with a muffled thud. Ted sat on the edge of the mattress, feeling the weight of the day finally start to sag his shoulders. Roy stepped between Ted’s legs, his hands coming up to cradle Ted’s face.
Ted looked up at him, a small, tired smile tugging at his mustache. He pulled Roy down, meeting him in a kiss that tasted like the end of a long journey. It was slow and deep, a conversation without words. Ted’s arms wound around Roy’s neck, pulling him into the space between his knees until they were flush, heat radiating between them.
Roy nipping at Ted’s neck, leaving noticeable marks that he kissed and licked at in apology. His hands went underneath Ted’s shirt, touching his warm skin.
Roy began to work at Ted’s shirt, his fingers deft and surprisingly gentle. “This needs to come off,” Roy muttered against Ted’s lips. “I want to feel you. All of you. No distractions.”
Ted moaned softly as he sat up. He helped Roy, tugging the shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere toward the dresser. When they pressed back together, skin-to-skin, Ted felt a shudder go through him.
“You’re thinking too much again, babe,” Roy said, his forehead resting against Ted’s. “I can see the gears turning. Let me turn ‘em off for a while.”
Ted couldn’t think of anything better. “Okay, Roy.”
Roy stripped them both with a focused intensity, throwing the covers back and pulling Ted into the center of the bed. He moved over Ted, a dark shadow of muscle and hair, but his eyes were soft. He began to kiss his way down Ted’s body in slow, worshipful tracks of heat.
“You’re so beautiful, Ted,” Roy said, his voice raw.
Ted felt that familiar prickle of bashfulness, the urge to deflect with a joke. “Aw, shucks, Roy. I’m just a guy with a mustache and a dream.”
Roy stopped. He pushed himself up on his elbows, pinning Ted with a look. “No. You are. Say it.”
“You’re beautiful,” Ted tried, reaching up to touch Roy’s cheek.
Roy tapped Ted’s thigh firmly. “Smartass. Say you’re beautiful.”
Ted huffed, his chest tight. “I’m... I’m beautiful.”
“Say you deserve this,” Roy commanded, his gaze unyielding. “And don’t you dare look away.”
Ted held Roy’s eyes. The vulnerability of the moment felt sharper than the desire. “I deserve this.”
“Now say you’re irrevocably in love with Roy Kent.”
A genuine laugh bubbled up in Ted’s throat. “I am irrevocably, hopelessly, and quite possibly legally-insanely in love with Roy Kent.”
“Good boy, Teddy.” Roy kissed him then, a hard, bruising thing that stole the last of Ted’s breath. One of Ted’s hands moved to Roy’s hair, tugging at the strains to make Roy groan.
Roy finally leaned back and reached for the lube. He rubbed it between his hands to warm it up.
“I’m going to open you up nice and slow,” Roy murmured. “And you’re not going to say a damn thing about the team or the school or the world. Just 'thank you' or 'more.'”
Ted let out a frustrated whine, his hips arching instinctively. “Roy, I love the sentiment, truly, but can you just get in me already? My brain is still at about five percent power and I need it at zero.”
“Because I want to take your mind off of everything, not just give you a quick fix, babe,” Roy said, though there was a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
Ted was definitely in love with this man, despite wanting him to get a move on.
Roy slowly inserted one finger into Ted, moving slowly. Ted’s eyes fluttered shut as he got used to the feeling.
Roy took it as his cue to add another. He moved with agonizing deliberation. He scissored his fingers in and out, turning Ted into a moaning and gasping mess in his hands. Ted’s toes curled into sheets as Roy continued his torture
When Roy found the right spot—that deep, hidden button of pleasure—Ted let out a loud strangled gasp as he arched off the bed. Roy smiled innocently like he didn’t know what he was doing.
“Bastard,” Ted choked out, his fingers digging into Roy’s forearms.
“Keep talking like that and you won’t cum at all,” Roy warned, though his eyes were dancing. He added a third finger, stretching Ted further, his other hand grazing Ted’s hip bone.
“Fuck you.”
“I can do this all night, Ted. All you have to do is-“
“Fine, I’m sorry,” Ted panted, his head thrashing against the pillow. “Please. Roy. Please.”
“Please what? Use your words, Lasso.”
Ted glared at Roy who only raised his eyebrows.
“I can go back to sleep, you know,” Roy said. “I’ll get myself off and sleep like a fucking angel.”
Ted rolled his eyes. “Please, Roy. I really am sorry. Please fuck me until I can’t remember my own middle name.”
“That’s better,” Roy’s voice lowered into a deeper and huskier register. He pulled Ted to the end of the bed by his legs and hiked his legs onto his shoulders.
Ted moaned loudly when it happened, loving the feeling of being easily manhandled. His cheeks turned red, his eyes widened, and his breath caught in his throat.
Roy then smirked down at the shocked face of Ted and pushed into Ted in one fluid motion.
The sound Ted made wasn't a moan; it was a prayer.
“That’s what I like to see,” Roy pulled out and thrust back in. “When that head of yours shuts off and the only thing you are is a moaning, dirty mess. When you can’t think of anything else except how good it feels. About how much you want to be fucked into the mattress.”
Ted looked up at Roy desperately, his eyes begging for him to move. His hands moved to hold Roy’s.
Roy intertwined their fingers and pressed Ted’s hands into the mattress.
“I’ll go slow. But I’m not going to be gentle.”
“Didn’t ask you to,” Ted said breathily.
Roy began to move, his pace steady and punishing. He wasn't being gentle, but he was being careful, every thrust designed to hit exactly where Ted needed it most. The headboard began a rhythmic thud-thud against the wall, a staccato beat to the symphony of Ted’s gasps.
“Be as loud as you want, baby,” Roy whispered, leaning down to catch a moan in his mouth. “I’ve got you.”
Ted lost track of time. The world narrowed down to the friction, the heat, and the sound of Roy’s voice. He was loud—he knew he was—but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when Roy was looking at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.
Roy couldn’t hold back his own moans as he buried himself inside Ted’s ass.
“So fucking tight, Ted. Fuck, I love you,” Roy panted, his composure finally beginning to crack.
“I love you, too, Roy,” Ted panted. “But I’m gonna need you to go faster.”
Roy met Ted in a kiss that was teeth clashing, all tongue, and all heat. He let kissing Ted as he picked up pace. Ted only pulled back because he couldn’t hold back the loud curses as Roy hit his prostate.
Ted gasped, his legs tightening around Roy’s shoulders. “Roy, I’m gonna—I can’t—”
“Then cum for me, baby. Make us messy.”
Two more hard, deep thrusts and Ted came with a cry that echoed in the quiet house, the release so violent it left him trembling. His cum hit his and Roy’s stomachs and chests.
Roy chuckled softly. “You’re so pretty when you cum, Teddy.”
Ted whimpered softly through Roy’s remaining thrusts.
“In you or on you?”
“In me.”
Roy let out a low, guttural growl, his movements becoming frantic. With four more heavy, desperate thrusts, he followed Ted over the edge, moaning Ted’s name into the crook of his neck.
They stayed like that for a second, trying to catch their breaths. Roy pulled out of Ted with a groan and collapsed next to him. Roy and Ted let out a shared sigh.
For a while, neither of them moved.
The room was quiet again, but it was a different kind of quiet now—full instead of empty. Their breathing was the loudest thing in it, uneven at first, slowly finding the same rhythm.
Ted lay there, half-sprawled across the mattress, one arm thrown above his head, the other still loosely tangled with Roy’s. His chest rose and fell in deep, steady pulls like he’d just come up from underwater.
Roy stayed close, propped slightly on one elbow, watching him.
Not in a sharp, assessing way. Just… making sure Ted was okay.
Ted blinked up at the ceiling, then turned his head toward Roy, a slow, almost dazed smile spreading across his face.
“I know I’ve said it before,” he murmured, voice rough and warm, “but that right there might qualify as a public service.”
Roy huffed quietly, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself. “Shut up.”
But there was no bite to it.
Ted’s smile only widened.
Roy shook his head once, like he was trying to dismiss it—but his hand had already come up, brushing lightly across Ted’s side, grounding, checking, there.
“Stay,” Roy muttered, already pushing himself up. “Don’t move.”
Ted let out a soft, content hum. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it.”
Roy disappeared into the bathroom, the soft sound of running water filling the space for a moment. Ted stared after him, eyes a little unfocused, that loose, floating feeling settling deeper into his limbs.
It was quiet again—but not lonely.
Not like before.
When Roy came back, he had a damp washcloth in one hand and a clean pair of boxers in the other. His movements were efficient, familiar, like this wasn’t a big deal, like taking care of Ted was just… part of the night.
He sat on the edge of the bed and nudged Ted’s leg.
“C’mon,” he said, softer now. “Up a bit.”
Ted obeyed without thinking, lifting just enough to make it easier. He watched Roy through half-lidded eyes, that same soft smile still lingering as Roy cleaned him up with careful, unhurried movements.
Not rushed. Not even remotely distant. Just… attentive.
“Y’know,” Ted mumbled, “if this whole coaching thing falls through, you’ve got a real future in hospitality.”
Roy rolled his eyes, but his hand slowed for just a second, thumb brushing absentmindedly along Ted’s hip before he pulled back.
“Yeah?” Roy said. “I’ll open a spa. Call it ‘Shut the Hell Up and Sit Down.’”
“I’d invest,” Ted replied immediately.
“Course you would.”
Roy finished up, tossing the cloth aside before handing Ted the boxers. Once Ted was settled again, Roy climbed back into bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.
He didn’t hesitate.
Just reached out and pulled Ted into him, firm and certain, like there was no version of this where Ted ended up anywhere else.
Ted went easily, tucking himself in close, head resting against Roy’s shoulder. One of Roy’s arms wrapped around his back, hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, fingers threading lightly into his hair.
They fit.
Not perfectly—nothing ever was—but in that way that mattered.
“Roy?” Ted said quietly after a moment.
“Yeah.”
Ted hesitated, just for a second.
Then, softer: “My brain’s real quiet right now.”
Roy’s grip tightened, just a fraction.
“Good,” he said.
Another pause.
Ted shifted slightly, pressing closer. “It wasn’t earlier,” he admitted. “Felt like… I dunno. Like I was fallin’ behind on things I ain’t even caught up to yet.”
Roy didn’t interrupt or rush to fix it. He just listened.
“I kept thinkin’ if I stopped,” Ted went on, voice slower now, sleep starting to creep in at the edges, “everything would pile up worse. Like I’d let everybody down all at once.”
Roy exhaled through his nose, steady and controlled.
“You’re not,” he said firmly. “You’re just tired.”
Ted let out a quiet hum, like he was turning that over in his head.
Roy’s hand moved gently through Ted’s hair, slow, repetitive. Not something he’d admit to doing on purpose—but he didn’t stop either.
“The work’ll still be there in the morning,” Roy added. “You being half-dead won’t help anyone.”
Ted huffed softly, a faint laugh against Roy’s skin. “Y’know, you’ve got a real poetic way of sayin’ things.”
“Yeah, well. Lucky you.”
Another beat of quiet settled between them.
This one softer and heavier in a good way.
Ted’s breathing evened out first, his body going slack where it was tucked against Roy’s. His hand, which had been loosely gripping Roy’s side, relaxed completely.
Roy felt it and looked down.
Ted was out. Just like that.
Roy’s expression shifted—something small and unguarded flickering across his face. He adjusted his hold slightly, tugging the blanket up, making sure Ted was covered, comfortable. Safe.
His lips brushed once against the top of Ted’s head.
“Idiot,” he muttered under his breath, but it came out soft and affectionate.
He stayed awake a little longer, just listening—to Ted breathing, to the quiet of the room, to the absence of all the noise that had been sitting in Ted’s head hours ago.
When Roy finally closed his eyes, he didn’t let go.
And this time, neither of them dreamed about anything waiting for them in the morning.
They just slept.