Sina Libbu Ziana (Part 4c)
Title: Sina Libbu Ziana (Two Hearts Beating)
Rating: NC-17
Part: 4c/7
The first thing Will realizes when he wakes up is that he's hungry, not just hungry but famished, his stomach rumbling just at the thought of food. He looks across to the alarm clock and concludes that this is understandable since he's slept an hour later than he'd intended to and a few mouthfuls of peanut butter and chocolate wasn't really a filling lunch.
He throws the duvet back, extricates himself from Finn's grip; even as the sleeping young man tightens his hold and mumbles his dissatisfaction at being left alone, and sits on the edge of the bed. He retrieves his briefs from the floor, tugging them up over his calves and then standing up to pull them on fully. His first footstep leads to a crunch, he looks down and realizes that he has found the graham crackers and makes a weary mental note to uncover the Dustbuster from the back of the hall closet at some point today. He turns his jeans the right way out and pulls them on, then heads through to the kitchen without bothering to collect his wrinkled t-shirt or sweater from the floor.
He'd put chicken breast in the fridge when packing the food away, intending to use it in a homemade sweet and sour dish or maybe satay it if he felt up to the task, but neither seems practical when he's hungry at that moment and they will take far too long to cook. There's a half-empty pack of risotto rice tucked away at the back of the pantry; he doesn't cook it often because he tends to screw the quantities up when he's adding the stock and ends up boiling the rice rather than letting it simmer slowly, but it will make for a quicker meal than anything else coming to mind right now so he sets a pan of water to boil and crumbles two chicken Oxo cubes into it.
Will has sliced a cupful of mushrooms and is frying them alongside some strips of bacon when Finn appears in the doorway; he's yawning, stretching his arms up over his head and his hair is pressed down flat to his forehead, making it readily apparent that he just woke up. He is also only wearing his underwear, a pair of tight black boxerbriefs decorated with little gold stars and a noticeable contrast to his baggy polkadot boxers from the day before.
“Hm, you're cooking,” He comments, evidently not yet fully awake.
“I am,” Will answers slowly.
“You're wearing an apron,” Finn continues, a hint of derision creeping into his tone.
Will is indeed wearing an apron, hot oil and a bare chest had seemed like a bad idea, “You're wearing very skimpy underwear,” He retorts.
Finn glances downwards and seems to realize his state of undress for the first time, “Uh, yeah.” A pink flush creeps across his cheeks, “They're, um, they're not really mine-”
“A gift from Rachel?” Will guesses.
Finn blinks, surprised, “Yeah, how did you-?”
“Gold stars are kind of her thing.” Will sees the corners of Finn's lips rise up in a smirk as he quotes her ad verbatim. “Also, she had this really short-lived crush on me. I used the tie she gave me to block up the pipes the last time the dishwasher broke down.”
Finn's smirk rises into a grin, “I, um, I've never really worn them before. I just didn't have any other clean underwear.” Even without the Duranki, Will is sure he would have been able to tell that was a lie; as it stands though, the truth comes pouring through their bond and he has the knowledge of Finn searching through his drawers after his phone call that afternoon, looking for the boxerbriefs and then mentally debating whether to wear them.
“Okay,” Will accepts the lie without question, turning back to the stove and checking on the bacon.
“Is there anything I can help with?” Finn asks, stepping closer.
“Whoa!” Will shoots a hand out to stop him getting too close to the hot stove. “You could go put a shirt. I don't really want to end this weekend by taking you the ER for grease burns.”
Finn nods, “Okay.” Will watches the stretchy material of the boxerbriefs pulled tightly over Finn's firm backside as he turns to head back to the bedroom, he makes a mental note to give Rachel the next solo she'll inevitably demand in return for the wonderful view.
When Finn returns, redressed in his khakis and polo shirt, Will gets him to stir the risotto rice and add the chicken stock to it one ladle at a time. He busies himself cutting up and frying the chicken breast, then adds it to the rice along with the bacon and mushrooms; by the time he is done, the whole pan is beginning to smell unbearably delicious.
He collects a spoon from the cutlery drawer and takes a small amount of the rice to taste it, it's still a little undercooked but he can't stop himself from humming appreciatively, “Mmm, that's good.”
“Let me try,” Finn requests. Will collects a second spoon, picks up a small amount of rice and holds it out for him; he makes a similarly satisfied noise, “You're right, that is good.”
They both take numerous spoonfuls until Will gets a grip on himself and slaps Finn's spoon away as it sneaks in for another bite, “We're gonna eat the whole pan at this rate.”
“I'm down with that.” Finn shrugs and maneuvers his spoon to steal another mouthful.
Will rolls his eyes fondly and pushes Finn away from the stove as the spoon is still dangling from his mouth, “Set the table, I'll get plates.”
Finn slides the spoon from his mouth, salutes with it and barks out “Yes chef,” like a contestant on Hell's Kitchen.
Finn takes 'the table' in the most literal sense because after Will has served the risotto up onto two plates he finds the kitchen empty and realizes that Finn has taken the cutlery through to the dining room rather than to the breakfast nook. Will doesn't eat in the dining room very often anymore, not since Terri left, there doesn't seem to be much point; the space has become a kind of unofficial home office but Finn has cleared the AP essays from last night and the other contents of his satchel to one end of the table and left room for them to sit opposite each other as they eat. Will is startled by the realization that Finn is patching over wounds that he hasn't even recognized are afflicting him.
“Thank you.” He drops a kiss to Finn's temple as he sets the plate down in front of him, but doesn't specify the reason as he crosses to the other side of the table.
They don't say anything as they eat because they're both voraciously hungry and the little mouthfuls they'd been taking as the food cooked had only served to whet their appetites.
“Stay here,” Will requests when they've finished eating. He collects their plates and cutlery, turning towards the kitchen, “I have a surprise for you,” He adds over his shoulder. He catches a glimpse of Finn sitting up to attention as he passes through the doorway and grins to himself, depositing the dirty plates with their brethren on the counter and swinging round to the refrigerator.
“Voila,” He sets his surprise down on the table before Finn, stepping back and awaiting the reaction.
Finn lifts the lid, blinks heavily and then looks up at Will with a brightness behind his soft brown eyes, “Is this a triple chocolate fudge cake?”
“I know you said it wasn't quite as good as one of my blowjobs,” Will can't help the smug tilt of his lips at that, “But I figured, why shouldn't you have both?”
“You bought a triple chocolate fudge cake... for me?” Finn blinks and licks his lips nervously.
He could deny it, make some excuse that he'd have bought the cake anyway but the truth is that if he'd not made the call to Finn back at Rays, he'd have strolled right past that section of the bakery without a second glance.
“Just for you.” The words are soft and he reaches out, running a thumb across Finn's cheek and pressing their lips together. He steps away and takes a seat on the other side of the table again, collecting the pile of essays from the end of the table and sliding his glasses on to make a start on grading. He looks up to find Finn still looking down at the cake-box, his fork untouched, “Finn, do you- Do you not want it?”
“No, I-” Finn looks startled from deep thought as he glances up. “I could eat this whole thing... and I'm probably gonna, but I want you to share it with me.”
Will cringes, “I appreciate the offer but- Finn you could eat that whole thing and burn it off in your sleep, if I have one slice it's gonna be sticking around until I can get to the gym.”
“So just have the first bite,” Finn suggests. “I can't have this whole thing to myself while you don't have any, I'll feel like a pig.”
“Okay,” Will accepts. He sets his red pen down, stands up and leans across the table, “Let me have it.” Finn grins cheerfully and picks the fork up, digging down into the cake to retrieve a bite and then holding it out for Will. The sponge is dry, but the thick chocolate frosting and fudge cream makes the mouthful moist enough to chew without it becoming problematic; the flavor is rich and a bit overwhelming. “You may want ice cream to balance out the chocolate,” He muses after he's swallowed the bite, “There's Häagen-Dazs in the freezer.” Before he can retreat to his side of the table, Finn's hand has come up to cup his neck and the young man's lips are against his own. Will leans into the kiss, sliding his tongue along the seam of their lips indulgently before pulling back and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
Having Finn opposite him while he's grading the papers is... distracting, to say the least, but unlike the previous evening where he had been longing for the young man from across a distance, here and now he only needs to glance up to see Finn smiling broadly around a mouthful of fudge cake and vanilla ice cream, only needs to edge his bare foot along the carpet to rub his ankle up Finn's leg and that makes it easier somehow to focus on his work.
Finn really does eat the whole cake, but it isn't easy for him. His early contented hums and moans at the delicious flavor turn to choked groans as he swallows thickly around clumps of sticky sponge.
“You don't have to finish it all,” Will advises, concerned.
“But it's really, really good,” Finn replies, plying another bite away from the dessert. He works his way through it at a steady pace and, after a solid 45 minutes, he swallows the final bite, washing it down with the inch of melted vanilla ice cream left at the bottom of the carton. He slumps back in his chair with a pained moan, rubbing both hands over his stuffed gut and popping the button of his khakis to relieve the pressure of his waistband, “Oh man, I feel so fat right now.”
Will looks up to observe him; he looks utterly debauched, with a smear of chocolate at the edges of his mouth and one hand tucked under his polo shirt to rub over his bloated belly. Finn flinches under his gaze and pulls his hand away, tugging his shirt down over his stomach ashamedly. Will takes his glasses off, folds them neatly and sets them aside, then leans across the table, “If I weren't so busy, and if I didn't think there's a good chance that it would make you vomit, I would ask you to fuck me right now.”
Finn blinks and meets his gaze shyly, “You really mean that?”
“Give me some time to finish these essays and for your stomach to settle, then I'll give you that blowjob I promised,” Will answers, “Sound good?”
Finn smiles and all traces of his self-consciousness slip away.
Setting that goal for himself proves to be a useful motivational tool for Will, he still glances over occasionally to where Finn is laid out on the couch watching some music channel on the television, but he mostly sticks to his task. He scans through each essay to get the gist of the quality and assigns grades accordingly, writing the letter in the top corner of the first page and then moving on to the next one; the small pile of completed essays from last night are quickly joined by their fellows and after the first fifteen minutes the pile of completed essays is larger than the pile of incomplete ones. In just a little over an hour since Finn finished devouring the cake, Will has scribbled a grade in the top corner of the last AP essay and pushed the short stack of Freshman pop quizzes back into his satchel; he can always grade those first thing tomorrow morning.
Will sits down gently on the edge of the couch and looks at Finn, he's splayed out with a hand tucked behind his head and his eyes shut, presumably listening to the music pouring from the television but possibly just asleep. Will slides a hand up under Finn's polo shirt and prods his stomach, glad to see that the flesh sinks in a little under the pressure rather than remaining firm and bloated as he is sure would have happened had he tried immediately after Finn had finished his meal.
Finn's eyes flutter open at the touch, “Hey.” He shuffles upright to give Will enough space to sit comfortably, “You finished marking the essays then?”
“Yeah.” Will lets his hand slide from under the polo shirt, settling it down on the couch cushion beside Finn instead so that he can lean over and press a soft kiss to his lips.
As courteous as Will strives to be, the prolonged anticipation has him too eager for more elaborate foreplay than coaxing Finn's mouth open with his tongue while he palms the young man's dick through his pants. Fortunately, Finn doesn't seem to mind; a bulge grows rapidly in his lap and he kisses back fiercely, until Will slides to his knees in front of the couch and attacks the zipper of his khakis. The skimpy material of the boxerbriefs hasn't coped well with Finn's rising hardness and his mostly-aroused dick is sticking out of the bottom of the underwear, the flushed cockhead pressed tightly to his thigh; Will licks the glans and is pleased when the line sticking out against the fabric becomes more defined, but takes pity on Finn and removes his dick from the confines of the uncomfortable underwear before he sets to work.
“Yes,” Finn hisses his appreciation as Will pulls the hard length into the warm, wet suction of his mouth. He grins around the girth of it and doesn't stop his descent until his nose is buried in Finn's pubic hair; he flexes his tongue during his withdrawal to stimulate the coronal ridge, the little yelp Finn gives is his reward for the effort.
Will keeps up the leisurely pace for a few minutes until he notices Finn's fingers kneading into the couch cushion beneath him.
“Will.” His name falls as a breathy plea from Finn's lips, a pointed reminder that he would actually like to come sometime soon and not just be kept on the maddening edge all evening. Finn's other hand is resting on the arm of the couch, fingers tapping out a rhythm in time with the baseline of the song playing on the television behind them, so Will pauses to gather his focus and then starts sliding his lips up and down the shaft to the same beat. “Oh man, yeah, like that,” Finn gasps out, his fingers releasing their tight grip on the couch fabric as he moves the hand up to his mouth to stifle a particularly loud moan.
The song finishes and leads into some club track that Will doesn't recognize but has a solid beat that he finds himself easily able to bob his head to; he keeps his ears keen at the chorus and picks up the repetitive lyrics quickly, sinking down so that the head of Finn's cock is cradled in the back of his throat and humming along.
“Fuck, Will! Oh, so good, so good...” Finn is on the edge when the song finishes, he cries out in frustration as Will pulls back and waits through the pause of the next song starting, “Please, Will, please just-” A drumline starts and Will leans in to bring the bulbous, dripping cockhead into his mouth again; Finn doesn't even reach the first chorus before he's shooting hot spunk into Will's expectant mouth.
Will swallows it down like it's honey and his spine is stripped from his body by his Eru Emuq's enthusiastic greeting of Finn's orgasm, so he falls back onto his butt and then further down until he is flat on his back on the floor. His head tilts back to the carpet so that he is looking up at the television behind him, on screen a troupe of tanned, curvy twenty-somethings in luridly-colored bikinis and not much else are thrusting, grinding, gyrating to the beat in a way that makes the blowjob Will just gave seem positively tame in comparison. Will grins and makes the monumental effort to sit back up, eager to share the joke; Finn is lazing in the afterglow of his orgasm, not sparing a glance for the music video's provocative choreography, his gaze resting solely on Will with a happiness in his expression that's too gentle to be simple youthful satisfaction in getting laid. Will thinks he had been meaning to say something, or do something other than watch the curve of Finn's lips like they hold the meaning of life, but then Finn tucks his dick back into his pants and reaches down to pull him up; when Will leans up to kiss him Finn doesn't complain about the aftertaste on his tongue.
When the kiss finally breaks Will ducks his head to Finn's shoulder, fighting to catch his breath, and he can feel each warm exhale against his cheek that tells him Finn is similarly in need of oxygen. Finn nuzzles Will's cheek, coaxing him to turn his head and they kiss again, greedy presses of their parted lips between each sorely-needed breath; Will remembers now his own experiences at Finn's age, recalls the heady sensation of needing another person more than air.
He rests his hands on Finn's hips and shifts to find a more comfortable position kneeling across his lap; Finn's hands come to rest on his ass but the touch is casual, supporting his movements rather than taking the opportunity to grope him. The space between each kiss grows, Finn starts to place his lips against Will's face or neck instead of to his lips each time; a hand moves to rest on Will's hip as he slides off Finn's lap and onto the couch beside him.
Will rests against Finn's side, smiling softly as Finn presses one last kiss against his hairline, “You know, we did this whole thing backwards.”
Finn chuckles, a lazy grin taking up residence on his face; he stretches his arms up over his head, letting Will find a more comfortable position against him, “So, now what?”
Will groans at the notion of having to think of something to do and digs the remote out from where its fallen between the cushions of the couch, handing it over and pillowing his head on Finn's chest, content to live with whatever Finn chooses.
He flicks through the stations before settling on an episode of Futurama, the one with Fry's dog; Finn gets something in his eye at the end of the episode and Will squeezes his fingers against Finn's thigh. It is incredibly similar to how they spent the previous evening and Will recalls how far away Monday morning had seemed then, compared to how close it is now.
“Stay and watch a movie,” He says, hoping the desperation coiling in his chest hasn't crept into his voice.
“What movie?” Finn asks.
“Any, see what's playing.” Will gestures to the TV and stands up, retreating to the kitchen and thumping his head against the refrigerator door. He knew this moment was coming, he knew it last night and he knew it the night before when he asked Finn to spend Anpa with him, he can delay this once more but then they're going to be all out of time. He returns to the lounge with a frosty Natty Boh and sinks onto the couch, popping the cap before he settles back into Finn's welcoming embrace, “Anything good?”
“Not really,” Finn answers, scrolling rapidly up and down the movie listings. “TiVo?”
“Sure.” Will shrugs and sips his beer.
“Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade,” Finn reads from the top of the DVR menu.
Will smiles fondly, “It was the first film I ever saw here on Earth.” He can still remember Mrs. Miller knocking at the front door of their quaint new home, asking if their family wanted to tag along on an outing to the cinema in a show of neighborly spirit; Will had been sat next to the Miller's seven-year-old daughter and he's sure that they had matching expressions of wide-eyed amazement as the movie started. He's always had a nostalgic soft-spot for the film and even though he has a copy on DVD, he tends to set it to record when he sees it listed; it's been stagnating in the recorded menu for a few weeks but he is glad of it now.
They watch the opening sequence where young Indiana travels across the top of a circus train, crawls through snakes and fends off a lion with a bullwhip in order to get home, only to have his hard work discredited by the sheriff and be forced to hand over the ornate cross he'd saved to the grave robbers who'd stolen it in the first place. The scene skips ahead 26 years and the orange palette of rural Utah is replaced with a dark, stormy ship and the introduction of Harrison Ford reprising his role as the already well-known hero of the series; as this unfolds, Will becomes aware that the younger man isn't entirely paying attention.
“Finn?” He whispers.
Finn's eyes settle on the brown bottle in Will's hand, he licks his dry lips nervously, “Can I have a beer?”
Will frowns reluctantly, but has to accept that he's already given the entire Glee club his approval to drink so long as they're sensible, “Don't you have to drive home?”
“I didn't drive here,” Finn answers.
His frown deepens, “You didn't?” He doesn't like the idea of Finn having to walk home this late and a taxi would call unwanted attention to that fact that he's here, “I'll give you a ride.”
Finn blinks, then smiles, pleased, “You will?”
“Of course,” Will says. He looks down at the bottle contemplatively, if he's going to be driving then he shouldn't drink; he hands the bottle to Finn, “You can finish this up, but that's all I'm giving you, alright?”
“Awesome.” Finn beams and expresses his thanks with a drawn-out kiss, then they settle back to watch the rest of the movie. Will feels tense and watches the young man warily, not sure what he's expecting; for Finn to chug the beer like a fratboy, maybe? But by the time Indy has uncovered the way to the catacombs, Finn has only taken a single sip; in so many ways, in more ways that Will can possibly know, Finn is Etlutu and so he feels his wariness ease.
Finn takes steady pulls from the beer as the film continues; as Indy infiltrates the castle under the pretense of being French, Finn lets his arm fall from round Will's shoulders and leans into him, so Will settles his arm round Finn's shoulders instead. Finn finishes up the beer as Indy and his father are making their escape from the Nazis, leans over to drop the empty bottle on the coffee table and then snuggles back up to Will's side with his head tucked onto Will's shoulder. He giggles tipsily at the slapstick humor of the motorcycle chase, the passengers' reaction to seeing Indy throw a man off of the zeppelin and the sight of Sean Connery scaring a flock of seagulls by flapping an umbrella; but he has sobered up by the time the third act rolls round and Indiana has to face the three trials to recover the grail and save his father's life, all with only some shaky clues to see him through the peril.
The iconic theme plays as the heroes ride off into the sunset and Will collects the remote to stop the movie and return to the DVR menu, he follows that up with the standby button to black the television screen out. Finn stretches and rubs his eyes as Will turns on the nearby lamp and checks the clock, it is well past time for Finn to be getting home, Will tries not to lament that fact.
In the doorway, Will makes a cursory check for his keys and phone, then pulls Finn close to him. He won't be able to say goodbye like he wants to once they've left the apartment, so he takes the chance while he has it and holds Finn in his arms, pressing occasional kisses to his neck and feeling the slide of the younger man's hands up and down his back.
Finn smiles when they finally pull apart, he runs his knuckles down the side of Will's face and presses a peck to his cheek, “It's going to be okay, Will.”
Will looks into sincere brown eyes and can't help but be amazed by the change in them since that morning, the hopelessness is gone from Finn's expression and he seems to have faith in his words; Will wishes he could share in that confidence.
Finn sits in the passenger seat, gaze turned to look out the window; Will watches the long shadows cast by passing streetlamps flit like phantoms over Finn's moonlit skin and longs for the awful silence between them to break. Finn doesn't speak, other than to gives directions as Will drives. The car pulls up to a comfortably-sized, slightly ramshackle house in what looks to be a nice-enough neighborhood. Will grips the wheel, his knuckles are white.
“Well, here we are.” He tries hard to sound casual.
“Yeah,” Finn answers with the same false-ease. He unfastens his seat-belt and opens the passenger door, turning back to look at Will; the light in the roof of the car is shining to indicate the open door and its yellow glow makes Finn's eyes shine like amber, he licks his lips and looks like he wants nothing more than to lean over and kiss him, “Goodnight Will.” His voice sounds raw, scratchy.
“Goodnight Finn,” Will answers gruffly, trying to radiate from his eyes the affection he can't risk showing out here in the open. He watches Finn climb out of the vehicle, close the car door behind him and walk up the path to the porch; when he sees Finn locate his keys from the pocket of his jacket, he takes the handbrake off and drives away.
He calmly backtracks through the suburban streets Finn had directed him down that led into the neighborhood, pulling out onto a main street after a few turns and starting the journey back home... back to his empty apartment, his empty bed, his empty life.
He's waiting at a stop sign, breathing shallowly around the constriction in his chest, when his phone buzzes and makes his heart leap in his chest. He fumbles the phone out of his pocket and taps the touchscreen to open the message, it is from Finn and only a single character in length: 'X'.
He smiles shakily and the tightness in his chest condenses, curls up into a tiny, powerful mass under his breastbone, like a quasar bleeding out sentiment rather than redshift. He slides his thumbs across the screen to articulate his reply, 'Right back at ya', then turns his attention back to the road and drives home.
Part 5a
Rating: NC-17
Part: 4c/7
The first thing Will realizes when he wakes up is that he's hungry, not just hungry but famished, his stomach rumbling just at the thought of food. He looks across to the alarm clock and concludes that this is understandable since he's slept an hour later than he'd intended to and a few mouthfuls of peanut butter and chocolate wasn't really a filling lunch.
He throws the duvet back, extricates himself from Finn's grip; even as the sleeping young man tightens his hold and mumbles his dissatisfaction at being left alone, and sits on the edge of the bed. He retrieves his briefs from the floor, tugging them up over his calves and then standing up to pull them on fully. His first footstep leads to a crunch, he looks down and realizes that he has found the graham crackers and makes a weary mental note to uncover the Dustbuster from the back of the hall closet at some point today. He turns his jeans the right way out and pulls them on, then heads through to the kitchen without bothering to collect his wrinkled t-shirt or sweater from the floor.
He'd put chicken breast in the fridge when packing the food away, intending to use it in a homemade sweet and sour dish or maybe satay it if he felt up to the task, but neither seems practical when he's hungry at that moment and they will take far too long to cook. There's a half-empty pack of risotto rice tucked away at the back of the pantry; he doesn't cook it often because he tends to screw the quantities up when he's adding the stock and ends up boiling the rice rather than letting it simmer slowly, but it will make for a quicker meal than anything else coming to mind right now so he sets a pan of water to boil and crumbles two chicken Oxo cubes into it.
Will has sliced a cupful of mushrooms and is frying them alongside some strips of bacon when Finn appears in the doorway; he's yawning, stretching his arms up over his head and his hair is pressed down flat to his forehead, making it readily apparent that he just woke up. He is also only wearing his underwear, a pair of tight black boxerbriefs decorated with little gold stars and a noticeable contrast to his baggy polkadot boxers from the day before.
“Hm, you're cooking,” He comments, evidently not yet fully awake.
“I am,” Will answers slowly.
“You're wearing an apron,” Finn continues, a hint of derision creeping into his tone.
Will is indeed wearing an apron, hot oil and a bare chest had seemed like a bad idea, “You're wearing very skimpy underwear,” He retorts.
Finn glances downwards and seems to realize his state of undress for the first time, “Uh, yeah.” A pink flush creeps across his cheeks, “They're, um, they're not really mine-”
“A gift from Rachel?” Will guesses.
Finn blinks, surprised, “Yeah, how did you-?”
“Gold stars are kind of her thing.” Will sees the corners of Finn's lips rise up in a smirk as he quotes her ad verbatim. “Also, she had this really short-lived crush on me. I used the tie she gave me to block up the pipes the last time the dishwasher broke down.”
Finn's smirk rises into a grin, “I, um, I've never really worn them before. I just didn't have any other clean underwear.” Even without the Duranki, Will is sure he would have been able to tell that was a lie; as it stands though, the truth comes pouring through their bond and he has the knowledge of Finn searching through his drawers after his phone call that afternoon, looking for the boxerbriefs and then mentally debating whether to wear them.
“Okay,” Will accepts the lie without question, turning back to the stove and checking on the bacon.
“Is there anything I can help with?” Finn asks, stepping closer.
“Whoa!” Will shoots a hand out to stop him getting too close to the hot stove. “You could go put a shirt. I don't really want to end this weekend by taking you the ER for grease burns.”
Finn nods, “Okay.” Will watches the stretchy material of the boxerbriefs pulled tightly over Finn's firm backside as he turns to head back to the bedroom, he makes a mental note to give Rachel the next solo she'll inevitably demand in return for the wonderful view.
When Finn returns, redressed in his khakis and polo shirt, Will gets him to stir the risotto rice and add the chicken stock to it one ladle at a time. He busies himself cutting up and frying the chicken breast, then adds it to the rice along with the bacon and mushrooms; by the time he is done, the whole pan is beginning to smell unbearably delicious.
He collects a spoon from the cutlery drawer and takes a small amount of the rice to taste it, it's still a little undercooked but he can't stop himself from humming appreciatively, “Mmm, that's good.”
“Let me try,” Finn requests. Will collects a second spoon, picks up a small amount of rice and holds it out for him; he makes a similarly satisfied noise, “You're right, that is good.”
They both take numerous spoonfuls until Will gets a grip on himself and slaps Finn's spoon away as it sneaks in for another bite, “We're gonna eat the whole pan at this rate.”
“I'm down with that.” Finn shrugs and maneuvers his spoon to steal another mouthful.
Will rolls his eyes fondly and pushes Finn away from the stove as the spoon is still dangling from his mouth, “Set the table, I'll get plates.”
Finn slides the spoon from his mouth, salutes with it and barks out “Yes chef,” like a contestant on Hell's Kitchen.
Finn takes 'the table' in the most literal sense because after Will has served the risotto up onto two plates he finds the kitchen empty and realizes that Finn has taken the cutlery through to the dining room rather than to the breakfast nook. Will doesn't eat in the dining room very often anymore, not since Terri left, there doesn't seem to be much point; the space has become a kind of unofficial home office but Finn has cleared the AP essays from last night and the other contents of his satchel to one end of the table and left room for them to sit opposite each other as they eat. Will is startled by the realization that Finn is patching over wounds that he hasn't even recognized are afflicting him.
“Thank you.” He drops a kiss to Finn's temple as he sets the plate down in front of him, but doesn't specify the reason as he crosses to the other side of the table.
They don't say anything as they eat because they're both voraciously hungry and the little mouthfuls they'd been taking as the food cooked had only served to whet their appetites.
“Stay here,” Will requests when they've finished eating. He collects their plates and cutlery, turning towards the kitchen, “I have a surprise for you,” He adds over his shoulder. He catches a glimpse of Finn sitting up to attention as he passes through the doorway and grins to himself, depositing the dirty plates with their brethren on the counter and swinging round to the refrigerator.
“Voila,” He sets his surprise down on the table before Finn, stepping back and awaiting the reaction.
Finn lifts the lid, blinks heavily and then looks up at Will with a brightness behind his soft brown eyes, “Is this a triple chocolate fudge cake?”
“I know you said it wasn't quite as good as one of my blowjobs,” Will can't help the smug tilt of his lips at that, “But I figured, why shouldn't you have both?”
“You bought a triple chocolate fudge cake... for me?” Finn blinks and licks his lips nervously.
He could deny it, make some excuse that he'd have bought the cake anyway but the truth is that if he'd not made the call to Finn back at Rays, he'd have strolled right past that section of the bakery without a second glance.
“Just for you.” The words are soft and he reaches out, running a thumb across Finn's cheek and pressing their lips together. He steps away and takes a seat on the other side of the table again, collecting the pile of essays from the end of the table and sliding his glasses on to make a start on grading. He looks up to find Finn still looking down at the cake-box, his fork untouched, “Finn, do you- Do you not want it?”
“No, I-” Finn looks startled from deep thought as he glances up. “I could eat this whole thing... and I'm probably gonna, but I want you to share it with me.”
Will cringes, “I appreciate the offer but- Finn you could eat that whole thing and burn it off in your sleep, if I have one slice it's gonna be sticking around until I can get to the gym.”
“So just have the first bite,” Finn suggests. “I can't have this whole thing to myself while you don't have any, I'll feel like a pig.”
“Okay,” Will accepts. He sets his red pen down, stands up and leans across the table, “Let me have it.” Finn grins cheerfully and picks the fork up, digging down into the cake to retrieve a bite and then holding it out for Will. The sponge is dry, but the thick chocolate frosting and fudge cream makes the mouthful moist enough to chew without it becoming problematic; the flavor is rich and a bit overwhelming. “You may want ice cream to balance out the chocolate,” He muses after he's swallowed the bite, “There's Häagen-Dazs in the freezer.” Before he can retreat to his side of the table, Finn's hand has come up to cup his neck and the young man's lips are against his own. Will leans into the kiss, sliding his tongue along the seam of their lips indulgently before pulling back and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
Having Finn opposite him while he's grading the papers is... distracting, to say the least, but unlike the previous evening where he had been longing for the young man from across a distance, here and now he only needs to glance up to see Finn smiling broadly around a mouthful of fudge cake and vanilla ice cream, only needs to edge his bare foot along the carpet to rub his ankle up Finn's leg and that makes it easier somehow to focus on his work.
Finn really does eat the whole cake, but it isn't easy for him. His early contented hums and moans at the delicious flavor turn to choked groans as he swallows thickly around clumps of sticky sponge.
“You don't have to finish it all,” Will advises, concerned.
“But it's really, really good,” Finn replies, plying another bite away from the dessert. He works his way through it at a steady pace and, after a solid 45 minutes, he swallows the final bite, washing it down with the inch of melted vanilla ice cream left at the bottom of the carton. He slumps back in his chair with a pained moan, rubbing both hands over his stuffed gut and popping the button of his khakis to relieve the pressure of his waistband, “Oh man, I feel so fat right now.”
Will looks up to observe him; he looks utterly debauched, with a smear of chocolate at the edges of his mouth and one hand tucked under his polo shirt to rub over his bloated belly. Finn flinches under his gaze and pulls his hand away, tugging his shirt down over his stomach ashamedly. Will takes his glasses off, folds them neatly and sets them aside, then leans across the table, “If I weren't so busy, and if I didn't think there's a good chance that it would make you vomit, I would ask you to fuck me right now.”
Finn blinks and meets his gaze shyly, “You really mean that?”
“Give me some time to finish these essays and for your stomach to settle, then I'll give you that blowjob I promised,” Will answers, “Sound good?”
Finn smiles and all traces of his self-consciousness slip away.
Setting that goal for himself proves to be a useful motivational tool for Will, he still glances over occasionally to where Finn is laid out on the couch watching some music channel on the television, but he mostly sticks to his task. He scans through each essay to get the gist of the quality and assigns grades accordingly, writing the letter in the top corner of the first page and then moving on to the next one; the small pile of completed essays from last night are quickly joined by their fellows and after the first fifteen minutes the pile of completed essays is larger than the pile of incomplete ones. In just a little over an hour since Finn finished devouring the cake, Will has scribbled a grade in the top corner of the last AP essay and pushed the short stack of Freshman pop quizzes back into his satchel; he can always grade those first thing tomorrow morning.
Will sits down gently on the edge of the couch and looks at Finn, he's splayed out with a hand tucked behind his head and his eyes shut, presumably listening to the music pouring from the television but possibly just asleep. Will slides a hand up under Finn's polo shirt and prods his stomach, glad to see that the flesh sinks in a little under the pressure rather than remaining firm and bloated as he is sure would have happened had he tried immediately after Finn had finished his meal.
Finn's eyes flutter open at the touch, “Hey.” He shuffles upright to give Will enough space to sit comfortably, “You finished marking the essays then?”
“Yeah.” Will lets his hand slide from under the polo shirt, settling it down on the couch cushion beside Finn instead so that he can lean over and press a soft kiss to his lips.
As courteous as Will strives to be, the prolonged anticipation has him too eager for more elaborate foreplay than coaxing Finn's mouth open with his tongue while he palms the young man's dick through his pants. Fortunately, Finn doesn't seem to mind; a bulge grows rapidly in his lap and he kisses back fiercely, until Will slides to his knees in front of the couch and attacks the zipper of his khakis. The skimpy material of the boxerbriefs hasn't coped well with Finn's rising hardness and his mostly-aroused dick is sticking out of the bottom of the underwear, the flushed cockhead pressed tightly to his thigh; Will licks the glans and is pleased when the line sticking out against the fabric becomes more defined, but takes pity on Finn and removes his dick from the confines of the uncomfortable underwear before he sets to work.
“Yes,” Finn hisses his appreciation as Will pulls the hard length into the warm, wet suction of his mouth. He grins around the girth of it and doesn't stop his descent until his nose is buried in Finn's pubic hair; he flexes his tongue during his withdrawal to stimulate the coronal ridge, the little yelp Finn gives is his reward for the effort.
Will keeps up the leisurely pace for a few minutes until he notices Finn's fingers kneading into the couch cushion beneath him.
“Will.” His name falls as a breathy plea from Finn's lips, a pointed reminder that he would actually like to come sometime soon and not just be kept on the maddening edge all evening. Finn's other hand is resting on the arm of the couch, fingers tapping out a rhythm in time with the baseline of the song playing on the television behind them, so Will pauses to gather his focus and then starts sliding his lips up and down the shaft to the same beat. “Oh man, yeah, like that,” Finn gasps out, his fingers releasing their tight grip on the couch fabric as he moves the hand up to his mouth to stifle a particularly loud moan.
The song finishes and leads into some club track that Will doesn't recognize but has a solid beat that he finds himself easily able to bob his head to; he keeps his ears keen at the chorus and picks up the repetitive lyrics quickly, sinking down so that the head of Finn's cock is cradled in the back of his throat and humming along.
“Fuck, Will! Oh, so good, so good...” Finn is on the edge when the song finishes, he cries out in frustration as Will pulls back and waits through the pause of the next song starting, “Please, Will, please just-” A drumline starts and Will leans in to bring the bulbous, dripping cockhead into his mouth again; Finn doesn't even reach the first chorus before he's shooting hot spunk into Will's expectant mouth.
Will swallows it down like it's honey and his spine is stripped from his body by his Eru Emuq's enthusiastic greeting of Finn's orgasm, so he falls back onto his butt and then further down until he is flat on his back on the floor. His head tilts back to the carpet so that he is looking up at the television behind him, on screen a troupe of tanned, curvy twenty-somethings in luridly-colored bikinis and not much else are thrusting, grinding, gyrating to the beat in a way that makes the blowjob Will just gave seem positively tame in comparison. Will grins and makes the monumental effort to sit back up, eager to share the joke; Finn is lazing in the afterglow of his orgasm, not sparing a glance for the music video's provocative choreography, his gaze resting solely on Will with a happiness in his expression that's too gentle to be simple youthful satisfaction in getting laid. Will thinks he had been meaning to say something, or do something other than watch the curve of Finn's lips like they hold the meaning of life, but then Finn tucks his dick back into his pants and reaches down to pull him up; when Will leans up to kiss him Finn doesn't complain about the aftertaste on his tongue.
When the kiss finally breaks Will ducks his head to Finn's shoulder, fighting to catch his breath, and he can feel each warm exhale against his cheek that tells him Finn is similarly in need of oxygen. Finn nuzzles Will's cheek, coaxing him to turn his head and they kiss again, greedy presses of their parted lips between each sorely-needed breath; Will remembers now his own experiences at Finn's age, recalls the heady sensation of needing another person more than air.
He rests his hands on Finn's hips and shifts to find a more comfortable position kneeling across his lap; Finn's hands come to rest on his ass but the touch is casual, supporting his movements rather than taking the opportunity to grope him. The space between each kiss grows, Finn starts to place his lips against Will's face or neck instead of to his lips each time; a hand moves to rest on Will's hip as he slides off Finn's lap and onto the couch beside him.
Will rests against Finn's side, smiling softly as Finn presses one last kiss against his hairline, “You know, we did this whole thing backwards.”
Finn chuckles, a lazy grin taking up residence on his face; he stretches his arms up over his head, letting Will find a more comfortable position against him, “So, now what?”
Will groans at the notion of having to think of something to do and digs the remote out from where its fallen between the cushions of the couch, handing it over and pillowing his head on Finn's chest, content to live with whatever Finn chooses.
He flicks through the stations before settling on an episode of Futurama, the one with Fry's dog; Finn gets something in his eye at the end of the episode and Will squeezes his fingers against Finn's thigh. It is incredibly similar to how they spent the previous evening and Will recalls how far away Monday morning had seemed then, compared to how close it is now.
“Stay and watch a movie,” He says, hoping the desperation coiling in his chest hasn't crept into his voice.
“What movie?” Finn asks.
“Any, see what's playing.” Will gestures to the TV and stands up, retreating to the kitchen and thumping his head against the refrigerator door. He knew this moment was coming, he knew it last night and he knew it the night before when he asked Finn to spend Anpa with him, he can delay this once more but then they're going to be all out of time. He returns to the lounge with a frosty Natty Boh and sinks onto the couch, popping the cap before he settles back into Finn's welcoming embrace, “Anything good?”
“Not really,” Finn answers, scrolling rapidly up and down the movie listings. “TiVo?”
“Sure.” Will shrugs and sips his beer.
“Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade,” Finn reads from the top of the DVR menu.
Will smiles fondly, “It was the first film I ever saw here on Earth.” He can still remember Mrs. Miller knocking at the front door of their quaint new home, asking if their family wanted to tag along on an outing to the cinema in a show of neighborly spirit; Will had been sat next to the Miller's seven-year-old daughter and he's sure that they had matching expressions of wide-eyed amazement as the movie started. He's always had a nostalgic soft-spot for the film and even though he has a copy on DVD, he tends to set it to record when he sees it listed; it's been stagnating in the recorded menu for a few weeks but he is glad of it now.
They watch the opening sequence where young Indiana travels across the top of a circus train, crawls through snakes and fends off a lion with a bullwhip in order to get home, only to have his hard work discredited by the sheriff and be forced to hand over the ornate cross he'd saved to the grave robbers who'd stolen it in the first place. The scene skips ahead 26 years and the orange palette of rural Utah is replaced with a dark, stormy ship and the introduction of Harrison Ford reprising his role as the already well-known hero of the series; as this unfolds, Will becomes aware that the younger man isn't entirely paying attention.
“Finn?” He whispers.
Finn's eyes settle on the brown bottle in Will's hand, he licks his dry lips nervously, “Can I have a beer?”
Will frowns reluctantly, but has to accept that he's already given the entire Glee club his approval to drink so long as they're sensible, “Don't you have to drive home?”
“I didn't drive here,” Finn answers.
His frown deepens, “You didn't?” He doesn't like the idea of Finn having to walk home this late and a taxi would call unwanted attention to that fact that he's here, “I'll give you a ride.”
Finn blinks, then smiles, pleased, “You will?”
“Of course,” Will says. He looks down at the bottle contemplatively, if he's going to be driving then he shouldn't drink; he hands the bottle to Finn, “You can finish this up, but that's all I'm giving you, alright?”
“Awesome.” Finn beams and expresses his thanks with a drawn-out kiss, then they settle back to watch the rest of the movie. Will feels tense and watches the young man warily, not sure what he's expecting; for Finn to chug the beer like a fratboy, maybe? But by the time Indy has uncovered the way to the catacombs, Finn has only taken a single sip; in so many ways, in more ways that Will can possibly know, Finn is Etlutu and so he feels his wariness ease.
Finn takes steady pulls from the beer as the film continues; as Indy infiltrates the castle under the pretense of being French, Finn lets his arm fall from round Will's shoulders and leans into him, so Will settles his arm round Finn's shoulders instead. Finn finishes up the beer as Indy and his father are making their escape from the Nazis, leans over to drop the empty bottle on the coffee table and then snuggles back up to Will's side with his head tucked onto Will's shoulder. He giggles tipsily at the slapstick humor of the motorcycle chase, the passengers' reaction to seeing Indy throw a man off of the zeppelin and the sight of Sean Connery scaring a flock of seagulls by flapping an umbrella; but he has sobered up by the time the third act rolls round and Indiana has to face the three trials to recover the grail and save his father's life, all with only some shaky clues to see him through the peril.
The iconic theme plays as the heroes ride off into the sunset and Will collects the remote to stop the movie and return to the DVR menu, he follows that up with the standby button to black the television screen out. Finn stretches and rubs his eyes as Will turns on the nearby lamp and checks the clock, it is well past time for Finn to be getting home, Will tries not to lament that fact.
In the doorway, Will makes a cursory check for his keys and phone, then pulls Finn close to him. He won't be able to say goodbye like he wants to once they've left the apartment, so he takes the chance while he has it and holds Finn in his arms, pressing occasional kisses to his neck and feeling the slide of the younger man's hands up and down his back.
Finn smiles when they finally pull apart, he runs his knuckles down the side of Will's face and presses a peck to his cheek, “It's going to be okay, Will.”
Will looks into sincere brown eyes and can't help but be amazed by the change in them since that morning, the hopelessness is gone from Finn's expression and he seems to have faith in his words; Will wishes he could share in that confidence.
Finn sits in the passenger seat, gaze turned to look out the window; Will watches the long shadows cast by passing streetlamps flit like phantoms over Finn's moonlit skin and longs for the awful silence between them to break. Finn doesn't speak, other than to gives directions as Will drives. The car pulls up to a comfortably-sized, slightly ramshackle house in what looks to be a nice-enough neighborhood. Will grips the wheel, his knuckles are white.
“Well, here we are.” He tries hard to sound casual.
“Yeah,” Finn answers with the same false-ease. He unfastens his seat-belt and opens the passenger door, turning back to look at Will; the light in the roof of the car is shining to indicate the open door and its yellow glow makes Finn's eyes shine like amber, he licks his lips and looks like he wants nothing more than to lean over and kiss him, “Goodnight Will.” His voice sounds raw, scratchy.
“Goodnight Finn,” Will answers gruffly, trying to radiate from his eyes the affection he can't risk showing out here in the open. He watches Finn climb out of the vehicle, close the car door behind him and walk up the path to the porch; when he sees Finn locate his keys from the pocket of his jacket, he takes the handbrake off and drives away.
He calmly backtracks through the suburban streets Finn had directed him down that led into the neighborhood, pulling out onto a main street after a few turns and starting the journey back home... back to his empty apartment, his empty bed, his empty life.
He's waiting at a stop sign, breathing shallowly around the constriction in his chest, when his phone buzzes and makes his heart leap in his chest. He fumbles the phone out of his pocket and taps the touchscreen to open the message, it is from Finn and only a single character in length: 'X'.
He smiles shakily and the tightness in his chest condenses, curls up into a tiny, powerful mass under his breastbone, like a quasar bleeding out sentiment rather than redshift. He slides his thumbs across the screen to articulate his reply, 'Right back at ya', then turns his attention back to the road and drives home.
Part 5a