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He might have licked that jaw, but maybe that part had been in a dream. He’d been having them on and off, ever since the forest went fuzzy and grey and he felt himself falling. Fever dreams, he’d heard them called and he’d thought to himself, ‘well that sounds unpleasant.’ Now that he had some firsthand knowledge, he could confidently say that they fucking sucked. Every time he opened his eyes, he couldn’t tell if he was awake or dreaming—though, the walls of the apartment being on fire while the familiar faces of his pack danced or sang in a circle around him were obvious hints.
Sometimes, he saw his little sister’s face looking up at him before she was dragged away by hunters. Sometimes, he watched his parents burn.
Other times, he felt fingers carding through his hair and the blessed coolness of a wet cloth on his forehead. He liked those the best; especially when he heard Shane’s voice, speaking to him. In those dreams, the taciturn wolf wasn’t looking down at his feet or keeping a wary distance between them. He was so close that Will could smell the faint scent of motor grease and Shane. He’d turn his face right into it, seeking out the warmth there that was so different from the fire in his leg.
It was better now, though; better than it had been. A serious looking doctor had appeared at one point and poured something foul right into the wound. He’d fought, flailing and cursing, but there were people holding down his arms and legs, keeping him still. Slowly, the burning became a nasty ache, but the meds that someone kept pouring down his throat made it bearable.
He didn’t know how long he’d been sleeping—or had he been sleeping? He couldn’t tell—but when he opened his eyes, it was dark and he was lying down. It wasn’t a pillow, he acknowledged a bit hazily; it was too hard to be a pillow, but his face was mashed into something soft. He took a breath and hummed his approval at the scent. It made him feel floaty.
”Mmgluh,” He informed the softness and he rubbed his face against it. He went to stretch, then went still at a flare of that goddamn ache. After a moment, he cracked open one eye, then the other, turned his head slowly and…oh.
That wasn’t a bedspread he was nuzzling into, it was a tshirt. And the hardness under his head was probably a thigh. He blinked, forcing his brain to reboot and realized that the rest of his body was indeed on a soft mattress; he was lying horizontal to the person who’s lap he’d commandeered. And he had, he realized a second later; he was practically hugging that lap and the waist it belonged to. ”Wassit?” He murmured, turning his head so he could squint up at the person. He blinked when his vision cleared enough to recognize the face. ”Shane? Oh, hi,” He smiled, yawned and grimaced as he smelled his own breath. ”Damn, how long…how long was I out?”
He took another breath and felt his wolf practically faint in delight. Damn, this was nice. And it would be even nicer if he—Will rubbed his face against the tshirt again and now Shane smelled more like him. Which was, yeah. He tried to reboot his brain a bit more and refocused his eyes. ”The pack,” He said suddenly, a bit more alert. ”They’re alright?”
None of them left easily or soon. It was only when Will fell into the deep sleep of his sedating antidote that the house began to slowly empty, till it was only he and Alex, each heaving the same kind of shaky sigh. Hers was the first heart to lighten, of course. She left him with a warm clap on the shoulder and a reassurance that was neither too sentimental nor too harsh—a warm median of comfort in the town's boundless, unfamiliar wilds.
Between checks on Will he busied himself with chores hardly pressing—washed a mug and fork in the sink, put away coats and boots, wiped down the kitchen table.
Will had yanked his blankets up to his shoulders where he'd tossed them aside and spread his limbs out to cool off the last time Shane checked. Shane sat on the edge of the bed to press the cold bedside towel to his brow, till he stopped grumbling his protest and wrapped around Shane's waist. He wasn't in his right mind. To let him go on was an exploitation, but when Shane tugged against Will's hold, it tightened.
Just a little while. He sank into the mattress with a huff of amused surrender, arranged his limbs to comfort. Will, half-conscious in a burning mind, talked sweet nonsense. Shane kept his voice low, even, sensible, but sometimes responded in kind to drowsy questions thin as cirrus clouds. After a while, he brought in a book from his room, told himself it was only at Will's hazy request that he returned and read in silence until Will stirred from another bout of sleep and asked him what he was reading.
"'Then it seemed to me that the Sierra should be called, not the Nevada or Snowy Range, but the Range of Light. And after ten years of wandering and wondering in the heart of it, rejoicing in its glorious floods of light, the white beams of the morning streaming through the passes, the noonday radiance on the crystal rocks, the flush of the alpenglow, and the irised spray of countless waterfalls, it still seems above all others the Range of Light.'"
He read himself into sleep, too, for a while, and woke to night deeply black and silent except for the occasional, low flute of an owl. Will stirring—sounding more coherent than he had since they'd left the wilderness—caused Shane's heart to race suddenly with guilt.
You don’t belong here. You don’t belong like this. Will would wake confused and irritated by this unfamiliar closeness, probably wondering why it wasn’t Alex he was piled up on.
"A few hours." The words were cautious as boots on ice, though he tried to sound nonchalant. "Doc said the antidote would knock you out."
He warmed inside and outside his belly when Will burrowed deeper into his recline. Long eyelashes seemed more delicate in slow, tender movement against Will's cheeks in the lamp's lazy amber light. His voice, all sticky cotton and quiet grit.
“They’re okay. Just worried about you.” He stiffened in preparation to move, thinking Will would want to get up and call them, but relaxed again when he seemed uninterested in moving.
“We went for a hike this morning. We shifted—we were running. Wolf-trap got your leg. The wolfsbane and silver were half dried up, though. You remember any of it?"
He and his wolf were on the same page tonight; they wanted to go mark up this particular scent so everyone would know it was theirs. Mmm, that was a nice thought. He sighed happily and thought that he could stay in this hazy little space forever.
A few hours; the words registered a full minute after he heard them and he sighed, rolling his shoulders to work the tension out. He was afraid to move too much, lest the ache come back fully, but that was fine by him; it wasn’t like he wanted to pull away from Shane. If he’d thought that those hazy memories of being carried was the closest he’d ever been, he’d been wrong—and surprisingly enough, Shane wasn’t pushing him away. The intelligent part of his brain wondered if he should get up and let the poor man rest, but his bones were heavy and he was quite comfortable where he was.
He’d just make it up to Shane later, with pancakes. Shane liked his pancakes; he’d make so many for him. So, so many and it’ll be awesome.
”Didn’t mean t’worry ‘em,” He said with a frown. His arm flexed where it was curled around Shane’s waist and he sighed, relaxing back down onto him. At the question, he blinked up at the other man and squinted. The forest, the run, fire in his leg, Shane’s jaw and now this. He nodded, then grunted as he slowly started to shift so he could face upward and look at Shane without getting a crick in his neck.
”I remember,” He said, blinking his eyes to get them to focus. ”I was stupid. Smelled something off ’n didn’t think…was lucky you were there,” He smiled, reaching up to give that ridiculously nice chest a pat. ”I’d still be in the woods if you weren’t there. Gnawing at my leg.” The laughter was probably inappropriate, but he felt too floaty to care.
He let his hand stay where it was, on Shane’s chest, and rubbed his thumb in small circles over his sternum. ”You smell good,” He thought/said. He yawned again, grimacing as he moved and his leg throbbed. ”’M so happy you’re here. Y’make everything better.”
Don’t. Will would thank Shane later for sparing him the embarrassment of boundaries overstepped, but the warmth of Will’s palm pooled into his chest’s heat and his thumb’s soft, swirling path made his lips part in something that was supposed to be a laugh. A scoff-off of Will’s too-heavy compliments; a hand covered Will’s to gently relocate it. But neither happened. Time and intention got stuck like flies in warm honey.
God, it was good with him like this. His weight anchored and made Shane hungry and if he moved against his lap any more, it would eat away all flimsy pretenses of this arrangement being platonic. He cuffed his hand lightly around Will’s wrist, stupid enough to think that would placate him, but his fingers tightened almost immediately until his thumb was pressing into his pulse, ironing up into his palm to record each callous and groove in his skin.
“Yeah?” he teased, voice a sizzled ember cast off spreading fire. “Every single thing? Maybe you need to be paying me more.”
To prove the point, he ran his free hand along Will’s shoulders, sliding to a stop occasionally and pulling flesh and muscle into a slow, deep squeeze, until he found the spot that released relief like steam.
Or maybe a big, pink penis? Ha, ah man, he was so funny. He should tell Shane about that Looney Tunes episode—but thankfully, he was almost immediately distracted by the feeling of the man’s shirt under his fingers. Soft. It was so soft and smelled so good.
He’d never been high before and damn, it was awesome. He wanted to feel like this all the time. Will laughed—giggled, really—and closed his eyes with a hum, his fingers still smoothing circles over Shane’s sternum. He turned his face until he could rest his cheek against Shane’s belly and yawned, smacking his lips with a pleased hum. He never wanted to move or wanted this moment to end, even if his leg was starting to ache like a bitch.
”I’ll pay you in pancakes and hugs,” He agreed, shuddering in utter delight at the fingers curled against his wrist. He had the strange urge to tip his head up and bare his neck; he was already giving Shane a good view of his vulnerable stomach, so why not? But the urge was crushed under the weight of a breathy groan, as those quite talented fingers started to soothe rather tight muscles.
And with his eyes closed and his mind a hazy blanket of contentment, he tugged his trapped arm down to his chest. Shane’s was still attached and he lifted his lips to the soft underside and kissed the inside of his wrist, over the same thudding pulse point that was being soothed on his own arm. Because that seemed like a good idea, he tilted his head up again and kissed another spot farther up. Then farther. When he opened his eyes, he was smiling up at Shane and…
”I’d really like to kiss you,” He said, utterly serious. He stretched, then grimaced again at the ache. ”Come down here, or I’m coming up there.”
“The hell am I gonna buy with those?” They were brusque, uncooperative words, but their quiet was soaked with affection watching Will fizz with spilling-over comfort and uncontrollable laughter. His own amusement bobbed in his chest and puffed free in near silence.
Before he could think how to swim them back to lighter, shallower, cooler water, Will's lips were on his wrist, where the pale, underexposed skin was oversensitive to soft, liquid heat. Shane closed his teeth together and froze to concentrate in frowning fascination on every detail, so determined to feel it as fully as possible that the response resembled wounded anger. He encouraged with a breathy thump of noise and tilted his wrist to run his thumb over Will’s bottom lip. Pink wrinkles of tender plump flattened under the pressure, then bloomed back into flushed health.
I’d really like to kiss you. The flash of noise, a half-formed laugh, stuck sharp in his throat. He waited while his heart worked to pump heavier, hotter, faster blood. Waited for Will to realize what he’d said and take it back. But only dreamy confidence followed and Shane didn't have willpower or integrity enough to deny him. Too fast, he answered. Quick and suffering, he pushed against the mattress with one hand to shift his body down, pulling the comforter askew, till his face was level with Will's.
He meant to offer one last stand of hesitation, but the warmth of him, the burning-fresh memory of such sweet request—kiss you, I'd really like to kiss you—incinerated good intention. Shane sank against him hungry, held his jaw steady in one hand so his mouth landed accurate, full and greedy. He fed Will a kiss slow and thick, lips parting to pull Will's into them with wet suction.
But whatever meds the doctor had put him on were fabulous and all he could do was smile. The truth was awesome because Shane was awesome and he really, really wanted to kiss him. The only problem was, Shane probably didn’t want to kiss him, because every time he’d tried to get close to him, the guy ran away.
There was nowhere to run now though, he thought to himself a bit smugly. There was the bed at Shane’s back and Will on his legs, anchoring him down. Something in the back of his mind whispered that thing about ‘pressure’ but it was easy to ignore it. This was a momentous occasion for him, after all; it’s not like he felt butterflies in his stomach for just anyone. And Shane wasn’t just anyone, he was…Shane.
The guy who got him candy because he’d told him he never tried them before and ate every one of those burnt pancakes on pancake day, that one time he’d been distracted by one of their younger pack mates and her break up. The guy who twitched at loud noises and had an answer for just about everything, when he deemed to speak up at all.
It was just real nice to be able to look up into the man’s face and just say it already. I wanna kiss you now, it was so simple. What was the worst thing that could happen; Shane would just pat his head and distract him with his shirt again. No big deal at all.
That is, unless he actually agreed to do it and slid down the bed like he was some sort of teleporting porn star. Because that’s exactly what was coming off him in waves; just, holy shit, complete and utter sex. Which Will wanted, like, right the fuck now. And wasn’t that a surprise.
He’d been lying there, content with the touch to his chin and the gift of not being pushed away when he continued to run his lips over the sensitive skin on Will’s wrist, when Shane suddenly moved. He’d made a little sound of protest when his muscly pillow was suddenly gone, but he was on board quickly afterwards. He kissed Shane back with a soft sound that was quickly snuffed out, sliding his hand up the side of his neck to cup the back of his head.
He licked the seam of Shane’s lips, caught the bottom between his teeth for a playful little nip, all the while sliding his fingers through the short hairs at the back of the other man’s neck. He moved a bit too abruptly and grunted at the ache that shot down his leg—goddamn the thing, he really should’ve chewed it off.
Will’s eyes were half-mast as he pulled back to gulp in a breath, then pushed back up into the kiss. His free hand smoothed down Shane’s chest, then his side, until he could finally curl it around the jut of Shane’s hip. ”So if I said I’d pay you in kisses instead…” He murmured into Shane’s neck a moment later, only half paying attention to what the crap was coming out of his mouth. ”I’m guessing that’d be better received?”
He remembered the struggle of breathing air not wet with tongue when Will's mouth banked against his neck. Forcing his breath to slow, he tried to rebuild the pack member he was supposed to be, to remember its dutiful and alert shape, but then Will's hand was dragging down his chest like it could hear the dark bells urging from between Shane's legs, lower lower lower. Merciful and cruel at the same time, the languid fingers stopped at his hip and Shane held them there so he wouldn't have to be responsible for anything more, for seconds at least.
Speech was the spellbreaker he couldn't be. If he was going to lay here thoughtless in teenage heat, he could refuse to move anything but his mouth until the dull awkwardness of talking cooled him off. "I dunno," he murmured. Lips didn't yet remember that they weren't made to suck and feast another's. "Might take me a little while to figure out what they're worth. Exactly."
He slid his hand along Will's side, tracked where sharp, angular hip became the thick, warm muscle of his torso. Shane imagined with his fingers, sun steady on the planes and contours of him. Shadow hiding in the soft cleave down the middle of his abdomen and pooling into his navel. Belated and preventative comfort came in the form of his fingertips stroking him soft from ribs to pants hem, drawing a zone of pleasure where Will could hide his brain from the ache in his leg.
And if he couldn’t feel pain in a dream, that meant that he was awake right now. And if he was awake and this wasn’t a dream…he was kissing Shane. Shane was kissing him and bracing him down onto the mattress and holy shit, this was real. This was real.
He was pretty sure that the hallelujah chorus blasting through the room was actually just in his head, but it was fitting nonetheless. Fuck, fuck, this was perfect and awesome and Shane smelled so damn good—like the woods and sweat and Will, oh God—and it was really starting to piss him off, that he couldn’t move the way that he wanted.
Because if this were any other night, he’d be pulling Shane closer and wriggling until the man was cradled between his thighs. He’d bask in the weight of him, in the heat of being chest to chest; enveloped and covered by the man, head to toe. In his long life, Will had never craved a touch or fantasized about being held down and devoured, but God, c’mon, could anyone blame him?
Shane was sex on a stick and there he was, kissing the crap out of him. Will was in heaven, he had the angelic singing to prove it.
He was panting when a chuckle escaped him, suddenly imagining his kisses coming to life in some sort of cartoon-style float, headed towards a cash register. It was amusing and confusing at the same time, but not enough to distract him from the warm weight of Shane’s hand on his side, his chest. There were too many layers between them and he made an irritated noise, pushing his own hand under Shane’s shirt so he could press his palm and trail his fingers over warm skin. He felt light bumps and ridges of old scars and his mouth watered to kiss them.
Thankfully, said mouth was currently occupied by mapping out the skin of Shane’s shoulder and—he’d buy him a new shirt some other time, as he’d reached up to pull the neckline sideways to give him access. His hips twitched, searching for friction and he used his hold in Shane’s hair to urge his head to tip sideways. His lips found the side of Shane’s neck and he kissed the artery there; knowing he was testing the waters against a wolf’s most vulnerable spot.
He shut his eyes and breathed Will’s closeness deep, exhaled a slow hiss laced with a low, liquid groan at his hands drawing warm trails on his skin. It’d been too long since he’d been touched like that, since his nerves licked and melted under attraction. He would’ve been happy soaking in the simple pleasure of it, but Will’s hips nudged toward his and breath thick with hazy delight turned blunt and dark. Desire agitated him, made him stiff at elbows and knees where he wanted to dig roots into the mattress and scratch the itch to its feverish, tearing and panting end.
Caution was already burned away as fuel to heat them. He barely remembered what Will’s teeth so near his throat could’ve meant in different circumstances—violent memories he shouldn’t have been able to forget—and dropped his head down to his shoulder while running his hand up Will’s chest to cup the side of his neck. A tender, experimental squeeze painted Will’s body on his fingers. Where the skin was soft and thin against his throat’s bone, where his jawline ended and became vulnerable. For every new piece of Will he learned, there was more to press against, just past this muscle, just under hindering fucking clothes.
Impatience burst through indolent enjoyment of Will’s mouth, making him move limbs hot and quicksand-heavy with lust. The burning-slow, panting-fast speed at which every brush against him was a maddening tease. He pinned Will’s bicep down with his shoulder, used his free hand to hold the other half of him to the mattress by his wrist, just enough to let him position his torso over Will's without disturbing his healing below the knee.
“Stop moving your leg,” he growled with playfully shredded tolerance, like he’d been the doctor wrestling the patient too long to be kind anymore. He bit hungry, unearned punishment just under Will’s jaw, sucked his earlobe long and slow into his mouth, cradled and bathed in his tongue.
It figures. But he really, really wasn’t complaining.
As a born werewolf, he’d been taught many things about etiquette concerning the neck or belly; what to do, what not to do and what was polite. What he was doing, exploring Shane’s neck with his lips and tongue; it was something meant only for intimate couples, or if he wanted to get into the land of the paranormal romance novel, for mates. It was something he did to show how much he wanted Shane and given the low, breathy sound he made when he wasn’t pushed away, it showed how much he wanted him.
God, Will wanted him. He wanted him with a fever that he’d never experienced before and it was terrifying as well as electrifying.
And it was why, when he felt Shane’s hand drift up from his side and his chest to his neck…he didn’t jerk away, as his lizard brain prompted him to. He went still for a moment, eyes darting up to Shane’s face as he fell back against the bed. If Shane wanted, he could hurt him and given the bits and pieces he’d managed to learn about the man over the months he’d been living with him…it’s what a soldier did.
But this was Shane, the man who ate up every bit of burnt pancake Will had ever fucked up, who got him candy and carried him home. Will just smiled up at him and tilted his chin up, pressing into the palm against the edge of his jaw. And when he was pressed even more fully down into the mattress, held there…his eyes went wide and his face erupted in a blush.
Well. There was a kink he’d never known he’d had. If he’d only been interested before, he was rock hard and twitching, now.
”Make me,” He ground out, as if Shane had challenged him before and wasn’t looking out for his better interest. He pretended to fight against Shane’s hold and panted, more turned on than he’d been in a long time, when he found he couldn’t move. His pupils were blown as he looked up at Shane and he craned his head, trying to close the distance between them for a kiss.
He swallowed the information and homed it deep in his belly, where it sorted itself into twisting fibers texturizing his want.
Maybe it wasn't that Will instantly back-talked him, but that he did so between blushing and reaching for another kiss, that made Shane grin. He leaned in, but only so he could slant his head and keep his lips a deliberate inch away from Will's.
"That what you want?" He put on the face of a fretting caretaker, doubtful that his dependent could know what was best for him in such a state. Overly tender and hesitant, like it hurt and worried him to imagine. "You want me to make you?"
He hovered no closer or farther, his shoulder aching to keep him balanced where he was, and dragged his free hand along Will's arm, across his chest, scraped his fingers down his stomach and brought them together inside Will's thigh, knuckles tucked against the hard warmth between them, one Shane now empathized with at full-mast.
"Keep it still or I'll stop touching you," he promised, just before curling his hand around the front of his pants and pressing, tightening all at once but only barely.
"You know where you are?" he teased, a question asked of him so many times in the last few hours as everyone took their turn being absolutely sure Will was sound, would recover. "Do you know my name?"
He had no idea what he’d been missing out on before this moment and, Jesus Christ, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to go back.
Something told him that their positions shouldn’t be; that he, as the alpha, should be the one holding Shane down as he kissed them both into oblivion. It might just be an outdated concept, or one he’d picked up from some of the more traditional, closed minded wolves he’d met in his youth, but there was no mistaking the utter thrill of baring his throat, even ever so slightly, to Shane as something other than the forbidden. He shuddered against the other man’s hold, testing it slightly with a flex of his arm.
His mouth was open as he panted, desire making his chest rise and fall quickly and his pulse to race. He was sure that Shane could hear his heart beat from where he was and fuck, he needed him closer. He needed to be held down harder, to be laid bare and—
If Will had thought that things couldn’t get any hotter, he was very wrong, because Shane opened his mouth and his entire body was engulfed in flames. He groaned, loudly and without embarrassment in a wordless answer. Yes, he wanted Shane to make him, yes. He wriggled again, wanting to draw Shane in closer, get some friction where he really needed it.
And then suddenly, as if his strings were cut, he went still. The command wasn’t actually one, not really, but Will felt his brain short circuit and obey anyway. He shivered at the touch, then whimpered as Shane’s hand pressed against his cock through his pants. ”I’m…I’m with you,” He managed to answer, pupils blown until his eyes were practically black. “Shane, you’re Shane. My pack, my friend, mine.”
He hardly recognized his voice with that last bit, as it suddenly turned to gravel. His hips gave an aborted twitch as he reminded himself to stay still. ”You gonna stop teasing me? Don’t think that just ‘cause I got a bum leg, you can’t fuck me.” He knew he would want to leap out the window when he remembered saying this later, but the freedom of being as crass as he wanted…Will grinned and it was a demon’s smile. ”Or…or you could climb on top. Hold me down and put your dick in my mouth. Just stop teasin’ me, Shane, please.”
Lust dragged its claws through Will’s voice. Desire was a different kind of disorientation and Shane watched carefully to try and define the difference. The answer was more than he’d expected; it was rapturous and Shane was undeserving of it. He stared back like he was on the verge of lecturing Will, clenching his jaw to hold squirming arousal still.
My pack. My friend. Mine. They were all different things, but Will combined them with greedy ease. It made Will’s next words all the more vulgar, catching Shane wholly distracted and unsuspecting. His brow climbed slowly and his mouth, kissed red and wet, opened before the sound of amusement thumped out, followed by a deep, quiet groan stretched long from his belly to his throat.
He shoved his forehead against Will’s, laughing at the profanity then trying to chase down what was left of it with hungry, sucking lips.
“Listen to that filthy mouth.” He sucked a soft breath in through his teeth; the words and the visions with them stung gloriously like prickling fur against his groin. Arm curled around Will’s head, he lined their hips up without connecting his knees to the mattress. Shane, please. God, he wanted to hear it again. Wanted to make him say it as payment for every thrust. He rocked his entire body into Will’s with the next stroke, mouth smearing a hazy, messy kiss onto his.
That’s what you’ll tell the rest of the pack? You fucked him because he asked you to? Was that what he’d tell Will, if he woke up sore not remembering why? I had to; you begged me.
My pack. My friend.
“Slow down, cowboy,” murmured just before a consoling brush of tongue on pleading tongue. “Not tonight.”
He brought his weight back down one clench and slowly releasing muscle group at a time beside Will, but wouldn’t deny him release. That wasn’t too much. Wasn’t too much to live with, maybe even laugh at, tomorrow. He unbuttoned and unzipped him, wrapped his hand around soft, hot flesh covering flushed-hard need. Slow, steady strokes. His bicep tensed and released in time with the motion. His breath fell into the same rhythm.
“You imagining it?”
So, so good, his mind supplied as he fought to grind up against the palm at his cock through his pants. His bad leg felt like lead at this point, whatever medicine the doc had used probably numbing it so he didn’t feel the full extent of it. He could also feel the itch of muscle and bone stitching itself back together again, which had always grossed him out and given how little time had passed between him getting caught in a wolf trap—he hated everyone, oh the embarrassment, it’d stay with him forever—and being here, being held down was probably a good thing. He wanted to be able to get out of this bed sometime soon or, more importantly, be able to straddle the legs of this goddamn frustrating God of Sex over here, so he could thoroughly ride his dick into the sunset.
Yes, that was #1 on Will’s List of Things To Do Real Soon. Check on the pack was a close second, but that, yeah. That was definitely #1. In some bold, rainbow-colored, sparkly lettering.
The words that came out of his mouth were rough and not thought out, but completely truthful. He just wanted and at this point, he could care less if Shane knew it. Everyone thought that good ‘ol smiling, gentle Will had no imagination at all, but watching Shane lift up a car engine, sweat making his arms shine and little rivulets of water drifting down a neck that Will really wanted to bite—and Jesus, don’t even get him started on that ass—had definitely made him expand his little mental repartee.
He didn’t care if he was the one doing the riding or if Shane was; he just wanted this man. Wanted, with the fire of a thousand suns and he was finally there, so close and he wanted. A whine came from somewhere in his chest and his hips tried yet another aborted move, despite the warning that Shane would stop. He was kissed again and when Shane pulled back, Will’s eyes were glued to that sweet red color that made his mouth water. The goddamn groaning didn’t help either; he panted and moaned, one hand fisting the sheet beneath it.
The thing ripped a moment later, when Shane was suddenly planking, wow, and Will would have tackled him down to the bed if not for the iron bands on his wrists. Shane’s hips were against his and Will made that whining sound again, wanting more. ”Shane,” He groaned, tilting his hips to get more, urging Shane to move against him harder. ”Shane, please…”
His eyes snapped open when Shane spoke again, melting into the kiss for a split second before his face screwed up with frustration. ”No slowing down, damn it,” He half groaned, half growled. ”I want you, please, don’t—“ Leave, he would have said, before his pants were suddenly unbuttoned and—Jesus! Will would have jackknifed right off the bed if not for Shane. God, a guy would think Will had never gotten a hand job before, but he was quickly losing his goddamn mind.
His head fell back against the arm under his head and he turned to kiss and nibble at the bicep beside his cheek. ”Better not be imagining it,” He said, voice a bit muffled. He sighed at each stroke, good leg bending up and out, as if to welcome Shane closer. ”God, feel so good. Wanted you for so long,” His tongue was loose and careless, as he bit at the flesh under his lips. ”Didn’t think you wanted me ‘cause you kept running away. Caught you staring, wanted you to look…fucking frustrating piece ‘a—“ The words were bit off at a particularly clever stroke and he moaned, sounding like someone else entirely.
Oh yes, Will was going to die of embarrassment…but that would be much later. Right now, he was just focused on coming his brains out and somehow taking Shane with him. He wriggled his free hand down between them, trying like hell to reach for Shane’s belt, Shane’s zipper.
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