our tomorrow

BY : hyacinthumania
Category: S through Z > Wheel of Time Series
Dragon prints: 496
Disclaimer: everything depicted here is fictional. i do not own the wheel of time series and make no money off of this fan work, the characters and work are the property of robert jordan and brandon sanderson.

note: set around book 1.

Perrin hears a knock at his door when the color has long since drained from the night sky and what little moonlight can bleed through the half-drawn curtains stains the room in milky silver. At first he registers the noise rather dully, straining through a veil of sleep until the repetitive tap-tap-tap of someone rapping at the door to his room grows ever sharper. Blinking the sharp bits of sleeping grit from his eye, Perrin lets out a heavy sigh and rises out of bed to open the door.


“...I couldn’t sleep.”

Fragments of background noise begin to piece together with slightly more clarity when Perrin sees Rand standing in the open doorway: Voices rising and falling with uproarious laughter from downstairs (Mat must still be staying up late, he thinks to himself, but it’s so hard trying to discern his voice from everyone else); oh Blood and Bloody Ashes you went and spilled your drink everywhere. But Rand in the doorway is quiet and vulnerable, a translucent ghost in his nightshirt void of color save for the light from the candle he clutches in one hand casting a glint of gold on his deep red hair.

(Not one bit of it feels entirely real yet. This isn’t the future Perrin thought he was supposed to grow into, every morning he half-expects to have awoken from some great and terrible dream and find himself back in his bed at Emond’s Field. Well, maybe one day he will, even if the nights are damningly long, as are the days. Someday they’ll have to wake from this strange not-quite-a-nightmare and return to the tomorrow they thought they would have.)


He jerks back a little awkwardly, blinking at the vision of Rand bathed faintly in warm yellow light. 

“Sorry. Just got lost in thought for a moment or two is all,” he mumbles.

“I was wondering if I could stay with you for the night. I’ve…” Rand swallows, voice box rising and falling subtly against the outline of his slim throat. “...I’ve been having trouble getting to sleep as of late. I wanted to ask Mat if he’d be alright with me staying with him for the night, but Mat’s still downstairs. I think. I knocked on the door to his room and there wasn’t any answer.”

“Well, I’m fine with you staying with me, as long as it’ll help.” 

The unease filling Rand’s eyes makes his heart twist up into knots in his chest. Perrin guides him inside, watching fresh candlelight spill into his room in a dull burst of weak gold.

“Thank you, Perrin… it’s a little bit like old times, don’t you think?”

He sets his candle down on the chest of drawers, shyly making his way towards the bed only when Perrin settles upon the mattress swollen with cotton stuffing and pats his hand on the now-rumpled bedsheets. Rand draws his legs close to his chest and tilts his head so that he’s staring at Perrin — his hair frames his face tenderly, spilling over his shoulders and down his back and lying against his cheeks.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Back when we were children, don’t you remember? All of the times I used to stay at your house…”

“Tam always told Mother how you’d wheedled and begged just so you could come over to see me. But we had fun then.”

“Remember the first night I ended up coming over to your house to spend the night? Mat didn’t start joining in with us till later on, though. But that first night was in summer. We spent all day outside—”

“—And that was around the time you’d started growing your hair out, wasn’t it?”

“That was after you told me you thought my hair looked pretty when it got long.”

Perrin raises his eyebrows a little, a flush of warmth creeping to his cheeks. 

“So this…” he takes a gentle handful of long, silken hair and lets it slip through his loose fingers, “Was all because of something I said so long ago?”

“I liked when you said my hair was pretty, though. It always made me happy when you noticed.”

“Because you do look pretty with long hair, Rand.”

He manages the faintest of smiles in the dark. “Thank you…”

“And I picked all those flowers for you because I saw Mother weaving flowers into her own braids and thought that they’d look so pretty in your hair — you were still growing it out, so it was only a little past your shoulders, not long enough for a full braid. But it would have been so pretty, because there were all those flowers in purple and yellow and white… Pity it started to rain, though.”

“The rain wasn’t so bad till nighttime. I was scared to sleep because of all the thunder. I think you said something about how you’d always be the ones to protect me from thunderstorms, even when we were ‘old like Nynaeve was’.”

“Oh Light, did I really say that?! I really don’t remember saying that…”

“But you did. There was this clap of thunder and I tripped over my own feet trying to run to the other side of the room because I thought the rainstorm would make the window break. I was so scared. And you came up to me and said that you were scared too, but you’d always do your best to keep me safe from thunderstorms. It still took a long time for either of us to go to sleep after that, so I think we just talked a lot. I don’t remember everything, though.”

It would be nice, really, to return to the days when the worst dangers they had to worry about were thunderstorms. Rand was always the starry-eyed one of the bunch who’d dream of adventure, listening attentively with a sudden stiffness at all the old romantic folktales — even though Mat would tease him about it, Rand would always quietly go with Perrin and talk about how he’d love to imagine himself as one of the heroes in those stories every so often, or how sometimes he wonders if he’d ever find his prince or princess someday, too, out on an epic adventure beneath the bluest of skies.

(Strange how things turn out, isn’t it?)

“We had lots of fun back then,” Perrin says softly. He slides his hand over and rests it atop Rand’s, warmth creeping through that small expanse of skin.

“We did. It was fun, wasn’t it? Just going about our days without a care in the world because we were too young to notice just how big of a place the world really was…”

“You talk as though we’ll never come back to Emond’s Field — as though we’ll turn our back on home forever. Do… Do you actually think that?”

“Do you?”

“I don’t. But I tell myself that this surely can’t last forever. There’s got to be an end to this, we’ll find our answers and return home soon enough. We’ve all stayed together — you, Mat, and I — since we left, so I’m certain we’ll come back home soon, all three of us. I don’t know how long it might take. But that’s what I believe.”

It’s what I want to believe, at least. 

He watches Rand reach over for a pillow, hiding the lower half of his face behind it as his fingers begin to mindlessly pluck at the seams — something about his demeanor has shifted in the dim little room all of a sudden, he’s fidgeting as he cradles the pillow tight against his chest.

“...Perrin, could you kiss me?”

It slips his mind to ask him what for, or why, because his answer is to silently regard Rand before pulling him into his arms and claiming those soft, supple lips. His fingers clutch at red hair with all the softness of silk, eagerly licking around inside of Rand’s mouth and catching the sharp tang of spit on his tongue. Rand winds his arms over Perrin’s broad back and there’s a fragility to the way his fingers slide into Perrin’s curls of brown hair, head tilting as he abandons the pillow and lets it fall to the floor beside him with a dull thud of feather-stuffed fabric upon wood.

Rand is the first one to break the kiss — pulling away, lips shining and painted with spit. “...I’m the one who’s worried. I was worried I’d never get a chance to do that. Because part of me thinks maybe we won’t ever come back home.”

“Oh, Rand —”

He smooths layers of hair away from his face.

“I don’t want us to only have just memories, or for us to not even bring anything up at all,” Rand says. “I love you, you know?”

“Then let me kiss you again. Please.”

He languidly closes his lips over Rand’s once again, angling his head with one gentle hand through his hair so that he shifts just so. Then Perrin’s hand goes creeping away from his soft hair and draws a path down his slim shoulders to his narrow waist and then ghosts over the supple skin of his thighs before settling on his hips to hold him steady. Though Rand was the one who was urgent about it and Perrin hungers for him terribly, this indulgence of theirs is far more of a slow and careful affair. He wants to taste Rand tonight, he knows that much — there’s that nagging little voice in the back of his mind that says he might never close his fingers around a chance like this again, after all — but he wants to gorge himself on flesh and savor every bite that he’s presented.

He lets his teeth nudge against the plush of Rand’s lower lip, gently, though, subtly hungry but cautious—

Rand lets out a breathless moan and squeezes his arms over Perrin even tighter, fingers pressing into his back. And yet even though his reaction makes Perrin’s chest clench with the slightest of worries that it was too much and he’s hurt him, Rand only deepens the kiss, tugging Perrin so that he’s straddled on top of him. They fit snugly against one another, hands tugging at the thin fabric of their nightshirts and fingers pressing lightly against the fading pricklings of goose flesh through their clothes.

“Perrin…” Rand whispers breathlessly. He says his name with all the urgency and awe of a prayer.

He reaches one large hand to play with wayward strands of red, red hair. “Yes?”

“I’ve not really done anything like this before,” Rand averts his eyes, “I… I know about lovemaking. But nothing really prepared me for any of the feelings. No one ever really warns you about the feelings.”

“I haven’t, either… I’ll be sure to be careful. If you don’t want this, please tell me.”

“But I do want this.”

Perrin leans forward again, lips parted in preparation for a kiss, but this time he begins kissing a path down Rand’s neck. There they are soon enough: Spread clumsily upon the bed and twisting hotly against one another through their thin nightshirts, Rand’s slim, pale body straining at Perrin’s every touch—

“Mmh!” he cries out when Perrin gives a first nip at the delicate flesh of his neck. He soothes the fresh spot of tenderness by tracing the tips of his tongue in circles, tasting the beating pulse just beneath his skin in his mouth. Rand, though, knocks his legs about and brings his warm hands up to hold Perrin in place — when he touches Rand it’s tender and fleeting, as though the slightest wrong move or any sudden harshness might cause him to crumble away. Of course, when Perrin does decide to indulge himself by leaving bite marks down Rand’s neck they’re faint and hardly noticeable, especially in the dark — nothing bold enough to require a disguise by means of scarves or high-necked shirts.

“Mm, I —” Rand’s fingers squeeze at Perrin’s hair “—Perrin, please, please, I—”

Even though the starvation’s gnawing at him from the inside out he urges himself to keep his kisses slow and sensuous, pressing his mouth upon Rand’s in a withdrawn display of teeth and tongue.

“You’re so pretty,” Perrin whispers to him, nosing at his neck. One happy, craving hand strokes along one of Rand’s thighs — up and down, up and down — his nightshirt’s ridden up and he can feel the growing, quivering hardness nudging at his own. “No, Light, you’re beautiful. I’ve thought of you as such for the longest time.”

“Because…” Rand sounds dazed “...Because of my hair?”

“More than that. Because of your gentleness. Makes me want to take care of you as best as I can.”

Perrin smiles sheepishly down at Rand, the corners of his dark brown eyes crinkling up in time with the dimples that appear on his cheeks. Warmth buzzes away in the pit of his stomach as he hoists Rand into his arms by his thin waist and plants another path of hungry kisses down his neck — Light, just how long has he wanted something like this? How many times has he imagined Rand spread out beneath him, breathtaking as a painting and somehow still so close? 

“You haven’t got any smallclothes on,” Perrin mumbles, fingers moving in tiny circles along the crease of Rand’s naked hip beneath his nightshirt.

“Neither do you… Light, Perrin. I can feel you pressing at me through your nightshirt. Do you want me that bad?”

“I do. And I have for a while now.”

His hand moves farther up Rand’s body, past the outline of his thin waist and giving a wayward stroke over the small dent of his navel — Perrin finds that when he’s touching Rand he’s unpredictable in where he wants to stray but cautious all the same, poised and ears open for the first sign of discomfort or for the first open-mouthed, quiet little “no” even though it doesn’t come.

“I — I liked when you kissed me,” Rand stammers out. “I’ve always sort of hoped it would happen, and I think there were times when it almost did before, you know. But nothing came of it till now.”

“And are you happy for it?”

“Yes, I — I am — gh!”

Rand gasps in surprise when Perrin first ghosts his cupped hand over one nipple (still so soft, he realizes even raised up slightly on his chest) and then as he begins to fleetingly touch at it with his thumb. Perrin delights in feeling his nipples slowly go hard beneath his fleeting pinches, Rand twisting lazily underneath him and eagerly slipping his tongue into his mouth in retaliation, tilting him down as much as he can with his legs squeezed around Perrin’s waist for another kiss. He tastes as honey-sweet as the home they’ve quietly promised to return to someday, he tastes like truth. Rand jerks back sharply against the pressure of Perrin’s length pressing at him through the thin fabric of his nightshirt — there’s something he’s trying to tell him but he’s not daring to say even a hair’s breadth of a word, not when he’s clinging to Perrin and chasing more kisses.

“I wanted you to touch me for so long… There were moments, weren’t there? I’ve thought about something like this for a while myself. What I want.”

Perrin moves his hand away from Rand’s now stiff nipples, hands sliding so that they’re grasping at the subtle curves of his hips. 

“Is this like how you imagined it would be?” he asks, shifting their positions so that he’s settled between Rand’s legs, face staring at the pink-rimmed and puckered hole of his entrance.

“Yes — yes, it is. You were always so gentle is what I thought, and — and you are being that gentle right now—”

His head ducks down, lightly running his tongue against the outer circle of Rand’s entrance. Perrin moistens at the slick flesh there, ears catching the sound of sharp, labored breathing — does Rand not want this? Does it put him at ill ease? He can only hope it doesn’t, and though he dips his tongue further in, licking at Rand hungrily and tasting the slight salt of wet flesh in his mouth, he’s still hesitant.

“P-Perrin!” Rand gasps out, squirming a little.

He pulls his mouth away, gently thumbing at Rand’s hip. “Am I hurting you? Do you want to stop?”

“No… all it is is that I’m not used to it. I like you using your tongue on me like that. It’s just new. Please… more.”

Once again he crams his tongue in deep, working his way inside of Rand slowly and methodically, listening to Rand’s choked whimpers and soothing him whenever he jerks his hips back. Bit by bit, Rand’s distorted cries of enjoyment quiet to soft, needy whines and the only signs of movement are the occasional twitching of his hips and thighs every now and then. Perrin’s taken care to help calm him and simply satiates his hunger by licking at him smoothly while running his hand along one shaking thigh, experimentally curling his tongue just-so every now and then to see if Rand likes it. (And, judging by the noises of affirmation he lets out, he does.)

“Feels…” He listens to Rand swallow. “Feels good. But—”

Perrin slides his tongue out, watching slick spit coat Rand’s entrance. “But?”

He waits for Perrin to sit back, staring up at him with pleading eyes.

“I want your cock,” he confesses at last. “I want you inside me. Please. I want you to have my first time.”

Perrin’s response is to press a wet, reverent kiss along the soft skin of Rand’s inner thigh. “Of course. I’ll do what I can to make you feel good.”

He swivels off him and crawls to the chest of drawers, fingers knocking around in its contents trying to see if he can find anything: the split string and beads of a broken necklace (perhaps left behind here by the last occupant, he thinks), ragged edges of torn-out paper, then a small jar. He pulls it out, observing it against the faint glimmering of candlelight. This ought to help, he thinks, returning back to the needy Rand who’s now turned over on his stomach as his hips twitch fruitlessly against the pillow he clutches just below his waist, chasing pleasure while Perrin is occupied.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, rolling onto his back again. “I got too impatient.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Perrin scoops his hair back to press a chaste kiss to his forehead. “I just want to make sure it doesn’t hurt.”

“It’s normal to feel a little uncomfortable at first though, right? That’s what I was told. It might feel awkward and uncomfortable at first, but you need to relax — if it hurts you too much then that means there’s something wrong.”

“Which is why,” Perrin says, fingers tracing down past Rand’s twitching length to the smooth tender skin of his perineum to the rim of his entrance, “If I’m hurting you or you’re bleeding — or even if you just decide you’re not ready — I want you to tell me. This is my first time as well, and I’m not going to be feeling the same feelings you are. Promise you’ll tell me if there’s anything wrong?”

Rand cups at one stumbled cheek with a smooth palm. “I promise.”

Perrin dips his fingers in the oil and presses past the tight rim of Rand’s entrance with one finger, scrutinizing his face for a reaction. The first bump against the tight cluster of nerves makes his face curl up in surprise — Perrin quickly slips his finger out, slightly panicked. Oh no, am I hurting him?  

“Don’t stop,” Rand pleads. “It felt good. I was surprised by that, there’s nothing more to it.”

“And if you flinch like that again?”

“I’ll ask you to stop if you’re actually hurting me, you know.”

He breaches Rand’s entrance with his finger again, pausing every now and then to coat them in more slick oil. His mind starts to go fuzzy as he meticulously works Rand open, his own hardness pressing against his leg at the occasional little moans of satisfaction that slip past Rand’s lips every now and again. Sometimes Rand lets out a muffled squeak when Perrin’s fingers nudge too close to his prostate, legs twisting awkwardly along the rumpled sheets, but he quiets him with smooth kisses to the soft skin of his inner thighs and using his free hand to stroke at the silken skin of his help — that’s enough to help Rand calm down, the explosion of high whimpers calming down to sighs once more.

Perrin slicks up his own length with the oil, hard and leaking against his stomach. Rand looks at him, gray eyes huge and dazed (if Perrin squints at him just right he thinks he can catch a thin glimmer of drool tracing its way down his lower lip).

“Light,” he says, thumbing along Rand’s bare leg, “Do you want me that badly?”

“Yes—” Rand jerks his hips a little, using his hands to spread his legs further apart “—Please, Perrin, please I want you to be my first—”

“Alright. Breathe. In and out. We ought to go slowly.”

He sheathes his way inside of Rand bit by bit and his mind enters a haze once he’s engulfed by warm, slick flesh. He sinks little by little into Rand, now worked open for him proper, and — and —

When he hears that little whimper of what he thinks might be discomfort it’s enough to make his heart twist.

“Did I hurt you? Was I too fast?”

Rand shakes his head, squirming a little. “You’re just… you’re just big. It’s a little uncomfortable, but I told you that was normal.”

“Is that enough to make you want to stop?”

“No. Just… I need to calm down.”

His hands slip to Rand’s thighs as he slowly thrusts in and out of him, gripping his hips gently. When Perrin bends over to observe Rand’s face, moving one hand away to smooth at his face now flushed with heat he’s greeted with a gentle smile. Moving further down he chases kisses over Rand’s face, lips grazing over skin damp with sweat. Below him Rand just clings to him, his initial squirming having long since stuttered to a stop. He can hear his breathing pounding heavy in his ears, like the crash and fall of the sea. 

“I love you,” Rand declares hoarsely, squeezing his legs around Perrin. His fingers latch themselves against his curly brown hair.

Perrin drowns his face in kisses, pumping his way in and out. “I love you too.”

Thought peters out and is replaced with feverish, hazy joy. Light, he’s wanted this for so long, this is it, this is it. He is Rand’s and Rand is his and maybe the world beyond looms as scary as it did in their childhood but for the moment this is all that matters, and the warmth of feeling Rand’s flesh on his without any barriers between them tastes like life. Just like he’d secretly hoped it would for years. 

“It feels good,” Rand murmurs against his neck. “It feels good.”

He shifts and presses a kiss to his nose. “I’m glad.”

Words are forgotten between them as Perrin slots himself in and out, in and out. Rand clings onto him, slipping the weight of his warm, thin arms over Perrin’s broad back and cradling him close. He inhales the warmth of Rand’s skin, mingled with the scent of his heavy red hair.

Perrin is the first to reach his peak. His body jerks a little as he releases inside of Rand — warm arms cling to him even tighter now, Rand whining quietly at the rush of hot seed dripping inside of him and down his thighs. Then there’s a moment of stuttering whimpers, Perrin tingling from the afterglow and soothing Rand by planting kisses all down his jawline, before Rand’s own peak makes him tighten as he’s brought to bliss with a sigh. Perrin sighs in finality and slowly pulls out, massaging his hands over the plush of Rand’s thighs in a somewhat feeble attempt to soothe him as he slowly relaxes after that brief, glorious high.

“I feel so full,” Rand says, hand smearing the seed that’s leaked down and stuck to his thighs.

So this is enough after all.

“I’m so glad you got to be my first,” he mumbles, pulling Perrin down next to him.

“I’m happy you were my first as well. I think I’ve loved you for a long time — a very, very long time.”

“So have I, Perrin. So have I.”

He curls his arms over Rand’s shoulders so that they’re pressed close together, hair spilling over his bare skin. Truth be told, since leaving Emond’s Field behind he’s never felt happier. They will stay together tonight and keep their secrets, and maybe there will be time during their traveling days of drudgery to develop a secret code of intimacy — hands pressing close here, sneaky kisses there. But for now they curl up close to one another like old times, talking long into the night before they close their eyes and sleep overtakes them.

thank you for reading :> i have also crossposted this to ao3 under the same title - my main account is dreadfulbeauties, but my nsfw pseud where i posted this fic is labeled as hyacinthumania.

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