will smith fawn

thinking about 2027 worlds where will ends up at the same hotel as rick and robyn after usa gets eliminated early, but he still wants to stay and watch the semifinals and finals to support mack,,,,,

so they’re drinking together at the hotel bar and robyn and will are deep in conversation about some completely unrelated hobby while rick starts asking about his shoulder rehab and will’s pulling up progress photos and comparison videos from when rick first saw the injury to now.

but will’s a little tipsy and all the photos are of him shirtless,,,, which normally wouldn’t be an issue because he’s never been body shy, but something about showing them with robyn on one side and rick on the other is flustering him in a way he can’t quite explain, and he knows he’s blushing all the way down his chest every time one of them lets out an appreciative hum or quietly praises how far he’s come.

rick’s looking at the photos a little too long now, and robyn is too,,,,,,wills still talking but he’s starting to realize they’ve both gone a little bit quiet and somehow all three of them are smooshed onto the same side of the booth. rick’s leaned so far into his space to look at the phone that his hair keeps tickling will’s face, and robyn’s resting her hand on the seat right behind him so that will’s half tucked into her arm.

rick says he wants a ‘closer look’ at the muscle gain in his shoulder and sweet, sweet will is trying so hard not to squirm while rick is literally feeling him up in the middle of this hotel bar, hands warm against his shoulders while will keeps chanting in his head that rick’s a professional and also his best friend’s dad and this is soooo sooo within the scope of normal for him,,,,,, except rick’s palm keeps sliding lower brushing down his chest just barely brushing his nipple while robyn’s hand settles high on his thigh under the table.

the entire time will’s trying to focus on his breathing while he waits for rick to notice exactly where robyn’s hand is resting and rick definitely notices but keeps touching him anyway one hand at the back of will’s neck now, fingers rubbing slow into his hairline while robyn’s thumb strokes higher against his inner thigh beneath the table.

thinking abt mack frustrated and fuming that the game didn’t go his way, slamming doors, cutting off the guys to in the locker room just argue then immediately shutting down. staring off into the distance while he replays every hit, every foul, every shot that failed, getting progressively more pissed off because it was so fucking close and they should’ve had it.

he’s mad at will too solely because he’s mad period and while will is the exception most of the time, tonight he isn’t. but will seeks him out anyway, drives them both to patty’s—to the guesthouse and mack keeps breaking through the tense silence with complaints about the game and he’s not letting it go and he can’t let it go and he doesn’t really know why, all he knows is that there’s pressure building behind his eyes and his blood is scorching through his veins, and punching through a windshield isn’t going to be enough.

will is pissed too, mack can see it in the way he’s gripping the steering wheel—knuckles white and skin stretched thin, can see it when they get to his place and he continues letting out frustrated huffs, back against the front door. the way his head keeps tipping back like he wants to slam it but keeps catching himself before it does

“fuck me”

“yeah, fucken shit was brutal”

will is shaking his head sighing in pointed annoyance, “no, like actually fuck me. jus’ get it out of your system, get me outta my head” please.

so mack is bending him over, pressing him down into the mattress with one hand clutching his nape and the other tight on his hip. will, gripping the sheets, moaning into the pillow as he lets mack take out all of his frustration out on him. there’s marks littered everywhere on his back, angry and red, a particular one in the curve of his neck where mack bit extra hard nearly enough to break skin. he’s squeezing at will’s nape, fingers wrapped around his delicate throat, using it as leverage to fuck him back onto his cock, every thrust deeper and harder than the one before until will is drooling, broken sounds escaping him as he sobs. it’s all so mind-numbingly good, bruising will’s hips like this while muttering filthy praises into his ear and even through the tears he’s still meeting mack halfway—faster, harder.

then mack’s cumming riding out his orgasm with rough, erratic thrusts, blunt nails digging into will’s ass, the hand around his throat tightening on his pulse point just so until will’s brain zaps and he’s cumming too, eyes rolling back into his head, mouth parted around a silent scream.

mack lies there, boneless on top of will for a second , his ears are ringing but the pressure behind his eyes is gone. he indulges in the heavenly moment just listening to will’s ragged breathing, the way it’s turning softer around the edges until mack realizes he’s fallen asleep under him, wrung out and exhausted.