Chill After Dark

“I can’t believe you never have,” Darren says. He bows his head, flicks the lighter, and seconds later is passing the pipe to his left; seconds later, his voice creaks out, rough with smoke, “I have no idea how you’ve made it all these years without it.” He finishes the exhale and finally looks up. “Never?”

“No, obviously I mean here here,” he clarifies as he takes the pipe from the crew member between them and quickly puts it to his lips before the cherry can dim. He passes the pipe to Will and then waves his hand expansively to the crowd below them before breathing out in one sighing burst. “On the roof, outside, with everybody just,” and he waves his hand again.

Will’s hand rests on his shoulder just as Darren laughs, low and loose. “Yeah, obviously I have. It’s fine - look.” There’s an old coffee can on the ground filled with cigarette butts, papers boxes, and, sure enough, when Chris leans over he can see a few burned out pipe screens. “It’s a good spot.”

Chris tips his head back to squint up into the sky again and the day’s been so overwhelming - there are more people in the backlot than he’s used to and everyone’s so high on life and their love for each other, so when Darren grabbed his arm getting off the ferris wheel, yeah. He can use the escape for a bit. They still have to film later, but for now, there aren’t tears, just hopefulness for what’s to come.

At that thought, he looks over at Will and grins, bigger than he usually lets himself. “Well, I’ve never done this here here either,” Will adds, smiling back and Darren laughs at them again.

“You two are too much today. And I know because I’m too much.” He takes the pipe again before adding, “I’m too much all the time. I’m gonna miss you fuckers.”

“Nope, none of that,” Chris decides, stealing the pipe back from him. He closes his eyes as he exhales, listening to the sounds of the cast and crew who came up to the roof with them, and the bustle of activity down below. He feels Will’s hand cover his, because right, he still has the pipe, and hands it over willingly, because he is so good right now.

Will, Darren, and a few others get off on a tangent about other taboo things done on lots, but he tunes them out. Chris doesn’t get introspective, that’s not where he wants to be. It’s the opposite; a feeling of peace washes over him. He’s suddenly aware of the bright Los Angeles sun on his skin, a light breeze wafting over the rooftop, and yeah, it’s a pretty perfect way to spend his lunch break.

Music starts down below them and suddenly Will’s pulling him up and over to the edge. They’ve been discovered missing, because Brad is pointing up at them, but Chris can’t really find a reason to care. They sing along with the music one last time and he can’t help grinning wildly as he puts his sunglasses back on to shield the brightness of the day from his eyes. He’s suddenly hyper-aware of Will’s presence next to him, their fingers brushing at the tips as the chorus builds. He looks over to Will’s face, even sweeter than it usually is, and Chris is just happy Will’s with him.

Darren, classy as always, ends the song with a, “Fuck yeah!” When they all back up as he adds, “Is anyone else hungry? Because I’m, like, starving.”

“Didn’t you already eat?” Chris asks giddily, and how long had he been daydreaming for? Everyone seems to agree that food sounds great, though, and Chris is about to add his two cents when he feels Will’s hand reach for him.

“Go ahead without us,” Will says as they all start clamoring down the stairs, and he locks his fingers around Chris’s wrist, loose and easy. “We’ll be there in just a minute.”

Chris looks at him, squinting through sunglasses to try to figure out what that’s about, but Will just watches them go, and Chris hears laughter and their steps heavy and plodding on wooden stairs, fading into the background with the music and the voices of the crowd below; it feels like it’s taking forever for them to make their way back downstairs, and he smiles as he listens to them go, to Darren’s loud laughter, because everything is perfect for just a second. The weather is perfect, his Glee family is happy, and he feels good, so good. He’s content to wait.

He gets so lost in it that it’s a surprise when Will finally turns toward him, his smile wolfish, and says, “Know what else we’ve never done here here?”

Chris laughs immediately, high and rolling and far too loud, because it’s ridiculous, so absurd; it’s just the kind of thing that Will would come up with. He should have known that the same man who once dragged him out to play hide-and-seek in the middle of a freezing January night, in Paris, would get to him on the last day he’d be on this lot for a while and turn it into a game.

And yes. Yes. It’s the same thing that made him follow everybody else up to the roof, that aimless last-day-of-school feeling, and every story he’s ever heard about ridiculous shenanigans and adventures on college campuses (skinnydipping in fountains, fucking in practice rooms - all the stupid shit he’s heard his friends talk about with a mixture of sheepish regret and sweet, nostalgic pride) suddenly feel like inspiration. And if Glee was where he went to college (which it was), then today must surely be his graduation day, and it’s the last day to make this campus his own.  

“Yes,” he finally says out loud, and Will laughs at him.

“Well that was definitive. Okay, then. Okay.” Will looks around him, seemingly searching the ground for something, and Chris watches him.

“What?” Chris says.

Will scrubs at his beard with one hand. “I just… I don’t know. I didn’t expect you to be so excited about it. It’s not like I had an actual plan.”

Chris looks at him, squints his eyes and lifts his glasses to get a better look at his face, and then he starts giggling. “Are you blushing?”

“No.”

“You are. Poor, poor Will. Has the student surpassed the master?”

Will tugs him closer, chuckling. “God, you are so high.” He plants a kiss on his temple. “Come on, let’s go back here.”

He follows, because why wouldn’t he - Will does always have great ideas, and it’s been another few minutes and the second hit is rolling nice and easy over him, and he feels another little push, another little burst of contentment in his brain. It’s such a good day.

Will drags him down off the roof, down one staircase and across a narrow walkway into one of the small rooms a few steps down. Chris doesn’t think of what they’ve filmed there, he follows his boyfriend willingly and stays in the moment, because this is actually happening.

They happened to pick one of the New York set buildings that’s mostly open, but there is a tiny hidden alcove below them. Chris doesn’t know how they’ll both fit because that space was built just for one body shot through a window, but they do. It’s tight, and Chris is suddenly thrilled he’s not claustrophobic. He laughs, bright and a bit silly, at the thought.

“That’s not directed at me, is it?” Will asks, voice dripping with sincerity. He may sound sweet, but Will is pushing him up against one of the walls, and oh, suddenly there’s much more room.

“Nope. Just - everything,” Chris says, as if it explains the whole day and he throws an arm on the wall next to him to brace himself.

“I see.” Will smiles, running a hand down Chris’s dark trousers to his fly and Chris doesn’t even try to hide his gasp at the contact.

“Yep - yes, yes, yes.” With the additional space, Will finds the ability to kneel, which amazes Chris to no end.

His fingers are quick and efficient; he thinks maybe today’s got Will a little on edge, too, the simmering fear of being caught here, in what is always his workplace but has become so much else, too. In no time Will has his fly open and his cock out, still only half-hard, and Chris cradles his jaw - his face feels so sharp and scratchy and good, and his fingertips can’t stop petting, tiny and repetitive, just in front of Will’s ear - as Will looks up at him and without a hint of his usual smile takes him into his mouth - all of him.

He tilts his face to the ceiling and breathes deep, lets his eyes slide closed. He swears he can feel all the blood in his body rushing away from the places it usually lives in his body; his limbs feel so heavy and his cock feels huge in Will’s wet mouth. It’s close in this little closet of a space that Will has found, the air quickly growing warm with both of their bodies shoved in here, and when he breathes in it smells like wood and plaster and dust and paint - it smells like the sets always do, the constant aroma of construction that never leaves these buildings because they never get lived in, just built and torn down and built again.

Right now he sort of knows the feeling.

Will’s mouth is so familiar, now; it’s not that it isn’t exciting, because yeah - still so good. And it’s a blowjob, and that’s never going to be a bad thing, obviously. But they’ve been together for years now, and he hasn’t been this on edge over a blowjob in a long time. He doesn’t even look down as his fingers rub over the shells of Will’s ears to find their way into his hair, so long and messy these days; he knows this.

There’s a shout from just outside the building they’re in, the band starts another song, and he grins when Will jumps, just a little; it’s just a little hitch of his shoulders but Chris can’t keep himself from fisting his hands in Will’s hair, from pumping his hips forward just a little, because it feels so good, and if Will’s going to spook he wants to take all he can get out of him first. Just in case.

He doesn’t, of course; Will goes slow, gets quiet, but when nothing else happens he settles back a little more, spreading his knees a little wider on the dusty floor and leaning in, taking Chris deep into his mouth and swirling his tongue fat and filthy as he pulls back, just a little, before taking him back in. Chris looks down, checks in to find Will looking back up at him. Will gives him a wink, broad and cheesy and so familiar, and he pushes forward again, fucking into his mouth one last time before Will squeezes his hips and pushes him back toward the wall. It shakes a little when his ass bumps against it, flimsy and poorly built and not really real, and he closes his eyes again with a sigh, just letting go one more time.

They find their rhythm soon enough, easy and familiar. He runs his hands through Will’s hair, over and over, braces a hand on either side of his head and holds him while he smells work and listens to family and feels Will. He leans against the wall, keeps his eyes closed, and floats, happy and peaceful, while Will’s wet mouth works him over, rhythmic and hot, and his tongue glides over the head of his cock with a twist.

He stays there for a while, actually, floats on this feeling, safe and gorgeous and so good, and then he looks down.

To find Will checking his watch.

He can’t help it - he breaks into laughter, long loose peals ringing off the sheetrock that he tries to muffle by shoving his forearm in his mouth. Will freezes on the outstroke, and that makes him laugh even harder. “It’s… my dick is shaking in your mouth, oh my God, this is so weird,” he says, and Will pulls back, resting his head against Chris’s thigh while his shoulders shake with laughter.

“You’re so high, what did he buy?” Will says, and Chris laughs even harder at the rhyme, laughing so hard that he doubles over Will, his hands still in his hair and now clutching at his shaking head while they both laugh.

Eventually Chris slides down the wall until his ass comes to rest on the dusty floor and his legs are splayed over Will’s, his cock still out and his belly beginning to ache with the remnants of laughter. He sits there to catch his breath, rests his head against the wall, wipes at the corners of his eyes, and looks at Will, who is giving him the most bemused, soft little smile.

“Not gonna happen, is it?” Will says.

Chris shakes his head with a little bit of remorse. “Nope. It was good, I’m just… yeah, no. There’s no way I’m coming in the next hour.”

“Woulda been hot, though, yeah?”

“Still was. Always is,” he says, and Will gives him the prettiest goddamn smile so that he has to reach for him and reel him in, tug him in for a long, wet kiss. His kiss is soft and sweet, and for just a moment he loses himself in it, wants to go right back to what they were doing before.

“Besides,” Will whispers. “It’s a small town, and we’re still young.”

Chris nods against his forehead. “We’ll be back here, and we’ll be running the production next time. We can totally make this happen.”

Will says, “Absolutely. Blow you later,” and Chris falls apart again, cackling with his mouth wide open while Will presses kisses against his cheek and chuckles low and easy.

Oh, and completely, hopelessly, tirelessly desperate to be fucked.

Sex with Chris has always been fantastic; it’s no exaggeration to say it’s the best Will has ever had, and Chris has admitted this too. It was easy to think at first that it was the intensity of their connection. Will had attributed this to the undercurrents that propelled each stage of their relationship: friends who fucked because they couldn’t stop the riptide of desire and longing, then not quite friends who kept fucking despite Chris’s denial that it was more, and finally something even Chris couldn’t deny.

No matter how much Chris tried to keep things from progressing because he was trying to protect Will from the insanity of his life, there came a point where it became ridiculous, trying to stop it. That instant connection, that thing that could not be helped, fueled mind blowing, earth moving sex. Initially, there was such an intensity whenever they had the time to do more than get each other off quickly with hands and mouths and desperate, grunting and sweaty grinding. Chris under him, clamping around him was fierce, ardent and needing and exceptionally focused on Will’s pleasure. Paris was a haze of passion; even on vacation, when they’d managed to pull their shit together and make promises to each other to move forward together and admit that this was something they wanted to build into a future, Chris brought that concentration and drive to bed. Because even on that short vacation, he was still Glee Chris who had to go back to work soon.

It isn’t until hiatus that Will observes this complete shift in behavior.

Chris is one of the hardest working, most driven people he knows;  even on hiatus so fucking busy it makes Will’s heads spin. But he’s lighter. More sweetly affectionate. He makes disastrous attempts at domesticity, baking terrible cookies and burning dinners he doesn’t know how to make.

But best of all, he’s insatiably hungry for Will’s cock. Sometimes almost too hungry. It isn’t often that Will truly feels their age difference, but when Chris  begs for it three times a day Will has to remind him that he’s no longer at his sexual peak. And that he needed to work. Working from home has been a blessing but also a challenge. It’s hard to focus on writing a screenplay when his partner insists on blowing him quick and dirty, knees aching, on the hardwood floor under the desk.

There are days when Will just cannot keep up with him; days when he finds Chris in the shower or on their bed fingering himself shamelessly or fucking himself slowly with toys.

There’s an unexpected side to him as well. Chris chooses the strangest times, all hours of the day, to slink around completely naked, teasing the shit out of him.

“See how much I want you,” he’ll say, bending over the dinner table, his work desk, or the couch. He’ll spread his cheeks apart, all slick and gaping hole exposed, waxed to perfect smoothness, begging for Will’s cock. “Fuck me until I can’t breathe. Come on honey.”  He’ll smile, knowing and ethereal and fifthly, “you know you want to give it to me. Fuck me raw.”

They fuck on every possible surface in their home, on the floor, in the hall, in the kitchen and each bathroom. Often, Chris will pin Will down, making it slow, slow and dirty and playful all at the same time. He’ll laugh when Will groans that he has to come, he can’t any more, and the pull off, the delicious heat of Chris’s body leaving him. Chris kisses Will softly, touches himself carefully, showing off his nubile body, smirking and flirty eyes connecting with Will’s, knowing he can keep him here, desperate and aching as long as he wants.  And each time he sinks back onto Will’s dick it’s with full body commitment to pleasure, hectic cheeks and unabashed moans, rolling and toned body working, working, working them.

~*~

“I bought this awesome whip and this collar to go with the outfits, they’ll be here in a few days.”

Chris has to smile despite the internal stab of annoyance because Will is actually sort of giddy, bouncing a bit in his office chair. Cute, but still...Will working from home is making Chris a little crazy.   

“Will, I think we need to talk. About the online shopping. And the clothes. The beard thing,” Chris gestures to his chin.

“Come here.” Will says, ignoring his speech, pulling Chris closer by the hips. He sneaks a hand over Chris’s belly and pushes his shirt up a little, kissing just by his belly button. Chris squirms because the rub of Will’s stubble against his skin is definitely raspy.

“Stop evading,” Chris says, but when Will nips a little at his skin, his fingers tighten reflexively around Will’s shoulders. “We’re talking about the beard.”

“It’ll look good with my costume.” Will’s breath is hot and damp against him, palm wide where it cups Chris’s ass. “I’ll start wearing real pants around the house, how’s that?”

Chris tugs on Will’s hair, bending down for a kiss that’s a little rough. He knows now that his mouth and chin, sensitive skin like his is, will be red and marked up. But when Will’s tongue slides into his mouth, Chris can’t bring himself to care. Compromise, he’s been told, is the cornerstone of a lasting relationship.

That, he thinks as the zipper of his pants scritches down, and great sex.

~*~

“Will,” Chris tries to move his hips away. Will only tightens his grip. “Hey, hey,” Chris bats at his shoulders. Will slides his mouth slowly off of his dick, which yes, that feels good. But then Will kisses the tip and all Chris feels is the prickle of his now too long mustache.

“Hmm?” Will nuzzles his face in the crease of his groin.

“You have got to shave, I can’t handle this any more. I thought it was just for Nina’s party.”

“Ringmaster,” is all Will says. He pushes Chris’s legs up until Chris obliges and holds them open with hands cupped behind his knees.

“That’s... oh-” Chris sighs out, gripping his legs more firmly, “-after the Oscar party Will.”

Will spreads his ass cheeks apart, licking at him gently. “So?”  

The slight burn of his beard doesn’t irritate here so much as stimulate Chris’s nerves in a strange way, tickling his skin and layering sensations on top of each other. Will’s mouth seals over him, tongue loosening and loosening him until his hole starts to give and Chris’s sighs become moans and he forgets everything but the point of heat between his body and Will’s lips.

~*~

“Will,” Chris says, feeling the slight exasperation edge into his voice.

“You love it,” Will says unapologetically, straightening his tie, eyes meeting his through their mirrored reflections.

“No,” Chris leans back into him, accepts the kiss on his cheek, “I am unconvinced. Plus the mustache is creepy like that. Too long.”

“I’ll trim it after the party.”

“Hmm.” Chris pulls on his shoes.

“Plus I’ve been wearing pants almost every day now for a while,”  Will says.

Chris has to roll his eyes. “You also spent $200 on gag gifts and sex toys Monday,” he points out

“Touche. I’ll trim the beard and stop buying weird things.” Will clears his throat. “Though you did love that vibrator with-”

“Okay, okay,” Chris laughs, “touche yourself.”

~*~

“So?” Will sits heavily on the bed, jostling Chris and causing him to key smash and then accidentally delete a paragraph.

“So what?” Chris doesn’t even look up, thanking the gods for control + z and deleting the extra letters.

“So this,” Will whispers, leaning in to kiss the curve of Chris’s neck. He pulls away with a shoulder twist and huffs a little because hello, working. But Will just pulls the laptop away and sets it on the night table. He straddles Chris a little precariously, so close to the edge of the bed, and grabs Chris’s hands and places them on his cheeks.

“Trimmed.”

“Oh.” Chris leans his head back, rubs his thumbs against Will’s jaw, then down to his neck and settles them on his shoulders. He lets himself look, really look. “You look-” Chris trails off, because after the too long phase, Will’s whole face looks new and different and frankly...hot.

“Yeah?” Will smirks, then leans in for kiss that’s not preliminary; it’s intention to fuck and yes. Absolutely yes. He smells of fresh shower and home and under Chris’s moving hands, his rib cage expands with each breath. Will scoots down, pulls Chris down by the knees until he’s flat on his back. Chris looks and looks and although he hated it at first he has to admit he’s lost the battle.  Will’s body lays on his, heavy and sure and his eyes are wide brown and steady.

He goes upstairs to change into more comfortable clothes and eyes the bed. It’s early to sleep but the thought of being horizontal and comfortable sounds amazing. Maybe he can lure Will to bed with the promise of food and a blowjob.

Downstairs again, Will is back on the iPad, chuckling, legs crossed and propped on the edge of the coffee table.

“What’s so funny?” Chris plops next to him, leaning his face into Will’s bicep and breathing him in. He smells so good, like home, which gives him a little thrill because Will is home to him, in what he now thinks of as their home, and there’s nothing better than coming back to this when his house had been empty for so long.

“Do you know how many names there are for Kurt pairings?” Will asks.

“Oh my god, shut up, tell me you aren’t doing it,” Chris moans, falling back on the couch and throwing an arm over his eyes.

“There’s so much, I can’t even-” Will says with delight. It kind of makes Chris want to hit him. He pokes Will’s thigh with his socked toes, which is about all the energy he can muster to stop him.

"Listen to this,” Will scrolls up and clicks on an open tab, “this one is Kurtbastian, which I kind of don’t get-”

“Don’t ship shame,” Chris says tiredly.

“Ship shame?”

“That’s what they call it when you say shit about not liking a pairing or something.”

Will tilts his head and looks at Chris for a beat then shrugs. “Okay. Anyway, listen.”  

He lowers his voice dramatically, “‘Sebastian closed his eyes and shuddered, tears clumping his lashes like dew on a spring morning before the sun has risen in its glory.’” Will stops to take in a long breath, then continues at a higher pitch, “‘I love you,’ the taller man says breathily,’” Will’s head bobs along with his impassioned rendition, “‘I’ve loved you since the day I saw you. I just didn’t know what to do, I’ve never felt like this before...’”

“Oh god where are you getting this from?” Chris pops his head up. This is kind of aggravating. “And do you really have to do this?”

“Some site called fanfiction.net. Tumblr is down. And come on, it’s hilarious.” Will puts his hand absently on Chris’s thigh. “There’s more. ‘Kurt’s sweet porcelain skin flushed red at the words. He couldn’t decide if he was more turned on or in love. His long manhood was stirring in his pants. ‘I always knew there was so much more to you baby.’ He rose on his knees and knee walked over to Sebastian, straddling his lap so that the brown haired man could feel the heat building in his loins. His lips met Sebastian’s for the first time in a frenzy, wet and slippery and possessive.’

‘Mine,’ Sebastian moaned, ‘Forget Blaine, he’ll never love you like I can.’”

“Hmm,” Chris had scooted a bit away, propping himself up on the arm of the couch. “Why is Sebastian the brown haired man? Why am I asking this? Can you please stop?”

“Aww, come on honey, be a good sport. And I have no idea, but I’ve seen Kurt described as 'the perfectly coiffed man,’” Will says. “But there’s more. There’s stuff for Kum, oh god that’s my favorite.”

“Pairing or ship name?”

“Ship name, whatever. God you come so much in these stories, it’s amazing.” 

“Kurt does,” Chris says with an edge.

“Yeah, yeah.” Will waves his hand. “I obviously need to read you a better one.”

“Yes, that’s a great plan,” Chris says with an eyeroll, going back to closing his eyes.

“‘In the moonlight, Kurt is ethereal. His whole body speaks of comfort, legs slightly parted, so much trust between them.

‘No one gets to see you like this,” Blaine whispers. His hands are steady, palms open when he runs them up the long line of his legs,'” Will clears his throat. The hand he has slides up Chris’s thigh, thumb skirting so close to his crotch.

“Oh it’s like that is it?” Chris wiggles lower on the couch and tries to get Will’s hand where he wants it. Disappointingly, he moves it away.

“'Blaine runs one fingertip up Kurt’s cock, the lightest of touches, then collects the drop of precome from the tip. He bites softly then sucks a kiss against the inside of Kurt's thigh before sitting up to lick it away.

‘Blaine,’ Kurt spreads his legs a little more,’” Will uses his hand to shift Chris's left leg, hand under his knee, and through the soft cotton of his pants Chris can feel the warmth of his palm, “‘Stop teasing.’” Will runs his hand up the inside of Chris thigh, leans over and bites through his pants like Blaine had.

“He has a point,” Chris arches, eyes closed.

“Mmm,” Will pulls away and picks the iPad back up.

“Are you kidding?” Chris groans. Will is actually trying to seduce him with fanfiction. And it’s kind of working. He tries to will his half hard dick into submission just on principal.

“‘Not teasing,” Blaine says seriously, hands gripping Kurt’s hips, thumbs in the crease of his groin, “taking my time, god Kurt, I love your body, you’re so beautiful.’

Kurt’s eyes glitter in the gloaming shadows, breath hitching a little. He takes Blaine’s hand in his, curls his fingers around his dick, then closes his eyes and slowly fucks himself up into Blaine’s fist.”

“Ohhh,” Chris smiles, “I kind of like the initiative he’s taking.” He sits up and takes the iPad from Will, then straddles his lap. “I’m not going to make you feel the heat of my loins or anything,” he says, then kisses the laughter from Will’s lips. “But I might do this,” he grabs Will’s hand and puts it on his own dick, rubbing against it shamelessly until he’s completely hard.

“I didn’t even get to finish.” Will kisses Chris’s neck. It tickles a little and Chris giggles. He’s not even embarrassed by how silly they’re being.

“I think you’re probably going to get to finish,” he says, fluttering his lashes and trying for coy. “I can’t believe this is working for me.”

“I’ve been told I’m good with miracles.”

“Oh my god, no.” Chris pulls away and makes a face, trying to pretend that Will’s stupid lines aren’t working on him too. He maneuvers Will’s shirt off. “I think your ego might be bigger than your dick."

“You love my dick. I love your dick” Will says. He feels around on the couch, then pulls up the iPad again.

“Look, Blaine loves it too. He’s about to worship it.”

“Shut up, it has not,” Chris says, giving up on dislodging Will’s fingers which are now massaging his shoulders, and fuck that feels really good. He checks the time in the corner of the screen and wow, it really has been ten hours. Will’s fingers dig into a knot by his shoulderblade. Chris abandons his resistance, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch.

“Have you even moved from this spot?” Will asks.

“I don’t know, I guess not?” Chris lifts his feet when Will spins the chair around to face him.

“How does your butt not hurt? Have you even gotten up to pee? Have you had anything to or drink?”

“Ugh, stop nagging mom,” Chris puts his hands on Will’s hips and tugs him forward until he’s standing over his legs, straddling his lap.

“If you’re not going to take care of yourself, I’m gonna do it,” Will chides.

“Your face needs to take care of itself,” Chris rests his head back against the chair. Maybe not the best retort but he’s pretty much exhausted every intelligent reserve he has writing.

Will sits on his lap, then cradles his face between warm palms. “You must be tired if that’s all you’ve got.”

“Your face is all you’ve got,” Chris says with a smile, turning to kiss Will’s fingertips.

“Is that the best you can do?” Will laughs. “Weak, Colfer.”

“I’d say it’s true but you know,” Chris flicks his eyes down Will’s body, “Abs.”

“Mmm,” Will hums, leaning in for a kiss. “Your face has abs.”

“Okay, now we’re going to the dumb place, you’re so bad at this,” Chris points out.

“Your face is going to the dumb place,” Will is laughing again.

“Seriously?" Chris rucks up Will’s shirt and grips Will’s waist, trying to pull him closer. “You really suck at this.”

“I could do this all night you know,” Will challenges.

“Yes I do know.” Chris tilts his head a bit until Will gets the hint and starts biting softly under his ear, interspersing nips with kisses. He can wait a bit, let Will think he’s won. Chris might be tired, but he’s never been so tired that his competitive streak hasn’t come around.

Will is wearing flannel pants, which is lovely because it’s no trouble at all to slips his hands into them to cup his ass. It’s a twofold win; not only does he get to fondle his boyfriend, but it also distracts him beautifully. He continues, “But I’d really rather you do something else all night right now.”

“Colfer,” Will sits back up, “you’ve been writing for ten hours. I’m pretty sure you’re gonna pass out four seconds after I get you off.”

“Will-” Chris leans in and kisses him then, not bothering with anything slow, going straight for dirty. Will melts into it and moans softly.

“Mmm?” Will opens his eyes slowly, licking his lips.

“Got to pee.” Will mumbles, then rolls clumsily out of bed. Chris watches him go, the flex of his ass and thighs in nothing but briefs almost unbearably sexy.

Will wanders back in, more alert and bright with a smile. He leans over and kisses Chris softly. “Breakfast? I’ll cook.”

“Mmm,” Chris gets a hand around the back of Will’s neck and pulls him in closer for another kiss. “I don’t know that I’m hungry.” He breathes against his mouth, then licks back in, dirtier and with clear intention. “At least not for food.”

“Oh. Okay, yeah.”

Chris scoots down, hands still around Will’s neck as he urges him along. Head against the pillow and bracketed in his arms, Chris feels it even more, the way simmering desire ratchets up to something a little hotter. He winds his arms around Will’s neck and brings his legs up to hug Will’s hips. He’s already hard; Will isn’t quite yet but he’ll be there shortly if Chris has any say in the matter. He takes his time kissing Will for long minutes, in the mood for something slower than a morning quickie.

“Why are you wearing a shirt?” Will mumbles against his neck.

Chris laughs. “I have no idea.”

~*~

“Here-” Will pulls back, shucking off his briefs quickly and grabbing their lube while Chris wiggles out of his clothes. When Will goes to climb back on top of him, Chris just shakes his head and pushes him down onto his back with a hand on his shoulder. Will runs his hands up Chris’s sides when he swings a leg over and sits back down over his dick, humming appreciatively.

“You like?” Chris teases a little, nipping at Will’s lips and brushing his ass and balls lightly against him.

“Shut up, you know it.” Will leans up into the next kiss, pushes an open palm against the small of his back to get him closer, then sets up and easy rhythm between their bodies. Chris lets out a little sound of pleasure when he trails his fingers down his sacrum and lower.

“Let’s-” Chris fumbles for the lube, and then watching Will’s eyes, touches himself, rolling into his fist with little breaths of pleasure. Will’s thumbs dig into the creases of his thighs. Chris stops when he’s nice and wet and gets more, dripping it sloppy and fast over Will before spreading it with eager hands. When he’s done he smiles, a little wicked and a lot wanting, before setting the cleft of his ass more definitely and carefully against the long line of Will’s dick. It’s hot-wet and slippery between his cheeks and feels incredible.

“Oh wow-” Will closes his eyes briefly, hands spanning Chris’s pelvis from hipbones to just by his spine, helping him move and feeling the flex of muscles as Chris works them together, slipping against his cock. When he opens his eyes it’s to see Chris, all sex, half lidded eyes and messy hair and tight muscles working his body against Will’s in a slow, slow rhythm. Everything about him is unbearably gorgeous, defined muscles and small waist, perfect nipples and long neck.

“God Will,” Chris moans, setting a hand back and against Will’s thigh to get what he needs, “felt like I was waiting hours for you to wake up.”

“Chris-” Will plants a foot up a little on the bed to get some leverage and fumbles around for more lube, taking Chris’s leaking erection in hand. Runs the thumb of his free hand up the defined line up the middle of Chris’s abs before wrapping his palm around Chris’s ribs and squeezing. “Do you-” he pants out, eyes fluttering open shut cause it feels so good he wants to close his eyes and revel in the sensations, but holy shit Chris is sinful and so, so sexy, fucking surely and slowly into Will’s fist, ”want me inside?” He manages.

“No,” Chris moans, rocks and rocks and winds him up, “No like this, god you feel so good.”  Will knows how sensitive Chris’s hole is, how sometimes when he’s turned on enough just the littlest touches can set him off and so he gets Chris by the waist and holds him hard and fucks up against where he’s snug in the channel between his ass cheeks.

“Just-” Chris whines, jerking a little erratically, “Hold on, wait.” He lifts himself a little, shaking from it and red cheeked and he’s been biting his lower lip so it’s a little swollen. Chris reaches behind himself, takes Will in hand, angling Will’s dick a little higher and holding it steady while he teases his asshole with it, more and more unsteadily in short little moves tight up against himself.

“Holy fuck Chris,” Will lets Chris have his pleasure and use him for it and feels the concentrated sparking of nerves at the head of his dick.

“Don’t stop,” Chris begs and Will tries to coordinate jerking him off while Chris moves and moves and breathes so hard with it, head tilted forward and brow a little furrowed with concentration, “tighter and-” Will uses his thumb to press against his frenulum and feels the way Chris starts to pulse hard, “shitshitshit,” Chris chants high and tight just before come starts to spurt all over Will’s belly and chest. He curls over Will, lets go of his dick as he loses himself to it, one hand on Will’s chest holding himself up. His orgasm seems to drag on and on; Will feels him throbbing into it for long seconds while Chris’s moans taper into quiet whimpers.

“Chris,” Will manages. Their room is so bright, sun streaming through the large windows and Chris is luminous and trembling. Chris takes a deep breath and then lifts himself a little, scoots back and starts to jerk him off fast and uncoordinated.

“Gonna come for me?” he breathes, low and sated and there’s that focused energy Chris harnesses for almost everything only right now it’s for him and there’s nothing like it in the world. Will can’t help but come, head slamming back and hips arching and Chris’s name like sweetness and sin on his tongue.

When it’s over Chris melts down on top of him and everything is wet and cooling between their bodies. It’s hard to care though when the press of Chris breathing against his own ribs expanding and contracting is the center of everything he wants right now.

Chris pulls back up, frames Will’s face gently in his hands. He looks young and happy and light like he always gets after great sex. Will closes his eyes when Chris kisses him sweetly, slow and rich.

“Good morning,” he whispers against Will’s mouth.

Will smiles and runs his hands up Chris’s back to feel the beautiful curve of his spine and the movement of muscle below his skin. Chris kisses him again and Will runs the tips of his fingers over the freckles along his cheek bone.

“Come on,” Will says, wheedling a little, and even without looking he can hear the ratty hems of Will’s stay at home writing jeans dragging along the floor. Will jostles his chair lightly.

“Will, seriously, are you kidding me with this?” Chris starts typing again, trying to figure out how to make Red as funny on paper as she is in his head now that he’s lost his steam.

“Hey,” Will whispers in his ear and Chris bites back another snotty comment. “I didn’t mean for me.” He then slowly drags his lips down Chris’s neck, exhaling softly, chasing shivers that cascade from the touch helplessly through Chris’s traitor body.

“You came all the way in here in the middle of work time and interrupted me to offer me a blow job?” He pulls his glasses off and turns his chair, pushing past the resistance of Will’s hands still gripping its back.

“Somehow you made that sound like it’s a bad thing,” Will points out, already sinking to his knees.

“What do you get out of it?” Chris asks bluntly when Will runs his palms up his calves to his knees.

“Um…” Will waggles his head a little, “I get to suck your cock? I think that’s a pretty clear win-win.”

He takes a moment, takes in the sight of Will on his knees, sucking his bottom lip in playfully, eyebrows hopefully raised. Will’s thumbs dig into the tender flesh inside his knees.

“You think?” Chris raises his eyebrow.

“Maybe I just really want to suck you off.” Will tries.

“Well,” Chris smirks, then spreads his knees. “I guess I could do you a favor then.” He trails his fingers across Will’s cheek and then one over his wet, open lips. Slowly with his eyes on Chris’s, Will’s tongue pokes out to lick the pad of his finger at the same time as his hands come around to hitch Chris’s hips forward. The chair shifts a little and they both shuffle themselves back into a good position. Chris lifts his butt so Will can maneuver his pants off, then spreads his legs even more shamelessly, taking himself in his free hand. He strokes his dick slowly while Will suckles at his finger.

“You like that?” He goes for seductive; he’s really only got about a 70% success rate with confident bedroom talk that doesn’t end up sounding like bad porn.

If there’s ever a moment for bad porn dialogue, this is it though. He drags his finger slowly out of Will’s mouth. Sighing with the anticipation of pleasure, he rubs the tip of his cock against Will’s lips, watches his lashes flutter lightly shut.

“You know it.” Will whispers. He licks around the head of his dick then takes the tip in; soft lush mouth all hot give and revelation. He bats Chris’s hand away, gripping his dick surely. Chris sighs, turning his head. Next to him his laptop hums, cursor still blinking mid-dialogue.

“You know,” he grunts a little when Will moves forward to take as much in as possible, “you’re - oh! lucky I cut you a b-break.”

“Mmm?” Will sucks the whole way back off, causing Chris to hiss a little note of pleasure and grip the arms of his chair.

“Very important - oh fuck, yes - important scene.”

“Red again, huh?” Will pulls off to ask, kissing up his shaft softly after.

He stops fighting the urge to smile. Will’s mouth gives, gives and gives pleasure and it feels good all through his tingling body, into his chest and his heart.

“Always,” he whispers, knowing he’s talking about something else completely. He lets himself slide greedy fingers through Will’s messy hair and when Will groans a little, he tugs. He rolls his hips, testing Will’s limits.

Will’s free palm is open and searing against the soft-skinned crease of his groin. Chris gasps when Will takes everything he is offering, swallowing him down before pulling off and then it’s all soft grunts and the slurp of Will’s imperfect, perfectly skilled and delicious lips winding him up and up to dizzying heights.

“So good,” he whispers, head tilted against the chair back. It’s edge digs into his skull, but he ignores it, gripping Will’s hair tightly, letting himself undulate, fucking into Will’s mouth as carefully as he can, balancing his own pleasure with tenderness.

Will’s thumb skirts under his balls, then traces around one of them gently and Chris is so fucking gone, he’s gone, sliding up and snuggly in and throbbing, pulsing come so hard into Will’s mouth his stomach muscles cramp up.

“Love you,” Chris pets Will’s temples with disjointed fingers, appreciating the soft tickle of Will’s insistent lips kissing his thighs. He can feel Will’s smile in those kisses; sees it in the happy set of his shoulders.

“Enough for more?” Will turns his face up, resting his cheek on the cream white of his thigh with a dazzling smile.

“More?” Chris feels boneless and besotted in an almost embarrassing way.

“You know you want to blow me back.” Will teases.

“Methinks you had a master plan here.” Chris muses, staring up at the ceiling. He can’t help the stupid grin on his face, but he can try to hide it, lest Will get an even bigger ego and become exponentially, adorably, insufferable.

“Excellent verbal skills sir.” Will stands up with a wince, shakes numbed legs out a little, and starts to undo his pants. “And yes,” he admits, cupping the back of Chris’s skull gently, “I did.”

Chris runs his lips over the bulge of Will’s erection through the cotton of his boxers and breathes him in. Will’s fingers are gentle, massaging through his thick hair.

“And?” Chris spreads the flaps of his underwear and licks teasingly just inside.

“Reciprocity.” Will mumbles. Chris hooks his fingers in the waistband and pulls his pants down, eyeing the red flush and delicious stretch of skin over Will’s cock. “Always your downfall. Best means to an end I could think of.”

Chris snorts out a laugh. He uses his thumb to catch the damp of precome at the tip and lick it off.

They’ve been planning since July, really. They'd stood together at Skywalker Ranch and their clothes and costuming for that day had said plenty, even without the excuse of the best holiday of the year. Will was Wookie of the Year, and Chris always has loved wookies. Will had nodded toward his chest, pointed at his own, and said "Lucky me, but it hasn't been a year yet."

And Chris had just said, "I remember. Halloween," and there are so many reasons that this one is worth keeping, but that their anniversary is all about Halloween parties? It was appealing all on its own, even without considering everything else he knows about Will.

They talked then, that night, about doing something around Star Wars. Somehow Han and Leia never even come up, even if Chris does spend three weeks saying "I know" every time Will tells him that he loves him.

And they've been talking about couples costumes for ages, since sometime in the spring; he really hadn't seen an interest in that coming, as much as he's always liked making his own statement. But somehow, this year, it feels right. Everything else about this year had been about folding their lives together – the travel, the house, Will's beaming face at book signings – and it's all been a different kind of fun, taking something that used to be his statement and making one for them together. He wants to apologize to Neil, if only in his head, for being such a snarky bitch about him and David and their kids, because for the first time he finds himself wishing for another cat to force costumes on.

So it's been months now of scouring for gold fabric that will perfectly match gold paint and gold duct tape, months of tracking down the right tiny blue LEDs, of Michaels and Home Depot and Radio Shack and the internet. They hadn't even started assembly until after they were in the new house and Will had left the box marked "HALLOWEEN MASTERY" on his desk in his new study when he'd been supervising the movers, because he was just the right kind of enabler.

He's grinning a little though when he's fiddling with the lights on his belt for the last time, because it's been fun. It's been fun doing it together, even when Will had bitched about tape accidentally stuck to his skin, making jokes about waxing. When he looks up Will is making bitch faces into the mirror with his weird sunglasses on, and Chris shakes his head and straightens the string of lights taped against his chest. It's going to be a good night. Again.

---

It’s… a weird night. Good, but quiet, and so different from last year.

They pose for photos, tracking down Brian and continuing to debate Yoda vs Chewbacca until the bitter end; it’s finally decided when Will holds up Brian, takes a look at his miserable face, bursts out laughing and says, “oh, poor buddy. We have to do this now or he’s never going to forgive us.”

They go with the wookie, mostly because it’s what’s on his back at the time. Rob snaps the photo and Ashley smirks and says, “one year later and look, they’re taking family portraits. Disgusting.”

Once more they crush into a car with Ashley, only this time Rob is along for the ride, too; it works out, because this time Ashley isn’t covered in grapes. Will reaches across the seat to settle his hand on the back of his neck and keeps talking about the screenplay Rob’s working on; his fingers are slick and unfamiliar through Chris’s hair, and later when they straighten the visor onto his head they slide against his temples.

The bar is full of friends and coworkers and people he has seen at these things for years. There’s a crush of people, food and booze and music outside, but they end up in the inside, crushed against others, asked for photos over and over. It’s good, and Will stays close. Chris gets pulled into conversation with Kristen, who never stops being adorable, and he’s vaguely aware of losing Will when he drifts behind him to talk to Ashley. Minutes later Kristen is pulled away with a shout and a laugh to go talk to somebody else, and when he turns around Will is lounging over a sofa, sprawled out long and lean and golden and with those ridiculous sunglasses still on.

Chris respects his dedication to the costuming.

He continues to do so right up until the moment he plops down next to him and leans in for a kiss. They meet forehead apparatuses first, tipping up their chins until their lips can meet in a stuttered kiss that barely counts.

“Cockblocked by the costumes. Classic Colfer, right there,” Ashley snipes to his left, grinning down at them.

Chris holds up his hands, flexing them in heavy work gloves. “At least this year I don’t have claws strapped to my hands.”

“Don’t think I don’t appreciate that,” and Will’s gloved hand glides over his shoulder.

---

They make it home early enough to get in a little sleep; they have a long drive ahead of them tomorrow, and plans for an anniversary dinner on Monday, and it’s not even actual Halloween yet.

They lose the headpieces and eyewear and the gloves on the kitchen counters and ramble their way upstairs, loose-kneed and tired, but once they’re in their bedroom Will stops him, grabbing at his hips.

There’s a red mark over the bridge of Will’s nose, and he can only imagine what state his hair must be in right now. But Will kisses him, makes up for lost time, and then he’s falling to his knees.

His eyes are bright when he goes to work fumbling at Chris’s belt. “Last Halloween I got to unwrap a llama sex assassin, and I thought that nothing could be better.”

He doesn’t even try to stifle the giggle, or his wide, stupid grin. “An android is better?”

“A partner is better.” He pauses, bends further to work on Chris’s boots, and Chris finally shoves the hood made of duct tape back. It ruins the crisp line of it, warps it all out of shape, but he can get his hands in Will’s hair, petting and soothing, and that’s what matters now. The boots come off one at a time while Chris stares down at him and then curls his bare toes into the rug while Will’s hands sweep up and down the back of his thighs. “No more hooves, gloves or masks. And I’m pretty sure you aren’t wearing a bodysuit this time.”

“Better check, though.” Will’s hair is soft under his hands; no product means that he can run his hands through it, over and over. The back of his neck is so warm, damp with sweat and curling his hair at the ends, and Will leans back into him to smile up at him while he goes back to his belt.

The belt hangs open, his fly goes down, and then Will is shoving his pants to his thighs, dragging them down and off and tossing them to the side. He lets his hands slide down Will’s neck and across slick tape, digs his fingers under the hem to cup the balls of his shoulders for a little more stability while Will hitches up the wrinkled bottom half of his tunic until it pools around his waist. Will nuzzles into his crotch, presses his nose and cheek against the smooth white fabric of his underwear, just where it matters most, and Chris can’t keep his hands away - they fly to Will’s face, slide over his cheekbone and eyelashes, glide down his jawline to cup his face. Will keeps pressing, sucking kisses and swiping long with his tongue over the place where Chris’s dick has begun to plump up, pressing against white microfiber left wet and cool, and his eyes are closed while he hums and breathes deep.

“I love you,” Chris whispers.

Will’s eyes fly open, and he mouths up Chris’s length, sucking a little against the fabric, and whispers back, “I know.”

Chris chokes on the laugh when Will pulls down his underwear quickly and lets his dick bounce back to land in his open mouth.

It’s hot and wet, just like it always is, and even if he’s been sleeping with this man for a year he’s still not used to this. Maybe he’ll never be used to that split-second shift between laughter and a much deeper pleasure, the lightning-fast drag between stimulating his mind and his body. Will sucks his cock just how he likes it and he presses into it, cups one hand around the top of Will’s head and the other around his jaw, fucks into Will’s face like it’s where he belongs.

Will gives him a minute, lets him ride out those first few seconds of sliding home, and then pulls back. “Not so fast, sweetheart. I’m gonna fuck you tonight, okay?”

Chris tugs him up, just gets his fingers under his arms and pulls, and then he’s kissing him while his hands drag across skin tacky with sweat under tape. Will’s mouth goes to his throat, biting at the collar before his hands follow. He leaves it one more kiss before he pulls it away and lets it fall to the floor, saying, “I like your throat.”

Minutes later Chris is lying on his bed while Will kisses him long and deep; Will is still propped on an elbow, but it still feels like they can’t possibly be any closer. Will is two fingers into him, letting him ride them while he whimpers, and between Will’s tongue and his hand he’s a chaos of rhythm, never settling into one. It’s maddening and perfect, actually; it keeps him busy, distracted, and nothing about this has ever been boring. Will’s mouthing at his neck again, pressing his thumb tighter behind his balls while his fingers are slow, teasing at his rim before pushing back into him.

Will pulls out, pressing at his hip to urge him to twist to the side. He knows this drill by now, it’s one of his favorites, and so he leaves his shoulders pressed to the bed so he can watch him, kiss him, while Will tucks his own hips in close. Hot and thick, Will presses into him, his breath fanning across Chris’s shoulder even when it hitches. He pauses then, looks at Chris, leans forward to press their mouths together and share a breath, and then he moves.

The rhythm finally settles then, together in breath and hips and messy wet perfection. He hooks an arm back and gets a hand on Will’s bare back, just to feel the muscles in his shoulders roll as he presses into him. He’s in no hurry right now, he’s right where he needs to be.  

---

Chris sits cross-legged on the patio behind his parents’ house, tips the pumpkin in his lap forward to rest against the concrete, and watches his partner flick pumpkin guts at his little sister while she bats at him, shrieking and giggling. Will is laughing and happy to play with Hannah, and even his dad is grinning.

Tomorrow it’ll be a year. They share a house, a life, and at this point Brian might be a little more Will’s than he is Chris’s. He sees Will every day, sleeps beside him every night, but he’s never loved him more than he does right now, sitting in his parents’ backyard in Clovis, California.

“You know what?” Chris jerks his hand, temper getting the best of him, “I think you’ll find you chose to date me. If you really didn’t know this was going to happen- I…” His stomach is sort of sinking now, because they’d talked about this, they’d talked and talked and he’d been sure they were on the same page, only now that things were really testing them, they apparently weren’t, and fuck.  

Will walks away and Chris follows. Will flops onto the couch, shoulders tense. 

“You’re really being an asshole, you know?”

Will doesn’t respond to the barb, flicking through channels. “Whatever.”  

He stomps up to the bedroom, slams the door, and stares at his bed for a few beats. He turns on his heel, tries to open the door again as loudly as possible and god, why is it not possible to slam a door coming out of a room? He makes up for it by slamming the door to the office. He opens his laptop viciously. He doesn’t have to put up with Will being a jerk. He’s mad too -  it had been shitty, and he’d really not been expecting to get papped on the way to lunch after months of going out without being noticed.

Which is...well that was really naive of him, because it was going to happen at some point. Chris doesn’t like it, is private and resents intrusions into that privacy, but mostly he’s realistic about the choices he’s made and the consequences of those choices.

He wouldn’t even be angry were it not for Will’s reaction, which has really thrown Chris for a loop. Will’s the level headed one. He’s the calm one who manages rationality to the point that it makes Chris crazy and sometimes more angry and bitchy until he calms down. Will’s good at that too, calming him down. Whether it’s with his body, absorbing the tension of Chris’s muscles and the way he feels like he’s vibrating with anger sometimes, or occasionally just with gentle touches, and sometimes with kind silence.

Chris looks at the open document in front of him. The words seem meaningless, a foreign language, everything’s upside down. Will’s not the angry one, he’s not the bitchy one. And he’s made promises. That’s really the crux of it, the pit in his stomach and the whisper of fear in his head.

Chris flicks his laptop closed again, closes his eyes and breathes.

His socked feet make no noise when he pads back down the stairs. Will’s brooding at the television.

“Is this a deal breaker?” he asks.

“No.” Will doesn’t look away from the tv. His shoulders are set in a way Chris rarely sees. It’s not anger so much coming from his body -- and, wow, Chris knows that. He knows the way Will’s body settles it because he knows Will that well.  There’s a small burgeoning pride; he’d worried a lot that he might not really have what Will has, an innate understanding of intimacy, a way of knowing what to do and how to make it work.

It’s not fair, he thinks. Not to Will. Maybe he doesn’t always know what to do, and he often feels very young around Will.

He winces. Maybe passive aggressively slamming things while resenting that Will hadn’t followed and fixed was too selfish.

In many ways, he knows, he can be selfish. It’s not always a bad thing, reaching for and hoarding what he’s worked for, and taking care of himself when other people always seem to want to take and take from him.

Will’s not like that.

“Will…”

Will needs turns too, he guesses. That is something he can do.

“Chris,” Will warns, flicking his eyes up, “Just, let me be for a bit, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Chris worries his lip.

Really, there is only one thing to do when you are worked up and there’s no where to put that feeling.

Comfort food.

Maybe even comfort baking. He likes baking and it’s something that takes some sort of concentration, and the end results are almost always worth it.

He’s surrounded by ingredients and trying his best not to get flour on his IPad when Will comes in. Will searches through the fridge, pulls out some orange juice, swigs straight from the bottle. Chris finds it ridiculously endearing.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Want to help?”

Will wipes his mouth. He’s calmer, Chris can tell, but muted in a way that cramps in his chest.

“Come on,” he coaxes, “What if I accidentally ruin them, or accidentally put some nuts in or something.”

Will stands next to him, examining the assortment of measuring cups and the flotsam of ingredients.

They stand side by side while Will measures the flour, dumping it into the mixer. Small clouds of it puff up, which makes Chris laugh. Will’s still quiet.

“It’s not a deal breaker,” Will says. “It’s just hard. I want you to have things for yourself. I hate that they take that away from you.”

“So you’re pissed….for me?”

Chris frowns down at the bowl. It’s true, and it’s serious, but this…letting this bother them both...he doesn’t have to let that happen. Here, in his kitchen or his bedroom or wherever they can carve out their own space without the world seeing them…that’s a space he wants to make lovely.

“Yeah.”

He side eyes Will while he searches for baking powder and on a whim, flicks some flour on his arm.

“What-?” Will starts, and with a laugh, Chris gathers a little more and throws.

“Oh, you did not-” Will grabs a handful from the bowl. Chris starts to dodge, but Will catches him around the waist and before he knows it, it’s all over his head.

“Weren’t you meant to be working?”

Will opens his eyes, tilting his head from where it’s been resting on a folded towel. He’s bathed in sunlight. He looks fresh and drowsing, sweetly tempting.

“You don’t have a pool.” Will states, swishing his hands through the water. His knees stick out of the water.

“We.” Chris emphasizes.

“Yeah.” Will drawls with a smile. “We don’t.”

“You’ve only just noticed?” Chris leans in gingerly, kisses Will’s damp lips with one hand on the edge of the tub.

“Nope.” Will’s finger traces his cheekbone, and he can feel a drop of water slide down his cheek. “Can we have a pool at our next house?”

It’s Chris turn to smile.  Will’s fingers are wetting the hem of his shirt where he’s grabbing, trying to work Chris out of it. “Definitely.”  He pulls away to shrug out of his shirt, then shucks his pants and boxer-briefs. He sighs into the water, which is just short of hot, kneeling over Will in a crowded straddle.  He kisses Will lightly. “Careful or we’ll get water everywhere.”

WIll just laughs and grabs Chris’s ass more firmly, pressing them together. They’re both half hard, but making great headway towards fully hard. This is definitely a better way to spend a free afternoon than working.

“Who cares?” Will whispers against his mouth, then kisses him, filthy and hard. He hooks a hand around Chris’s neck, pulls him further into the water. It’s impossible to navigate, water sloshing and their bodies constricted in the tub, but where their skin catches it’s perfect. Chris shivers their mouths together through exhalations of pleasure, arches slightly and bites on Will’s lip when his finger presses against his hole. It’s a tease, nothing but a dirty tease and if it didn’t feel so fucking good, he’d be embarrassed to be caught so off guard by his orgasm.

He shudders his way over and through it against Will. He’s propped with one arm on the edge of the tub and one against the flex and ebb of Will’s abdominals  After, he buries his head in Will’s damp neck, panting and laughing a little.

“If you give me a minute, I swear I’ll give you the best blow job ever when we get out,” he kisses Will’s collarbone, feeling shaky and somehow, apologetic for coming so fast.

“No, no, here.” Will manages to maneuver him so that he’s underneath. Water goes everywhere, but Chris goes with him, post sex pliant and enamored of the lovely hectic color of Will’s cheeks and eyes.

Will makes Chris hand into a fist around him, then slowly with smooth rolls, fucks into it. He meets Chris’s mouth for more kisses -- luxurious ones at first, then increasingly sloppy as he jerks more erratically.

“So beautiful,” Chris is rarely so sweet with words, rarely so stripped he that says them without self consciousness, but like this, Will haloed in light from the window and defenseless in his hands, he’s never felt it more. “Love you like this.”

Will bumps him, one hip-check directly into his ass, and Chris rocks forward over the stove and grins down into the pan.

“You’re so cynical.”

“Uh-huh.” He’s tired - it’s been such a long day. But his shoes are off and the kitchen is finally completely unpacked and then rearranged to their specifications, and when he’d gotten home Will had been shuffling around in bare feet and pajama shorts, chopping peppers. For the first time, the new place finally feels like home.

“You should know by now that my ideas are the best ideas.” The refrigerator slams, Brian mews, Chris keeps stirring the pan. “Coachella was amazing. Don’t tell me you regret Germany, homebody, because I won’t believe you. I saw you crying over Cinderella’s castle.”

“Mm-hmmm. And it was the wind.” Already this feels like a familiar argument, but he can remember Will kissing him on top of a bridge, and he knows when he’s being softened up for something. It’ll come. He can wait for it.

Will drops a kiss on the back of his neck and wraps his arms around him, resting his chin on his shoulder. “People wanna come over on Thursday night.”

Instantly he’s groaning, and Will squeezes him tight, and starts in right away. “I know. Look, I know, Old Man. I get it.” Will kisses him again, sighs against his neck. He doesn’t want to argue, and he’s pretty sure Will doesn’t either. They’re already eating dinner at 10:30; he doesn’t have the time or the energy for it.

He wishes sometimes that he’d fallen in love with somebody who was just a little more intimidated by him.

“Tell me what you know, then.”

“I know you hate this storyline.” Chris snorts. “I know you don’t like watching Kurt.” Chris hums, because that’s certainly true. “But I also know that you think it’s kind of sweet, and I know that you know that it’s important.” Chris sighs and stirs the peppers, and then Will whispers into his ear. “I know that you like the romance of it way more than you want to.”

“There was nothing romantic about filming on that staircase, trust me.” God that had been a long day.

“I know. Small proposal, got it.”

He can’t help it - he grins again, throws an elbow. Of course they’ve talked about it; sometimes this summer it felt like the only topic of conversation available. And Will says these things, smiles soft and a little goofy at him. It won’t be a surprise, when it comes, except that sometimes every day feels like a surprise. And that’s something he can’t ever say out loud, but it looks like he doesn’t have to.

“If you hate the idea, that’s fine - just tell me. But I think it could be good. We could set up tacos on the patio, open up the pool. And then when it’s time, everybody can watch you get engaged.” Will jostles him, shakes him a little around the waist. “It could be fun. Half of them haven’t even seen the house yet.”

He takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I know. But not that night.”

Will nods, rests his forehead against the back of his head. “Okay.”

---

20 minutes later dinner is done and the dishes are in the sink. Will is sliding out of his shorts (his thighs, my god, he’s never getting over it) and into the hot tub, and Chris watches him. Some days, like this one, it’s all he really wants to do when he gets home from work. It’s dumb, it’s embarrassing, but he just… likes looking at him. Looking at Will is like being on painkillers or something - it hits him just right, winds him down, makes everything better.

God he’s tired.

He tips his head back, stares at the dark of the sky. They didn’t even turn on the outside lights, just slipped out the glass doors and stepped in - Will must have taken off the cover and turned it on before he started dinner.

Once Will settles himself he goes to him, leans his head against his chest, lets his legs float. Will’s hands are wet when they drag through his hair; he hadn’t showered before he’d come home so it’s stiff with product, but Chris sighs against him and lets Will’s hands drag through untangling it, rub gentle at the base of his skull, slide strong up his neck.

He kisses him. Kisses and kisses and moves just a little closer, sliding up so he can rest against him. The water is the loudest thing he can hear, there’s a breeze ruffling his wet hair, and Will drops a kiss on the top of his head, jostles him a little on his lap so that he slides closer and Will can get his legs stretched out. “Love you, baby,” Will breathes against his head, and Chris closes his eyes, lets himself float.

Once Chris takes a look at the clock they hung up over the pool last week, he sighs, pulls away, and says, “Shower and bed?” and starts to climb out. He wants to fuck him, wants to take every bit of tired that he has out of himself just long enough to take this man to bed. He wraps himself in a towel and stares out at the city. It’s not sunk in yet, not all the way. This is their house. They get to live here. He’s sure at some point they’ll stop using the hot tub every night, but the new still hasn’t worn off. Not yet.

When he turns around, WIll is dragging the cover over the hot tub, even though he thinks it’s dumb to have to re-cover it every night, and he wasn’t even a little afraid to tell Chris that. There’s a little grin playing over his mouth, and when he looks up at Chris he winks at him.

It’s too much. So Chris says, “I changed my mind. Thursday’s fine - set it up.”

And the reason Chris loves him is because all he says is, “Okay. Great.”

---

By the time he makes it home on Thursday, he has to drive past a string of familiar cars parked along the street to make it to the garage. He sits in the car for just a second as the garage door closes, and imagines himself walking into the house and calling out, “Honey, I’m home!” It’s a silly image, so he likes it.

They’ve lit up the patio, Will and his friends, and the table is full of plates and bowls and platters of tiny cheesecakes, which has “Ashley” written all over it and she isn’t even here. Will blows him a kiss, he thinks maybe he winks but he’s not sure he knows that since Will is in his aviators. And then somebody’s at his elbow and saying, “The Beatles, I can’t even tell you, you guys were so fucking lucky to get that, how did that happen?” and then, one more time, he’s reminding people that all he does is show up.

At 8:30 he slips into the house, changes into swim trunks and a tank top, and meets Will on his way back out. “Hey. By the time I got to you you were gone.”

He breathes him in, smiles against his temple, and says, “Sorry. I want to get in the pool.”

“Obviously,” Will says, plucking at his trunks, his voice a little dry.

“Obviously.”

“Not gonna watch?” His voice is teasing, and Chris isn’t even sure why; they’ve never watched an episode together, it’s just… it’s weird. You’d think that the older Kurt gets the closer they’d get to each other, but the older Kurt gets the younger he seems, somehow. Will told him once that it’s because Chris has never been under the age of 32, and there’s a reason he calls him “Old Man Colfer”. But that was before Will met his mother, saw the house he grew up in, and now when Chris bitches about how Kurt is being written Will just watches him. Once he said, “Not everybody has your standards, babe.” Which… is pretty much what he wanted to hear, fine, but still.

“Nope. Tell me how it goes, though. I do want to know.”

They come outside on their own terrace, peeking down at their friends, and Chris leads him down the stairs, Will bouncing behind him. When they hit the stairs, Cam is there grinning at them. “It’s time!” he shrieks, and he thumps into the house, a copper tub of ice and beer and wine banging against his thighs, people trailing behind him. They grin at Chris as they pass, thumbs up and heckling and so much bullshit.

Chris shakes his head, happy to be going the other way. Nobody says anything about it, though, and so he thinks Will must have said something to them, maybe. It doesn’t bother him like he thought it might, though, and when Will catches his hand and pulls him in for a kiss, he lingers for just one more second while they all go. Will hits the lights on his way in, plunging the patio in darkness except for candles, and Chris sighs.

The pool is warm and the sky is dark and it’s so quiet. This is why they wanted a house with a pool, for this, for just this moment. Not the people - yes, the people too; he can hear them screaming, he can hear the music, and he’s glad they’re there. But he stays in the pool, stares at the sky, and lets his mind wander. Home home home, he’s home, their friends are over, they don’t care if he’s out there. He could go in if he wants to, and maybe one of them will come out, and that’s okay.

Thirty minutes later he hears them “AWWWWWW” in unison, and he grins up at the sky. He hears the door open, and he knows what’s coming. He can’t wait.

He doesn’t have to, because suddenly Will is crashing into the water next to him, splashing him and making him yell a little. Will smells like beer, like cumin, like sunscreen and chlorine. Warm breath washes over his cheek and Will grabs him and yells, “You’re engaged!”

They swim like that for awhile, floating, at ease as the stars start to appear one by one. 

------

Chris isn't sure which one of them started it, but he's definitely not going to complain when kisses are involved.

Chris leans back against the wall of the pool. He braces one elbow over the edge and his other hand finds itself threaded through Will's damp hair. 

"You taste like chlorine." Will mumbles absently, sucking kisses over Chris' collarbone and down his chest.

"Who would have guessed." He replies sarcastically. 

Will nibbles just on the side of too much out of spite and Chris hisses, tightening his fingers in Will's hair until Will's moaning against his skin. His tongue travels down, circles Chris' right nipple as his hands splay under the water around Chris' rib cage. Will's mouth is startlingly warm in comparison to the cool water. The warm slickness of his mouth makes Chris' body shiver.

It's slow, the water making their movement sluggish and drawn out. But Chris' hands slide down Will's spine, slip under his swim trunks until he's palming Will's ass and pulling his body up against his thigh and they start to rut together. 

"Never had sex in a pool before." Chris murmurs, smiling devilishly. 

Will kisses him, kisses that grin right off his lips, wraps both arms around Chris' neck and kisses him senseless. They both taste like chlorine and water now and there's a little bit of saltiness from sucking each other's skin and yet it's perfect; swollen slick lips, warm and needy.

It's sweet and relaxing, the motion of the water around their bodies rocking them as they move together. That is until the friction from the swimsuit and wet cotton gets to be uncomfortable.

"Turn around?" Will asks and Chris goes, bracing his elbows on the side of the pool and dropping his forehead to his forearms. Will moves up behind him, his lips finding Chris' sun-kissed, lightly freckled shoulders easily. 

Will's fingers find the band of Chris' boxer briefs and he works them down Chris' thighs, leaving kisses down Chris' spine as he goes. Chris helps by stepping out of them and Will tosses them up onto the lawn. His lips quickly return, on the back of Chris' neck now as he slides up against Chris' back, water sloshing around their bodies. Somehow Will's swim trunks are gone and he doesn't even had the presence of mind to figure out when that happened, because Will's cock slides up the cleft of Chris' ass and sparks pleasure deep in the pit of his stomach. 

"You gonna fuck me in the pool?" He hadn't really considered the logistics of pool sex before, and his brain is too far gone to figure out how lube would even work. 

"Just like this." Will answers, fucking up slow between Chris' cheeks. 

They rock together, the sound of water splashing and Will's forgotten playlist playing barely noticeable over the roar of pleasure in Chris' body. Will's cock is perfect sliding against him, catching his hole on the upstrokes and making Chris moan, quietly and bitten off because god, any one of their neighbours could hear them if he were any louder. 

Will's breath is hot on his skin where Will has braced his forehead on Chris's shoulder. It's erotic; being outdoors, under the night sky, and Chris couldn't be any harder if he wanted to be. He feels hot all over despite the cold water, and sweat prickles along his hairline and along his forehead and Will pushes up against his body. 

They stay on the precipice of pleasure for what seems like forever, the water suspending Will's ability to move faster. Will grinds forward, arms around Chris' stomach and brings himself off with a loan groan. Chris can feel it even underwater, a hot wetness up his back before it washes away.

Will's hand finds Chris' neglected cock then and Chris moans into his arm, feels his knees shake. It doesn't take long after that as Will works the orgasm out of him with a few more pulls, his body shuttering and fingers gripping harshly onto the pool wall.

Will tilts Chris' face back towards his and kisses his panting swollen mouth, licks into it and holds Chris close around his chest with his left arm.

They kiss for awhile, coming down, until Chris' stomach makes an obnoxious growling sound from under the water. Chris smiles sheepishly and Will laughs.

"C'mon, you need to eat something." Will squeezes Chris' ass affectionately and swims towards the pool steps. He finds it heart-warming that Will can essentially fuck him senseless and then turn into the perfect doting boyfriends a few minutes later.

"But it's so nice in here." Chris whines, not eager to move all the way into the kitchen. He's not sure he can even walk yet.

"We can eat out here if you like, but you still have to get out of the pool some time!" Will calls as he disappears into the house, a towel around his otherwise naked hips. Chris smiles and falls back into the water, floating on his back and looking up at the stars.

They got all their affairs in order, convinced Will’s sister to fly across to house- and baby-sit and then they tried to disappear for three full weeks. Chris was the one that planned Paris, picking out the three hotels and coordinating a million activities; Will had been too entrenched in the most disastrous of book deals for the last few months and every time he apologised and said he wished he could help Chris had just kissed him on the nose and told him not to worry.

Paris was lovely. But there was more.

Because despite Will’s busy schedule, he had managed to have some input.

Just let me organise the last week, I promise it’ll be lowkey and easy, you can just follow me and we’ll be happy. I don’t have time to plan much, we can just relax for a week. Do you remember what that’s like: relaxing for a week?

And Chris had giggled and shook his head because when had they ever managed to do that? When Will insisted some more, Chris had smiled and let Will kiss him and let their kids groan from the doorway when they got caught and then Chris had said Okay.

So Paris was nuts and fun and exhausting even as they stayed in bed until noon and hardly spoke to anyone apart from each other and just spent time together. It was magical; it was Paris and Versailles and a dozen secret presents exchanged and more sex than they’d managed to have in the last half-decade. It was too many fans catching them strolling, the paparazzi catching them every time they went in and out of their hotel and multiple skypes per day from their kids — Will really regretted teaching Toby how to use the computer before they’d left.

And then they packed their bags and called the car and were driven to the airport; Chris still didn’t really know where they were going, Will hadn’t told him even though he’d started to whine. All the way to the airport, Chris was half-convinced they were going to end up at Gare du Nord to catch the Eurostar back to London for a last week on the West End.

But they don't, they go to the airport, bags in tow, and wander into the bustle of the international terminal. Chris’s eyes sweep the departures board and he starts to grin.

It has crossed his mind more than once that they are headed back to the States. Not for work, either, not for a movie or the awards season or contract negotiations or pitches... Chris can’t remember the last time they went back to the States just to be there. He’s not sure they’ve ever really done that.

Will stops suddenly in front of him, a bank of luggage check counters to the left, the glass wall and then the taxi rank beyond on the right. Will wheels around and grabs his hand, nervous and not meeting his eye. And that’s adorable; very much middle-aged Will standing there nervous like it’s a first date.

America will be fun, all their friends and family and back to the local haunts and no doubt a half-dozen parties to make him feel old. America will be great.

“So,” Chris drawls, stepping in closer to Will, trying to get a moment’s privacy before the paparazzi swarm and Will spooks. “New York or Los Angeles?” He gives a knowing, smug grin that melts away when there’s a second of surprise in Will’s eyes and then an arched eyebrow. “Florida?” Chris tries again, even though that doesn’t make much sense.

Will huffs out a laugh and drops his head close to Chris’s chest. Chris looks over his shoulder, scanning the crowds of people lazily. “If I could get you on the plane without telling you a thing, I would,” Will says and then looks up, eyes soulful and serious. “It’d be more fun that way.”

Chris’s brow creases and his lips purse. “I can’t get on a plane without knowing where I’m going,” he says softly.

“I would’ve liked to have told you this in more romantic circumstances,” Will grumbles.

Chris grins and shakes his head. “They really won’t let us check in without a destination.”

“I know. I want this to be amazing.”

“It will be.”

“I know.” Will grins again, the creases around his eyes well-worn and a touch-memory for Chris. “The thing is,” and now he steps all the way in, hip-to-hip, hands light on Chris’s waist and their bags leaning in against their legs. The rest of the world cuts off even as it rattles and murmurs around them. “Sometimes, my dear, I just really want to slow down with you.”

He dares to lean in a press a kiss to the upturned tip of Chris’s nose, smiling and breathing there for a second as if to prove his point. “The writing and the kids and... life. It’s fantastic, you know it’s fantastic. These last two weeks have been... I’ve loved it. Thank you. Except this is my week and I’ve never once known you to do this for yourself or for us so I know it’s my job so I’m saying, sometimes I just want us to take our time.” He grins and traces a line down the side of Chris’s cheek, raising his eyebrows in a tease. “It’s been ten years, Chris. The ten best years of my life, easily, by miles, and I couldn’t be more happy and I guess this is just—”

“We’re not going to the States?” Chris can’t help himself, overly eager, eyes flicking back to the departures board trying to find a destination that makes sense.  

Will laughs, a deep chuckle that rumbles through him and the glint in his eye tells Chris he’s happily let him think the wrong thing all along. “You forget I’m in my forties,” he chastises. “At some point you get old and you stop wanting to fly home and get drunk and impress people.” His arms wrap around Chris’s waist all the way and he starts to sway ever so slightly. “You get over showing off your perfect life and going out and talking loudly about how happy you are.”

Chris grins at him. “You’re not old yet,” is all he says for a moment. “I’m still not over showing you off,” he adds.

Will smiles and behind Chris’s back he twists the wedding band on his finger. “You remember our honeymoon?” he asks quietly, rhetorically, obviously.

Chris’s eyes go wide.

“You remember how happy we were then and how it was an unconditional sort of happy. It was just us and we weren’t proving anything, not even to each other.” For a second he pulls Chris close enough to press up close, grind against him in one long drag and get his mouth close enough to his ear to whisper, “Remember naked all the time and sex on every surface and realizing we really were never gonna get sick of it?” He lets go and Chris breath is hitched and high. “I think for the first time we were just breathing and happy and so alone.”

Leaning back, Will stares and grins and Chris stares and gapes back. Eventually all he can say is “Are you fucking kidding me?” just a little bit too loudly for an airport.

“I wanna feel that again,” Will says on a laugh. “I want to feel everything we feel now and, jesus christ, ten years and our kids are amazing, our home and our lives and the way you write—”

“The way you write,” Chris interjects, just like he always does.

“It’s amazing. You’ve made my whole life amazing. And happy.” Will’s eyes drop, abashed, in love, still. “I didn’t expect that.”

“You’re taking me back to Africa?” Chris breathes.

“Yeah. Just us, just for a week.” Will’s eyes dart up, dancing and pleased with the surprise painted across Chris’s face. “If that’s okay.”  

“Okay?” Chris asks dumbly. “I had no idea...” How had he had no idea? “This is so much more than okay.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

“Happy anniversary,” Will says, grinning broadly and his eyes soft and so utterly, unmistakably in love. He steps back, breaks the moment open and lets the rush of the airport back in.  

“Yeah,” Chris says, still dumbfounded, still stunned and more than that, amazed his husband can still get him this way. “Shit.” And then to Will’s raised eyebrows, “Thank you for... every single little thing... ever.”