#willthan

He spends the first day reacquainting himself with the place. The open fields, the lemon trees he grew alongside in the yard, his father’s sickbed they worked so hard to keep from looking too much like a sickbed and his mother’s easels. Looking through his uncle’s room, he finds more amateurish sketch books and remembers, so long ago, his mother mentioning she was teaching him some of the basics. He’s unexpectedly moved by Donald’s uncertain traces and the sure way he can identify his mother’s directions, her vision through his inexperienced hand.

The second day, he bakes the only thing he feels like eating; a key lime pie following the instructions written in his father’s tight penmanship from the family cookbook he hasn’t seen in decades, but could quote by heart.

The third day has William Brandt knocking on his door just before the sun quits for the day. Sunsets in Wisconsin are a vivid affair this time of the year, dark pink mottling the orange clouds against the quickly deepening azure. Ethan finds it suits his friend more than he could have anticipated. It makes him look like he belongs in with the landscape, even if his business suit and attaché case have him feeling underdressed in bush jeans and a faded Def Leppard shirt, makes him look less tied to the rules of rank and protocol in a way. Belatedly, he realises he’s been staring, he’s been stared at in return. Before he can invite the younger man in, he's pulled into an embrace, tight and urgent, and has a bottle pressed into his hands. Jameson. Offkilter and unexplainably expectant, he takes Brandt’s jacket and leads him to the kitchen bar.

‘Will.’ He corrects with a small smile as he takes the seat next to Ethan, moving it imperceptibly closer. ‘I’m not here as your chief analyst, I’m here for Luther.’

‘Luther.’ Ethan repeats quietly as he pours the glasses, raises his own. ‘To Luther.’

Will squints at him before toasting him and draining his tumbler, tilts it in a silent ask and empties it as soon as Ethan complies as if to rally himself. ‘He told me how things really were, you know, with Julia. And he told me about Ilsa. And I’m sorry, about Ilsa.’

Ethan frowns, a familiar grief mixing with the novelty of the implication. ‘Why would he tell you that?’

‘To convince me to stay away, if I cared at all. Said you didn’t need one more worry, another head in the chopping block.’ This time, Will takes the bottle to top them both off, generously. ‘I thought he was right, only realised later he wasn’t; not when you care so little about your own.’

He sounds irritated, and put upon, and impossibly fond. Ethan takes the cue to drink, not daring to jump to a conclusion that’s as improbable as it is coveted, and waits for him to continue. Instead of speaking, however, Will pulls out a folder from his briefcase, hands it to him along with a fountain pen. Turns to the last page, only showing half a paragraph and a signature box he taps twice with his pointer finger.

‘Can I read it?’

‘You can, if you want.’ Will shrugs waspishly. ‘But it’s a retirement form, and I'm not leaving until you sign it.’

His eyes are decidedly fixed on the spice rack mounted on the wall across them as Ethan stares, admittedly openmouthed, at him. ‘What–?’

‘Parachuting into a runaway train, Ethan? Dangling from said train miles over a ravine? And lest we forget, jumping into the open, freezing ocean with no sign of the submarine?’

‘How do you even know about that?’

‘I stayed away, doesn’t mean I took my eyes off you. I’m the fucking chief analyst, I know the lay of the land from the IMF to the DOD.’ And if the commanding, matter of fact way he says that is not enough to make Ethan’s heart skip a beat, his hands coming to rest on his thighs, as he stands to push them open and crowd into his space does it. ‘And I know I’m done standing aside whilst you put anyone else’s lives above your own.’

‘Will–’

‘If Luther was right, then you could stand to put yourself in my position.’ Will clears his throat, a nervous grimace breaking through his selfassured facade. ‘And if he was wrong, well…’

Ethan sighs longingly, nudges Will closer with his ankles crossed behind the analyst, dares to think this might be real and he might deserve it, even after leaving headquarters without a forwarding address – and god, if he hadn’t thought at least for a minute that was the reason for Will’s presence here. He meets those determined, blue eyes shining with hope that mirrors his own, and rests his hands on his strong shoulders to reassure himself.

‘Was Luther ever wrong? Like, about anything?’ Will exhales in relief, moves in for his lips but Ethan tilts his head, presses a long kiss into his temple, needing the analyst to understand him. ‘Will, you know it’s not like I try to end up in those situations, right?’

‘I know.’ He grumbles, nosing into Ethan’s neck. ‘And I know a piece of paper is not going to stop you.’ The chagrin in his voice negated completely by the eager squeeze of his hands as he trails them along and into Ethan’s backpockets. ‘But I want you to stop, and think of me. If you ever need to weigh global security against your own again, think of keeping yourself safe for me.’

Ethan whines; both at Will’s heartfelt words and his groping, and it’s unfair– unsportsmanlike really, but he cannot argue against it when he’s pulled closer so the younger man can rub their clothed erections together in long, fast movements.

‘I want you so much, Ethan.’ When he finally kisses him it’s soft and fleeting and it leaves him aching for more. ‘But I need to know you feel the same. That you want me too much to make me go without you, I want to know you’re mine, and I get to keep you.’

Ethan wants that. He wants it so much it hurts. It makes him feel hollow, in a way, highlighting the absence of something he’s been doing without for longer than anyone should. His breath catches, and he slides off his stool, pressing as close to Will as he can manage, trusting he can fill that void.

‘I want to be yours. Make me yours.’

There’s hunger in Will’s eyes at those words, and it translates to his mouth when he claims Ethan’s. It’s sensual with longing and hard like a promise, and it weakens his knees so Will’s fondling hands get rougher, holding his hips tight against his own, spreading his arse with a grip that has him whining into his lips. It’s a wonder, his brain functionally empty at the strong body ravishing him, but he manages to to take slow steps backwards in a tentative pilgrimage towards his bedroom.

Will carries him those last steps, lowers him to bed none too gently, settling between his thighs as he tries to get him off his clothes without breaking the kiss. Ethan, on his part, gives up trying to figure buttons out and pulls them off when he tears the analyst’s dress shirt open with a sound so satisfying it has him pulling apart to look down at himself and admire the older man’s work. He shrugs what’s left of the garment off, and when he looks back at Ethan he’s flushed and panting, ghosting his own fingers over his kissbruised lips. Irritatingly, though, he’s still dressed. When Will makes to remedy that, he’s brought up short at his flinch. Before he can apologise or question it, however, Ethan flushes and guides his hand under his t-shirt to rest against a textured scar on his flank. He won’t meet his eyes and, when he speaks, Will has to get so close to hear him he can feel his breath on his skin with each word.

‘It’s just been a long time since we worked together. And a lot has happened.’

Will’s brain freezes for a moment, stuck on the idea of the other man being selfconscious. He exhales, remembers everything he knows of him, and feels his heart break a little for him.

‘Ethan.’

Like a question or a prayer. He moves both hands to cradle his face, hold him as if he could break with one wrong movement, and when he kisses him his lips are feather soft and shaking as he reckons with the power Ethan is putting in his hands. When he pulls back there’s a knot in his throat and he can’t say if it’s gratefulness or sorrow. Ethan can hardly look at him, but he needs him to so he holds his face so close to his he’s getting double vision, and that’s just twice as much love fighting to pour out of him.

‘Ethan, I want– I love you. I have for longer than it seems possible, and I love you more for every year I spent without you and everything you had to endure without me.’ A shiver goes through the older man, and he rubs their cheeks together, touched beyond words at his vulnerability. And still, wanting. He kisses him again, digging his teeth onto his lower lip. ‘You said you want to be mine, please, don’t deny me any of it.’

Ethan nods fervently, and holds his arms up so he can pull his t-shirt off. Will’s eyes zero on the scar he felt and now gets to see; a raised, pink asymmetrical star. He presses a soft bite around it, sucking until a bruise blooms behind it. Ethan gasps at the sight, so enamoured by it he wastes no time finding another scar to adorn with his desire, and another, until the older man’s torso is littered with lovebites, and he’s whining out with every breath, hips moving with an erratic rhythm under Will’s. When he pulls back to admire his work, Ethan surges up for a kiss that’s heavenly on his slightly sore lips. He still pulls back, wanting to make clear just how much he wants him, kneads at the muscles on his shoulders.

‘You’re hard, and soft.’ He tugs on his nipples at this, skin giving more way than it’d have when they first met. ‘And you’re perfect,’

Ethan nods jerkily, looking down at himself. ‘I am now. I am, with you.’ His hands are firm when he unfastens Will’s belt and tugs his slacks down, wasting no time in palming him through his briefs. He gives a satisfied smile when the younger man grinds his hips into his touch. ‘I love you too, you know. I love you too, and I meant what I said. I just want to be yours.’

Will is ready to admit he’s way more into the rough jeans than he thought possible, but he wastes no time in getting them off. His hands are greedy as he traces over every inch of skin bared to him. When he pushes his boxer shorts down, he stops over a long scar across the middle of his left sartorius, eyes him critically.

‘Did you ever break a femur?’

Ethan laughs. ‘No, that’s from…’ he actually has to think to remember. ‘Shrapnel, I think? Is that really your question right now?’

‘Yes. No. Can I ask something else? Can I eat you out?’

Ethan flushes and, in lieu of a reply, pushes him off so he can turn over. It’s so immodest it has him grabbing on his hips to hold them up as he uses his other hand to press on the nape of his neck, dick throbbing at the pliantness of the strong body under his, the arch of Ethan’s back and the way his hands come from under his chest to hold himself open. It’s too much. Will isn’t gentle, doesn’t build up to a pace, the sight of the man he’s coveted for years in such an explicit offer overcomes him, and he unceremoniously buries his face into his heat. He holds him open with avid fingers, and dives in with his tongue, movements wide and brusque.

It’s lurid and loud, the sounds of his mouth assaulting the sensitive muscle just rivaled by Ethan’s incessant whining; asking for a reprieve, for him to go harder, to own him, to make him forget all the time he had to go without this. When Will lets up to regain his breath, Ethan makes such a forlorn sound he pulls his hole open to spit into him and dive in with three fingers, as his other hand comes to tug on his dick rough enough his thighs shake and his voice breaks into sobs. Will grinds his own hips down into the bed to take the edge off, and when he sinks his tongue along his fingers into Ethan, it doesn’t take long for him to ejaculate with a high keen and a fullbody shudder.

Will prods at his prostate throughout, licking at his rim until Ethan collapses into the bed, with teartracks down his face and rough, incoherent pleas. Will concedes, rolling him into his back so he can press soothing kisses along his hairline. Ethan feels like a live grenade in his hold in the best way, and still, he’s surprised when he rolls them over and reaches for his neglected cock.

‘What–’ his question dies on his lips when he sees his cock is already at half mast again. He rolls his eyes, half exasperation and half pleasure from Ethan’s gentle strokes. ‘How are you hard again already?’

‘Guess you just bring it out in me.’ He winks shamelessly and kisses him hard, licking into his mouth for a blissful moment before he’s sitting up and raising on his knees. ‘You’re hard too, Will, and I want it. I want it until I can’t walk without thinking I’m yours.’

‘But– you– lube?’

In his defence, he’ll say any man would be nigh speechless when presented with Ethan, covered in lovebites and handprints and ready to ride him. No defence is good here, though, as the older man shifts to fit his tip onto his swollen rim with a raised eyebrow. ‘After eating me out like that? I’m practically dripping.’

That’s all the warning he gets before Ethan sinks down in one go, and he swears his soul leaves his body for a moment, surrounded by the delicious, throbbing heat of Ethan’s rather unprepared channel. Not that he seems much better off; thighs twitching under his own weight, eyes unfocussed, breath coming in short, timed gasps.

‘Ethan?’

‘Oh, my god, you’re big. I’m– ah, I–’ His dick twitches against his own stomach, and he rocks his hips back and forth, apparently lacking the coordination or energy to properly ride him. ‘It’s so good.’

Will is transfixed by the scene. Ethan looks high, movements clumsy, moaning breathlessly as he clenches around him. He tries to reach for his dick, but Ethan’s feverish hand grabs his wrist before he manages. ‘Don’t! I’ll cum!’

It’s hard not to get a bit of a big head at that, and Will is only human. He rocks his cock into Ethan in slow, small strokes, and that’s enough for him to double over, holding onto Will’s chest, biting on his lower lip. Will slides his thumb between his teeth before he draws blood.

‘That good, huh? Is my cock big enough to have you coming untouched, baby?’ Ethan whines at the petname, and nods desperately. ‘You like that, baby? Do you think you can ride me?'

Ethan nods again and, holding his weight on his arms, lifts himself until his rim is clenching around Will’s tip, just to let himself down as roughly as the first time. They moan in unison, as Ethan repeats the action three, four times more and then he’s coming with a high pitched scream. Will pulls him close, ghosting caresses around his shaking shoulders until his breathing normalises. Ethan kisses him, sweet and spent, but tenses when he goes to pull out, grabbing onto his arms.

‘I want you to come inside me.’ At Will’s incredulous expression, he blushes. ‘I– I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was gonna–’

Will shushes him with a finger over his lips. ‘That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, don’t you dare apologise.’

Ethan nods, acquiescent, but pushes. ‘I still want you to come in me. I can take it.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ Will rolls over so he’s holding Ethan down with his knees pushed up past his shoulders. ‘You can take it, baby? You want it that bad?’

‘I want you. I want everything you want to give me.’

Ethan sounds rough and airy as Will starts fucking him properly, the momentum of his hips jostling his spent cock, and isn’t that a sight. ‘You just want me to use you, don’t you baby? You’re not gonna get to cum and you still want it so badly. Couldn’t help but come on my cock, but still want me to fill you.’

Ethan nods along, moans his agreement, cutting himself off with a choked sound every time he slams into his aching prostate. Will is so big, even without trying, it’s inevitable he’ll stroke it at some point in this angle. And he welcomes the overstimulation, painful in a way that makes him feel sated, validating the filth Will keeps spouting about him in that crooning tone that makes him feel like his mind is splitting. And then Will comes, hot and so deep inside him and something uncoils in his stomach and he’s gasping for breath, body tensing around Will, holding onto him with arms and legs and he cannot come, but he is, ecstasy cutting through him like a knife for a perilous moment, and then he’s so loose, more relaxed than he’s been since he got the mission to retrieve Ilsa’s key. Even before that.

‘Ethan?’

He grins tiredly at Will’s shocked expression. ‘I’m alright. God, I’d never done that before.’

Will lets out a burst of nervous laughter as he pulls out, evidently relieved. ‘Well, can I take back what I just said about the hottest thing I’ve seen? Because what you just did, I mean…’

He trails off, rubbing circles into Ethan’s thighs. He lets himself relax into the caring touch, like a balm to his overexcerted body, until Will rubs his thumb along his abused hole and he’s kicking out weakly.

‘Did you want to pull me out of the field just to kill me with your cock?’

Will gives him a smug look that is quickly replaced by an open smile. ‘You mean you’ll sign the form?’

‘See, there’s a slight problem with the logistics.’

Will blinks, incredulous. ‘Alright, then. Give me fifteen minutes, and–’

‘No!’ Ethan’s laughter rings through the room. ’Your argument was more than compelling. It’s just, you said you won’t leave until I sign it, and I really don’t want you to leave. Ever.’

Will rolls his eyes, presses a kiss to his nose. ‘The only place I’m going is to the post office to mail that.’