Spritebur

wilbur always had that look in his eyes when he was around you.

wilbur was always stressed about something; whether it be work, or bills, or maybe his anxiety spiking up more than normal, he always felt queasy. but around you? he felt okay.

you two really couldn’t be together. it was just easier to not be stuck in a relationship with eachother. his fans were crazy; the last time he was in a relationship, it was blasted all over twitter before they’d even had the chance to enjoy it.

wilbur also struggled with being in a relationship. he always felt trapped. no matter how much he loved his significant other, he always got bored and felt like he was suffocating. so, really, a friends with benefits label with you should be fine.

so… why did it make him feel bad?

he had spent a lot of time wondering if he wanted to be in a relationship with you; if he was willing to deal with the fans, if he was willing to commit to a relationship with somebody who he was never able to get his mind off of.

because no matter how he tried, you were there. not physically, no. but every little thing reminded him of you. the scent of burnt coffee by the coffee shop he walks by every morning that he’d met you at. when he’d convince himself he got a smell of your perfume out in public. when the rain was downpouring and you mentioned how much you loved the rain.

the rain tapped against the window of your apartment. the sky was dark and threatening, but this was always your favorite type of weather- wilbur knew that. he messaged you everytime it rained where he lives.

it wasn’t much of a surprise when you two got drunk and found yourself in your bed once again; this was pretty normal. but something about how you looked up at him through those red, half lidded eyes, your hands clutching at the neck of his sweater as you pulled him down to your level- that pang in his chest wouldn’t really stop.

his hands were so cold against your warm skin under your shirt. his fingers were gripping onto your waist, his hands shaky and his face burning as you kissed and sucked on his neck. this certainly wasn’t the first time i was in this predicament, but it made him nervous all the same everytime he was. upon feeling your hand unzip his pants and slide in, he gasped softly.

it didn’t take much for him to push your pants down, tossing them onto the floor. he groaned softly as your thumbs dug into his skin while pushing his pants down to his ankles. his lips finally met yours and he moaned, reaching over to the bedside table and grabbing a condom. he leaned back up, rolling it down onto his cock. he leaned down and spat onto your hole, his lips finally meeting yours again as he pushed into you.

wilbur held onto your waist as you arched your hips up, a soft gasp escaping your lips at the pleasure. fuck, it always felt incredible.

his hips moved slowly, lacking urgency. he wasn’t in a rush. he would take all the time in the world if it meant he got to be this close to you.

he leaned down, stuffing his face into your collarbone and breathing heavily as the pleasure shot through his gut. your arms quickly wrapped around his neck, head tipped back and eyes half lidded. “wil… feels so good…” you moaned out, your nails digging into his skin through the fabric of his shirt as he thrusted deep, his breath warm against your chilly skin.

he pulled away to look into your eyes, his hands lifting your shirt to expose your stomach before holding onto your hips, watching each wince and moan you made with his pointed thrusts. soon, he began to move his hips quicker. “right there…!” you gasped again, your eyes shutting and your mouth hung open in a silent moan.

it wasn’t very often that you begged him for things you wanted, but upon moving one of your hands up to his forehead to move a strand of hair over, you spoke. “kiss me… please…” to which he immediately complied, leaning down and kissing you so passionately, lips moving in sync with yours.

wilbur could feel that tightness in his stomach, that threat of release. if he wasn’t so sidetracked with having you in his arms and being in your bed, he would have felt embarrassed by how quickly he came. but with how your legs twitched beneath him, with how your moans and whines grew quicker and more frantic, he finally let out a soft groan against your lips as his hips stuttered and he came into the condom. he continued thrusting, albeit slower, until he felt your walls clench around him and your breath finally slow.

slowly, wilbur withdrew from your hole. he smiled slightly as he heard that soft ‘pop’ noise, and he pulled the condom off and tossed it in the garbage before lying next to you. it didn’t take you very long to turn over and lay against him in his arms, your breath still heavy.

“are you okay?” he asked, one of his hands snaking into your hair. you nodded, your body tired but not tired enough to fall asleep. “mhm… you always make me feel good…” you admitted, curling in further to him and pressing your face into his neck, inhaling his sent. he let out a soft laugh, his nose pressed into your hair. “good enough to make you sleepy whenever you’re around me?” he asked. “yeah… real sleepy…”

his arms were so snug around you, your breaths even and eyes almost fully closed, but you weren’t asleep just yet. and wilbur didn’t want to leave. he had always hated sleeping alone, waking up to a cold bed. and everytime he went home, it was his reality that really, you weren’t his. and god, that thought made him sick to his stomach. he wanted you so bad… and yet, he couldn’t have you.

it’s not to say that you didn’t feel the same way towards him. he always made you feel loved and made you feel like it was okay to be… you. and even if you couldn’t have him for the night… well, you got to have him now. and you weren’t going to complain, not even for a second.

you’d been asleep for around half an hour now. wilbur really couldn’t keep pushing it off, so he had gotten up, gotten his clothes back on. you frowned when your eyes finally opened and you saw him preparing to leave you for the night… again.

“already going?…” you asked. he looked at you fondly, his head tilted slightly to the side. “yeah… last train leaves at ten. i better get going if i don’t wanna miss it.” “it’s pouring outside… are you sure?” you questioned. he nodded. “i’m sure. i won’t take up more time than i already have.” he leaned down, kissing your forehead. “i’ll talk to you in the morning, yeah? sleep well.” he had said before padding down the hallway, slipping his shoes on by the front door. but with his hand on the front door… he just stopped.

it was raining hard out; the thunder cracked down hard, and he would be absolutely soaked by the end of it. and with his guitar on his back, he didn’t really want to risk ruining it.

your apartment was so cozy compared to his; that one candle in the kitchen that you never lit and always said it was there for ‘aesthetic purposes’, the christmas lights strung around the living room and kitchen that you just never took down at any point of the year, the soft carpet underneath his feet compared to the harsh fabric on the floor in his apartment.

but most importantly, your bed and your arms being his most favorite place… how you’d kiss his face over and over, how you’d laugh at his dumbest jokes, how you looked at him like he put the moon in the sky. he wanted to wake up next to that every morning.

upon never hearing the front door open, you had quickly changed into one of his sweaters only as you walked down the hallway. you saw him contemplating with his hand on the front door. finally, you spoke. “wilbur?” he tensed up for a moment before turning around, his eyes meeting yours. “yes?” “…come lay in bed with me… you’ll catch a cold if you go out there.” you finally said, your head tipped to the side. he seemed to think for a moment before nodding. “okay. yeah.” he said, slipping his shoes back off and setting his guitar next to the door. you opened your arms to him and watched as he came over, putting his arms around your waist and leaning down to kiss you softly. this kiss wasn’t rough, like earlier. it was so soft and delicate, him bringing one of your hands up to your face and holding your cheek in his hand.

it really was no surprise he had slept so good that night. he spent the night with you in his arms, his head buried in the back of your shoulder and his thumb slowly rubbing circles onto your hipbone, the blankets so soft over his skin. and god, did you look so peaceful.