Archive of Our Own

"William?"

Ethan knows who the guy has to be as soon as he hears him call to Will, even before Will tenses up ever so slightly.

"Marcus," Will answers, a split-second more slowly than he would have responded ordinarily. Ethan doesn't think the guy notices, but he knows Will is going to know that he did, so he makes sure to keep his body language relaxed and open. Will slants him one quick glance, to which Ethan replies with the slightest arch of an eyebrow. Will shakes his head infinitesimally, a clear Behave, and Ethan suppresses almost all of the automatic smirk that wants to come out in response, enough that Will gets the message that he'll play nice with the ex. At least while they're in public. Probably.

"It's been how long?" Marcus is saying, completely oblivious to the conversation Will is having with Ethan, which gives Ethan entirely more satisfaction than it should.

"Three years," Will answers, without any outward signs of ill-ease, but not much personality either. "No--closer to four." He's polite, Ethan thinks. Reserved. Quiet enough that had Jane been waiting to be seated with them, she'd have been all over Ethan for whatever he'd done to send Will into that kind of a mood. Marcus doesn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary; it occurs to Ethan that this was how Will had been at first, before the team had all clicked, before he and Ethan had edged their way into this something more. Ethan had assumed it was just the growing pains of a new team, everyone holding a little back until they could see how things were going to fit--or if they were going to fit--but now he wonders if there hadn't been more to it on Will's part.

"You look good," Marcus says, and Ethan comes a little bit on point at that, a reflexive narrowing of his eyes that, fine, could be termed territorial. Possessive, even. Will is probably going to give him shit about it endlessly, but Ethan can live with that.

"You, too," Will answers, again politely, and again, nothing like the sarcastic smart-mouth who never lets Ethan get two sentences out of his mouth without an eye roll to accompany his response. Will turns to introduce Ethan, which at least lets Ethan meet the other guy's eyes, size him up more openly. He's a few years older than Ethan, well-mannered, expensively tended to. His hair is silver at his temples; his hands manicured but not soft, as though he works with them for pleasure but makes sure they're taken care of on a weekly basis. He's a little too formally dressed for a late Sunday lunch in Georgetown, but not obviously so, and actually fits the general demographic much better than Ethan in his jeans and boots. If Ethan is being honest, he's something of a surprise. Will has never spoken much about the relationship, but Ethan has formed the impression of someone less... settled, for lack of a better word. Less a part of the DC establishment.

The conversation moves along relatively smoothly--brief exchanges about local issues, a few mentions of mutual friends, vague allusions on Will's part to travel and the job--but for someone Ethan knows can pack an entire rant on the technical inviability of whatever plan Ethan might have just laid out into a single arch of an eyebrow, Will is only barely skimming along the surface. And again, Marcus seems to think nothing of it. He's clearly happy to see Will and have the chance to talk with him.

Ethan privately admits there's nothing in the other man's attitude that should be setting him off--no sly innuendo, no subtle posturing at Ethan--but the longer the conversation goes on, the more it sets Ethan's teeth on edge. Fortunately, their table comes ready and they can make their excuses.

"So," Ethan says, once the waiter has clued in that they don't need a few minutes to look over the menu, and that yes, really, he can dispense with the ten minute recitation of the day's specials and just put in an order for a couple of steaks.

"So," Will answers unhelpfully. He meets Ethan's eyes easily, though, not quite rolling his eyes as Ethan studies him, but coming close enough that Ethan can't help grinning at him. "God," Will sighs. "What?"

"Nothing," Ethan answers, still smiling, but actually fairly serious. "I'm just fitting the pieces together. Or trying to."

"It's not all that complicated," Will says, shrugging. "We were together until I fucked him over and then we weren't."

"Yeah," Ethan says. "The thing is, he doesn't really act like you fucked him over and you've been known to take on a little more than your share--"

"Ethan," Will says flatly. "Don't. He's not the bad guy here."

"I never said he was," Ethan says. "I'm not the one saying there's any bad guy in the situation." Will's mouth tightens, but he doesn't say anything, so Ethan continues, "I admit I was picturing someone younger--"

"What can I say?" Will leans back, that half-smile slipping out for a split second. "I like them a little... old.er."

"Thank you," Ethan says dryly. Neither one of them gives a shit about that kind of thing, but a good age-related crack is always worth a point or two in the daily snark. It's also a classic diversionary tactic that Ethan has no intention of falling for. "I did actually have a point, which was I usually thought younger because he walked pretty damn quickly after you got back from Croatia."

"Not really," Will says.

They'd had maybe two oblique, glancing conversations about the topic while they were first trying to fit themselves into something more than team members, just enough that Ethan had been able to put together an admittedly sketchy outline, enough to satisfy that part of his brain that always has to know.

"So you say." They tend to dance around their pasts--Ethan is just as guilty of it as Will--easing forward and pulling back, a slow process even if it is almost always for a net gain. Ethan can't say exactly why he's pushing this time, only that it feels necessary this day. "I've seen you in a lot of... less than ideal scenarios, but I don't think I've ever seen you go that internal that quickly."

He half-expects Will to challenge him, but Will only smiles--or rather, twists his lips in what's more of a parody of one. "Yeah," he says quietly. "I--seriously, Ethan, I know you think you know what was going on, but me shutting down was about as good as it got for a long time, and when it--when I was bad, it was..."

"Bad," Ethan finishes for him.

"Ugly," Will says in a dull, flat tone, not looking away until Ethan nods once in acknowledgement. He knows ugly and too many of its permutations and so does Will. It seems important to Will that Ethan not dismiss Will's evaluation, but rather accept it at face value and not try to make excuses Will doesn't want, so Ethan will let it go, at least for now. Will leans back and sighs, "It's not on him that he left, Ethan."

"I don't know that he would agree with you," Ethan says slowly, because yeah, he's feeling his way through this, but once he says it he's even more sure of it. It isn't what Will is expecting, though, and it throws him enough that he doesn't automatically push back, not immediately.

"You're hardly a disinterested party," Will finally says.

"No," Ethan admits. "I'm not." He reaches across the table deliberately and runs the pad of his thumb across Will's knuckles, left and then back to the right. "I'm not really interested in scenarios where he's the good guy, though, so it's not like I'm making this shit up. I don't want to argue, but if we were here on a job and trying to assess the situation before we went in--I'd fight you to the end on that read."

"What are you--” Will doesn't pull away, but Ethan can feel the tension in the muscles and tendons under his hand. "Why do you even care? It was over a long time ago."

"I don't know." Ethan keeps his eyes on their hands and the patterns he's tracing. "Maybe I'm just trying to balance out the part of me that's goddamned thrilled that he has no idea what he walked away from, even now. Because I do know." He looks up at Will then and adds, very quietly, "His loss, my win, game-fucking-over."

Ethan can't look away from Will, from how his eyes have gone dark and serious, from how he's not looking away from Ethan, not trying to hide or deflect or throw up any of the other roadblocks they've both had ingrained in them. Ethan can barely breathe at everything he sees but he can't do anything but give Will everything right back.

"Competitive freak," Will finally says, almost light and easy, but with with an underlying unsteadiness that matches what Ethan's feeling, too. He finds a smile somewhere, and the tension eases out of Will--out of both of them really. Will finally moves, but only to slide his fingers between Ethan's while he sits back in his chair. "I think we've got the world's most tactful waiter, but he's starting to look a little desperate on behalf of the steaks."

Ethan looks up at that, and sure enough, their waiter swoops in with fresh drinks and their food, and the day returns to normalcy, at least on the surface. If they're touching more than usual, or ignoring the world a little more thoroughly in favor of each other, no one is really going to notice. Will works his way through the Sunday Times (New York and London) and the World section of the Post on his tablet, while Ethan sits back and watches the Potomac flow by outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the restaurant. Ethan generally loses patience for the sitting-and-watching part of any scenario within a few minutes, but it's been awhile since they've had any downtime of note, enough that he barely even sketches anything in the Moleskine Will pushes across the table to him.

The lunch crowd has long since faded and the dinner rush is starting when they finally stand up. Ethan thinks Will leaves close to triple the check in cash on the table, which at least means they didn't totally screw over the waitstaff with how their existential relationship crisis and recovery period kept them from turning the table. The early spring sun is already low in the sky and casting long shadows along the streets, but is still bright enough that Ethan knows Will won't fail to miss the long, assessing look Ethan's giving him, taking in the close fit of his favorite sweater, black cashmere and perfectly cut to showcase the body beneath it. When Will arches a single eyebrow at him, Ethan lets himself smile.

"I was just thinking that Marcus and I did agree on one point," Ethan says. He's been neck-deep in inter-agency BS lately, enough that he's been more-or-less living out of a hotel room outside of Langley, making his way to Will's place no more than one night out of three. It's an odd combination of day-to-day life and not actually seeing enough of each other, so that days like today, when they're just together, stand out in sharp relief. "You do look good."

"Borrowing compliments from the ex," Will says dryly. "Very smooth." Ethan ignores the tone and returns the amusement that's dancing behind Will's eyes, because that's the part that's real, and it might have taken them a ridiculously long time to figure that out, but it's the best part now that they know. "So," Will continues, as they stop at the corner to let the light change. He's staring thoughtfully toward the facades of the high-end hotels that line both sides of M Street. "The question is whether having to leave a wake-up call for four tomorrow morning so you can make it back to Langley in time to shower and change is worth being naked and fucking in a room at the Four Seasons in less than ten minutes." He says it in such a calm, conversational tone that it takes a second or two for his words to actually make sense to Ethan. "The alternative is, say, twenty minutes back up to the apartment, but you have a change of clothes there so the morning has the potential for more than traffic."

He looks at Ethan as though he's actually expecting not to have taken Ethan's entire conscious brain off-line with the insane conversation. A cab pulls up at the light right then, the driver making eye contact with Ethan, which settles the question nicely. "Apartment," Ethan says, gesturing for Will to open the door and get in. "We fuck in too many hotels."

"That we do," Will answers. As he gets into the cab, the lopsided smile he aims at Ethan makes Ethan think that he could have added the part about how he wanted Will at home. He'd bitten it back because as much time as he spends at Will's apartment, it's not technically Ethan's home. That smile--it's something to think about, but later, not now, not while Will is sprawled out in the cab next to Ethan, relaxed and careless in a way he almost never is. Now is the time to lean into him and let the silence and anticipation build, so that by the time they're home, Ethan dropping cash into the cabbie's hand, Will keying the security code in the lobby door and making quick work of the deadbolt and alarm code on his own front door, they're both so ready for more that just the brush of Ethan's fingers across the back of Will's hand leaves them breathless.

"What do you want?" Ethan holds himself very, very still, because once he starts touching Will he's not going to be able to stop. He doesn't actually think that's going to be a problem, but it's already been a rollercoaster of a day; he doesn't want to send them off in the wrong direction just because he couldn't take five seconds to be sure.

Will stays half-turned away even after he flips the deadbolt and re-sets the alarm, careful as always. Ethan has seen him take the same precautions half-dead from exhaustion; nothing will ever make him lose details like that, but his voice is uneven and rough and punches every button Ethan has. "I want to get on my hands and knees for you--" He breaks off with a sharp intake of breath as Ethan loses the no-touching battle and gets a hand on the back of Will's neck, fingers digging hard into the strong, corded muscle that curves into his shoulders. "Want you to fuck me so hard I'll feel you for days--"

One day, Ethan knows he wants to listen to Will when he's like this: when he wants something from Ethan so much that he doesn't care how needy or desperate he sounds. Ethan wants to see how long they can make it last, how much Will can take, how much Ethan can take himself, but since he's already dragging Will around into a brutal kiss, pulling him back roughly, not letting either of them up for air until spots are dancing behind his eyelids and low, helpless noises are spilling out of Will's throat, holding out for more wouldn't appear to be in the plan today.

"Now," Will is gasping. "Now, Ethan," and Ethan would normally be doing exactly that, would ordinarily have Will down and be fucking him in seconds. Will asking for it that way makes them both crazy, but as much as Ethan likes it, it's not even close to everything he wants today. He crowds Will back against the wall and kisses him again, harder than he intended, but Will moves so easily for him that Ethan can't help pushing him a little, seeing how far he can go, until they're both breathless and shaking again. Ethan stops and starts twice more, the quiet, desperate sounds Will makes every time Ethan eases away pulling him back in for more. Will doesn't let him go even when Ethan finally does manage to back off enough to let them breathe, only tips his head back, a wordless invitation for Ethan. Will's hands dig hard into Ethan's hips and he moans almost soundlessly, little more than vibrations against Ethan's mouth as he bites a path under Will's jaw.

"Take this off," Ethan says against Will's throat, his hands sliding up along Will's back, the cashmere of his sweater light and warm and soft against Ethan's skin. He pulls away just long enough for Will to yank the sweater up over his head, then drops his head down to trace his tongue over the newly-bared skin. "These, too," Ethan adds, teasing his fingers along the smooth, light wool and the buttery soft leather of the slacks and belt Will's wearing.

"Yeah," Will says hoarsely, toeing out of his loafers and making quick work of his belt and zipper. He swallows hard once he's done, his clothes in a pile next to him. "You?" he asks, and Ethan hears the edge in his voice. It's the smallest of tells, one that's taken Ethan far longer than he would have expected to decode. He knows it now, knows what Will is asking, what he wants, and not only knows but is more than happy to give it to him.

"Later," Ethan tells him and watches while Will processes that, lets it settle into both of them that Will is there naked, waiting for Ethan. It's what Will wants sometimes, even if it scares the shit out of him to let go like that. Ethan never forgets either side of that equation, and he never doesn't stop to remind himself how lucky he is to have that level of trust or how easily he could fuck it up if he doesn't pay attention.

"Ethan," Will breathes, gathering himself as though he's about to move. Ethan shakes his head once, waiting until Will subsides before trailing the backs of his fingers along Will's collarbone, down the center of his chest. It's the lightest of touches, but Will's eyes darken more, and he's breathing unevenly long before Ethan angles the path of his fingers to skim carelessly across a hip and then down, following the ligaments that arrow inward. He lets his fingers trace the base of Will's cock with the same light touch and smiles when Will can't quite choke back a small, needy whimper. "More--"

"Are you sure?" Ethan murmurs. "Are you?" He keeps his voice calm, as if that low noise hadn't set his own blood on fire, as if he isn't holding onto his own control by the slimmest of margins.

"Please--" Will drops his head back against the wall, but doesn't close his eyes; Ethan can't tear his own eyes away from the want and need he sees. He has a vague thought to tease them both more, but this isn't the time for it. Instead, he drags his nails the length of Will's cock, slowly increasing the pressure he uses so that what was light scratching at the base is right up to the edge of what he knows Will can take by the time he rakes his nails over the head.

"I--" Will gasps. "Let me--I want--" He grabs on hard to Ethan's biceps, but doesn't try to stop Ethan or pull away from him, so Ethan doesn't back off, just keeps pushing Will a little deeper into that headspace, keeps pushing until Will is almost biting through his bottom lip in the effort to stay there with Ethan and everything Ethan is giving him.

"Easy," Ethan finally says. He wraps his hands around Will's cock and strokes it slowly, draws Will down from the edge. "I've got you, easy now." Will groans softly, shaking his head, but bit by bit, the tension eases out of his muscles. Ethan can't help leaning in to lick over his abused bottom lip. None of Will's bites had broken the skin, but it's still hot and swollen and tender enough that Will's breath catches when Ethan scrapes his own teeth across it. "This--" Ethan flicks his thumb nail across the head of Will's cock; Will hisses in something that's not quite pain, but not quite not, if Ethan's reading him right. "This isn't what you wanted," Ethan continues, returning to the slow, careful stroking. "Remember?"

"Yeah," Will says, through gritted teeth. "Not really caring right now, though." He sounds impressively annoyed, but he could be pushing into Ethan's strokes, taking control back that way, but he's not and they both know it. Ethan grins at him and relaxes his grip even more. Will thumps his head back against the wall and mutters insults but still doesn't do anything but take what Ethan's giving him.

"I'll make it up to you," Ethan says, backing further into the apartment. He tightens his hand around Will's cock at the same time and it's possibly the hottest thing he's ever seen, Will following along, allowing Ethan to lead him toward the bedroom. A flush crawls down his body and he's shaking before they've gone more than a few steps, a fine, almost imperceptible trembling, equal parts arousal and embarrassment that hits triggers Ethan had forgotten he had. Watching him, Ethan has to remind himself to breathe and every step makes him more and more aware of how turned on he is himself, his own cock hard and aching without having been touched.

"Look at you," Ethan says as they maneuver into the hallway. "Jesus, you have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are, letting me do this, lead you around by your dick." He's babbling, he knows that, but he doesn't give a rat's ass. Will is shaking hard by the time they get to the bedroom, every breath rasping in and out of his chest as though it might be his last, but his eyes are still on Ethan and he's not stopping anything, and Ethan... Ethan can't get enough of him, of knowing he trusts Ethan to know where the line is and how close they can get to it. It's better than the best adrenaline rush, better than the best anything and Ethan swears to himself one more time that he won't fuck it up.

"Here," he says as they take the last few steps inside the room. "You said you wanted to get on your hands and knees for me--I want you to do it here." He nods toward the floor-to-ceiling mirror on the closet door. "I'll fuck you however you want, however hard you want, but I want to see you while I do it."

Will draws in a long, shuddering breath and leans closer so he can kiss Ethan, surprisingly sweetly for all that Ethan still has his hand wrapped around Will's cock and they're both barely standing. Ethan kisses him back and they breathe together for a little longer after that, but then Will says, "Condoms are in the bathroo--"

"I'm thinking, no," Ethan says, the words slipping out before he can stop them, possessive and dark. Will goes still against him for a second before he nods, jerky and uneven, and Ethan can breathe again.

"Okay," Will answers hoarsely, and Ethan makes himself let go and take a step back. Will looks at him, his eyes dark and wanting, and then folds down to his knees, looking away only when he turns toward the mirror. He finds Ethan's eyes in it, though, relaxing as soon as he does, as though Ethan is a touchstone, necessary. Ethan still isn't sure what he's done to deserve that trust, but he takes it and folds it down deep inside him and sets about living up to it.

He circles around Will, letting his eyes roam freely, drinking in the lines of his back and shoulders, the strength of his arms and thighs, everything there, all for Ethan, waiting for him. Will shifts restlessly, but quiets when Ethan steps closer and uses the toe of his boot to nudge Will's thighs further apart. In the silence of the room it's easy to hear every tiny sound, the stuttering in-and-out of each of their breaths, the creak of hardwoods when Will leans forward or back, the slide of leather on denim as Ethan loosens his belt and settles behind Will.

Ethan ghosts his fingers along Will's spine, following the dips and curves as Will arches back into him, taken in, as always, by the strength and grace anchored there. Some days Will wants to draw it out, wants Ethan to finger him until he's a sweaty, shaking mess; other days he barely lets Ethan open him up at all. Going on everything that's happened so far, Ethan thinks today is the rarest of days: one where Will wants Ethan to tell him what he's going to get.

Ethan leans forward and lets Will pull two of his fingers into his mouth, all but purring at the feel of Will's tongue swirling around them. There's enough light from the setting sun spilling in through the half-opened blinds that Ethan can see everything in the mirror, his fingers fucking in and out of Will's mouth, Will's eyes finding his in the mirror and never looking away. It's mesmerizing, seeing and feeling and knowing Will is watching him at the same time, but there's more that he wants, more that Will wants, so Ethan only indulges himself for a few minutes before he slides his fingers free and starts working Will open with them.

"I see you," Ethan murmurs, adding a third finger and smiling at the way Will arches up into him even as his breath hisses in. On any other day, Ethan would slow down, let Will get used to the stretch; today, he goes in harder, deeper, pushes Will to take it and know there's more still to come. "I see you," Ethan repeats, suddenly not sure which of them he's saying it for, which of them needs grounding more.

"Yeah," Will says, only barely louder than a breath. "See--see you, too." His voice cracks and shivers with every shift of Ethan's fingers inside him, but his eyes are steady and unwavering. Ethan couldn't look away even if he wanted to. He curves his fingers and watches Will's face go slack with pleasure, and then does it again, and then once more, so that every breath Will takes catches hard in his chest and his arms are shaking as they hold him up.

"So fucking gorgeous." Ethan leans down and tastes his way across the salt-damp skin at the base of Will's neck, bites at the strong curve of his shoulder. Will makes a helpless noise with every bite--they're harder than Ethan intended; he should care, but he's only barely clinging to any kind of control--but he's deep in that headspace he goes to sometimes and doesn't try to move or even ask for it to stop, only shudders against Ethan and never ever looks away.

Will likes it rough; he keens low in his throat when Ethan starts fucking him with nothing more than spit and pre-come. Ethan starts out slow, but deep and hard, his fingers digging into Will's hips, holding him high, exactly how Ethan wants him. He knows that's what he's doing and he knows Will knows it, too. It's good for Will, but that's purely incidental and it's turning them both inside out. They've done this before, Will taking what Ethan says he can have, but this is more, different. Before, it had been crazy-hot but a game, something they tried on and played with and then put back when they were through. This doesn't feel like that, as though everything that happened during the day has stripped off that layer of pretend and left them here, alone together.

Will's arms finally give out on him and he drops down to his elbows, but he keeps his head up and lets Ethan have what he wants. Ethan can't tear his eyes away from Will's face, how Will is letting him see everything. Ethan knows how rare a gift that is, how closely Will holds himself, and can't give anything less in return.

Will is shaking against him, strung tight but still willing to take what Ethan gives him. Ethan tightens his grip on Will's hips and draws it out as long as he can, Will pushing into the bruises Ethan's leaving, asking without words for again and harder and Ethan wants to stay in this place, on this edge of knowing and feeling and needing. Will is desperate, though, his eyes wild and every breath a sob, and more than anything, Ethan wants--needs--to give him everything he wants.

"Go," Ethan grits out, and it's somewhere between an order and a plea, because Ethan needs this almost as much as Will. "Go." Will comes with a hoarse, jagged cry, drawing Ethan impossibly deeper into him, so good, so right that Ethan would fear losing himself except that it's Will and there's no one he trusts more. His body curls down over Will, skin to skin, pressing them together so that every heartbeat, every breath is echoed and magnified.

"More, please, more," Ethan hears himself telling Will in a hoarse, uneven voice that he barely recognizes as his own. He doesn't know what he's asking for, but it doesn't take much to realize he's desperate for it.

Will hears it, too, but he understands. He turns his head enough that he can brush his mouth across Ethan's. "Yours," he says, his voice just as quiet as Ethan's. "Yours."

Everything around Ethan shudders to a halt, just for a second, no breath, no heartbeat, nothing to interfere with that one word, but then it settles into Ethan. He isn't sure how Will knew, but maybe from everything Ethan's seeing in Will's eyes, he knew because it's the same for him, too.

"Yeah." Ethan presses his mouth to Will's skin, his jaw, his temple, the arch of a cheekbone--wherever he can reach. "Yes."

Will's breath sighs out and he presses back into Ethan, and they stay there on the floor until their hearts settle and it doesn't hurt to breathe. Ethan can't help hissing as he slides free; Will's breath hitches in and he shivers once as he eases down to the floor, crossing his arms and resting his forehead on them. Ethan means to get him up and moving, but Will grumbles into his arms as soon as Ethan touches his shoulder, so Ethan rolls onto his back next to him and lets him be for the moment.

The sun is long since down when Will finally stirs, rolling his shoulders and turning his head. His eyes flicker over Ethan, and if he looks a little self-satisfied at seeing that Ethan actually never did get out of his clothes Ethan isn't going to call him on it.

"Shower?" Will says eventually, less suggesting than organizing. Ethan groans at the thought of moving now, after half his body has given up and stiffened into place, but Will's rolling to his feet, muscles flexing and extending smoothly, and there's no way Ethan's missing out on the opportunity to indulge in more of that. The shower isn't really built for two--the downside of pre-World-War-II construction--but it's not much of a concern. Ethan ends up backing Will into a corner and taking his time tasting as much of Will as he can. Will settles in and returns the favor, and it's lazy and easy in a way that doesn't often happen.

The mood carries over to the rest of the night even with both of them having to power through countless pages and charts and research. Will produces tibs and wat and injera from somewhere for dinner and Ethan vaguely notices one of their myriad blues playlists whenever he surfaces from the work stuff. He finishes up long after Will has called it for the night and is a hundred pages into the latest spy thriller he's reading for laughs.

"The sad thing," Will says, the laugh lines around his eyes deepening, "the sad thing is that I'm not seeing anything you'd say no to."

"Nice," Ethan answers automatically. "Highest closure rate in three agencies and all I get is grief from my partner."

Will snorts and heads into the kitchen to set up the coffeemaker for the morning. He's picky as hell about his French press and fresh ground beans the rest of the day, but it's all about speed and availability first thing in the morning.

"One day, I'm going to switch that out for Maxwell House," Ethan says, lounging against the door frame. "See how long it takes you to notice."

"Your consideration and thoughtfulness are unsurpassed," Will answers dryly.

"My strengths lie elsewhere," Ethan says, not really meaning anything by it, at least not until Will looks at him and smiles slowly.

"That they do," Will says, crowding close and kissing Ethan, careful and unhurried, and that low, whispered yours echoes in Ethan's head. Will backs him across the apartment and into the bed and the whisper settles into a low hum of satisfaction. Twice during the night, Ethan wakes to Will breathing into the curve of his shoulder, and in the morning, Ethan waits until the sun is fully up before he takes Will up on his sleepy, mumbled, "Again," so that he can find every mark he'd left the night before. He touches each one, bruises from his mouth and hands, and feels Will shiver against him. They fuck again without a condom and with barely any lube; Ethan isn't rough, but he isn't trying to be especially gentle either. Will reaches behind himself to pull Ethan closer, his hands digging bruises of his own into Ethan's thigh and hip and they come gasping each other's name.

There's no time for long showers and Will barely manages get his tie on without strangling himself, but he pins Ethan against the wall in the kitchen while they're waiting for the coffee to finish brewing and whatever else happens during the week, Ethan knows it couldn't have started better.