Fic: All the Best Cowboys Have Daddy Issues
Title: All the Best Cowboys Have Daddy Issues
Rating: R
Characters: Will/Finn.
Word count: 2,000
Summary: Pure daddy!kink.
Will’s been called ‘dad’ by students in the past, but never like this.
Never in bed. Never in his admittedly short list of relationships. Never had this sprung on him before. And he’s not even sure if Finn knows that he did it. Not sure what Finn had been aware of, when he’d had sheets fisted in his hands and his back curving and flexing, when he’d been pushing back against Will, his legs spread wide, his face pressed into the firm mattress of Will’s bed. When those sweet sexy sounds had been falling from young lips, those pants and gasps and moans that were drawn out into long, twisting, desperate sounds. Turning into harsh breaths and short whimpers of yes, yes, please. Turning into that one word that had almost been muted by the mattress, would have been if Finn’s mouth didn’t open so wide when he came, his teeth grazing over the sheets before clenching together as if to keep his orgasm from ripping him apart.
As if trying to keep that one word to himself.
“Dad.”
Will doesn’t say anything about it. What could he say? “So, about those daddy issues of yours?” Maybe it was an innocent slip of the tongue, as happened from time to time. Maybe Finn had been thinking of something else, as much as Will and his own ego doubted it. Maybe it was another noise altogether, distorted and warped by two panting mouths, two straining bodies, ears that were ringing with sex and need and want. So Will doesn’t say anything about it.
But the idea doesn’t leave him.
It sits there, a patient but persistent thought that Will examines time to time, like someone poking a bruise to see if it still hurts. In some ways it made sense. There was the age gap, and Will had filled multiple, changing roles in Finn’s life over time, so why not throw father figure in and complete the set? In some ways it was flattering - perhaps Finn had choked the word out because he trusted Will with this, perhaps it indicated Finn’s awareness of the complexity of their relationship. Perhaps it didn’t mean anything, had just been Finn throwing out a loaded word in an effort to be kinky. Perhaps it was nothing, nothing at all.
But it sits in his brain, quietly, patiently.
He doesn’t know what prompts him into action. There was no grand plan leading up to this moment, no deep soul searching or elaborate manipulations. It was just him walking over the Hudson threshold one night, seeing Finn looking tired and frustrated, and then a little voice in Will’s ear whispering yes. Whispering today’s the day.
It starts with a hand on Finn’s arm, with Will asking “Are you okay?”
Finn leans into the touch, his body warm and tired and so soft in the orange light of the living room, with the couch that has always been there and the photos that will never be moved, and the still silence of a house with so few people in it. And Will presses back, making his touch firm.
“I’m fine,” Finn says. “I just...”
He trails off as Will presses his own body forward, presses it against Finn’s side. “Do you want me to make it better?” His hand is on Finn’s jaw, pressing his head back and to the side, exposing that slice of sensitive skin stretched tight across his neck, exposing pale flesh that Will presses his face against. Do you want me to take care of you?
Finn shivers. It’s a new kind of touch that lies in Will’s fingertips, firm and self-assured. Maybe he knows where this is going, or maybe it’s a sign of blind faith in Will that his eyes close, that his sweet pink mouth falls open.
“Yes.”
Will presses against him, forcing Finn back several paces, forcing him until the cool wall is flush against his back. Steady fingertips draw strong lines over the features of Finn’s face. The curve of his jaw, the line of his nose. As they trace over the innocent arch of his eyebrow, Finn nuzzles against Will’s palm. As they trace over the softness of his lips, his mouth falls open. Will lets a finger rest heavily on Finn’s bottom lip, pulling it down just enough for the whiteness of his bottom teeth to show.
You’re so... And there are no words to follow it. So handsome. So pretty. So loving. So trusting. So innocent. So much like me.
So owned.
Finn nods, licking his lower lip, his tongue leaving a wet stripe across Will’s forefinger.
I bet that mouth of yours gets you into trouble, Will says, still pressed against Finn’s front, still pressing Finn into the wall. Finn nods, his mouth falling open as Will drops his fingers lower, tracing the bob of Finn’s Adam’s apple, moving across to brush against the tender skin of an earlobe.
“But I’ve got you to get me out of it,” Finn says, his eyes still pressed closed.
I’ll always look after you, Will says, his mouth hot against one ear while his fingers curl in the front of Finn’s shirt, tugging him away from the wall, dragging him up the stairs, up that dark narrow hall that leads to Finn’s old bedroom. I’ll never let anyone hurt my boy.
Finn’s hands clench at Will’s waist, and Will’s fingers tighten, tugging sharply at Finn’s ear, pulling a soft cry from those lovely lips. You are my boy, Will murmurs again and again, pressing Finn through the door, kicking it closed behind them. My special boy. I’d do anything for you. He lets his hand drift slowly down Finn’s face, down the shivering skin of his neck, the hard lines of his collarbones, before gripping tightly at the front of Finn’s shirt.
Anything.
Finn’s head falls back, his eyes shut and his mouth open and his cheeks red. His body arching and pressing as Will runs a hand down his front, firm familiar touches, never questioning, never cautious. Finn’s mouth moves, taking several tries before any sound comes out, before a single word tumbles out.
“Please.”
Will’s hand is at Finn’s hip bone, the heel of his palm rubbing back and forth against the twist and shift of Finn’s hips.
What do you need, Finn? Will presses his mouth, hot and wet, against the side of Finn’s neck, sucking at the skin below Finn’s ear. Tell me what you need.
One more word, barely a whisper and yet it still managed to crack down the middle.
“Dad.”
Will pauses, for just a moment, and then his hand is cupping Finn through his jeans, his fingers gripping the curve of the bulge there while his palm presses firmly against the hard line of Finn’s erection. He’s hard. So fucking hard. And when Will grabs him, Finn makes a tight, desperate noise that Will immediately tries to soothe, gentle shushing noises and kisses pressed against hot, flushed skin. Walking Finn back until his spine is against the dark wood of his door frame, the pale patterned wallpaper that he grew up with.
It’s okay, Finn. I’m here.
Will has never been in this room before. Not like this.
I’ll take care of you. I’m here.
“I need you,” Finn says, one hand clutching at Will’s hip hard enough to bruise, the other hand clawing at the wall by his side, nails biting into the fading picture of a cowboy. “Please. I need... I need-”
And Will feels so dirtywronghot for saying it, but there’s not a single shred of anything left in his body that would make him hold those words back.
You need your daddy.
And when Finn replies, it’s a sigh that sounds like all of the air is being let out of his body. “Yess.” And Will kisses him to keep some of that air inside, to take some of it for himself. A keen kiss that is hard and taking against soft and yielding, a press of barely-parted lips that lasts right until the moment that Finn flicks his tongue out against Will’s lips, the moment his eyes crack open for the barest moment, and he whispers “Dad,” against the kiss-flushed curves of Will’s mouth.
Will presses his mouth hard against Finn’s again, uses both hands to tear open the front of Finn’s jeans, slides a hand under the elastic of Finn’s boxers, cupping him and squeezing him, and letting his hand sit there as a hot steady pressure, even as Finn rolls his hips against Will’s touch, thrusting his hips away from the wall and against that hot, broad palm.
What do you need? Will murmurs. Tell me. You can tell me.
“I need-” Finn pauses, panting and arching and desperate for more touches. He wraps a hand around Will’s wrist, shoving his hand further down, pressing fingers further back. Spreading his legs and canting his hips and whining until Will’s fingers touch that soft sensitive skin around his opening. “I need you. Dad. Daddy. Please.”
And those are the words that fall repeatedly from Finn’s lips as Will pulls away, as Will pulls Finn’s pants down his thighs.
“Please.”
As Will presses them down to Finn’s ankles, holding him and helping him as he steps out of pooled denim.
“Please.”
As he presses fingers against Finn’s mouth, and watches as sweet pink lips wrap around them, as Finn’s mouth pulls back and a dark, wet tongue darts out, coating them in slick saliva.
“This. Please. I need this.”
Finn, he says as he wraps one of Finn’s legs around his waist. My boy, he says as he trails his hand along the softness of an inner thigh. Finn, as he runs the flat planes of his palm along the hardness pressed flush against Finn’s stomach, as his hand moves lower through dark curls and over hot skin. As his fingertips circle that hot tight little hole, as one gently, gently presses forward.
My special little boy.
And Finn moans, moans low and deep and presses his hips down, his body demanding ‘more’ and ‘now’ while that delicate mouth of his begs, “Please.” Begs, “Please. Yes, fuck, please.”
Will presses another finger in, presses his mouth against Finn’s neck in gentle flittering kisses even as Finn tries to fuck himself down on Will’s hand, tries to take and grab and demand.
It’s okay, Will murmurs. I’ve got you. I’m here, and I’ve got you. He pauses to lick his lips, because these are loaded words for the both of them that are crawling over his tongue, pressing against his teeth. I won’t leave you.
Finn gasps, and his body arches, his hips twisting. His head falls back against the wall, and something calms in him, calms enough for him to stop the juttering thrusts of his hips, for him to angle his body just so, to rock against the thrusts of Will’s fingers. Gentle, even as they stretch, even as they fill him up.
“You’re not allowed to,” he says as Will sucks a kiss over his collar bone, as his movements become thick and quivering. “You’re not allowed to go.”
I won’t Will whispers, raising his head, pressing his nose against Finn’s check, dragging his lips across the shell of Finn’s ear. I’ll look after you, Finn. I’ll look after my boy.
And Finn’s head is thrown back and his eyes are scrunched closed even as his mouth opens wide, that dark mouth with lips that are red from biting, that mouth that gets him into trouble. Lips stretched wide and high needy sounds are escaping from within, flowing over them as his dick starts to twitch, even as neglected as it is. Coming hard and coming fast, coming from the fingers inside him and the hot body against him and the cold wall at his back. Coming from the smell of sweat and need, the arms wrapped around him, the words whispered in his ear.
And one word outlasts them, falling from Finn’s mouth like a desperate prayer, like a dirty secret, like something that he’s always needed.
The one word that started it all.
They stand there, panting in the dusty cold of Finn’s old room, Finn’s come smeared over both of their shirts, the eyes of the cowboys on the walls turned away, giving them a moment of privacy. Finn’s leg stiff from being wrapped around Will’s waist, Will’s arm sore from the angle and the movement. Eyes bright and faces flushed, and Finn meeting Will’s gaze only fleetingly.
“Well,” Finn says, before breaking off.
Will reaches up, and turns Finn’s face towards his own again, turning it with gentle, guiding fingers. His kiss is soft, and slow, and brings them back to how they were.
“It’s okay,” he says.
And it is.
Rating: R
Characters: Will/Finn.
Word count: 2,000
Summary: Pure daddy!kink.
Will’s been called ‘dad’ by students in the past, but never like this.
Never in bed. Never in his admittedly short list of relationships. Never had this sprung on him before. And he’s not even sure if Finn knows that he did it. Not sure what Finn had been aware of, when he’d had sheets fisted in his hands and his back curving and flexing, when he’d been pushing back against Will, his legs spread wide, his face pressed into the firm mattress of Will’s bed. When those sweet sexy sounds had been falling from young lips, those pants and gasps and moans that were drawn out into long, twisting, desperate sounds. Turning into harsh breaths and short whimpers of yes, yes, please. Turning into that one word that had almost been muted by the mattress, would have been if Finn’s mouth didn’t open so wide when he came, his teeth grazing over the sheets before clenching together as if to keep his orgasm from ripping him apart.
As if trying to keep that one word to himself.
“Dad.”
Will doesn’t say anything about it. What could he say? “So, about those daddy issues of yours?” Maybe it was an innocent slip of the tongue, as happened from time to time. Maybe Finn had been thinking of something else, as much as Will and his own ego doubted it. Maybe it was another noise altogether, distorted and warped by two panting mouths, two straining bodies, ears that were ringing with sex and need and want. So Will doesn’t say anything about it.
But the idea doesn’t leave him.
It sits there, a patient but persistent thought that Will examines time to time, like someone poking a bruise to see if it still hurts. In some ways it made sense. There was the age gap, and Will had filled multiple, changing roles in Finn’s life over time, so why not throw father figure in and complete the set? In some ways it was flattering - perhaps Finn had choked the word out because he trusted Will with this, perhaps it indicated Finn’s awareness of the complexity of their relationship. Perhaps it didn’t mean anything, had just been Finn throwing out a loaded word in an effort to be kinky. Perhaps it was nothing, nothing at all.
But it sits in his brain, quietly, patiently.
He doesn’t know what prompts him into action. There was no grand plan leading up to this moment, no deep soul searching or elaborate manipulations. It was just him walking over the Hudson threshold one night, seeing Finn looking tired and frustrated, and then a little voice in Will’s ear whispering yes. Whispering today’s the day.
It starts with a hand on Finn’s arm, with Will asking “Are you okay?”
Finn leans into the touch, his body warm and tired and so soft in the orange light of the living room, with the couch that has always been there and the photos that will never be moved, and the still silence of a house with so few people in it. And Will presses back, making his touch firm.
“I’m fine,” Finn says. “I just...”
He trails off as Will presses his own body forward, presses it against Finn’s side. “Do you want me to make it better?” His hand is on Finn’s jaw, pressing his head back and to the side, exposing that slice of sensitive skin stretched tight across his neck, exposing pale flesh that Will presses his face against. Do you want me to take care of you?
Finn shivers. It’s a new kind of touch that lies in Will’s fingertips, firm and self-assured. Maybe he knows where this is going, or maybe it’s a sign of blind faith in Will that his eyes close, that his sweet pink mouth falls open.
“Yes.”
Will presses against him, forcing Finn back several paces, forcing him until the cool wall is flush against his back. Steady fingertips draw strong lines over the features of Finn’s face. The curve of his jaw, the line of his nose. As they trace over the innocent arch of his eyebrow, Finn nuzzles against Will’s palm. As they trace over the softness of his lips, his mouth falls open. Will lets a finger rest heavily on Finn’s bottom lip, pulling it down just enough for the whiteness of his bottom teeth to show.
You’re so... And there are no words to follow it. So handsome. So pretty. So loving. So trusting. So innocent. So much like me.
So owned.
Finn nods, licking his lower lip, his tongue leaving a wet stripe across Will’s forefinger.
I bet that mouth of yours gets you into trouble, Will says, still pressed against Finn’s front, still pressing Finn into the wall. Finn nods, his mouth falling open as Will drops his fingers lower, tracing the bob of Finn’s Adam’s apple, moving across to brush against the tender skin of an earlobe.
“But I’ve got you to get me out of it,” Finn says, his eyes still pressed closed.
I’ll always look after you, Will says, his mouth hot against one ear while his fingers curl in the front of Finn’s shirt, tugging him away from the wall, dragging him up the stairs, up that dark narrow hall that leads to Finn’s old bedroom. I’ll never let anyone hurt my boy.
Finn’s hands clench at Will’s waist, and Will’s fingers tighten, tugging sharply at Finn’s ear, pulling a soft cry from those lovely lips. You are my boy, Will murmurs again and again, pressing Finn through the door, kicking it closed behind them. My special boy. I’d do anything for you. He lets his hand drift slowly down Finn’s face, down the shivering skin of his neck, the hard lines of his collarbones, before gripping tightly at the front of Finn’s shirt.
Anything.
Finn’s head falls back, his eyes shut and his mouth open and his cheeks red. His body arching and pressing as Will runs a hand down his front, firm familiar touches, never questioning, never cautious. Finn’s mouth moves, taking several tries before any sound comes out, before a single word tumbles out.
“Please.”
Will’s hand is at Finn’s hip bone, the heel of his palm rubbing back and forth against the twist and shift of Finn’s hips.
What do you need, Finn? Will presses his mouth, hot and wet, against the side of Finn’s neck, sucking at the skin below Finn’s ear. Tell me what you need.
One more word, barely a whisper and yet it still managed to crack down the middle.
“Dad.”
Will pauses, for just a moment, and then his hand is cupping Finn through his jeans, his fingers gripping the curve of the bulge there while his palm presses firmly against the hard line of Finn’s erection. He’s hard. So fucking hard. And when Will grabs him, Finn makes a tight, desperate noise that Will immediately tries to soothe, gentle shushing noises and kisses pressed against hot, flushed skin. Walking Finn back until his spine is against the dark wood of his door frame, the pale patterned wallpaper that he grew up with.
It’s okay, Finn. I’m here.
Will has never been in this room before. Not like this.
I’ll take care of you. I’m here.
“I need you,” Finn says, one hand clutching at Will’s hip hard enough to bruise, the other hand clawing at the wall by his side, nails biting into the fading picture of a cowboy. “Please. I need... I need-”
And Will feels so dirtywronghot for saying it, but there’s not a single shred of anything left in his body that would make him hold those words back.
You need your daddy.
And when Finn replies, it’s a sigh that sounds like all of the air is being let out of his body. “Yess.” And Will kisses him to keep some of that air inside, to take some of it for himself. A keen kiss that is hard and taking against soft and yielding, a press of barely-parted lips that lasts right until the moment that Finn flicks his tongue out against Will’s lips, the moment his eyes crack open for the barest moment, and he whispers “Dad,” against the kiss-flushed curves of Will’s mouth.
Will presses his mouth hard against Finn’s again, uses both hands to tear open the front of Finn’s jeans, slides a hand under the elastic of Finn’s boxers, cupping him and squeezing him, and letting his hand sit there as a hot steady pressure, even as Finn rolls his hips against Will’s touch, thrusting his hips away from the wall and against that hot, broad palm.
What do you need? Will murmurs. Tell me. You can tell me.
“I need-” Finn pauses, panting and arching and desperate for more touches. He wraps a hand around Will’s wrist, shoving his hand further down, pressing fingers further back. Spreading his legs and canting his hips and whining until Will’s fingers touch that soft sensitive skin around his opening. “I need you. Dad. Daddy. Please.”
And those are the words that fall repeatedly from Finn’s lips as Will pulls away, as Will pulls Finn’s pants down his thighs.
“Please.”
As Will presses them down to Finn’s ankles, holding him and helping him as he steps out of pooled denim.
“Please.”
As he presses fingers against Finn’s mouth, and watches as sweet pink lips wrap around them, as Finn’s mouth pulls back and a dark, wet tongue darts out, coating them in slick saliva.
“This. Please. I need this.”
Finn, he says as he wraps one of Finn’s legs around his waist. My boy, he says as he trails his hand along the softness of an inner thigh. Finn, as he runs the flat planes of his palm along the hardness pressed flush against Finn’s stomach, as his hand moves lower through dark curls and over hot skin. As his fingertips circle that hot tight little hole, as one gently, gently presses forward.
My special little boy.
And Finn moans, moans low and deep and presses his hips down, his body demanding ‘more’ and ‘now’ while that delicate mouth of his begs, “Please.” Begs, “Please. Yes, fuck, please.”
Will presses another finger in, presses his mouth against Finn’s neck in gentle flittering kisses even as Finn tries to fuck himself down on Will’s hand, tries to take and grab and demand.
It’s okay, Will murmurs. I’ve got you. I’m here, and I’ve got you. He pauses to lick his lips, because these are loaded words for the both of them that are crawling over his tongue, pressing against his teeth. I won’t leave you.
Finn gasps, and his body arches, his hips twisting. His head falls back against the wall, and something calms in him, calms enough for him to stop the juttering thrusts of his hips, for him to angle his body just so, to rock against the thrusts of Will’s fingers. Gentle, even as they stretch, even as they fill him up.
“You’re not allowed to,” he says as Will sucks a kiss over his collar bone, as his movements become thick and quivering. “You’re not allowed to go.”
I won’t Will whispers, raising his head, pressing his nose against Finn’s check, dragging his lips across the shell of Finn’s ear. I’ll look after you, Finn. I’ll look after my boy.
And Finn’s head is thrown back and his eyes are scrunched closed even as his mouth opens wide, that dark mouth with lips that are red from biting, that mouth that gets him into trouble. Lips stretched wide and high needy sounds are escaping from within, flowing over them as his dick starts to twitch, even as neglected as it is. Coming hard and coming fast, coming from the fingers inside him and the hot body against him and the cold wall at his back. Coming from the smell of sweat and need, the arms wrapped around him, the words whispered in his ear.
And one word outlasts them, falling from Finn’s mouth like a desperate prayer, like a dirty secret, like something that he’s always needed.
The one word that started it all.
They stand there, panting in the dusty cold of Finn’s old room, Finn’s come smeared over both of their shirts, the eyes of the cowboys on the walls turned away, giving them a moment of privacy. Finn’s leg stiff from being wrapped around Will’s waist, Will’s arm sore from the angle and the movement. Eyes bright and faces flushed, and Finn meeting Will’s gaze only fleetingly.
“Well,” Finn says, before breaking off.
Will reaches up, and turns Finn’s face towards his own again, turning it with gentle, guiding fingers. His kiss is soft, and slow, and brings them back to how they were.
“It’s okay,” he says.
And it is.