wear you out, will/skandar, nc-17
BIRTHDAY PORN FOR SKANDARRR.
It feels like FOREVER since I've written good old-fashioned Will/Skandar.
LOLOL while I was writing this, Skandar-the-kitten started playing with the keyboard and ended up asking Microsoft Word to look for synonyms of 'cock'. I LAUGHED FOR LIKE FIVE MINUTES. OMG KITTEN!SKANDAR I LOVE YOU SFM.
Title: wear you out
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Will/Skandar
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Real person slash
Summary: What did Will get Skandar for his 17th? A striptease, a lapdance, and a blowjob. Birthday porn for Skandar. XD
A/N: And also for fiere. Consider this your present! ♥ (This was supposed to involve Brazil in some way, shape or form, for inksplotched, but...it doesn't. I TRIED, BB, BUT I THINK THAT PROMPT IS GOING TO HAVE TO BE ANSWERED BY...YOU. XD)
He should probably be more disturbed than he is to find William Moseley hiding in his closet.
It gives him a shock, of course, when he pulls open the door and sees Will standing there all hunched over with various sleeves draped over his shoulders and a startled look on his face. But once his heart starts beating again, he just raises his eyebrows and says, "We do have a front door, you know. It has a doorbell and everything."
Will frowns. "I was going to jump out," he says, looking disappointed. "And sing."
"Sing?" echoes Skandar doubtfully.
"Happy birthday," Will says. Half-heartedly, in a rather tuneless voice, he adds, "Toooo youuuuu--" but Skandar puts a stop to that immediately with a hand clamped over Will's mouth.
Will continues, his voice muffled against Skandar's skin.
"You have to be quiet," Skandar hisses at him, trying to keep a straight face, and thankfully, Will obeys and shuts up. "Mum's just downstairs." He sighs. "I told you I was going to be busy all day, I told you not to come."
He moves his hand to let Will speak. "That's why I snuck in," Will says like it was a sensible option. "And I'm sure you've got some time to spare before your family meal or whatever."
"Do I want to know how long you've been in there?"
"Probably not," Will tells him. "Can I come out now?"
"Of the closet?" says Skandar with a sly smile.
"Very funny," sneers Will, stepping forwards onto the bedroom floor. He stretches. He has a coathanger attached to his belt. Skandar removes it. "So anyway," Will continues, "happy birthday! You're almost a man now."
"Almost?"
"Well, you know," Will smirks, teasing, "you're still a boy really."
Skandar shakes his head. "You're a bit of a pedo, then, if you think that way."
Will frowns.
"Shot yourself in the foot there, didn't you?" Skandar says triumphantly.
"Skandar?" his Mum calls suddenly, her voice carrying up the stairs.
"Yes! I'm alone!" Skandar yells back, and Will sniggers.
"Don't come into the kitchen," she shouts, oblivious. "I'm washing the floor."
"Okay, Mum." Skandar laughs, lowering his voice again and turning back to Will. "She says that every year. She's not washing the floor, she's making my birthday cake." He looks at Will expectantly. "Are we done here?"
"No!" cries Will. "I haven't given you your present."
"You mean you didn't get me a heart attack for my birthday?" Skandar asks, feigning shock. "Because it really seemed like you did."
Will prods him in the shoulder. "Shut up," he says fondly. "It's--"
"Keep your voice down," Skandar interrupts, kicking the bedroom door shut. "If Mum hears you, this is going to be very hard to explain."
Will rolls his eyes. He suddenly reaches down to his trousers and for a second Skandar thinks he's pulling out a present, and is disappointed that whatever-it-is is small enough to fit into the pocket of Will's tight jeans, but then he sees that it's an iPod. Will's iPod.
He crosses the room to Skandar's speakers and fiddles around for a moment with wires, and then suddenly a song begins loudly, something Skandar doesn't recognise. It has a slow, low beat, and he frowns. "What are you doing?"
"She can't hear us now," Will shrugs. Then, inexplicably, he adds, "Sit down."
"What?"
"Sit down," Will repeats. "On the bed."
Skandar looks at him suspiciously. "Why?" he asks, staying firmly where he is.
Will ignores the question. He leans over to the speakers again and turns up the volume, then shrugs off his blazer onto the floor. His shoes follow -- he removes them casually and tosses them aside along with his socks. Skandar stares at the discarded items of clothing for a moment, puzzled, and it's only when he looks back up again that he realises that Will is moving. Only slightly, gently, rocking to the persistant beat of the music. But he's definitely moving, and Skandar becomes slightly concerned.
"If you're going to dance," he says, "I'll laugh."
"Hmm," is all Will responds with. He comes closer, hips swaying, and Skandar just raises his eyebrows at him doubtfully. "Hmm," says Will again. He's up close now, his tall slim frame pressed against Skandar's body, and his hips are still moving. Skandar can feel his doubtful expression beginning to wane.
Will leans in and Skandar tilts his head expectantly, eyes falling closed. He can feel Will's warm breath, and a lock of hair tickling his face, but then suddenly it's all gone and his eyes snap open again. Will is standing before him, grinning. His hips rock gently from side to side and he trails a hand over his chest and stomach, smoothing the rumpled fabric of his shirt. Skandar frowns. He really should be laughing, because Will really should look ridiculous doing this, but somehow, somehow he just doesn't.
Will is grinning, still, fingers now toying with the buttons at the top of his shirt. He undoes them frustratingly slowly, going along with the beat of the music, his hips still rolling. Since when did Will have rhythm, Skandar wonders, transfixed, unable to take his eyes away from each subtle movement of muscle. Will turns his back to Skandar, letting his half-unbuttoned shirt slide down off his shoulders. The beat of the music quickens and Will raises his arms, tosses his head.
It should be funny. He should look stupid. Skandar knows that Will goes to clubs sometimes, but he's always declined the invitation to join him. He just couldn't imagine himself enjoying the experience, though sometimes he was tempted to go along just to make fun of Will's dancing. And now -- well, now he can imagine it, imagine Will in amongst a group of hot, writhing bodies, sweat darkening the ends of his hair and heat flushing his cheeks as the music guides his movements. And...suddenly, it's nothing to make fun of.
Will shifts, dips, turns back around, his shirt fully undone now, exposing his tan chest and stomach. He grabs the fabric, pulling the shirt off. Skandar watches as his stomach muscles hollow, stretch, and he feels his jeans starting to tighten already. He breathes in sharply as Will's shirt falls to the floor with a rustle, and stares when Will's fingers go immediately to his belt, fingers tracing the large buckle. They can't do this here, now, with his Mum baking downstairs. It's clearly insane, and possibly the most risky thing in the world. He opens his mouth to say so, but then Will unbuckles his belt and slides it slowly out of its loops, pulling it out to his side, and it's the most sexual thing Skandar's seen all month. He swears under his breath and hardly hears his own voice.
Will approaches, grinning again and biting his lip, and Skandar feels himself being pushed down onto the bed. He shifts uncomfortably, his trousers feeling even tighter now. Will leans down and Skandar instinctively tilts his head up and back to look at him, but Will's lips only graze over his, wet and warm in a kiss that barely deserves the title. A large hand spreads across his crotch for the briefest moment and then Will straightens up again, hooking his thumbs into his jeans, pushing them between fabric and skin.
Skandar sits up, on the edge of the bed. He can see the clear ridge of a bulge beneath the fabric of Will's jeans now, and he tenses up, his own cock stiffening in response. He watches as Will's body twists slowly, turning as if he has all the time in the world. The jeans pull low, and Skandar hears the jerk of a zip being tugged down. No boxers. A glimpse of smooth, round arse, and then Will turns back to him, his fingers spread and sliding down over smooth hips. He pushes his jeans down further, wriggling out of the tight fabric. Skandar catches sight of a dusting of brown hair, and a glimpse of glistening hard cock, and then Will bends and folds, pulling his jeans down to his ankles and obscuring Skandar's view. This is the longest undressing ever, Skandar thinks frustratedly, straining against his own trousers.
Finally, Will is done, crumpling the jeans into a ball and chucking them aside. He runs his hands up his thighs, bringing them in to frame his cock where it juts thick and hard between them. He shakes his fringe out of his eyes and takes a couple of steps closer, dropping suddenly to his knees and prying Skandar's legs apart.
"Oh, God," Skandar murmurs, legs falling open. Please, he thinks. Just the sight of Will crouched there in front of him makes his cock ache painfully, and the thought of Will taking it between his soft shiny lips and sucking it down is almost too much.
Will strokes at the seam of Skandar's jeans, fingers pressing against the long line of zip, and Skandar arches into the touch, a low groan escaping his lips. Please, he thinks desperately, hands gripping the side of the bed tightly. Finally Will undoes the button and slides down the zipper, dragging the jeans down and off Skandar's long legs. Skandar sighs gratefully. Will smiles up at him, fingers travelling teasingly up along his shins, knees, thighs. The music is climbing, building, and Will's fingers finally brush the fabric of Skandar's boxers and Skandar throws back his head and waits for relief.
But Will doesn't make any move to undress him further. Instead, he stands, over Skandar, one foot placed firmly on either side of the 'V' that Skandar's bent and open legs make. He lowers himself, until he's almost sitting on Skandar's lap, straddling him, and Skandar feels the breath catch in his throat. Will, eyes focused downward, moves gently back and forth, his arse touching Skandar first, the hot skin a shock against Skandar's thighs and knees. And then he feels the hard line of Will's cock against his, through the thin fabric of his boxers. He moans, hands snapping up off the bed almost automatically, one of them going towards his crotch. Will makes a sharp tut sound and grasps Skandar's wrists tightly, pushing his hands back down by his sides.
Skandar glowers, but Will seems oblivious, moving faster now, rubbing his erection against Skandar, rumpling the fabric beneath him. Skandar feels it alongside his cock, feels the hot stroke and slide of it, the precome leaking through the fabric. He stares up at Will, watching the way he bites his lip in concentration as he brings himself quickly back and forth. It's not even really a lapdance, he realises resentfully. Will's just bringing himself off. And it feels good, but the friction isn't enough for him and he wants Will to stop messing around and really do something. He's got a mouth and two hands that are completely unoccupied, and after all, it is Skandar's birthday.
But Will just slows down, rocking gently against him, then moves his hips in a lazy circle, making Skandar groan and dig his fingernails into the wood of the bed. Okay, he thinks, this is more like a lapdance. Their eyes meet and Will grins, proud, leaning in to join their lips. Skandar half-expects him to pull away again but he doesn't -- it's a proper kiss this time. Their lips slide and part, and tongues touch as the music slows and quietens as if giving their kiss the atmosphere it deserves.
And that's when a loud clatter and clang of metal comes from downstairs, and Will and Skandar jerk apart, eyes darting wildly to the bedroom door.
"Fuck, I forgot she was even--" Skandar starts, his breathing heavy.
"She will've just dropped a baking tray or something," Will says hurriedly, and Skandar doesn't say anything, worried. Maybe they really shouldn't do this. Maybe he should get Will to leave. Maybe--
Will grabs a fistful of Skandar's t-shirt and pulls him forwards, smashing their mouths together forcefully and pressing down against him, his hard cock pushing and sliding against Skandar's, causing Skandar to groan into Will's mouth. Okay, fuck stopping, he thinks, grabbing Will by the back of his head and taking control of the kiss. He needs to get off. Now.
"Will, touch me," he pants out against Will's mouth, their lips wet against each other.
"I am touching you," Will smiles, and Skandar growls frustratedly, bucking up against him, but before he says anything else Will relents, sympathetically murmuring, "I know, I know."
He slides off him in one smooth movement and yanks off Skandar's boxers quickly. Skandar sucks in a breath at the shock of the cool air against the heat of his aching erection, and then another at the sudden, slick-hot feeling of skin on skin as Will returns to his previous position.
"Fuck," Skandar spits out as Will, breathing shakily, wraps a strong sure hand around both of their cocks together and brings it swiftly up and down. "Fuck," he says again, louder.
"Shh," Will breathes against his ear, leaning in, twisting his wrist and grasping tighter, making Skandar muffle a groan into the crook of Will's sweaty shoulder.
"But -- fuck," Skandar moans helplessly a second later, as Will spits into his hand and curls his slippery fingers back around them, pulling and sliding and making Skandar feel lightheaded. A familiar feeling accelerates inside him and the music throbs in his brain, and he grips Will's hip, choking out, "Ungh, Will, I'm--"
"Nono," Will pants, hand disappearing abruptly. His voice is hoarse, quiet. "I want to suck you."
All Skandar can manage in response to this is a vaguely embarrassing, drawn-out groan, as Will sinks down onto the floor before him and steadies a tight fist at the base of his cock. His lips are pursed, hot and smooth, at the tip of Skandar's erection, and Skandar's hips lift up almost of their own accord and then he's in, in Will's mouth, surrounded by slick suction and shamelessly thrusting into it, unable to stop himself. Will stills him, holding him firmly at the hips, and Skandar catches his breath, listening to the ever-quickening beat of the music all around them. It seems to be getting louder and he can't hear anything from downstairs at all, which means he would have no idea if they were seconds away from being walked in on, and the thought makes him squirm under Will's hands.
But Will isn't letting him think any further. His mouth works up and down, licking, sucking, sliding over him and bringing him closer and closer until he feels like he's about to explode. Will's tongue circles the head, teases the slit, making Skandar's body jolt and jerk with the intensity of the feeling, and then he takes him down, into his throat, slow and sure and steady. Skandar's head rolls back and he stares at the ceiling. He swears he can see sparks already. Every part of him is focused on the slick, hot feel of Will's mouth around him, Will's tight grip on his weakly shuddering hips. It's been months since they've had a chance to do this, and it feels like even longer. Feels like the first time. Skandar grabs suddenly at Will's shoulder, and Will looks up at him, shining blue eyes fixed on his face, and Skandar whimpers at the sight, twisting under the strong hold of Will's hands.
"I'm -- oh -- fuck, shit, fuck Will --"
And Will lets him go. His hips snap up and his cock slides deeper, deeper into Will's mouth, and the last thing he registers before he comes completely undone is Will's now-free hands going straight between his legs to work on his own cock.
He comes, hard, spilling down Will's throat in what feels like endless pulses, fingers pressing into Will's shoulder so hard he's scared he'll leave bruises. Everything clenches, tightens, tenses, and he squeezes his eyes shut and shivers as the feeling doesn't let up. The heat contains him, still, Will's throat swallowing and Will's tongue lapping at him until the pleasure almost hurts, and for a moment he really thinks he's going to black out, and then all of a sudden it's over and he's collapsing back bonelessly onto the bed with his heart pounding and all of the air gone from his lungs.
"Are you okay?" Will's voice asks after a moment, anxiously, and he opens his eyes blearily to see Will standing over him. "I came on your carpet. That wasn't part of the present. I'm sorry."
Skandar laughs, somewhat exhaustedly. Everything seems suddenly louder, more magnified and real. He can hear the hum of the oven downstairs, the rush of water as his Mum washes up. He supposes that at some point, the music must have stopped, but he couldn't pinpoint when for the life of him.
"Pull the rug over it," he manages to say.
Will does so, and then joins him on the bed, kissing him several times on the ear, cheek, nose, and finally lips. "Happy birthday," he says happily, nuzzling Skandar's shoulder.
"Nnngh," Skandar replies.
"I'm hungry," says Will offhandedly. "Do you think your Mum will've finished that cake by now?"
End.
It feels like FOREVER since I've written good old-fashioned Will/Skandar.
LOLOL while I was writing this, Skandar-the-kitten started playing with the keyboard and ended up asking Microsoft Word to look for synonyms of 'cock'. I LAUGHED FOR LIKE FIVE MINUTES. OMG KITTEN!SKANDAR I LOVE YOU SFM.
Title: wear you out
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Will/Skandar
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Real person slash
Summary: What did Will get Skandar for his 17th? A striptease, a lapdance, and a blowjob. Birthday porn for Skandar. XD
A/N: And also for fiere. Consider this your present! ♥ (This was supposed to involve Brazil in some way, shape or form, for inksplotched, but...it doesn't. I TRIED, BB, BUT I THINK THAT PROMPT IS GOING TO HAVE TO BE ANSWERED BY...YOU. XD)
He should probably be more disturbed than he is to find William Moseley hiding in his closet.
It gives him a shock, of course, when he pulls open the door and sees Will standing there all hunched over with various sleeves draped over his shoulders and a startled look on his face. But once his heart starts beating again, he just raises his eyebrows and says, "We do have a front door, you know. It has a doorbell and everything."
Will frowns. "I was going to jump out," he says, looking disappointed. "And sing."
"Sing?" echoes Skandar doubtfully.
"Happy birthday," Will says. Half-heartedly, in a rather tuneless voice, he adds, "Toooo youuuuu--" but Skandar puts a stop to that immediately with a hand clamped over Will's mouth.
Will continues, his voice muffled against Skandar's skin.
"You have to be quiet," Skandar hisses at him, trying to keep a straight face, and thankfully, Will obeys and shuts up. "Mum's just downstairs." He sighs. "I told you I was going to be busy all day, I told you not to come."
He moves his hand to let Will speak. "That's why I snuck in," Will says like it was a sensible option. "And I'm sure you've got some time to spare before your family meal or whatever."
"Do I want to know how long you've been in there?"
"Probably not," Will tells him. "Can I come out now?"
"Of the closet?" says Skandar with a sly smile.
"Very funny," sneers Will, stepping forwards onto the bedroom floor. He stretches. He has a coathanger attached to his belt. Skandar removes it. "So anyway," Will continues, "happy birthday! You're almost a man now."
"Almost?"
"Well, you know," Will smirks, teasing, "you're still a boy really."
Skandar shakes his head. "You're a bit of a pedo, then, if you think that way."
Will frowns.
"Shot yourself in the foot there, didn't you?" Skandar says triumphantly.
"Skandar?" his Mum calls suddenly, her voice carrying up the stairs.
"Yes! I'm alone!" Skandar yells back, and Will sniggers.
"Don't come into the kitchen," she shouts, oblivious. "I'm washing the floor."
"Okay, Mum." Skandar laughs, lowering his voice again and turning back to Will. "She says that every year. She's not washing the floor, she's making my birthday cake." He looks at Will expectantly. "Are we done here?"
"No!" cries Will. "I haven't given you your present."
"You mean you didn't get me a heart attack for my birthday?" Skandar asks, feigning shock. "Because it really seemed like you did."
Will prods him in the shoulder. "Shut up," he says fondly. "It's--"
"Keep your voice down," Skandar interrupts, kicking the bedroom door shut. "If Mum hears you, this is going to be very hard to explain."
Will rolls his eyes. He suddenly reaches down to his trousers and for a second Skandar thinks he's pulling out a present, and is disappointed that whatever-it-is is small enough to fit into the pocket of Will's tight jeans, but then he sees that it's an iPod. Will's iPod.
He crosses the room to Skandar's speakers and fiddles around for a moment with wires, and then suddenly a song begins loudly, something Skandar doesn't recognise. It has a slow, low beat, and he frowns. "What are you doing?"
"She can't hear us now," Will shrugs. Then, inexplicably, he adds, "Sit down."
"What?"
"Sit down," Will repeats. "On the bed."
Skandar looks at him suspiciously. "Why?" he asks, staying firmly where he is.
Will ignores the question. He leans over to the speakers again and turns up the volume, then shrugs off his blazer onto the floor. His shoes follow -- he removes them casually and tosses them aside along with his socks. Skandar stares at the discarded items of clothing for a moment, puzzled, and it's only when he looks back up again that he realises that Will is moving. Only slightly, gently, rocking to the persistant beat of the music. But he's definitely moving, and Skandar becomes slightly concerned.
"If you're going to dance," he says, "I'll laugh."
"Hmm," is all Will responds with. He comes closer, hips swaying, and Skandar just raises his eyebrows at him doubtfully. "Hmm," says Will again. He's up close now, his tall slim frame pressed against Skandar's body, and his hips are still moving. Skandar can feel his doubtful expression beginning to wane.
Will leans in and Skandar tilts his head expectantly, eyes falling closed. He can feel Will's warm breath, and a lock of hair tickling his face, but then suddenly it's all gone and his eyes snap open again. Will is standing before him, grinning. His hips rock gently from side to side and he trails a hand over his chest and stomach, smoothing the rumpled fabric of his shirt. Skandar frowns. He really should be laughing, because Will really should look ridiculous doing this, but somehow, somehow he just doesn't.
Will is grinning, still, fingers now toying with the buttons at the top of his shirt. He undoes them frustratingly slowly, going along with the beat of the music, his hips still rolling. Since when did Will have rhythm, Skandar wonders, transfixed, unable to take his eyes away from each subtle movement of muscle. Will turns his back to Skandar, letting his half-unbuttoned shirt slide down off his shoulders. The beat of the music quickens and Will raises his arms, tosses his head.
It should be funny. He should look stupid. Skandar knows that Will goes to clubs sometimes, but he's always declined the invitation to join him. He just couldn't imagine himself enjoying the experience, though sometimes he was tempted to go along just to make fun of Will's dancing. And now -- well, now he can imagine it, imagine Will in amongst a group of hot, writhing bodies, sweat darkening the ends of his hair and heat flushing his cheeks as the music guides his movements. And...suddenly, it's nothing to make fun of.
Will shifts, dips, turns back around, his shirt fully undone now, exposing his tan chest and stomach. He grabs the fabric, pulling the shirt off. Skandar watches as his stomach muscles hollow, stretch, and he feels his jeans starting to tighten already. He breathes in sharply as Will's shirt falls to the floor with a rustle, and stares when Will's fingers go immediately to his belt, fingers tracing the large buckle. They can't do this here, now, with his Mum baking downstairs. It's clearly insane, and possibly the most risky thing in the world. He opens his mouth to say so, but then Will unbuckles his belt and slides it slowly out of its loops, pulling it out to his side, and it's the most sexual thing Skandar's seen all month. He swears under his breath and hardly hears his own voice.
Will approaches, grinning again and biting his lip, and Skandar feels himself being pushed down onto the bed. He shifts uncomfortably, his trousers feeling even tighter now. Will leans down and Skandar instinctively tilts his head up and back to look at him, but Will's lips only graze over his, wet and warm in a kiss that barely deserves the title. A large hand spreads across his crotch for the briefest moment and then Will straightens up again, hooking his thumbs into his jeans, pushing them between fabric and skin.
Skandar sits up, on the edge of the bed. He can see the clear ridge of a bulge beneath the fabric of Will's jeans now, and he tenses up, his own cock stiffening in response. He watches as Will's body twists slowly, turning as if he has all the time in the world. The jeans pull low, and Skandar hears the jerk of a zip being tugged down. No boxers. A glimpse of smooth, round arse, and then Will turns back to him, his fingers spread and sliding down over smooth hips. He pushes his jeans down further, wriggling out of the tight fabric. Skandar catches sight of a dusting of brown hair, and a glimpse of glistening hard cock, and then Will bends and folds, pulling his jeans down to his ankles and obscuring Skandar's view. This is the longest undressing ever, Skandar thinks frustratedly, straining against his own trousers.
Finally, Will is done, crumpling the jeans into a ball and chucking them aside. He runs his hands up his thighs, bringing them in to frame his cock where it juts thick and hard between them. He shakes his fringe out of his eyes and takes a couple of steps closer, dropping suddenly to his knees and prying Skandar's legs apart.
"Oh, God," Skandar murmurs, legs falling open. Please, he thinks. Just the sight of Will crouched there in front of him makes his cock ache painfully, and the thought of Will taking it between his soft shiny lips and sucking it down is almost too much.
Will strokes at the seam of Skandar's jeans, fingers pressing against the long line of zip, and Skandar arches into the touch, a low groan escaping his lips. Please, he thinks desperately, hands gripping the side of the bed tightly. Finally Will undoes the button and slides down the zipper, dragging the jeans down and off Skandar's long legs. Skandar sighs gratefully. Will smiles up at him, fingers travelling teasingly up along his shins, knees, thighs. The music is climbing, building, and Will's fingers finally brush the fabric of Skandar's boxers and Skandar throws back his head and waits for relief.
But Will doesn't make any move to undress him further. Instead, he stands, over Skandar, one foot placed firmly on either side of the 'V' that Skandar's bent and open legs make. He lowers himself, until he's almost sitting on Skandar's lap, straddling him, and Skandar feels the breath catch in his throat. Will, eyes focused downward, moves gently back and forth, his arse touching Skandar first, the hot skin a shock against Skandar's thighs and knees. And then he feels the hard line of Will's cock against his, through the thin fabric of his boxers. He moans, hands snapping up off the bed almost automatically, one of them going towards his crotch. Will makes a sharp tut sound and grasps Skandar's wrists tightly, pushing his hands back down by his sides.
Skandar glowers, but Will seems oblivious, moving faster now, rubbing his erection against Skandar, rumpling the fabric beneath him. Skandar feels it alongside his cock, feels the hot stroke and slide of it, the precome leaking through the fabric. He stares up at Will, watching the way he bites his lip in concentration as he brings himself quickly back and forth. It's not even really a lapdance, he realises resentfully. Will's just bringing himself off. And it feels good, but the friction isn't enough for him and he wants Will to stop messing around and really do something. He's got a mouth and two hands that are completely unoccupied, and after all, it is Skandar's birthday.
But Will just slows down, rocking gently against him, then moves his hips in a lazy circle, making Skandar groan and dig his fingernails into the wood of the bed. Okay, he thinks, this is more like a lapdance. Their eyes meet and Will grins, proud, leaning in to join their lips. Skandar half-expects him to pull away again but he doesn't -- it's a proper kiss this time. Their lips slide and part, and tongues touch as the music slows and quietens as if giving their kiss the atmosphere it deserves.
And that's when a loud clatter and clang of metal comes from downstairs, and Will and Skandar jerk apart, eyes darting wildly to the bedroom door.
"Fuck, I forgot she was even--" Skandar starts, his breathing heavy.
"She will've just dropped a baking tray or something," Will says hurriedly, and Skandar doesn't say anything, worried. Maybe they really shouldn't do this. Maybe he should get Will to leave. Maybe--
Will grabs a fistful of Skandar's t-shirt and pulls him forwards, smashing their mouths together forcefully and pressing down against him, his hard cock pushing and sliding against Skandar's, causing Skandar to groan into Will's mouth. Okay, fuck stopping, he thinks, grabbing Will by the back of his head and taking control of the kiss. He needs to get off. Now.
"Will, touch me," he pants out against Will's mouth, their lips wet against each other.
"I am touching you," Will smiles, and Skandar growls frustratedly, bucking up against him, but before he says anything else Will relents, sympathetically murmuring, "I know, I know."
He slides off him in one smooth movement and yanks off Skandar's boxers quickly. Skandar sucks in a breath at the shock of the cool air against the heat of his aching erection, and then another at the sudden, slick-hot feeling of skin on skin as Will returns to his previous position.
"Fuck," Skandar spits out as Will, breathing shakily, wraps a strong sure hand around both of their cocks together and brings it swiftly up and down. "Fuck," he says again, louder.
"Shh," Will breathes against his ear, leaning in, twisting his wrist and grasping tighter, making Skandar muffle a groan into the crook of Will's sweaty shoulder.
"But -- fuck," Skandar moans helplessly a second later, as Will spits into his hand and curls his slippery fingers back around them, pulling and sliding and making Skandar feel lightheaded. A familiar feeling accelerates inside him and the music throbs in his brain, and he grips Will's hip, choking out, "Ungh, Will, I'm--"
"Nono," Will pants, hand disappearing abruptly. His voice is hoarse, quiet. "I want to suck you."
All Skandar can manage in response to this is a vaguely embarrassing, drawn-out groan, as Will sinks down onto the floor before him and steadies a tight fist at the base of his cock. His lips are pursed, hot and smooth, at the tip of Skandar's erection, and Skandar's hips lift up almost of their own accord and then he's in, in Will's mouth, surrounded by slick suction and shamelessly thrusting into it, unable to stop himself. Will stills him, holding him firmly at the hips, and Skandar catches his breath, listening to the ever-quickening beat of the music all around them. It seems to be getting louder and he can't hear anything from downstairs at all, which means he would have no idea if they were seconds away from being walked in on, and the thought makes him squirm under Will's hands.
But Will isn't letting him think any further. His mouth works up and down, licking, sucking, sliding over him and bringing him closer and closer until he feels like he's about to explode. Will's tongue circles the head, teases the slit, making Skandar's body jolt and jerk with the intensity of the feeling, and then he takes him down, into his throat, slow and sure and steady. Skandar's head rolls back and he stares at the ceiling. He swears he can see sparks already. Every part of him is focused on the slick, hot feel of Will's mouth around him, Will's tight grip on his weakly shuddering hips. It's been months since they've had a chance to do this, and it feels like even longer. Feels like the first time. Skandar grabs suddenly at Will's shoulder, and Will looks up at him, shining blue eyes fixed on his face, and Skandar whimpers at the sight, twisting under the strong hold of Will's hands.
"I'm -- oh -- fuck, shit, fuck Will --"
And Will lets him go. His hips snap up and his cock slides deeper, deeper into Will's mouth, and the last thing he registers before he comes completely undone is Will's now-free hands going straight between his legs to work on his own cock.
He comes, hard, spilling down Will's throat in what feels like endless pulses, fingers pressing into Will's shoulder so hard he's scared he'll leave bruises. Everything clenches, tightens, tenses, and he squeezes his eyes shut and shivers as the feeling doesn't let up. The heat contains him, still, Will's throat swallowing and Will's tongue lapping at him until the pleasure almost hurts, and for a moment he really thinks he's going to black out, and then all of a sudden it's over and he's collapsing back bonelessly onto the bed with his heart pounding and all of the air gone from his lungs.
"Are you okay?" Will's voice asks after a moment, anxiously, and he opens his eyes blearily to see Will standing over him. "I came on your carpet. That wasn't part of the present. I'm sorry."
Skandar laughs, somewhat exhaustedly. Everything seems suddenly louder, more magnified and real. He can hear the hum of the oven downstairs, the rush of water as his Mum washes up. He supposes that at some point, the music must have stopped, but he couldn't pinpoint when for the life of him.
"Pull the rug over it," he manages to say.
Will does so, and then joins him on the bed, kissing him several times on the ear, cheek, nose, and finally lips. "Happy birthday," he says happily, nuzzling Skandar's shoulder.
"Nnngh," Skandar replies.
"I'm hungry," says Will offhandedly. "Do you think your Mum will've finished that cake by now?"
End.