Fic. I Might Know the Word
Title: I Might Know the Word
Author: alicebluegown16
Pairing: Will/Finn
Rating: NC-17 (boy, howdy!)
Summary: Five snapshots. Five adjectives that don't really define Will and Finn except for the fact that they kind of do.
AN: A mash up of two of the Winn prompts: Finn and Will dealing with the long distance relationship thing, and Finn having a kink for Will wearing his clothes/being sweaty and or unshaven.
Warning: Besides phone sex and rimming? Extreme sap. I honestly didn't think it was possible to write such sappy porn.
1. Romantic
“Finn, it’s really late, are you okay?”
“Yeah, just too tired to sleep. Which I didn’t even believe was possible before but whattya know, between classes and rehearsal and the Advanced Music Theory project that’s eating my soul, and just like, life in general I’m officially at the ‘Fire, bad. Tree, pretty.’ level of exhaustion.”
“Oh, Finn.” Will’s using his best talk to me, I care voice and it makes something twist up inside his chest and the next thing he knows he’s blurting out “Plus, I really, really miss you. Like a lot. I hate sleeping without you.”
And oh god, that didn’t sound totally pathetic and needy, not at all. The second the words are out of his mouth (and his voice cracked a little towards the end there, isn’t that just awesome), he wants to yank them back in or perhaps crawl into a hole and die.
“Wow, okay, we’re going to pretend I didn’t just say that…Let’s, uh, let’s talk about something else. I mean it’s late and we’re both alone. Isn’t this the part where you’re supposed to ask me what I’m wearing? Boxers by the way. Plaid.”
“What a coincidence. I’m wearing boxers too. Yours, actually.”
Will’s voice is thick and heated like syrup and he makes the word ‘yours’ sound like the absolute dirtiest of dirty talk on the planet. It has Finn closing his eyes, pressing the heel of his hand down into his thigh to keep from coming.
“Jesus, Will…okay, wow. Are we actually…do you ah, actually want…to-uh...”
“If you want to.”
“I-yeah-yes…I-where do you wanna start?” He lets out a shuddery shaky laugh of ‘I’m kind of nervous, but I’m totally with you on this, so bear with me.’
“Well, for starters, do you want me to take the boxers off or leave them on?”
“Leave, em…leave ‘em on.” He licks his lips and swallows, throat suddenly so dry it makes a faint clicking noise.
There’s the muffled sound of Will shifting against the bed, making himself comfortable Finn thinks with a shudder of pleasure.
“Keep going, Finn. Tell me what to do.”
Alrighty then. Apparently he and Will are still at that shiny learning new things about each other stage in the relationship. Like Will’s side career as a phone sex operator.
“Put your hand inside your…my underwear. And touch your cock.” Actions mimic words and the rub of fabric against his skin almost has him going into sensory overload. He stares up at the cracks in his ceiling to keep from hyperventilating and seriously, when did he suddenly wander into a porno and can he stay here forever?
“What do you want, Finn?”
“You.” The answer is immediate, instinctive.
“You’ve already got me. What else?” And the sentiment would be cheesy or cliché any other time with anyone else, but it’s not, it’s something else, something bigger that makes his stomach swoop down like he just hit the low point on a rollercoaster.
“Want you here. With me. Want to suck you off.” Soft moan from Will before he can even bite out the words, and he scrapes at his thigh to keep this from ending to soon.
“Want to fuck you...”
Gaspy staccato breath, a wet noise, Will stroking himself, he closes his eyes, readjusts the phone in his hand, he’s sweating like crazy and worries he’ll drop it. Another wet sound and he realizes Will must be sucking on his fingers. Trailing them down and down and pressing in and holy fuck…He doesn’t know if there’s a word for how hot that is.
And now he can’t keep from touching himself. Slick wet slide, twist of his wrist, almost but not quite dancing around too rough.
No, he’s touching Will. Describing everything as it unfolds and maybe this should be weird or skeevy or gross or something besides completely right.
“Your mouth…want your mouth…want you to lick me open-make me scream, fuck me and then, and then I want to do it all over again to you…as soon as we can. Over and over, and it still won’t be enough, can’t get enough of you…all of it…I want you, I want to be touching you, fuck Will…please…love you, miss you…”
And that’s it, he’s gone, speech dissolving into a torrent of vowels and consonants but no words, Will moaning and gasping his name echoing in his ears.
He should clean up. He’s sticky and clammy and percolating in your own jizz is seven kinds of nasty, but he’s worn out and woozy, his eyes are closing. He’s tired and for the first time in ages it’s not the nerves jangling ants crawling under his skin exhaustion.
He falls asleep to Will’s voice and ‘I love you’ and the promise of ‘soon.’
***
2. Sweet
“You wanna wait with my folks while I---“
The next words were supposed to be “wash off the stage make-up and change” but what comes out instead is a huff of surprise when his back hits the door with a thud and an armful of Will follows to thud against him as well.
Then Will’s kissing him, sloppy and hot and fast, as his hands trace along each ridge of his spine.
He makes a little noise of confusion and Will flashes a smile that borders on indecent.
“I can be quick if you can be quiet.”
Then Will drops to his knees.
It takes him about .05 seconds to go from ‘Oh my fucking God, you want to fool around now?’ to ‘Fuck, god yes, now, now, now.’
Never mind that pretty much the entire Drama department and all of their friends and family are milling about the theatre, never mind that his friends and family are waiting to take him out to dinner.
Will drove all the way out here to see him on his opening night. And brought him roses. And kissed him in front of his cast mates.
He’s not made of stone, people.
So when Will fumbles with his belt and tugs down his zipper he just says “Careful, don’t mess the pants up or wardrobe will kill me.”
Will’s mouth, wet, tight with suction and getting wetter and tighter, hum of pleasure that he’d swear he feels from the base of his skull to the tips of his toes.
He doesn’t last long which is entirely the point and he comes, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes, hands buried in sweat damp hair, shuddering and desperately sucking in air, feeling for all the world like he’s been hit by a bus.
Will releases him. Still fully dressed, hair all mussed up and eyes burning. He can’t help it. He loses the battle to stay upright, pitches forward, his body instinctively curving around the other man, stroking the long lean lines of Will’s back as he waits for his brain to resolidify.
Arms wrap around his waist and Will lifts his head, pressing a kiss somewhere in the vicinity of Finn’s navel.
The rest of the night is a warm perfect blur.
Will’s arm around his shoulder.
Will’s hand in his.
Will’s smile every time he introduces him to someone with “This is my boyfriend, Will.”
He doesn’t even mind that when Will insists on toasting to the best portrayal of Link Larkin to ever come out of OSU, Kurt rolls his eyes and mutters “Don’t mind me. I’ll just be over here quietly slipping into a diabetic coma.”
He does think it’s kind of not cool when his Mom loudly concurs.
Dude, they’re not that bad.
***
3. Sentimental
He would just like to state for the record that this is all Will’s fault.
Come by for a Glee rehearsal some time, he’d said. It’ll be great motivation for the kids to meet a former student who made it all the way to Nationals, he’d said. You’ll be a role model, he’d said. It’ll be just like old times, he’d said.
So he came and he’d said a few words that might have possibly fallen under the heading of inspirational and he’d decided to stick around for the rest of the rehearsal because he was Awesome Supportive Boyfriend Person and also because he’s kind of a sap and watching Will do his enthusiastic teacher bit is one of his favorite things ever.
Of course there’s that one kid who just isn’t getting it, so bad that two left feet would actually be an overstatement of his skills, and he’s got to laugh because he’s been there. Hell, he was that kid and just like with him, Will is infinitely patient.
“Why don’t you watch me and then try to follow along.”
Then Will’s unbuttoning his vest and nice pressed dress shirt and underneath he’s wearing a Property of Ohio State Music Department t-shirt, his shirt, and he’s grinning at Finn like he absolutely fucking knows what it does to him. Will’s completely aware that he’s basically wiggling his hips and shaking his ass with the words Property of Finn plastered across his chest.
So, yes it is totally Will’s fault that the second rehearsal ends he’s manhandling Will into his office, slamming him into the wall and calling him a cocktease.
“So fucking hot like this, swear to God. Best part of rehearsal when you’d take off your seventeen thousand layers and I’d get to see you. Loved your arms, loved your chest, god, fuck when your shirt would ride up and I’d get a glimpse of your stomach, I’d almost fucking come in my jeans. Used to mess up on purpose so I could get you like this, did’ja know that?”
It is totally Will’s fault that they end up in this situation: both their pants pulled down around their thighs , Will standing on one leg with the other one hooked around Finn’s waist, Will’s hands grabbing his ass, sucking at Will’s collarbone, kiss him, touch him, fuck him, gotta get closer, gotta crawl inside him, gotta live under his skin.
And oh shit, they’re falling, tangle of arms and legs, crack of his hipbone hitting the ground, he actually sees stars for a moment and yeah, that’s definitely gonna leave a mark. Will laughing when he insists he’s fine and fuck no they’re not stopping, if Will stops he’s going to fucking kill him.
“Finn, you sweet talker, you.”
“Yeah, I’m just such a hopeless romantic.”
***
4. Gentle
Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty he is free at last.
School is finally out for summer.
No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers’ dirty looks.
No more study groups.
No more multi-page essays written while he’s forced to sit in a tiny desk clearly designed for midgets with scoliosis (and obviously these are Alice Cooper’s much lesser known early lyrics to the song.)
All his finals are turned in, his dorm room is packed up, and he is done.
And he is making up for lost time.
Because it’s been over a month since he last came home for the weekend.
Which is like five eternities in haven’t seen Will naked time. So, to say he’s a little eager might be a bit of an understatement.
He is knocking into walls like pinballs, elbow in your face, shoving through the doorway, oops, I--hope-you-weren’t-too-attached-to-that-lamp fucking desperate. Or desperate to fuck, however you want to phrase it.
And the best part? Will is right there with him, taking it all and giving as good as he gets. Bruising kisses and dirty rough laugh of hold-on-my-arm-doesn’t-actually-bend-that-way. Pushing him onto the bed and climbing on top of him. A shadow against his eyelids, hands on his hips flipping him over, and yeah, okay, he can go with that.
He knows Will is going to make this good.
Head hanging down, white knuckle grip on the bed frame, Will a solid weight behind him, each thrust sending him sliding forward across the sheets.
And then it’s “fuck…God…Finn”, snap of hips, double, triple time, knees buckling, shit, gonna fall forward, no, he’s okay, Will’s got him. Teeth sinking into his shoulder, roaring in his ears, vision going slightly dim and fuzzy.
Holy fuck.
That was…Christ. It’s like getting punched out by an orgasm. Really, really awesome but also kind of ow.
Once he can, you know, form actual words again, he manages to croak out “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you kind of missed me.”
A huff of laughter and a kiss to the back of his neck.
“Mmm, maybe. Just a little bit.”
When they do fall, it’s together, slow and easy against the wrinkled sheets.
****
5. Soft
When Finn scoots down on the bed and settles between Will’s legs, the other man actually groans.
“Gotta be kidding me, Finn…M’done, m’done. Swear to God, I’m all fucked out. All you’re gonna get is a little white flag that says bang.”
But Finn’s just smiling and whispering “shhh”, and “trust me”, and “I’ve got you” and “gonna make you feel so good.”
He thinks there should be some tiny little repressed football player part of his brain going ewwww at what he’s about to do, at the very concept of wanting this. But he can’t help it, he can’t get enough of Will like this, sprawled out, hair wrecked, stubble along his jaw line. Looking all rumpled, blurred around the edges, and sex drugged.
The first couple sweep of his tongue, Will lets out a low keening whine and just sort of lets him. Two more and his tongue presses in, warm and wet, Will’s breath hitching, hips rocking, legs opening wider, hmm, and ah, and oh, and don’t, don’t, don’t when Finn pulls away.
And then he’s back, his mouth and two slick fingers and God he can’t stop watching Will, head thrown back, neck a perfect line, another slow roll of hips, hands clenching the sheets, and Will’s coming, like that, just like that, stuttery little huh noise of surprise.
Shifting up again, chin tucked into Will’s neck, lining his fingers up with his ribs to feel the rise and fall of each breath.
And sleep.