TDIR: Can I?
Fandom: The Dark Is Rising
Pairing: Will/Bran
Warnings: Smut
Rating: NC17
Summary: There's a drip and splinters, but it doesn't matter. Will and Bran explore each other a little.
There's a drip in the roof of the barn or something, because there's cold water running down the back of Will's neck, and his shoulder blades are pressed awkwardly into something angular and full of splinters. It's damp and chilly and dark, but Will doesn't care. Right now he exists in the warmth between his body and Bran's, in the deep wet kisses, in the way Bran's fingers tangle into his hair. He feels giddy and eager, kind of shaky, and from Bran's quick harsh breathing, he can guess he's not the only one.
He's not quite sure what to do with his hands. The sudden kiss yesterday -- that was his first. He doesn't know what to do at all, but he has his hands on Bran's body anyway: one pushed up under the back of his shirt, flat against the small of his back, flat on his hot skin; the other first cupping Bran's face and then sliding down, slipping up under the shirt too. Bran seems to have little more idea, but there's an arrogant confidence in his movements anyway. He pushes his hand up higher, dragging Will's shirt with it, brushing his fingers over Will's chest and exploring a nipple, circling it. He swallows Will's little gasp in the kiss, pressing hard against him so that Will can feel Bran's hardness against his hip.
He wants to say something -- ask what he should do, say Bran's name, remind him that at any moment Owen Davies or John Rowlands or Rhys or his uncle might come in. But somehow he can't break the silence -- and silence is a relative thing, because he can hear Bran's breathing, and every time it catches in his throat, and he keeps making these little noises as Bran teases at his nipple.
"Sometime soon we have to do this in a bed," Bran says, whispering, and he sounds so confident about it, so easy. "So I can see you. So I can use my mouth..."
Will makes a little noise in his throat. "Bran..."
Bran lowers his voice a little, but somehow he still doesn't sound awkward as he moves from Will's mouth to kiss at his neck, to kiss just behind his ear. "Are you getting hard?" he asks, breathy in Will's ear, making him shiver. "I'm, god, so hard already."
"Bran!" Will says, and it's ridiculous, because they're all pressed up together, so that he can feel Bran's cock hard against his hip, and he's still shocked at hearing him say that.
Bran huffs out a laugh, kissing harder, teeth scraping over Will's earlobe. "We don't have to do anything about it, if you don't want. I was just -- last night I thought about you all night, after that kissing we did, and I thought about all the things I want to do to you, all the things I want to learn about with you, and I had to jerk off twice just to get to sleep and I still woke up hard..."
"Bran," he says again, in an entirely different tone, and he shivers a little.
"Let me touch you," Bran says against his neck, low and wanting, and Will finds himself nodding. Bran slides his hand down, over his stomach, slips his fingertips into the waistband of Will's jeans. For a moment that's all he does, trailing his fingers along a little in a way that makes Will shiver just a bit, and then he pulls away a little so he can see what he's doing as he undoes Will's belt and then his jeans. Will feels like he can't breathe, just having Bran's hands so close to his erection. He's kind of glad when Bran looks back up at his face, meeting his eyes, instead of staring at him. He's glad when Bran doesn't push his jeans down, but just pushes his hand in, wrapping his hand around his cock. They both make a soft noise. "You are hard," Bran says, almost wonderingly, his pale face flushed.
Will nods again, not sure there are words. Bran squeezes carefully, watching his face with narrowed eyes, like he's figuring this out as he goes along. Slowly, awkwardly, he moves his hand, strokes Will a couple of times. Will's knees suddenly feel like jelly and he leans back against the wall of the barn so that the uncomfortable beam presses into his shoulders harder than ever. It doesn't matter.
"Touch me too?" Bran whispers, and Will swallows hard. Bran takes his hand, guides it down, so that Will's palm presses against his cock through his jeans. He shudders just from that and suddenly, Will has to do more. He fumbles with Bran's jeans, pushing them down just a little so he can get his hand around Bran's cock comfortably. Bran gasps when he squeezes and kisses him, deep and wet just like before, and so eager, so much more clumsy. "Fuck."
Will wraps his free arm around Bran, pulling him a little closer, and starts to stroke. Bran takes a deep breath and shudders all over and then follows his example, resting their foreheads together and stroking Will fast. He can't help but move, pushing into it. "God. Not going to last long," he whispers, flushing, and Bran gets this smug look.
"It's okay," he says. He twists his wrist a little and rubs his thumb over the tip of Will's cock, watching the reaction and then doing it again, spreading pre-come. "Can't believe we've never done this before."
"How long have you wanted to?" Will asks, but he's more interested in the moans he can draw out of Bran with a particular kind of stroke.
"A few years. Since we were fourteen," Bran confesses, pressing in closer, and kissing him again, the kiss hard and yet sweet, too. Will moans into his mouth as he starts to stroke faster. "Can I make you come, Will?"
Will's sure his face must be bright red by now. He doesn't know how to answer, really -- just yes or that's pretty inevitable or perhaps please -- so he just nods, stroking Bran a bit quicker.
"Next time we do this, I'll get down on my knees and lick you," Bran whispers, knowing what his words are doing to Will -- heating him up with both embarrassment and wanting. "Come on Will..."
There's something in Bran's voice, something pleading, that catches in Will and jerks the response out of him. He pushes forward quicker than he has before, more than just the eager rocking, pushes right into Bran's hand and groans aloud, too loud, as he comes. Bran's mouth is on his instantly, swallowing up any noises he might make, and Bran's arm wraps around him, supporting him. He feels weak at the knees, weaker than before, but he still has Bran's cock in his hand so he tries to focus on that, stroking him slowly and then faster again, until he makes a choked off sound and tenses, stilling, his supportive arm tightening around Will.
"Fuck," Bran whispers, leaning against him, warm and heavy. Will wants to wipe his sticky hand, but he doesn't want to wipe it on Bran's shirt or something, so he tries not to touch anything, just wraps his arms around Bran and holds him. "We have to do this again."
"Yeah," Will says, shaky still, like he's never going to quit being off-balance with Bran. He turns his head and presses a kiss to Bran's temple, to his cheek, to the corner of his mouth. "I love you," he says, and that at least comes out naturally, even if he's being a great big girl about this.
Bran just smiles. "I love you too."
Pairing: Will/Bran
Warnings: Smut
Rating: NC17
Summary: There's a drip and splinters, but it doesn't matter. Will and Bran explore each other a little.
There's a drip in the roof of the barn or something, because there's cold water running down the back of Will's neck, and his shoulder blades are pressed awkwardly into something angular and full of splinters. It's damp and chilly and dark, but Will doesn't care. Right now he exists in the warmth between his body and Bran's, in the deep wet kisses, in the way Bran's fingers tangle into his hair. He feels giddy and eager, kind of shaky, and from Bran's quick harsh breathing, he can guess he's not the only one.
He's not quite sure what to do with his hands. The sudden kiss yesterday -- that was his first. He doesn't know what to do at all, but he has his hands on Bran's body anyway: one pushed up under the back of his shirt, flat against the small of his back, flat on his hot skin; the other first cupping Bran's face and then sliding down, slipping up under the shirt too. Bran seems to have little more idea, but there's an arrogant confidence in his movements anyway. He pushes his hand up higher, dragging Will's shirt with it, brushing his fingers over Will's chest and exploring a nipple, circling it. He swallows Will's little gasp in the kiss, pressing hard against him so that Will can feel Bran's hardness against his hip.
He wants to say something -- ask what he should do, say Bran's name, remind him that at any moment Owen Davies or John Rowlands or Rhys or his uncle might come in. But somehow he can't break the silence -- and silence is a relative thing, because he can hear Bran's breathing, and every time it catches in his throat, and he keeps making these little noises as Bran teases at his nipple.
"Sometime soon we have to do this in a bed," Bran says, whispering, and he sounds so confident about it, so easy. "So I can see you. So I can use my mouth..."
Will makes a little noise in his throat. "Bran..."
Bran lowers his voice a little, but somehow he still doesn't sound awkward as he moves from Will's mouth to kiss at his neck, to kiss just behind his ear. "Are you getting hard?" he asks, breathy in Will's ear, making him shiver. "I'm, god, so hard already."
"Bran!" Will says, and it's ridiculous, because they're all pressed up together, so that he can feel Bran's cock hard against his hip, and he's still shocked at hearing him say that.
Bran huffs out a laugh, kissing harder, teeth scraping over Will's earlobe. "We don't have to do anything about it, if you don't want. I was just -- last night I thought about you all night, after that kissing we did, and I thought about all the things I want to do to you, all the things I want to learn about with you, and I had to jerk off twice just to get to sleep and I still woke up hard..."
"Bran," he says again, in an entirely different tone, and he shivers a little.
"Let me touch you," Bran says against his neck, low and wanting, and Will finds himself nodding. Bran slides his hand down, over his stomach, slips his fingertips into the waistband of Will's jeans. For a moment that's all he does, trailing his fingers along a little in a way that makes Will shiver just a bit, and then he pulls away a little so he can see what he's doing as he undoes Will's belt and then his jeans. Will feels like he can't breathe, just having Bran's hands so close to his erection. He's kind of glad when Bran looks back up at his face, meeting his eyes, instead of staring at him. He's glad when Bran doesn't push his jeans down, but just pushes his hand in, wrapping his hand around his cock. They both make a soft noise. "You are hard," Bran says, almost wonderingly, his pale face flushed.
Will nods again, not sure there are words. Bran squeezes carefully, watching his face with narrowed eyes, like he's figuring this out as he goes along. Slowly, awkwardly, he moves his hand, strokes Will a couple of times. Will's knees suddenly feel like jelly and he leans back against the wall of the barn so that the uncomfortable beam presses into his shoulders harder than ever. It doesn't matter.
"Touch me too?" Bran whispers, and Will swallows hard. Bran takes his hand, guides it down, so that Will's palm presses against his cock through his jeans. He shudders just from that and suddenly, Will has to do more. He fumbles with Bran's jeans, pushing them down just a little so he can get his hand around Bran's cock comfortably. Bran gasps when he squeezes and kisses him, deep and wet just like before, and so eager, so much more clumsy. "Fuck."
Will wraps his free arm around Bran, pulling him a little closer, and starts to stroke. Bran takes a deep breath and shudders all over and then follows his example, resting their foreheads together and stroking Will fast. He can't help but move, pushing into it. "God. Not going to last long," he whispers, flushing, and Bran gets this smug look.
"It's okay," he says. He twists his wrist a little and rubs his thumb over the tip of Will's cock, watching the reaction and then doing it again, spreading pre-come. "Can't believe we've never done this before."
"How long have you wanted to?" Will asks, but he's more interested in the moans he can draw out of Bran with a particular kind of stroke.
"A few years. Since we were fourteen," Bran confesses, pressing in closer, and kissing him again, the kiss hard and yet sweet, too. Will moans into his mouth as he starts to stroke faster. "Can I make you come, Will?"
Will's sure his face must be bright red by now. He doesn't know how to answer, really -- just yes or that's pretty inevitable or perhaps please -- so he just nods, stroking Bran a bit quicker.
"Next time we do this, I'll get down on my knees and lick you," Bran whispers, knowing what his words are doing to Will -- heating him up with both embarrassment and wanting. "Come on Will..."
There's something in Bran's voice, something pleading, that catches in Will and jerks the response out of him. He pushes forward quicker than he has before, more than just the eager rocking, pushes right into Bran's hand and groans aloud, too loud, as he comes. Bran's mouth is on his instantly, swallowing up any noises he might make, and Bran's arm wraps around him, supporting him. He feels weak at the knees, weaker than before, but he still has Bran's cock in his hand so he tries to focus on that, stroking him slowly and then faster again, until he makes a choked off sound and tenses, stilling, his supportive arm tightening around Will.
"Fuck," Bran whispers, leaning against him, warm and heavy. Will wants to wipe his sticky hand, but he doesn't want to wipe it on Bran's shirt or something, so he tries not to touch anything, just wraps his arms around Bran and holds him. "We have to do this again."
"Yeah," Will says, shaky still, like he's never going to quit being off-balance with Bran. He turns his head and presses a kiss to Bran's temple, to his cheek, to the corner of his mouth. "I love you," he says, and that at least comes out naturally, even if he's being a great big girl about this.
Bran just smiles. "I love you too."