Din's pr0n prelude 3
Right! Obviously, I can only write dirty stuff when it's 3.00AM and I have labs tomorrow. And it's not even dirty but I have to sleep, dammit.
Still PG-13. Fuck. And I have +3000 words, how the hell can they not be having sex yet? *sighs*
Prompt: Suspense build-up. Can you write a credible sex scene you wouldn't be ashamed of submitting to your teacher?
Will isn’t exactly sure what he’s doing. No, this isn’t entirely correct. He is currently trudging through campus, and fending off the many people waving him over enthusiastically. Or, in the case of Kaesha and her cheerleading friends, openly leering at him. Ugh, he can’t not stop, the girls do cheer at their every game. Will swears that if it weren’t for them winning, people would still turn up, if only for the cheerleaders’ skimpy outfits.
“Will, honey.”
“Kaesha, Laura. And…”
“Em and N’Gozi,” the newcomers simper. “Will, captain of the basketball team, right?” Their eyelashes flutter enough to chase away any flies in the vicinity, and Will fights not to shudder. “How come Kaesha tells us you’re still single, handsome?” one of them says coyly.
“Hey,” Kaesha’s voice is lined with steel. “It’s because he hasn’t opened his eyes yet, have you now, Will?” she intones, her nails digging possessively in Will’s muscled forearm.
Well. At least the bruise won’t be seen, Will thinks wryly. Because, see, Kaesha is as intent on him as a dog on a bone: she can’t seem to get over the fact that both the captains of the basketball team and the cheerleading squad are black. And yet, the basketball captain isn’t hers. She has done every single possible thing, short of showing up naked and sprawled on Will’s bedspread (although she had turned up in a red bikini, once, though) but they still aren’t an item.
Will thanks God he has some grey matter up there. Kaesha ha slept her way through most of the university’s athletes, and he categorically refuses to become another name on her headboard, another cock for her to ride.
“So where to, Will?” Kaesha says seductively. “It’s Friday night, baby. Up for a good time?”
Will’s palms start sweating again as he disengages his arms from her sharply ensconced nails.
“I still have tutoring, Kaesha.” He sighs. “Even you know I have to show up.”
“So you’re off to Will’s Little Math Helper, are you?” she sneers.
Which is the point, really, of this whole debacle. Will feels stupid, taking this thing in his chest so seriously. But he has to act, this can’t go on anymore: the heat in his stomach won’t leave him alone now. It already muddled his brain, that it did. Will winces, because he should have seen this coming a mile away, he should have known.
He should have felt the shift, dammit, he who’s so attuned to his own body.
It’s all Ashley’s fault, really. He knew the other student to be completely off-limits, right from the start. Well, right at the start he wanted nothing to do with the Physics nerd. Failing algebra grades, however, had forced his professor to arrange tutoring for him. Because the university, of course, could not lose its star basketball player to low grades that would guarantee Will’s scholarship removal.
And Will’s parents could definitely not afford forty grand a year: they had money, but not that much.
And so three times a week found him at some empty tables in a nook of the university library he had not known even existed. And in came this pale and slightly chubby science nerd, all soft and quiet and compliant.
Will hates Ashley: because tutoring sessions have started stressing him just as much as any upcoming match, but in the case of tutoring, he doesn’t actually know the answers. He itches to be able to actually say something right, though, just for that small tilt in Ashley’s lips, the way vivid green eyes light up just a little behind the square glasses.
And there had been a reason for him to take up tutoring, only right now there isn’t anymore. He has improved much over the semester, and there had been no reason to continue with the few hours a week after the final exam.
Now, the marks have finally come out, and it seems he is no more in need of Ashley’s guidance. Will is breathing erratically by the time he enters and climbs the three flights of stairs that lead up to Ashley’s room. Seriously, the other student could have chosen a closer, more accessible room, dammit. It seems everyone can hear Will stomping from a mile away in the rickety construction. He thinks darkly that, with all the money the university is leeching of their students, they should be able to provide nicer accommodation, at least.
He has nicer rooms, after all. But then, he is the captain of the basketball team.
Will knocks: he doesn’t dare not to. Especially after the last fiasco.
See, Will is in the bad habit of always labouring on coursework at the last minute. And while the basketball player does hand it in at the appropriate deadlines (usually), this means he slaves away the day before and, for algebra and calculus, means Ashley can’t check Will’s answers over.
Of course, Ashley had tried badgering him into working on his problem sheets right when he got them, so that the Physics student could go over them at some point during the week. Unfortunately, Will has training and outings and friends, as he bitingly remarked to Ashley during the first few weeks of their arrangement.
And so he had gotten a free pass to Ashley’s room. It had gone something like, “Find me whenever you need anything. If you understand, then don’t bother me. If you don’t, bother me as little as possible,” and Will had gotten Ashley’s room number.
And knowledge that the pale student was in the ‘nerd’ building, and no good could come out of him visiting.
Of course, Will had to be proven right: after the first few weeks when, whenever he knocked, he got ushered in Ashley’s room because the people in the hallway had decided he would make a great target for a chewed bubblegum slingshot contest (a basketball player should never, in their right mind, set foot in their building -nerds were possessive and territorial little things, after all) well, he decided to forego knocking and just shouted “It’s me, Ash-” before barging in.
On some very wet, very milky skin. Ashley had obviously just gotten out of the shower, blond hair darkened and dripping, skin gleaming with untoweled droplets slowly making their way from dusty nipples to a soft, white stomach.
Will had never been so glad of his skin colour, or his baggy trousers: his mouth had gone dry and familiar heat -previously associated only with Playboy centrefolds and a few really imaginative girlfriends- had coiled and tightened in his abdomen, while Ashley had flushed up to his hair.
Will is almost certain there were tiny tears on the very red face, at some point. But then, he had hastily let himself out and waited for a signal that Ashley was decent. Which had come a few seconds later, when Will opened the door t find Ashley curled up on the small bed, ensconced in an entirely too big sweatshirt and grey jogging pants.
The blond hair was still damp, and Ashley smelled like mint.
Will had never asked questions this fast before.
So now he always knocks, because he doesn’t want any more nasty surprises. Or a week with no sleep, either. Because the Knocking Incident (as Will dubs it), if anything, made him reconsider his priorities. And his preferences.
Because not only is Ashley’s skin pearly white and smooth, it covers a very flat, hairless chest. Will has glimpsed faded freckles dotting the other boy’s back, and faint hipbones over which the milky skin is pulled taut.
To Will, Ashley is very white. And very male.
And usually, doesn’t want to be called Ashley. Will remembers their first meeting, how his eyebrows had just permanently moved to his hairline when he bumped the other boy on the shoulder, going “Ashley?” and the other had just answered “unfortunately,” before they had started on some obscure equations. Ashley refuses, however, to be nicknamed ‘Ash,’ and it leaves Will wondering what Ashley’s friends call him. He has tried asking, of course, but the smaller boy just glowered at him.
Will figures it must be pretty embarrassing.
Not as embarrassing as the tent in his jeans, though. Just the memory of Ashley wet makes him hard, and he’s still in the hallway.
Will doesn’t understand it. It had always been girls before, although he can definitely appreciate a beautiful male body. They aren’t soft and curvy; they’re hard and well-defined and they sometimes make Will want to lick them all over. But then he reminds himself that he’s in the locker room, and those are his teammates.
They’re mostly assholes.
So no, the licking is definitely out. But Ashley isn’t an athlete: he barely has muscles, and he looks soft all over. Soft and pliant and Will thinks Ashley would bruise beautifully under him.
“Will?” A messy Ashley opens the door for him, and really, heavy-lidded eyes behind glasses should not look so tempting. As Will steps inside, he notices the bed is rumpled and the smaller boy is barefoot, stepping on a pair too-long jogging pants. Ashley’s toes are small and round, clear nails on pale skin. He is dishevelled, flaxen curls tickling his neck, and Will wants nothing but to topple him over and taint all this white expanse with his teeth and tongue and fingers.
“Did you want something? Make it quick so you can go away,” Ashley mumbles. He’s rubbing his eyes tiredly and making Will twitch. So it’s only natural Will grab the pale arms, jerking them away from the green eyes.
Ashley’s eyes have widened. He isn’t moving, his eyes fixed on Will’s large, dark hands grasping his forearms. The area around his fingers is already reddening.
The basketball player thinks the contrast is beautiful.
He has always noted, distantly, how blacks and whites aren’t really all that different, but he’d never really noticed. He’s proud of his ebony skin, the way its dark and smooth and there. People notice him, not only because of his built and his height and his muscles, but because he’s tall and powerful and Black.
Coach says he moves and plays like a panther: swift and deadly for the other team.
But bruises don’t show, and neither do blushes. Ashley’s cheeks right now are tinged pink, and his arm is red and splotchy in between Will’s fingers. Very deliberately, Will lets go of the other boy’s arms and calmly takes a seat at the desk. “Don’t rub your eyes so hard, man. It makes mine itch.”
Ashley just raises an eyebrow. “What do you want, Will? I was sleeping, a little courtesy would be nice, you know.”
He hasn’t soothed his arms yet, and he’s still flushed. Will’s palms start to sweat again, and he curses as he tries to form a coherent sentence. “It’s. Uh. The results have come out.” Ashley just looks expectant. “I passed.”
“Well, congratulations, basket-boy. Now can you leave?” Ashley is sitting on the rumpled bed, his back to the wall and his knees to his chin. His toes wiggle.
Will finds himself on the bedcovers, right next to the smaller boy. He’s towering over him (but then Will towers over almost everyone) and Ashley isn’t looking at him.
“I actually had something… I wanted to. Uh. Ask you.” Now Ashley just looks puzzled. Will has never stuttered, apart from when stalling for time because he doesn’t know the answer, but no. That’s about it.
“Hey, Will. Are you alright?” Ashley’s hand in on Will’s knee. He doesn’t think why, it’s probably the shortest distance to comfort the taller guy next to him.
“Ashley.” Will leans in, large hand removing the pale one on his knee, shifting till he’s facing Ashley and gently, very gently, nudging the grey-clad legs open till he’s kneeling between them. He tilts Ashley’s face upwards and his fingers can feel the quickening pulse under that milky skin. The physics student is flushed, breathing erratically under Will’s hands.
“Will… What -what are you doing?” Ashley whispers. Will can feel the words like ghosts against his fingers, fingers that decided stroking that rosy bottom lip was a good idea. Ashley is as soft as he looks, skin incredibly responsive at Will’s lightest stroke. It tinges and reddens, and if he looks close enough, he can see tiny veins and capillaries running underneath it. But he has to get close-
“Will.” Ashley’s eyes are wide and green behind his glasses. The darker youth looms over him, almost catching his name on Ashley’s lips, brown eyes intent on the corner of his mouth. Ashley thinks he’s shivering.
Will’s voice is low and rough. “I think I want to kiss you.” Ashley’s breath hitches loudly, and his lips part just a little bit wider. His cheeks are on fire, and Will just presses against them as he cups the smaller boy’s face and leans in.
The first touch is quick and dry: Will shudders at the taste of mint on Ashley’s lips, pressing small, close-mouthed kisses in between ragged breaths. His hands are dark and sweaty and cool against Ashley’s hot cheeks as small, pale hands find their way to his jaw, resting lightly against his throat. Then it’s Ashley who tilts Will’s head so he can make the kiss deeper, licking at Will’s full lips, coaxing the other’s tongue out.
And as pale and soft as Ashley seems, his hands are strong and his tongue is playful. Will’s eyes have slipped shut and it isn’t until someone (who, he isn’t sure) moans a little and it’s painful and. Air.
“You.” Ashley is panting as he pushes him away, wrenching Will from his sweet, sweet lips. “Will.”
Will shakes his head, “ ‘m not leaving.” He anchors his palms next to Ashley’s head, trapping the other boy between his chest and the wall. Ashley squirms, blunt nails scratching at Will’s collarbone, trying to make him pull back. His face and throat are fetchingly red, his lips are swollen, and Will barely hears Ashley’s hurried words. His lips tingle and taste like mint, and the mouth parting in front of him is so enticing-
Will realizes on of his hands has left the wall of its own volition and settled on Ashley’s throat and it’s just- it’s rubbing there, tiny circles on the supple skin. He can feel the other boy’s quick pulse under his fingertips, and Ashley falls silent. He takes a long, shuddering breath and suddenly stops struggling, resistance snuffed out of him like a candle. He’s staring fixedly somewhere beyond Will’s shoulder.
Now Will is really worried. He rumbles, low. “Do you want me to stop, ‘Ley?”
The other boy starts at the nickname, a tiny gasp that leaves his shiny lips achingly open and his eyes wide. He’s looking at Will now, a little shocked and Will can see it, he can see the want in Ashley’s eyes, under his glasses, the way the green pupils hungrily take in his features now that he can look.
But then Ashley jerks his head away, tearing his gaze off Will, and it shouldn’t feel as painful as it does, Will shouldn’t be dying a little inside as Ashley fights the words out of his throat. “You can’t really want this,” the blond rasps, his hand waving vaguely between their two bodies. You don’t really want me.
Will is puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I want this?” His arms still encase Ashley, dark upon creamy white and Will is almost drunk at the sight.
Ashley just raises an eyebrow and gives him a Look, one of those that say ‘you can’t possibly be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting. Do you even have half the brain you’re being credited with?’
And Will just laughs and hauls the pale boy by the shoulders and crushes their mouths together, keeping Ashley’s struggling hands out of the way. The glasses are getting in the way so Will takes them off, and the lips under him are tense but Will gently nudges them with the tip of his tongue, nips at the full bottom one with his teeth. And suddenly Ashley parts his lips and melts against him; it’s hot and tastes of peppermint and Ashley’s tongue is unashamedly strong, licking back, wetting Will’s lips and insinuating itself in his mouth, tasting his teeth.
Will hears someone moan and it’s him so he tries to be quiet because Ashley hasn’t made a sound yet. Will’s hands bury themselves in the blond strands- they’re soft and tickle the pads of his fingers as he tugs to get Ashley closer- and that seems to do it. The sound Ashley makes is low and stifled and it’s not even moan but Will wants to hear it over and over again.
Air -he needs air again. But he doesn’t want to leave Ashley’s lips… Will settles for little kisses all along a milky jaw, abandoning lips that are now sinfully swollen and bruised. He can feel Ashley’s sharp inhales and exhales against his cheek, against his ear, quiet little puffs of moist air that make his hardened cock leak. So much control- Ashley has so much control. He wants the smaller boy to lose it, he wants to hear him so badly.
White fingers grip his biceps tightly and Will just nuzzled the arched neck the colour of raw almonds, licking and nipping at the soft skin as his hands come up to cup Ashley’s cheeks. The other boy is panting now, and Will can feel him straining, breaths coming out in gasps as Will’s lips suck and bring dark blood right under the surface of the white skin. It’s just, God- Ashley tastes like clean sweat and smells like body lotion, and Will can’t help but bites his neck lightly before lapping at it with his tongue and Ashley’s fingers are digging crescents into his clothed shoulders and he can feel bruises rise up that no one will see.
“Will- Will-”
His name is whispered harshly as smaller hands cup his cheeks and pull him away, then it’s his turn, bruised lips kissing his cheeks, his eyelids, his nose. They’re warm under his, leaving him breathless as Ashley angles his head and licks at his Adam’s apple. All Will can see is a flutter of milky skin and blond hair and impossibly clear eyelashes, but Ashley kisses as contrary as looks, strong and hard and he bites at Will’s throat and Will moans and bucks.
“ ‘Ley, ‘Ley, Jesus-”
Ashley chuckles against Will’s dark, dark skin and it sounds like a sob, then he’s running his hands up and down the hard sides, slipping under Will’s shirt and feeling his delineated stomach, the firm pecs, grazing at his nipples. Will whimpers, and his head is buried in the crook of Ashley’s neck, back rounded and trembling hands on Ashley’s parted knees.
“Off, Will, take it off-” Ashley’s voice is low and hungry, and his hands are tugging at Will’s shirt, but he’s not tall enough to remove it since he’s still slumped against the wall, Will on his knees in-between his spread thighs.
Still PG-13. Fuck. And I have +3000 words, how the hell can they not be having sex yet? *sighs*
Prompt: Suspense build-up. Can you write a credible sex scene you wouldn't be ashamed of submitting to your teacher?
Will isn’t exactly sure what he’s doing. No, this isn’t entirely correct. He is currently trudging through campus, and fending off the many people waving him over enthusiastically. Or, in the case of Kaesha and her cheerleading friends, openly leering at him. Ugh, he can’t not stop, the girls do cheer at their every game. Will swears that if it weren’t for them winning, people would still turn up, if only for the cheerleaders’ skimpy outfits.
“Will, honey.”
“Kaesha, Laura. And…”
“Em and N’Gozi,” the newcomers simper. “Will, captain of the basketball team, right?” Their eyelashes flutter enough to chase away any flies in the vicinity, and Will fights not to shudder. “How come Kaesha tells us you’re still single, handsome?” one of them says coyly.
“Hey,” Kaesha’s voice is lined with steel. “It’s because he hasn’t opened his eyes yet, have you now, Will?” she intones, her nails digging possessively in Will’s muscled forearm.
Well. At least the bruise won’t be seen, Will thinks wryly. Because, see, Kaesha is as intent on him as a dog on a bone: she can’t seem to get over the fact that both the captains of the basketball team and the cheerleading squad are black. And yet, the basketball captain isn’t hers. She has done every single possible thing, short of showing up naked and sprawled on Will’s bedspread (although she had turned up in a red bikini, once, though) but they still aren’t an item.
Will thanks God he has some grey matter up there. Kaesha ha slept her way through most of the university’s athletes, and he categorically refuses to become another name on her headboard, another cock for her to ride.
“So where to, Will?” Kaesha says seductively. “It’s Friday night, baby. Up for a good time?”
Will’s palms start sweating again as he disengages his arms from her sharply ensconced nails.
“I still have tutoring, Kaesha.” He sighs. “Even you know I have to show up.”
“So you’re off to Will’s Little Math Helper, are you?” she sneers.
Which is the point, really, of this whole debacle. Will feels stupid, taking this thing in his chest so seriously. But he has to act, this can’t go on anymore: the heat in his stomach won’t leave him alone now. It already muddled his brain, that it did. Will winces, because he should have seen this coming a mile away, he should have known.
He should have felt the shift, dammit, he who’s so attuned to his own body.
It’s all Ashley’s fault, really. He knew the other student to be completely off-limits, right from the start. Well, right at the start he wanted nothing to do with the Physics nerd. Failing algebra grades, however, had forced his professor to arrange tutoring for him. Because the university, of course, could not lose its star basketball player to low grades that would guarantee Will’s scholarship removal.
And Will’s parents could definitely not afford forty grand a year: they had money, but not that much.
And so three times a week found him at some empty tables in a nook of the university library he had not known even existed. And in came this pale and slightly chubby science nerd, all soft and quiet and compliant.
Will hates Ashley: because tutoring sessions have started stressing him just as much as any upcoming match, but in the case of tutoring, he doesn’t actually know the answers. He itches to be able to actually say something right, though, just for that small tilt in Ashley’s lips, the way vivid green eyes light up just a little behind the square glasses.
And there had been a reason for him to take up tutoring, only right now there isn’t anymore. He has improved much over the semester, and there had been no reason to continue with the few hours a week after the final exam.
Now, the marks have finally come out, and it seems he is no more in need of Ashley’s guidance. Will is breathing erratically by the time he enters and climbs the three flights of stairs that lead up to Ashley’s room. Seriously, the other student could have chosen a closer, more accessible room, dammit. It seems everyone can hear Will stomping from a mile away in the rickety construction. He thinks darkly that, with all the money the university is leeching of their students, they should be able to provide nicer accommodation, at least.
He has nicer rooms, after all. But then, he is the captain of the basketball team.
Will knocks: he doesn’t dare not to. Especially after the last fiasco.
See, Will is in the bad habit of always labouring on coursework at the last minute. And while the basketball player does hand it in at the appropriate deadlines (usually), this means he slaves away the day before and, for algebra and calculus, means Ashley can’t check Will’s answers over.
Of course, Ashley had tried badgering him into working on his problem sheets right when he got them, so that the Physics student could go over them at some point during the week. Unfortunately, Will has training and outings and friends, as he bitingly remarked to Ashley during the first few weeks of their arrangement.
And so he had gotten a free pass to Ashley’s room. It had gone something like, “Find me whenever you need anything. If you understand, then don’t bother me. If you don’t, bother me as little as possible,” and Will had gotten Ashley’s room number.
And knowledge that the pale student was in the ‘nerd’ building, and no good could come out of him visiting.
Of course, Will had to be proven right: after the first few weeks when, whenever he knocked, he got ushered in Ashley’s room because the people in the hallway had decided he would make a great target for a chewed bubblegum slingshot contest (a basketball player should never, in their right mind, set foot in their building -nerds were possessive and territorial little things, after all) well, he decided to forego knocking and just shouted “It’s me, Ash-” before barging in.
On some very wet, very milky skin. Ashley had obviously just gotten out of the shower, blond hair darkened and dripping, skin gleaming with untoweled droplets slowly making their way from dusty nipples to a soft, white stomach.
Will had never been so glad of his skin colour, or his baggy trousers: his mouth had gone dry and familiar heat -previously associated only with Playboy centrefolds and a few really imaginative girlfriends- had coiled and tightened in his abdomen, while Ashley had flushed up to his hair.
Will is almost certain there were tiny tears on the very red face, at some point. But then, he had hastily let himself out and waited for a signal that Ashley was decent. Which had come a few seconds later, when Will opened the door t find Ashley curled up on the small bed, ensconced in an entirely too big sweatshirt and grey jogging pants.
The blond hair was still damp, and Ashley smelled like mint.
Will had never asked questions this fast before.
So now he always knocks, because he doesn’t want any more nasty surprises. Or a week with no sleep, either. Because the Knocking Incident (as Will dubs it), if anything, made him reconsider his priorities. And his preferences.
Because not only is Ashley’s skin pearly white and smooth, it covers a very flat, hairless chest. Will has glimpsed faded freckles dotting the other boy’s back, and faint hipbones over which the milky skin is pulled taut.
To Will, Ashley is very white. And very male.
And usually, doesn’t want to be called Ashley. Will remembers their first meeting, how his eyebrows had just permanently moved to his hairline when he bumped the other boy on the shoulder, going “Ashley?” and the other had just answered “unfortunately,” before they had started on some obscure equations. Ashley refuses, however, to be nicknamed ‘Ash,’ and it leaves Will wondering what Ashley’s friends call him. He has tried asking, of course, but the smaller boy just glowered at him.
Will figures it must be pretty embarrassing.
Not as embarrassing as the tent in his jeans, though. Just the memory of Ashley wet makes him hard, and he’s still in the hallway.
Will doesn’t understand it. It had always been girls before, although he can definitely appreciate a beautiful male body. They aren’t soft and curvy; they’re hard and well-defined and they sometimes make Will want to lick them all over. But then he reminds himself that he’s in the locker room, and those are his teammates.
They’re mostly assholes.
So no, the licking is definitely out. But Ashley isn’t an athlete: he barely has muscles, and he looks soft all over. Soft and pliant and Will thinks Ashley would bruise beautifully under him.
“Will?” A messy Ashley opens the door for him, and really, heavy-lidded eyes behind glasses should not look so tempting. As Will steps inside, he notices the bed is rumpled and the smaller boy is barefoot, stepping on a pair too-long jogging pants. Ashley’s toes are small and round, clear nails on pale skin. He is dishevelled, flaxen curls tickling his neck, and Will wants nothing but to topple him over and taint all this white expanse with his teeth and tongue and fingers.
“Did you want something? Make it quick so you can go away,” Ashley mumbles. He’s rubbing his eyes tiredly and making Will twitch. So it’s only natural Will grab the pale arms, jerking them away from the green eyes.
Ashley’s eyes have widened. He isn’t moving, his eyes fixed on Will’s large, dark hands grasping his forearms. The area around his fingers is already reddening.
The basketball player thinks the contrast is beautiful.
He has always noted, distantly, how blacks and whites aren’t really all that different, but he’d never really noticed. He’s proud of his ebony skin, the way its dark and smooth and there. People notice him, not only because of his built and his height and his muscles, but because he’s tall and powerful and Black.
Coach says he moves and plays like a panther: swift and deadly for the other team.
But bruises don’t show, and neither do blushes. Ashley’s cheeks right now are tinged pink, and his arm is red and splotchy in between Will’s fingers. Very deliberately, Will lets go of the other boy’s arms and calmly takes a seat at the desk. “Don’t rub your eyes so hard, man. It makes mine itch.”
Ashley just raises an eyebrow. “What do you want, Will? I was sleeping, a little courtesy would be nice, you know.”
He hasn’t soothed his arms yet, and he’s still flushed. Will’s palms start to sweat again, and he curses as he tries to form a coherent sentence. “It’s. Uh. The results have come out.” Ashley just looks expectant. “I passed.”
“Well, congratulations, basket-boy. Now can you leave?” Ashley is sitting on the rumpled bed, his back to the wall and his knees to his chin. His toes wiggle.
Will finds himself on the bedcovers, right next to the smaller boy. He’s towering over him (but then Will towers over almost everyone) and Ashley isn’t looking at him.
“I actually had something… I wanted to. Uh. Ask you.” Now Ashley just looks puzzled. Will has never stuttered, apart from when stalling for time because he doesn’t know the answer, but no. That’s about it.
“Hey, Will. Are you alright?” Ashley’s hand in on Will’s knee. He doesn’t think why, it’s probably the shortest distance to comfort the taller guy next to him.
“Ashley.” Will leans in, large hand removing the pale one on his knee, shifting till he’s facing Ashley and gently, very gently, nudging the grey-clad legs open till he’s kneeling between them. He tilts Ashley’s face upwards and his fingers can feel the quickening pulse under that milky skin. The physics student is flushed, breathing erratically under Will’s hands.
“Will… What -what are you doing?” Ashley whispers. Will can feel the words like ghosts against his fingers, fingers that decided stroking that rosy bottom lip was a good idea. Ashley is as soft as he looks, skin incredibly responsive at Will’s lightest stroke. It tinges and reddens, and if he looks close enough, he can see tiny veins and capillaries running underneath it. But he has to get close-
“Will.” Ashley’s eyes are wide and green behind his glasses. The darker youth looms over him, almost catching his name on Ashley’s lips, brown eyes intent on the corner of his mouth. Ashley thinks he’s shivering.
Will’s voice is low and rough. “I think I want to kiss you.” Ashley’s breath hitches loudly, and his lips part just a little bit wider. His cheeks are on fire, and Will just presses against them as he cups the smaller boy’s face and leans in.
The first touch is quick and dry: Will shudders at the taste of mint on Ashley’s lips, pressing small, close-mouthed kisses in between ragged breaths. His hands are dark and sweaty and cool against Ashley’s hot cheeks as small, pale hands find their way to his jaw, resting lightly against his throat. Then it’s Ashley who tilts Will’s head so he can make the kiss deeper, licking at Will’s full lips, coaxing the other’s tongue out.
And as pale and soft as Ashley seems, his hands are strong and his tongue is playful. Will’s eyes have slipped shut and it isn’t until someone (who, he isn’t sure) moans a little and it’s painful and. Air.
“You.” Ashley is panting as he pushes him away, wrenching Will from his sweet, sweet lips. “Will.”
Will shakes his head, “ ‘m not leaving.” He anchors his palms next to Ashley’s head, trapping the other boy between his chest and the wall. Ashley squirms, blunt nails scratching at Will’s collarbone, trying to make him pull back. His face and throat are fetchingly red, his lips are swollen, and Will barely hears Ashley’s hurried words. His lips tingle and taste like mint, and the mouth parting in front of him is so enticing-
Will realizes on of his hands has left the wall of its own volition and settled on Ashley’s throat and it’s just- it’s rubbing there, tiny circles on the supple skin. He can feel the other boy’s quick pulse under his fingertips, and Ashley falls silent. He takes a long, shuddering breath and suddenly stops struggling, resistance snuffed out of him like a candle. He’s staring fixedly somewhere beyond Will’s shoulder.
Now Will is really worried. He rumbles, low. “Do you want me to stop, ‘Ley?”
The other boy starts at the nickname, a tiny gasp that leaves his shiny lips achingly open and his eyes wide. He’s looking at Will now, a little shocked and Will can see it, he can see the want in Ashley’s eyes, under his glasses, the way the green pupils hungrily take in his features now that he can look.
But then Ashley jerks his head away, tearing his gaze off Will, and it shouldn’t feel as painful as it does, Will shouldn’t be dying a little inside as Ashley fights the words out of his throat. “You can’t really want this,” the blond rasps, his hand waving vaguely between their two bodies. You don’t really want me.
Will is puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I want this?” His arms still encase Ashley, dark upon creamy white and Will is almost drunk at the sight.
Ashley just raises an eyebrow and gives him a Look, one of those that say ‘you can’t possibly be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting. Do you even have half the brain you’re being credited with?’
And Will just laughs and hauls the pale boy by the shoulders and crushes their mouths together, keeping Ashley’s struggling hands out of the way. The glasses are getting in the way so Will takes them off, and the lips under him are tense but Will gently nudges them with the tip of his tongue, nips at the full bottom one with his teeth. And suddenly Ashley parts his lips and melts against him; it’s hot and tastes of peppermint and Ashley’s tongue is unashamedly strong, licking back, wetting Will’s lips and insinuating itself in his mouth, tasting his teeth.
Will hears someone moan and it’s him so he tries to be quiet because Ashley hasn’t made a sound yet. Will’s hands bury themselves in the blond strands- they’re soft and tickle the pads of his fingers as he tugs to get Ashley closer- and that seems to do it. The sound Ashley makes is low and stifled and it’s not even moan but Will wants to hear it over and over again.
Air -he needs air again. But he doesn’t want to leave Ashley’s lips… Will settles for little kisses all along a milky jaw, abandoning lips that are now sinfully swollen and bruised. He can feel Ashley’s sharp inhales and exhales against his cheek, against his ear, quiet little puffs of moist air that make his hardened cock leak. So much control- Ashley has so much control. He wants the smaller boy to lose it, he wants to hear him so badly.
White fingers grip his biceps tightly and Will just nuzzled the arched neck the colour of raw almonds, licking and nipping at the soft skin as his hands come up to cup Ashley’s cheeks. The other boy is panting now, and Will can feel him straining, breaths coming out in gasps as Will’s lips suck and bring dark blood right under the surface of the white skin. It’s just, God- Ashley tastes like clean sweat and smells like body lotion, and Will can’t help but bites his neck lightly before lapping at it with his tongue and Ashley’s fingers are digging crescents into his clothed shoulders and he can feel bruises rise up that no one will see.
“Will- Will-”
His name is whispered harshly as smaller hands cup his cheeks and pull him away, then it’s his turn, bruised lips kissing his cheeks, his eyelids, his nose. They’re warm under his, leaving him breathless as Ashley angles his head and licks at his Adam’s apple. All Will can see is a flutter of milky skin and blond hair and impossibly clear eyelashes, but Ashley kisses as contrary as looks, strong and hard and he bites at Will’s throat and Will moans and bucks.
“ ‘Ley, ‘Ley, Jesus-”
Ashley chuckles against Will’s dark, dark skin and it sounds like a sob, then he’s running his hands up and down the hard sides, slipping under Will’s shirt and feeling his delineated stomach, the firm pecs, grazing at his nipples. Will whimpers, and his head is buried in the crook of Ashley’s neck, back rounded and trembling hands on Ashley’s parted knees.
“Off, Will, take it off-” Ashley’s voice is low and hungry, and his hands are tugging at Will’s shirt, but he’s not tall enough to remove it since he’s still slumped against the wall, Will on his knees in-between his spread thighs.