Slow Motion (William Moseley/Ben Barnes)
Title: Slow Motion
Pairing: Will/Ben
Rating: R?
Warnings: None
Summary: There is no urgency in what they are doing, no rush.
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with William Moseley or Ben Barnes, this is a work of absolute fiction.
A/N: Wow, so I haven't written anything since... uhmm, last century? Not sure what put me in the mood to write this. Its nothing special, maybe I was inspired by the upcoming film (which looks fantastic, BTW).
Breathe into the silence.
Will’s stomach muscles tense when Ben pushes a hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. His head drops forward onto Ben’s shoulder, eyes closing and lips parting. Ben is warm against him, warm and hard and solid. His breath quickens, fingers curl into the flesh and muscle of Ben’s back, and aside from a small, soft moan, not a sound escapes his lips.
With hot, smooth fingers wrapped firmly around Will’s hard length, Ben begins to slowly jack him off. They stand in Will’s kitchen, the small of Will’s back pressed up against the countertop. All of the lights in the apartment are turned off, and the kitchen glows with the silvery beams of moonlight that shine through the blinds.
There is no urgency in what they are doing, no rush. Ben is turned on, but feels no need to make Will come quickly in order to receive attention himself. He likes this, this giving without receiving. He likes the stillness of what they are doing, the stillness and the silence and the simplicity.
Will’s breathing is a little short and ragged, moist against Ben’s shoulder. A whisper-quiet moan and strong fingers kneading into his back let Ben know this is good for Will, lets him know Will likes this, too.
Bringing his free hand to rest at the nape of Will’s neck, Ben gently slides his fingers up to tangle in Will’s hair. Gripping a handful of silky golden strands, he pulls just a little, just enough.
Will moves his face to rest in the crook of Ben’s neck, placing a few feather-light kisses on the warm, tender skin there. He feels unsteady, lightheaded, grateful for the support of the countertop behind him. He can’t stop himself from clawing his fingers down the length of Ben’s back, holding tight onto his hips, pulling him just that little bit closer.
He can feel his orgasm building, groans quietly as Ben tugs at his hair.
“You close?” Ben whispers, voice low.
Will responds with a shaky “Yeah,” twisting his fingers in the fabric of Ben’s t-shirt.
Untangling his free hand from Will’s hair, Ben slides his fingers down to grip Will’s jaw, bringing their faces close together. Will’s short, fast breaths feel hot and wet against Ben’s lips. He leans in to place a kiss at the edge of Will’s mouth, feels Will’s whole body tense, and with an almost silent gasp, Will comes, fingers digging deep into the small of Ben’s back.
Will’s body trembles, shivers, muscles feeling loose as he sags forward against Ben.
Sliding his hand from Will’s pants, Ben leans around to grab a paper towel to clean himself up. He kisses Will’s forehead as he wipes his hand, tasting salt and sweat.
Will keeps his eyes closed as his breathing slows. His fingers now play idly with the hem of Ben’s shirt. He feels disoriented, always does after an orgasm. “Do you want me to…” he mumbles, fingers fumbling with the button on Ben’s jeans.
“Its alright,” Ben murmurs, taking Will’s hands in his own, “I can wait. Just give yourself a minute.”
A/N: Does this seem unfinished to you? It definitely seems unfinished to me. But this was where my brain wanted to end things, so I would like to propose that, if upon reading this fic you feel the need to write what comes next (Or should I say who comes next *wink-wink*) then feel free to do so. You could write it as a separate fic, or even just in the comments below ;D
Pairing: Will/Ben
Rating: R?
Warnings: None
Summary: There is no urgency in what they are doing, no rush.
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with William Moseley or Ben Barnes, this is a work of absolute fiction.
A/N: Wow, so I haven't written anything since... uhmm, last century? Not sure what put me in the mood to write this. Its nothing special, maybe I was inspired by the upcoming film (which looks fantastic, BTW).
Breathe into the silence.
Will’s stomach muscles tense when Ben pushes a hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. His head drops forward onto Ben’s shoulder, eyes closing and lips parting. Ben is warm against him, warm and hard and solid. His breath quickens, fingers curl into the flesh and muscle of Ben’s back, and aside from a small, soft moan, not a sound escapes his lips.
With hot, smooth fingers wrapped firmly around Will’s hard length, Ben begins to slowly jack him off. They stand in Will’s kitchen, the small of Will’s back pressed up against the countertop. All of the lights in the apartment are turned off, and the kitchen glows with the silvery beams of moonlight that shine through the blinds.
There is no urgency in what they are doing, no rush. Ben is turned on, but feels no need to make Will come quickly in order to receive attention himself. He likes this, this giving without receiving. He likes the stillness of what they are doing, the stillness and the silence and the simplicity.
Will’s breathing is a little short and ragged, moist against Ben’s shoulder. A whisper-quiet moan and strong fingers kneading into his back let Ben know this is good for Will, lets him know Will likes this, too.
Bringing his free hand to rest at the nape of Will’s neck, Ben gently slides his fingers up to tangle in Will’s hair. Gripping a handful of silky golden strands, he pulls just a little, just enough.
Will moves his face to rest in the crook of Ben’s neck, placing a few feather-light kisses on the warm, tender skin there. He feels unsteady, lightheaded, grateful for the support of the countertop behind him. He can’t stop himself from clawing his fingers down the length of Ben’s back, holding tight onto his hips, pulling him just that little bit closer.
He can feel his orgasm building, groans quietly as Ben tugs at his hair.
“You close?” Ben whispers, voice low.
Will responds with a shaky “Yeah,” twisting his fingers in the fabric of Ben’s t-shirt.
Untangling his free hand from Will’s hair, Ben slides his fingers down to grip Will’s jaw, bringing their faces close together. Will’s short, fast breaths feel hot and wet against Ben’s lips. He leans in to place a kiss at the edge of Will’s mouth, feels Will’s whole body tense, and with an almost silent gasp, Will comes, fingers digging deep into the small of Ben’s back.
Will’s body trembles, shivers, muscles feeling loose as he sags forward against Ben.
Sliding his hand from Will’s pants, Ben leans around to grab a paper towel to clean himself up. He kisses Will’s forehead as he wipes his hand, tasting salt and sweat.
Will keeps his eyes closed as his breathing slows. His fingers now play idly with the hem of Ben’s shirt. He feels disoriented, always does after an orgasm. “Do you want me to…” he mumbles, fingers fumbling with the button on Ben’s jeans.
“Its alright,” Ben murmurs, taking Will’s hands in his own, “I can wait. Just give yourself a minute.”
A/N: Does this seem unfinished to you? It definitely seems unfinished to me. But this was where my brain wanted to end things, so I would like to propose that, if upon reading this fic you feel the need to write what comes next (Or should I say who comes next *wink-wink*) then feel free to do so. You could write it as a separate fic, or even just in the comments below ;D