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Will loses his virginity when he’s eighteen years old and reasonably drunk. It isn’t a particularly memorable experience. The girl was equal parts tipsy as she was eager for it, sporting long brunette hair that fell down her back in loose waves. Her face was small and fragile with protruding cheekbones and round lips coated in shimmer. Her name was Stephanie. She’d tugged him into a spare room. Took control. They’d gotten undressed and kissed mindlessly.
Sometime through it all, when she had a hand down Will’s pants, she’d promised: “You’re gonna be so hot for me.”
In the end, he had been brought to orgasm. It wasn’t particularly pleasant, either. He wasn’t hot for her.
Will had closed his eyes the moment she sat on his dick, felt that tight heat, and found himself pretending that maybe— just maybe— he could be in her position one day.
After she’d made her promise, he’d replied straight back with murmured agreement. The words felt nothing less than caustic as they permeated the air.
-
The whole point of having sex was so that Will could get away from being chirped for inexperience. It was easy to produce a remark when you actually knew what it felt like to fuck a girl. Which is to say he both hated and felt humbled by it. But that could always be embellished.
In theory it was his very own get out of jail card, but in reality it always fell short.
Like now, for example.
Mack is laying prone on his bed, staring up at the ceiling in obvious boredom. He spares a glance towards Will. They’ve already messed up the mini fridges and have exhausted the cable. There really isn’t much else to do but scroll on their phones until that eventually grows tiresome, too.
“You’ve been kinda pissy lately,” Mack remarks.
“Have not.” Will replies before deciding to push the topic more. “What, is this about practice? Seriously?”
“Well, yeah. I feel betrayed.” Mack turns onto his side. Shadows monopolise on his face, forcing out the contours, and his shirt rides up. It’s awfully distracting. “Next time some hobo on ice is whacking me, I’d at least like you to get a punch in.”
Will snorts. “It’s unbecoming.”
“Unbecoming— what does that even mean? Cool it, Picasso.”
“Picasso was a painter.” Will retorts. Amused by Mack’s cluelessness and further amused by his own as well. If you asked him to name any other painters, he’d fall short. “Anyway, It means I’m not gonna risk a black eye.”
“Smitty, you break my heart sometimes.”
Will was thrilled. “I’ve waited my whole life for those words.” He said dramatically. “I, Will Smith, get to break your heart.”
Then he promptly face dived into his pillow, dropped his phone in the process, and groaned.
“This is what I mean,” Mack pointed out, his voice shrill with mock excitement. “You’re so pissy. It’s like you’re having a period or something.”
“Pretty sure that’s sexist.”
“No, It isn’t.” His smile is practically audible. “It’s factual, like.”
With a sigh, Will flopped back over and pushed himself up into a half sitting position. The blanket shifted underneath him and bunched into folds where his ass was.
Mack continued. “Anyway, I feel like it’s my responsibility to knock you out of this funk.” He paused and let his eyes shrewdly pass over Will, making a point of it. Then he smiled innocently. “I think you need to get laid, Smitty.”
Will bristled, against his own better judgement, and felt his posture tense. He knew that if Mack were genuinely curious, he’d be able to read that for what it really was: discomfort.
“I’ve gotten laid,” He defended whilst avoiding any and all eye contact. The tops of his cheeks and bridge of his nose felt hot, and he prayed that the lighting was dark enough to obscure his blush. This topic always proved to be a sore spot for him.
“We could go out now,” Mack insists, utterly oblivious. Instead he just seems so damn thoughtful with how he lowers his voice. “Get you a girl. A real nice one. Hey, maybe she’ll even find you funny.”
Mack laughs. After a moment he ceases, clearly waiting for Will to join in. When that doesn’t happen he makes a sound— probably clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
“Smitty.” His voice is awkward and earnest. For a second Will expects him to say something explosive like I know you’re gay, dude. It’s fucking weird. And for another brief, even more terrifying moment, Will finds his eyes getting hot and a lump in his throat forming. Then Mack is continuing, entirely amiss: “We could, like, watch porn too. I mean instead of going out. If that’s what you want.”
Will felt his shoulders slump with surprise and an odd bout of pure thankfulness. He tried producing what sounded like an odd wheezing noise. An unmistakably poor attempt at laughing.
His stomach cramped suddenly. Two things had become clear to him: Mack hadn’t clocked his latent homosexuality yet, thank god, and also that he cared. Enough to offer staying in their hotel room and jerking off rather than picking up some puck bunny.
That was sweet of him.
Real nice.
Will cranked his head to the side and offered a slightly crazed smile at Mack. “Why the hell not,” He said.
Which was probably the stupidest thing he could’ve said.
The logistics of jerking off together proved to be a little troubling. They definitely needed porn, that was a non-negotiable. Mack had laughed and shook his head when he noticed Will staring at the TV with raised eyebrows.
“The iPad. Idiot.” Mack said, fishing it out of his bag and leaning back. “C’mon, sit beside me. We can prop it up with a pillow.”
“Sure.”
Once Will was nestled onto the covers, feeling the hard lines of Mack press up against his sides, he tried not to seem so awkward. Instead he nudged Mack and began pushing him up against the wall. This promptly resulted in a thirty second wrestling match that ended with their positions reversed and Will thoroughly familiar with the hotels poor choice in wallpaper.
Mack threw a bottle of lotion at Will. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
“What do you wanna watch? Tell me your favourite porn star and I’ll search her up.”
Immediately Will felt like throwing up but promptly shrugged if off. This was the penalty of being what he was: a fraud, basically. Still, he was grateful Mack was doing all this. He even felt selfish for taking advantage of his kindness. Whatever. Clearly Mack needed this if he had even brought it up to begin with.
“Nah, man. I’m too lazy. You pick.”
“For real? You sure?”
Will nodded.
“Sick. That’s great. We could do a hockey one,” He laughed. “Kidding. I got one I know you’ll love. The chick in it has a massive rack. Pretty face, too.” Then, as if he couldn’t help saying it: “When she’s not covered in cum, at least.”
“Real charming.” Will kicked Mack’s foot before mimicking his position. His eyes fell shut with a sigh. “Just put it on.”
A few moments later, his brief meditation was shattered by the sound of high pitched moaning. When he glanced down the bed he saw the Ipad now propped up and displaying a woman licking a long, hard dick. Clearly the video had previously been watched, hence the lack of intro. But fuck, that was a nice dick. Will’s mouth filled with saliva, his shorts tenting just a bit. He wished he had a dildo or something. When Will glanced towards Mack he wasn’t surprised to see the other gripping himself, not quite naked but about to be.
He focused on the video. How her tits bounced slightly with every movement. The coquettish licks she would give before getting real slutty, letting her tongue flatten, pressing it in long strides down the dick. Her hair was short, blonde.
Will gripped himself, too, and groaned. Something breathy and hitched. He imagined that it was him on his knees. How hard and uncomfortable the floor would feel, and how much he’d like that. He’s never actually sucked a real dick before, only a dildo when he’s alone and certain the doors are properly locked, but he thinks he’d be good at it.
He’s fully hard now and hasn’t even touched his dick, skin on skin yet. Which would be embarrassing if he didn’t feel so frozen. The porn star is now steadily deep throating, and Will is hit with a wave of pure need. Maybe some jealously, too. A second later his shorts are halfway down his thighs and he’s gripping himself with a groan.
Beside him, Mack laughs. It’s almost a whine. Will turns his head and nearly passes out. His dick is right there. Mack’s dick. Hard and thick. Throbbing. Precum is beading around the head before Mack thumbs at it. His dick glistens with the lotion Will forgot to even use. And Will can’t look away.
Suddenly he feels crazed. As though in two seconds he’ll either be laughing or sobbing. Holy fuck. His dick is right there. What the fuck are they doing.
“Spit on your hand, Smitty.”
Will froze. His eyes widened, flashing to catch Mack’s stare. It was heated, almost carnal— jaw flexed and shoulders tight. “Spit.” Mack reminded. “Now.”
And Will stayed still for half a second, no more, before he was panting intensely as though he’d ran a marathon, snatching his hand up and proceeding to spit on it. He was half out of his mind. The wad of spit caught in the light and glistened. Pooling in the middle of his palm. It should have been disgusting. Will bit back a keen.
“Touch yourself. Properly.” A loud moan cut through Mack’s words— the woman in the video was now being thoroughly fucked. Dick sliding in and out of her pussy. “Do it tight,” He said, nodding as though this were normal.
With some mild hesitation Will did exactly that. His fingers wrapped around his dick, loose and easily before he abruptly tightened it. A small groan left his lips. His dick was sensitive and his hips bucked upwards at the first flick of his wrist, lower body clenching from the sheer nicety of the sensation.
Usually when he jerked off it was either in the shower or the moment he was alone. And usually it would be a shame filled, quick affair. On special occasions, like when he’d performed exceptionally well or they’d won a match of importance he would use a dildo— one he kept hidden beneath piles of folded clothes and bags of toiletries, right at the bottom of his suitcase— and only when he had total privacy. Even that sometimes ended in the odd tear or two rolling down his face.
But this—
He didn’t have to think. He just had to listen. And it felt so nice to relinquish control like that. So easy. Mack was helping him out. Being a good friend. He didn’t pry too much or look at Will with thinly veiled suspicion. Things were so simple with him.
Perhaps this could very well be simple too.
“Fuck, Mack.” The words were whispered. He was painfully hard, throbbing in his hands. The burn of friction was barely felt at all.
Mack was making these punched out sounds, small groans as he fisted his own dick. His eyes were shut before opening and latching onto Will with a dilated, heavy stare.
“Just— finish it off,” He said. Will promptly came with what was nearly a shout, cum spilling through his fist and some landing on where his abs flexed. With that Mack turned onto his side, knocking the iPad further down the bed, and fucking into his hand with a single minded intensity. “C’mon, Smitty, let me,” He gasped. “Can I? Can I cum on you, Will? I showered already, don’t wanna again,” The words were nearly incoherent.
Fuck. That was hot. Will nearly came again at the mere thought of it. Against better judgement he nodded, chest heaving up and down. “Sure,” And then Mack was practically on him, pushing himself up with his left hand, half collapsed over Will.
He came with a spasm, cum landing all over Will’s chest; some on his abs and the majority marking up the white shirt he was wearing. For half a second Mack didn’t move, just stared and stared, before he collapsed back down and started breathing hard. Will had to remember how to breathe as well.
“Fuck.” Mack mumbled. He turned to the bedside table and grabbed some tissues. Made a lazy effort at cleaning Will. When he was satisfied, Mack laughed something proud— there was still a trace of cum left on Will’s lower stomach, and almost in a trance Mack pressed his finger against the substance, pushed it into the area where his pubes began. “Kinda weird being so close to your dick, dude.” He said.
Then Mack promptly bent down and licked the remaining cum off him, made a face, fell on his back, sleepily batted at Will’s shoulder with his arm and ignored the extra spurt of cum Will’s dick produced in response.
Somehow that was both the gayest and straightest thing he had ever done. Schrödinger’s Celebrini.
“What are you laughing at?” Macklin slurred.
“You.” Will smiled. His legs were like jelly. He’d almost definitely regret this the moment his brain came online.
“Do you feel better?” Mack asked more seriously.
And because Will was apparently very self destructive, he replied: “Yeah, I do. Thanks, Mack.”
Abruptly Will couldn’t stand to stay close to Mack for a moment longer. Maybe it was the mess on his shirt. Maybe it was how his hair was plastered against skin due to sweat. Maybe it was because he really did just want to shower. Probably it was due to the inane urge he’d felt bubble up inside him, pushing against his head— the part of him that wanted to kiss Mack.
-
For the next month or so things continue as normal. They stay glued at the hip. The gameplay seems to improve. Mack starts this vendetta against Will’s current diet; acclimating him to thick protein shakes and morning runs whenever they can manage it.
Their friendship continues to strengthen until Will can’t remember a time when they didn’t share clothes and go review cafes, or jerk off together.
The first time Mack touches Will’s dick is after a satisfactory win. They’d gone to the bar and entertained themselves by listening to Ekky recount a past hookup when Mack had casually strung an arm over the back of Will’s chair. His hand grasped Will’s shoulder, almost coy, squeezed, pulled at the fabric, tugged it to the side until his collarbone was revealed alongside the glint of a necklace.
“Me and Smitty are gonna head back,” Mack said.
“You sure?” Ekky asked with a noncommittal tone. He shrugged. “That chick at the bar has been staring at you for the last half hour.”
Mack smiled. “Not really into brunettes.” He squeezed Will, almost barely. “Smitty drank too much. Such a baby.”
Will opened his mouth to react when he suddenly became aware of their sheer proximity. He was practically sat on Mack’s lap. He swallowed and looked away.
“Acting like my mom,” Will eventually complained.
But he allowed himself to be tugged towards the exit, leaning more weight than was necessary against Mack. And he had to bite back a grin.
When they’d stumbled into Will’s room that night, laughing, Mack had breathlessly slumped against the door. Only for a moment. He had a satisfied gleam in his eyes. Then he pushed Will onto the nearest bed.
“Let’s jerk off.” He said. It wasn’t a question.
They didn’t load up porn this time. It might’ve been due to intoxication. The beers they’d drunk throughout the night. Or maybe they both knew that simply wouldn’t cut it anymore.
It was when Will had his pants down and was palming his dick, beginning to work it real nice— his eyes were slipping closed, imagination starting to work up some visuals— that Mack grabbed his dick. Just like that, Will found it impossible to close his eyes.
“Mack—” He gasped. Dick throbbing against Mack’s grip. It was so loose. Something inherently blasé about his attitude.
Mack shushed him. “I want to.” He said, eyes glossed over. Palming himself with his spare hand. “I wanna make you feel good, Smitty.”
What the actual fuck, Will thought. Incapable of coherency. His hips violently bucked up. Arousal was coiling deep in his gut. His breathe came out stuttered and sharp.
“Mack.” He whispered. “Mack, I—”
“You only gotta ask me,” Mack replied back. He was straining against his pants. His hand wasn’t moving where it held Will’s dick. It was torture. Psychological warfare. “That’s all.” He reminded.
“Mack,” Will whined. His mouth felt hot. Then he couldn’t take anymore: “Please.”
In response Mack made a pleased noise, a hum of some sort. That in itself was endearing. Almost sweet. The next moment Mack tightened his grip until it was nearly painful and stroked Will’s dick with the harsh experience only someone like he could have. Will startled, a sound of pure want ripped out of him.
“You like that?” Mack asked, thumbing at the slit and spreading around a glob of precum. His hand was pale and unreal as it moved. “Yeah,” He gave another hum, dragged it into a little laugh. It sounded mean. It sounded like he enjoyed what he saw. “Of course you do.”
Will lost feeling in his arms. He collapsed back onto the bed. The light fixture on the ceiling glared and hurt his eyes. Mack was sidled up close to him. The whole situation felt dreamlike. Then Mack pulled his hand back, just barely, and spat. Some landing directly on Will’s dick. He definitely laughed that time, even nudging at Will playfully. Like this was normal. Something that could be joked about. The playful lilt of his eyes dropped, easing out into concentration. His eyelashes caused shadows to slant down his cheekbones like someone had taken a brush to his face.
It was beautiful. Will opened his mouth to comment something of the sort, when Mack decided to touch him again. He made a sound. Embarrassingly loud. Close to a sob. Sometime through it Will cried Mack’s name. Over and over till that lost meaning. All he could focus on was the bright light falling over him, the throb of his dick and how hard he was. The fact it was Mack touching him. Willingly, no less—
Mack got onto his knees and shoved Will’s legs apart. Fitting himself in the newly made space. There was nothing submissive about it. Will only knew he had done that because Mack briefly grabbed ahold of his hair and told him what he was going to do. Made him focus.
“Do it on my face.” Mack said. He looked deranged. Just kneeling there. Waiting. Knowing that Will would listen. And then: “Now, Smitty. Fucking do it,”
White hot pleasure. Soaring and soaring. His orgasm dragged out of him. A pathetic sobbing sound that distantly Will knew he was making. Mack’s face rubbing at his trousers, transferring the cum onto fabric. Then, seconds later, the thick outline of a cock replacing it. Mack was fucking against his legs. Still clothed. Groaning. Face screwed into a visual of anticipation. Almost boyish and naive. Just barely.
“Fuck,” Mack groaned with a tinge of annoyance. He clamoured up and hastily unzipped his pants, pulling his dick out. A brief flitter of hesitation passed over his features before being evened out. “Get your face here,” He urged.
Dazedly Will sat up. It was a weak movement. Mack didn’t seem to care, a moment later he was coming all over Will’s face; globs of it landing on his eyelashes, catching in the curve of his lips, the bridge of his nose. If he wasn’t thoroughly marked enough by then, Mack corrected it by wiping his hand through the mess and then brushing his fingers through Will’s hair.
Will groaned in dismay. “What the fuck.” Then promptly cringed at the taste of cum. Some had dripped into his mouth. It was salty. He smacked his lips.
“Hey,” Mack said. He dipped his chin down and almost succeeded in appearing shy. “I didn’t complain when I tasted yours.”
“You’re the worst.” Will complained lamely. Feeling a swell of warmth in reaction to Mack’s words. It was comforting how calm he always was after they did stuff like this. Even if his own heart was jackhammering against his chest. It was undeniably helpful.
Once again he was hit by the dull, familiar realisation that he definitely wanted to kiss Mack.
“You’re into it, though.” Mack wiped his hand onto Will’s shorts with a chuckle. He leant forward and gingerly grasped Will’s face, bringing their foreheads together. He wordlessly hummed to the sound of some pop song, slightly obnoxious, swaying a little, the sound filling Will’s head with cotton candy. Blissful and fucked out. They could do this.
Somewhere in Will’s mind, he discovered that not once with Mack did he ever feel ashamed. And that was a blessing.
Eventually they disentangled from each other. Will shrugged off his shirt and used it to wipe at his face. Partly disbelieving he’d even managed to ignore the sticky discomfort there. Mostly endeared that Mack hadn’t minded getting it on his face, too.
“Shower.” Will said. “Holy shit, I need a shower.”
“Race you!” Mack had exclaimed, running off, slamming the door but not locking it. Somewhat muffled, an obvious lilt of humour: “Loser.”
Will brought up his sodden shirt and gave it a small, tentative lick. Tasted more of Mack’s cum. Allowing the small ball of affection, one he always kept tightly wound and hidden away, to finally unravel just a bit.
-
Some prescient part of Will’s mind saw the hit before he felt it. One moment he’s chasing the puck, skates hissing against ice, the cold snapping at his face and causing a tremor of thrill to run down his spine. He loved this. Then a body was slamming into his side forcefully. A stick slammed up against his ribs, jarring despite the layers of padding. The boards connected with his other side; a tempered thud rang out and he felt crushed, terribly so, before he was crumpling forward and meeting the ground.
It was a brief affair. He’d only stayed down for half a minute, feeling similar to a puppet whose strings have been cut. That was a peaceful moment. The second he’d gotten his bearing, the pain had said hello.
His side ached. No breakage luckily. He could still play. It throbbed, though, in great prolonged bursts of legitimate hurt.
When he had been boarded, Mack was skating ahead and by some luck (talent, really) got the puck inside the goal. His celly consisted of throwing his stick down alongside his gloves and attempting to pummel the other player, who by then was half way up the rink and looking thoroughly disinterested. Will caught him by the shirt, trying not to be pleased as he said some hippie shit: It’s not worth it, Mack. C’mon.
This had not assuaged Mack. But the game had to be continued. His face contorted with anger as he picked up his stick and gloves. Will grinned weakly and tried not to show how his hands shook as the adrenaline wore off.
Showering was not a pleasurable experience that day. His ribs had already bruised significantly. Red in some areas and in others a dark purple where the stick had mainly impacted.
Mack’s face was the colour of ashes. “How bad does it hurt?” He asked whilst stood closely beside Will and repeatedly alternating the weight on his feet; leaning to the right, then left, then right again.
“Not bad.” Will lied.
“I really wanted to punch him,” Mack says. A flash of cloudiness passes over his face. He stills. “Fucking bastard. I mean seriously, who does that?”
Nodding, Will agrees. “Yeah. He played dirty. But we still got the puck in.”
Mack smiles, obviously somewhat relieved. His eyebrows are still closer together than they should be and now he seems almost too formidable.
“Of course we did.” Mack confirms simply. He gazes at Will before adding in what should be a joking manner but is betrayed by the intensity in his eyes: “We did it, baby.”
A burst of joy sparked deep within Will. It couldn’t have been helped. He tried not to seem so delighted at the word— baby! No one had ever called Will that before. It felt like a claim. It felt like a promise. It felt like friendship. Something sacred only to what he and Mack shared.
Will coughed and looked down at the ground. “It was a joint effort,” He said. Bordering on shy. “But definitely.”
“I have some cream. For the bruises.” Mack says. “It works pretty well.”
“For real?” Will asks.
Mack beams. “Yeah, dude. It’s real good. You’ll look less like a car crash victim and more like— you know what, sit down. I’ll apply it.”
So Will sat down on the bench. Hissed through his teeth at the small jolt of pain that movement produced. It really did ache. Now Will kinda wished he’d gotten a punch in, after all.
Mack pulled a tube out of his duffel bag. “This,” He said. “Will help.”
“Alright. Should I lift up my arm, or?”
“Yeah.”
“Bet.”
“This might hurt a little. Obviously. I just gotta massage it in.” Mack warned gingerly, having squirted a good amount on his palm. He appeared hesitant and paused a centimetre from Will’s chest. They really were close, now. “Just don’t slam your arm down on my head if it hurts, bro.”
Will barked out a laugh. “Don’t worry.” He was fully focused on staying still and resisting the urge to make himself small against Mack.
And yeah. It definitely stung. And ached when applied. Especially once Mack pressed against the more severe discolouration. But Mack was being so meticulous yet careful, lightly working the cream in, never pushing too hard. His face was the epitome of focused concern.
Honestly, it began to feel quite nice. Like the collision had crossed his wires and suddenly the bruise was some sort of zone that went straight to his dick. Will’s breathe hitched. Barely audible. The pain was so soft now, tender and present, like a nice buzz.
Most likely it was only because Mack was the one basically fondling him with calloused fingers and determination. Will didn’t want the moment to end. His mind was starting to get blissed up, like he was geared for an orgasm.
“See I told you.” Mack said fondly. He’d finished already but had not yet pulled back his hand. Gently he stroked the bruised area. “I really wanted to punch him. With my stick. Knock out some teeth.”
Will laughed, helplessly amused. “Thanks.” Then he muttered, fast but undeniably bashful: “You’re really good to me.”
He thought that if one of them didn’t pull away soon then Will would surely kiss him. His chest was wrought with a new surge of affection for Mack and how sweet he was— he wanted to kiss him so bad, was the problem.
Mack’s initial hesitance had been replaced by pride. His brow lightened considerably and the lines marring his face had tempered. He seemed softer. More self assured. It shouldn’t have been a surprise when he leant forward and brushed their lips together, but it was. Will gasped, mouth opening to allow the sound out. With a satisfied noise of contentment Mack followed up his kiss with a slight drag of tongue along the seams of Will’s lip. Frightfully close to his teeth. To his own tongue, better yet.
Mack pulled back. It had only happened in the course of a moment or two. No one had seen. Not with how empty the locker room was. He tilted his head and stared at Will.
His cheeks and the bridge of his nose were flushed. Gaze heavy and wanting.
“You’re panicking.” He noted. A correct observation. He brought his hand down and cupped Will’s face, smoothing out his brow. “Don’t be stupid. Get dressed. I wanna pick the movie tonight.”
-
Mack presented the dildo to Will like it was some important trophy and not a sex toy. His expression was humorous and utterly stupid.
“I wanna see what you do with it.” He said. The tone was normal. None of the words were enunciated with any importance. His dick was bulging against his shorts and his eyes held a slightly sadistic gleam. “Please.”
“You are literally so weird.” Will complained from where he was half prone on the bed, naked, sporting a semi and neighboured by a bottle of lube. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered mainly to himself.
“Smitty, hurry up.”
“This is so fucking weird.” His chest was flushed and steadily rising up and down due to his turned on panting. Will took the dildo, made a point to stare at the mess that was his suitcase and quirked up an eyebrow. Then he uncapped the bottle of lube. He was going to say something along the lines of sit down when his body stopped cooperating with his mind. Traitorously his mouth opened, and: “Well if you’re gonna make such a show out of it, why don’t you just do me with it.” The words were derisive and so fucking stupid and Mack lit up.
“Holy shit,” Mack was definitely hard now. “You want me to do that? You’d let me?”
“I’m asking, you don’t have to if—”
Mack was drizzling a good amount of lube on his fingers and had somehow crouched himself between Will’s legs in an agile flash of movement.
“Keep them spread.” He reminded Will. Which was fucking hilarious, mind you, considering he didn’t know anything about this. But obviously Will complied with a pleased hum. “Yeah. You do that.”
He looked at Will’s ass for a moment. A fault line appeared within his brows.
“Smitty, I think you should turn around. At least for the start.” He seemed genuinely forlorn about it. All apologetic.
“Fine.” Will turned over and grabbed a pillow to rest his head against. Naturally and without thinking he took up a presenting position. Ass up, legs spread, face down. His spine curving in response to the movement.
“Fuck.” Mack murmured. Then he remembered the lube and seemed spurred into action. “Your ass is massive.” He commented breathily, mouthing at the swell. His mouth opened and he gently licked at it, then gnawed at it. “So hot. Just for me.” He groaned and spread Will’s ass with two hands, revealing his hole.
Will whined. “Fucking do it,” He complained, hot with pleasure already.
“Be patient,” Mack admonished. He paused, then, unmoving against Will. “Amazing.” It was a whisper, not meant to be heard— his stare was sharp and astute, figuring out a puzzle.
The first twinge of adrenaline punched Will. He was getting antsy. He needed to move. Do something. He needed Mack’s fingers inside him yesterday.
“Mack—” He began, then promptly stopped and moaned in a long sound of ecstasy. His legs turned to jelly. Lower body only held up by Mack’s hands, his fingertips pressing painfully into the flesh. Mack had shoved his tongue inside Will’s hole.
Holy shit.
Ho—ly Sh—it.
Will loses track of time after that. It feels so good. Unlike anything he’s experienced before. He wonders with a brief delirium how he ever went so long without having something like this. White hot, searing undulations of pleasure, a wave dragging him out to sea— he’s going crazy and it will be Mack’s fault.
A finger gets added. Then another. Mack continues to lick into him with a greedy, carnal vengeance. Finally, when Will’s voice is hoarse and broken and his body useless, Mack pulls off. He leaves three fingers in. The expression crafted upon his features is pleased through the blur of tears marring Will’s vision.
Mack picks up the dildo.
“Holy shit.” Will slurs.
That’s the only consistent phrase his mind can form.
Mack pulls out his fingers. “Turn over.” He says, proceeding to flip Will’s fucked out body so that he’s on his back. “I wanna see you.”
He picks up the dildo.
The one Will occasionally uses. The one he kept hidden for so long and with such ease that he’d gotten lazy. The one Mack had found when having one of his sudden psychotic cleaning sprees. The one Mack was drizzling an obscene amount of lube on and placing against Will’s hole.
Mack teased it at his entrance, letting the head snag against the rim. Almost mechanical. He smoothed a hand down Will’s lower back in a soothing motion. Then he pushed in and all Will felt was brilliance.
-
Will fetched a sigh and grinned lazily up at the ceiling. He sprung an arm over his eyes. Darkness. The insides of his thighs were sticky and he felt relatively empty, but the cum drying on his stomach was enough of a distraction. Mack had gotten off and chosen Will as the target for his orgasm. It should have felt debasing. Will just grinned wider at the memory.
A few sounds could be heard from the bathroom. Bottles being pushed over by mistake. The tap blasting on full power before abruptly ceasing. Footsteps padding closer.
Then he felt a warm, wet towel being dragged over his stomach.
“I’m totally fucked out.” Mack mumbles, sounding awfully like he wouldn’t mind going again. “Your ass was spasming around it, y’know. I thought I was hallucinating.”
Yeah. Will can remember that much. His hole clenching when he came. How much he wanted to stay like that, kept in some perpetual pleasure filled state.
He only laughs and removes his hand. Mack looks like he’s finished sprinting a marathon.
“Thanks.” Will says.
“You’re thanking me?” Mack snickers.
The moment seems like it’s about to end when Mack grabs ahold of Will’s hand. There’s still a slight trace of lube on his and they’re all sweaty. Will brings their hands towards his mouth and kisses Mack’s knuckles, one by one.
The only word his mind forms is perfect
-
Mack kisses him like time is endless, long swipes of his tongue that leave Will out of breathe. Persistent and needy and always up for it. He tucks Will’s hair behind his ears, runs a finger through the blonde, laces their hand together whilst a movie plays that neither of them pay attention to. Time is endless. They are so young. They can do this. And maybe Will deserves this, too.
-
When he wakes up Mack is snoring beside him. Sun slants through the windows and an interminable amount of months seem to have passed. His lips push into a smile.
Will shoves at Mack’s bare shoulder and says, “Wake up.”
That does not work. He tries again. Mack makes a gurgled noise of sleepy annoyance.
Will leans down and bites at his shoulder instead.
That works.
“What are you doing?” Mack asks. He fists a good clump of Will’s hair. They both realise at that moment they’re sporting morning woods.
Something hot and molten drips down Will’s spine.
“I want you to.” Will says, watching how Mack’s eyes widen in understanding. He waits for the shame to arrive. It doesn’t. Will has never felt so sure. “And I’d let you, Mack.”
“Why have we left it for so long?” Mack’s voice is undeniably holding some sentimentality. Groggy from sleep.
“Things got away from us, I suppose.”
There’s no response to be had. One of them leans down. They kiss long and hard, rubbing against each other like animals. Will grabs the lube and fingers himself whilst Mack watches and makes choked out groans. Mack slips in his own finger. It’s the most intimate thing they’ve ever done.
They lose themselves in the motions: licking into each other, breathing hard and heavy, alive with the need to claim.
The sun bathes them in heavy gold light by the time Mack thrusts into Will. His hips stutter, holding back. Will loops his hands around his neck and presses their foreheads together. The stretch is unlike anything he’s felt yet. It’s a completion of sorts.
“You know.” He breathes. “I kinda like you.”
Mack laughs weakly. “Who doesn’t?” Then his face smoothes out and he looks close to tears. Emotional fuck. “But yeah, I like you too.”
Good, Will thinks, because I don’t plan on letting you go.
Later on there's cum drying between Will’s thighs and Mack is blissfully silent. He looks peaceful. A sudden surge of lust hits Will. Properly deranged and intense. He straddles Mack and pours lubes onto his fingers, knocking Mack’s thighs apart. His skin shines with sweat and his lips are swollen. There are so many possibilities, now.
“Your turn.” Will says with a boyish and positively wild grin. Watching Mack’s eyes widen in anticipation and gradual understanding for the second time that day. “You’re gonna be so hot for me.”