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The secluded patio is washed in burnt gold, the sun finally low enough to let the breeze off the water cool their skin after hours spent in the sun. The beach stretches quiet and endless beyond the railing, waves breaking soft and lazy. They move to music only they can hear, champagne glasses long forgotten on the table behind them but the decadent taste still bubbling on their tongues.
William's arms are snug around Est's middle, hands resting there like they belong, thumbs idly pressing into linen-covered skin. Est loops both arms around William's neck, fingers brushing damp hair at the nape, his chest close enough to feel William's breathing.
William smiles up at him, wide and dopey and so openly proud it makes Est's chest ache. His eyes are a little glassy, lashes heavy, voice dropping low when he speaks.
“Phi, are you drunk?”
Est laughs, the sound slipping out before he can stop it, dissolving into a giggle that surprises even him. The moment is unbearably romantic and he knows it, feels it pressing in from all sides.
“You're drunk.” He reaches out and pokes the tip of William's nose, mostly because it always works, because William frowns at being treated like a kid. Est likes teasing him, rattling him just so.
“Clinging to me like this,” William murmurs, breath warm against Est's cheek, “Who would believe you?”
Est pulls his arms back, slow and deliberate, palms sliding down and pressing flat against William's chest. The contact is dangerous, right where the buttons of William's shirt gape open, fabric fluttering with the wind. Est bites down on the inside of his cheek to keep the smirk from breaking free and gives William a slight push, creating a sliver of space between them.
“Who's clinging?” Est raises an eyebrow, challenging, the sea air tugging at his hair, at the edge of his smile.
William's arms refuse to unlock. They tighten instead, stubborn, pulling Est right back in despite the push. The frown between his eyes deepens, dramatic and earnest as expected, and he looks unbearably cute like this, refusing to let go.
Est smiles, alcohol-induced euphoria burning hot in his cheeks, exerted from trying and failing to hold it, suppress it. His eyelids feel heavy but his body moves on its own once again, swaying slowly—if a little rhythmless—stuck to William like he’s prey and his boy the siren.
William’s hands on his hips keep squeezing but don’t explore further, like he’s also holding back. Bracing. His ears flush an angry red, his bottom lip jutting out on a pout.
To anyone else, any person who didn’t know them, it’d look to them as if William were miserable, his expression so pitiful it’s heartbreaking.
But Est knows him better than anyone by now. He has spoiled his boy rotten. William always wants more, closer, now. P’Est, why are you so far away? Phi, why are you so mean? Doesn’t my honey love me anymore?
Est knows him and he knows himself, and no matter how he sees it, they’ve arrived to a point of no return. Even he, who has perfected the clueless act, can’t in good conscience deny that William somehow wants him. It’s so obvious it’s painful.
And God help him, he wants William to take him. He wants William to be more spoiled and more selfish and more insistent than he even taught him. Only with him, though. He wants William to take him and wants it to be enough.
But William’s youth is just starting. Does he want Est because of him, or is it because Est is his closest person, conveniently just there? Like a coward, he wants to run away from the answer.
William makes it hard to think, though.
He presses his forehead lightly to Est's shoulder, nuzzling at the junction of his neck, making him shiver. He really is so clingy, honey-sweet, holding on to Est as if he’s property. He brushes a warm kiss to his throat, right below Est’s Adam's apple. It makes his eyelashes flutter and head fall back slightly, giving him more access on instinct.
“Phi,” he breathes against Est’s skin, lips grazing as they move. “I’m so happy. I missed you.”
Even though it’s spoken in the gentlest voice he can hear the veracity of the confession. It should be silly. They’re together so often, attached at the hip. They work together and go out together and go home together most days. There should be no space for them to miss each other, and yet.
Est knows what he means. It’s not just being together, really, as much as it is being together away from other people, in a secluded and safe little bubble and protected from prying eyes. Closer than appropriate.
He runs his fingers through William’s hair once more, scratching the spot behind his ear like one would a small puppy, then turns his head so he can rub his nose at his hairline. He smells like sun-warmed salt and a little sweat, and the leftover sweetness of his hair oil.
It makes a sudden wave of possessiveness hit Est so strongly for a second that his only outlet is squeezing his arms around William and leaning in to nip at his cheek. Predictably, it makes him yelp and squirm, and his fingers dig into the small of Est’s back in a mean pinch.
“Evil man,” William groans as they stumble into a silly play-wrestle, cutting the tension and letting them breathe back onto safe land. “Attacking me when I’m vulnerable.”
“I’m attacking you with love,” Est laughs, holding on to both of William’s wrists as he tries to retaliate furtherr. “It’s cuteness aggression.”
“It’s bullying,” William protests, scandalized. “My Phi is so cruel to me. Doesn’t say he misses me, doesn’t let me hold him. Do you even like me?”
Est scoffs and rolls his eyes. Unbelievable, really. He lies through his teeth, as if the entire trip wasn’t planned by him to spoil William, to let him rest and relax. “I don’t miss you at all. Sit down, I’m getting us water.”
He nudges William toward the loveseat, poking the center of his forehead. William obeys despite the exaggerated pout, dropping onto the cushion with a sigh that says he knows exactly how loved he is anyway.
Est steps inside with a flimsy excuse of water and the very real need to breathe.
He grabs and twists the caps off two bottles, drinks half of one in one go away, trying to get the cold to settle him. It doesn’t. William’s voice, his hands, his body…
He exhales slowly, presses his thumb to his temple in circles to will away a headache, then straightens and heads back out.
William is exactly where he left him, sprawled into the loveseat, shirt slipping off one shoulder. He looks up when Est approaches, eyes brightening immediately.
Est hands him a bottle. “Drink,” he says, practical, grounding.
William doesn’t take it.
Instead, he tilts his head back slightly and opens his mouth, challenging and deliberate, lips parting in a way that is unmistakably intentional. His hands stay planted at his sides. He looks up at Est through his lashes.
Est stops short. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, already doomed.
William only lifts his brows, mouth still open.
With a click of his tongue, Est sighs and steps closer. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, as if that isn’t exactly why he’s doing this. He brings the bottle up anyway, fingers cupping under William’s chin to steady him, thumb pressing lightly beneath his lip.
William’s lips close around the mouth of the bottle. He drinks slowly, deliberately, throat working as he swallows. Water spills just a little, catching at the corner of his mouth. His eyes never leave Est’s face. They’re warm and dark and it makes Est’s insides burn.
Est is nearly hypnotized by the curve of William’s mouth, the way his breath ghosts against his fingers. His grip tightens without meaning to, thumb pressing more firmly at William’s jaw, making more water spill down the boy’s chin.
William hums softly as he drinks, and the sound is enough to snap Est out of it before he does something impulsive that he’ll regret.
“That’s enough,” he says, voice rougher than he intends, pulling the bottle away before he embarrasses himself further.
William watches him, pleased and quiet, like he’s just proven something.
He takes the seat beside him, but William protests as soon as he sits down.
“Phi,” he whines, eyes huge and watery, so pitiful Est gets that feeling in his gut again, a pull of want and satisfaction. He smiles because he can’t help it, never with him.
William often calls him mean, accuses him of not loving him. They both know it’s an act, they get something from it. A thrill, a tingling at the bottom of the spine. It feels good.
“Phi,” he whines again, a little more drawn out, foot stomping on hardwood. He extends his hand to Est, who makes a show of sighing before taking it and letting himself be pulled until he’s sitting in between William’s open legs.
The seat is big but barely enough for two grown men, but William sighs contentedly, warm hands sneaking around his middle once again, then bolder, under his loose-fitting linen shirt, kneading Est’s waist before fully wrapping around him.
Est relaxes into his chest. William is warm all over, a furnace even when being hit by the cold breeze.
“Satisfied?”
William doesn’t answer with words. He leans in instead and presses a soft kiss just behind his ear. It’s barely there, but Est’s shoulders dip immediately, betraying him. Another kiss follows, then another, trailing slowly along the curve of his neck. William takes his time, unhurried, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“William,” Est starts.
“Hmm,” William hums in acknowledgement, but the kisses grow bolder. Wetter. William’s lips linger longer, his mouth opening just enough for the faint swipe of tongue against skin, a teasing taste.
Est exhales sharply, fingers curling against his thigh. He tilts his head without thinking once again, and hates how easily his body cooperates.
“Puppy,” he says, attempting sternness, but it comes out strangled, weak.
It does nothing.
William hums against his skin this time, pleased, and his hands tighten under Est’s shirt, palms splayed against bare waist. He squeezes, kneads, thumbs pressing into muscle like he’s grounding himself there. His back arches subtly, spine pressing closer, breath coming shallow.
William’s mouth moves lower, kisses turning into small, playful nips along Est’s shoulder, then back up again, teeth grazing just enough to make him gasp. His tongue follows, soothing, tasting. The contrast makes Est weak. He reaches back blindly, fingers tangling in William’s hair, unclear whether to anchor himself or stop William.
“Don’t,” Est murmurs, even as he leans back harder into William’s chest. “Behave.”
William laughs softly, the sound vibrating against Est’s skin, and his fingers tease at the waistband of his shorts. Est feels the unmistakable shift behind him, the hardness, the pressure growing more insistent. It sends an aching pulse straight through him. He swallows, jaw tightening. His own body responds in kind, needy and traitorous.
He stills them both with effort, one hand closing over William’s wrist, breath unsteady. “Hey,” he says quietly, forcing calm into his voice. “Honey—”
William slows, but he doesn’t pull away. He rests his chin on Est’s shoulder, lips brushing his skin in one last, lingering kiss.
Est stays exactly where he is, heart pounding too loud in his ears, painfully aware of how they are no longer protected by a thin, frail thread of plausible deniability. This is way beyond platonic.
“Are you sure?” Est asks.
He knows he should say more, spell it out cleanly, give William the courtesy of clarity, but some things still scrape too close to his shame. William will have to spare him that small mercy.
William chuckles, warm and unbothered. “Sure of what, Phi? I haven’t had doubts about anything involving you in a long time.”
Est exhales, frustration slipping through despite himself. “You know what I mean. This is not—”
“P’Est.” William cuts in gently, firmly. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you and all you saw was a kid. Isn’t it obvious how desperate I am?” His arms tighten, his voice drops. “Can’t you feel it?”
Est can. He feels it everywhere. Feels the weight of William behind him, the press at his back. His body understands long before his head does.
But he’s been just convenient to people before. He’s lived a life before William, learned what it costs to want without caution. He’s been hurt.
And it’s not like he doesn’t trust William, his good, perfect, golden-hearted boy. But William is young, and that gnaws at Est. The thought of narrowing his world too soon, of stealing chances, first mistakes, stories that should belong to him alone. Est could survive many things, but his resentment is not one of them. A changed mind would ruin him.
Especially now. Beyond anything, they’re best friends and business partners; and if that isn’t a recipe for disaster when throwing this in the mix, he doesn’t know what is.
“You do know you have choices, right?” Est says, carefully. His chest aches traitorously as he says it, but he pushes through for William’s sake. “You could have anyone. You’re young, successful, beautiful.”
William snorts, his own irritation flaring, stubborn as always. “That’s hilarious, coming from you. As if someone isn’t trying to pull you away from me every time you step outside.” He shifts, forcing Est to turn on his side enough to look at him in the eyes. “I’m just waiting to be chosen.”
He reaches down, placing his hand over one of William’s where it rests against his stomach, grounding himself in the solid warmth of it. He doesn’t pull it away. He just holds it there, thumb pressing once, involuntarily affectionate.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Est says, low. “If this goes wrong—”
“It won’t,” William says immediately.
“If it does,” Est insists, voice rougher now, “I lose you. Not just you, but everything. And I don’t get to be angry or bitter about it, because I’m the older one. I’m the one who should have known better.”
“You don’t get to decide my regret in advance.”
Est hates that, because if it were up to him, he’d protect William from anything and everything, even from himself. Sometimes something will happen, and he has the crazy, feral want of locking William up in a glass box where nothing can reach him.
“Tell me this,” William continues. “Say I did go for someone else. Could you live with it? Would you be totally fine with it and nothing would change? Think about it.”
The answer hits immediately, visceral and ugly. The idea turns Est’s stomach. Someone else learning William’s habits, his silences, the way he needs steady hands and softer words. Someone else touching him with the confidence Est has earned. The jealousy makes him sick.
He swallows it anyway.
Est loves him, so thoroughly that he would step aside if that’s what would make William happy, even if it hollowed him out in the process.
“If that’s what you wanted,” he says, forcing the words through the tightness in his throat.
William scoffs, disbelief flashing across his face. “Seriously?”
“Yes.” Est’s voice stays quiet. He folds in on himself, shoulders drawing in. “I want you to have everything you deserve.”
William goes still. It takes him a moment to absorb it, to turn the words over and find the edge that cuts. His face falls, not playing pretend with his hurt this time. He is hurt.
“So I don’t deserve you?” he asks. His voice is smaller now, thinner. “I’m really alone in this thing, then? I’m the only one that feels it?”
Est reaches for him immediately, instinct taking over to soothe and fix, but this time he’s the cause of it. He wants to explain himself, but the words fail him. It’s not that he doesn't care; he cares too much, wants too much, and he’s not used to taking.
“Baby—”
William turns his face away before Est’s hand can settle. The movement is gentle, but it cuts worse than anger.
“Sorry. It’s fine,” William says, already unwinding himself from him, creating space where there had been none moments ago. “I’m fine. We can continue to talk later. I need to take a shower.”
He’s not fine.
“William.” Est doesn’t beg, but it’s a near thing.
William keeps his gaze fixed past him, at the ocean, jaw tight. They both know if he looks back, he’ll fold. “Can I please go shower? I just need to sober up.”
Est’s chest caves in. He nods instead, slips from William’s lap and stands, the distance immediate and cruel. William finishes the rest of his water in one go and heads inside without looking back.
The music is gone, the heat is gone. Est stays on the patio, suddenly too quiet, the ruins of a perfect evening crushed under the weight of his baggage.
Est sits on the floor with his back against the bed, knees drawn up, waiting.
The bathroom door opens. William steps out, loose pants hanging low on his hips, skin still damp, hair pushed back carelessly. He doesn’t put on a shirt. He barely looks at Est as he passes, voice flat and expression dulled when he speaks. “Bathroom’s free.”
Est hates himself for noticing anything else. Hates that his mouth goes dry at the sight of William like this, bare and undone, when he’s clearly hurting.
He showers like he’s trying to scrub himself raw. He lets the water run too hot, stays under it too long, hands dragging over his skin again and again. He tries telling himself he did the right thing, this restraint will protect them later, but none of it sticks. Every thought circles back to William’s defeated face.
By the time Est steps out he feels like an exposed nerve.
William isn’t in the room anymore. Through the flapping white curtains, Est catches a glimpse of him outside, back turned, elbows resting on the railing. It’s already dark outside, and you can hear the ocean more than see it.
Est can’t stand it.
He doesn’t want to give him space or let him sulk, coming up with stories that aren’t true and hurt them both. God knows what he's catastrophizing in his head in the silence.
He makes his way to him before he can even compute his decision.
Est approaches until he’s close enough to feel the warmth coming off him. William’s shoulders tense immediately and he doesn’t turn around.
Fuck it, he thinks.
He wraps his arms around William’s bare torso, slow, careful, giving him time to pull away if he wants to. William doesn’t. Est presses closer, cheek settling between his shoulder blades, breath ghosting over soft, tanned skin.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
William inhales sharply. “It’s fine, Phi. I’m just—” His voice falters, then steadies. “It’s hard to lick my wounds like this, but I’ll get over it.”
Est shakes his head even though William can’t see. His grip tightens. “No, I froze. I should’ve explained myself. I should be able to say things. I’m an adult.”
“So am I,” William cuts in, immediate and firm.
“I know,” Est replies. “I wasn’t saying you aren’t—”
“You’re carrying everything like it’s all on you,” William says, quieter. I can take care of you too. I can handle things.”
Est swallows. He does know, he trusts him. He sees how capable William is, how steady, how reliable. He’s maturing so beautifully. “I know,” he says again, and not just for William’s sake.
He leans in and presses a kiss to the top of William’s spine, another to the back of his neck. His breath shudders as the last thread of his resistance snaps.
“Don’t go for anyone else,” Est murmurs the confession. “I’d hate it. I’d lose my mind.”
William turns so fast that Est barely has time to register it before hands are on his face and he’s being kissed. William’s lips are soft but insistent, pressing hard against him with all the eagerness Est has missed.
It’s familiar but different to give into William like this. To be the one being led, to let William pry his lips open and bully his way inside. He bites on Est’s bottom lip, sucks, licks into his mouth like he’s dying of thirst.
Est barely has space to breathe, or to wonder where William has learned to kiss like this. Hell, Est taught William how to kiss and how to do it the way he likes, how to touch and hold and tease. In a way that makes shame and desire tighten his insides in equal measure, he had molded William to be like this.
He doesn’t get to be shocked at how perfect for him William is, how well he took to it.
William slips one hand into Est’s damp hair, fingers curling at the roots. The other traces a slow path down his body, dancing on his collarbones, following the lines of his chest, the firm planes of his stomach. Est shudders into the touch.
“Phi,” he finally pulls away to breathe harshly into Est’s mouth. “Tell me again. Please.”
He sounds pained, voice so delicate and small, and if Est could focus on anything but the heat between them he would curse himself for it.
“You can’t go to anyone else,” Est says, hoarse but firm. “Only come home to me.”
He touches his forehead to William’s and feels a terrible satisfaction at setting it in stone. Because deep down, he knows that William will take his word as gospel. It’s part of what makes him feel so guilty, knowing the power he yields over him—not because he took it, but because William wants to give it.
“I won’t,” William verbalizes even though he didn’t have to. “I’m yours. Yes?”
Est brings both his hands to cradle his face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, his jawline, under his eyes. He can’t help finally smiling, heart aching at the way William melts in his hands.
“Of course, Puppy,” Est reassures him, so enamored he thinks he might make himself sick. “My sweetheart, I’ve been so neglectful. Do you forgive me?”
William nods, eyes squeezed shut, turning his head to press a kiss to the inside of his wrist. When he opens his eyes again they’re glistening with unshed tears, but he no longer looks distressed. He looks overwhelmed but relieved, and the devotion it holds is enough for Est to swear to himself he’s never going to deny him ever again.
“P’Est,” he begs. “I want to make you feel good.”
And God, doesn’t that make his blood rush downwards. He pulls William back into a kiss, tasting him again. Their mouths gliding against each other in increasingly clumsy eagerness.
William walks them backward, his mouth devouring Est’s with a hungry, desperate energy, hands mapping his body like worship. Est’s own hands are buried in William’s hair, holding him close as he’s guided step by step through the doorway and into the room.
When the backs of Est’s legs hit the bed, he smoothly breaks their kiss and reverses their positions. With a firm but gentle push, he guides William down to sit on the edge of the mattress. William looks up at him, his pupils blown wide, awe in his face.
His gaze drops to the towel loosely knotted at Est’s hip, and his fingers twitch, hovering just above the fabric, a silent question feeling the space between them.
Est combs his fingers through William’s hair, tilting his face up. “Yes,” he breathes, his voice a low murmur. “You can take it off.”
William’s hands are slightly unsteady as they find the edge of the towel. He pulls, and the fabric falls away, pooling around their feet. A soft gasp escapes William’s lips as his eyes take in the sight of Est, completely bare before him.
“Can I…?” William asks, his voice barely a whisper, his hands hovering over Est’s thighs.
“Anything,” Est replies. “Touch me, sweeheart.”
William’s touch is hesitant at first, his fingertips tracing the powerful muscles of Est’s thighs. He explores with a curious intensity, his touch growing bolder as Est responds with soft sighs and encouraging hums. William’s hands move higher, his fingers brushing against Est’s hardened length, and Est can’t help the soft moan that escapes his lips.
“God, William,” Est gasps, his hips rocking forward slightly.
William wraps his hand around Est’s cock, his touch still a little clumsy but full of earnest desire. He strokes him slowly, his eyes moving up and landing on Est’s face, watching for every reaction. Est’s head falls back, his body arching into William’s touch, a shiver running down his spine.
This is his boy, his baby, the young man he tried not to fall for but couldn’t help it anyway. He’s dreamed of his without even meaning to, has woken up with his lips bitten raw and a wet spot in his shorts. The knowledge of how much he knew in his subconscious that he was doomed would haunt him for days like a ghost.
But before William can continue, Est swats his hand away and drops to his knees between his legs. He looks up at William before his attention turns to the loose pants William is wearing and the visible tent, his mouth watering. With deft fingers he pulls them down, revealing William’s pretty, thick cock, already hard and leaking and ready.
“Phi,” William whines, flushing all over—his face, his ears, his chest—, dusted red over freshly tanned, soft skin.
“I’m going to taste you,” Est tells him. “Yes?”
William nods, even though he shuts his eyes tight right after, picture-perfect agony.
Est’s hands squeeze the firm, meaty flesh of his thighs, earned through so much dance practice and nights performing on stage. He feels the solid strength beneath his palms, then leans in, pressing a soft kiss just above William’s knee, feeling the shiver that runs through his entire body.
His mouth travels upward in a slow path, alternating between sides. With each kiss, he parts William’s thighs a little further, opening him up to his touch. The kisses turn from soft presses of lips to little nips, and then fully biting down at a particularly sinful spot of his inner thigh, leaving a faint pink mark on the sensitive skin.
William gasps, his knuckles turning white as he grips the duvet, his body arching slightly. He looks so unsure, so desperate, as if he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to grab onto Est’s hair until he’s told so. He’s such a good boy like this, so obedient.
“Phi, I can’t,” he protests, and they both hear how weak it is. “Oh, god.”
Est pays him no mind. He bites down hard on another spot, then soothes the bite with his tongue, lapping at the marked skin.
He can feel the tension in William’s body, how much he’s holding back, waiting for Est’s command. Finally he reaches his destination.
William is big, sure, but more important than that, he’s thick. Est spreads the slick fluid leaking from the tip down the length of him with his thumb, his touch light and teasing. William hisses, his hips bucking forward instinctively before he forces them still again, his control wavering.
Est smiles with wicked satisfaction, then leans in, licking a slow stripe up the underside of his cock. William cries out, his body trembling uncontrollably. Est does it again, and again, each lick a deliberate, torturous pleasure. Then he sucks the head between his lips, his tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. William’s hands fly to Est’s hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he moans, his body arching off the bed.
“Wait,” William gasps, his voice strained. “Phi, fuck… please, don’t—I can’t… don’t wanna—too soon.”
“Okay,” Est takes pity on him. William exhales shakily, his body stabilizing.
“I can—please, teach me first. To make you feel good.”
Pride surges through Est first, immediately followed by the ugly, gut-twisting realization that he can’t even let anyone else see William like this.
He leans in and kisses William wetly, hard, unable to repeat the words just yet but needing him to know anyway. He then pulls back and moves to lay down in the middle of the bed, propped up on his elbows. William watches him with unbreakable focus, his eyelids heavy with lust, his gaze tracking every inch of Est’s body.
“Come here, puppy,” Est smiles, a genuine, soft curve of his lips.
William moves immediately, crawling on top of him as if pulled by a magnet. His lips find Est’s again, but it’s nothing like the tentative presses from before. This is a mess of wet tongues and desperate breaths, more like mouth fucking than kissing. Est sucks on William’s tongue and William meets him stroke for stroke, saliva dripping down his chin before Est licks that away, too.
He runs his hands down William’s naked back, all the way until he can grab onto William’s ass with both hands, kneading the firm muscle and pulling him more flush against him, until their cocks are rubbing against each other, trapped between their stomachs.
They both moan mid-kiss, the friction dangerous but too good to stop. They rock together, the slide easier with the way they’re both leaking now, sharing air and desperate sounds.
William pulls away suddenly, hiding his face in the crook of Est’s neck, his breath coming in shaky pants. He bites down, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin of Est’s shoulder, then suckles on the mark, grounding himself.
“I’d teach you how to prep me,” Est says close to his ear, regreful. “But I didn’t think to bring anything with me.”
William raises his head to look him in the eye, and there’s no trace of shame on his face, only determined resolve. “I did,” he says. “Bring stuff, I mean—”
Est can’t help the laugh that escapes him, not to embarrass William but because of how utterly unreal the entire situation seems. “Get to it then, naughty pup.”
He watches as William rummages through his suitcase, taking the time to appreciate his body. He looks so fucking delicious, all grown into sensual strength, the definition of a hearthrob. Est wants him so badly he can hardly speak about it, but he’s also in love with him, which could easily drive him into insanity.
William quickly makes his way back with the brand new bottle of lube, so endearingly earnest about it. He kneels on the bed between Est’s legs, leaning down for a brief second to kiss him on the lips again before moving on to his chest.
He traces the line down Est’s body with his tongue, claiming and worshipping. Est slides a hand into his hair and guides him to a nipple, and he doesn’t have to say anything for William to lick over the nub, swirling the tip of his tongue before sucking it lightly between his teeth.
Est throws his head back at the shiver that ripples through his whole body, pleasure tingling at his spine. William gives the other side the same attention, always the fast learner.
His hands steady Est’s hips as his mouth drifts lower, until he reaches the edge of where Est is already aching for him.
He pauses again, cheek resting briefly against him as he looks up. “Phi?”
“Start with one finger,” Est scratches at his scalp. “Warm the lube between your fingers first. Good thing is I like when it stings, so we won’t be here forever.”
“Oh my god,” William groans, and Est chuckles at the pained expression. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“You’ll live, and you’ll enjoy it,” Est tells him. “Middle finger first.”
Est watches him do as he’s told, exhaling shakily when he reaches for his opening, eyes transfixed. Est hitches a breath at the first contact of William’s finger but then he relaxes, the urge to be filled too strong a feeling.
William seems like he can’t decide whether he wants to watch his face or the way he yields around the digit, struck with something akin to wonder. He fucks his finger in tentatively at first, but then with more confidence when he sees Est’s mouth parting in pleasure.
Even this little makes him feel good—not because it’s enough, not nearly—but because it’s William.
Unfortunately, as much as he likes guiding him, teaching him, he’s not nearly as patient as he wants to be.
“Baby, you don’t have to be so careful,” he murmurs, fingers gripping William’s hair. “I can take it.”
He sees something flash in William’s eyes, fiery and nearly angry at the reminder that this is not Est’s first time. Then he looks determined, and Est loves when he acts a little bratty, spoiled little prince who needs things his way.
The second finger slides in without a warning, a little more like it. Est sighs and moves his hips in a circle, welcoming him in. “Yeah, like that. Spread them.”
“Like this?” William asks, eyes fixed on his face as he kisses the top of his thigh. “I don’t know, Phi, you’re still so tight…”
“Yeah, pup? You think it won’t fit?” Est scoffs, chuckling. “You’re big, you gonna make me struggle?”
“Phi,” William groans, hiding his face in his thigh, exhaling shakily against the skin.
He kisses the spot again, fingers fucking in and out of Est, gaining confidence in what he's doing. He spreads his fingers, curls them slightly, not precise but in the right direction. He nuzzles his way up, all the way until his mouth brushes against Est’s cock, leaking over his own stomach.
William flattens out his tongue and licks up the underside, savoring, and Est groans, cursing under his breath at how fast he learns. His fingers slip back into Est’s slick heat, the third digit joining the others with a probing push. It’s too fast, or it would have been if Est himself wasn’t so impatient.
He feels the stretch of it, but guides William’s hand, coaxing the younger man’s wrist to turn just enough to angle the fingers upward, teasing the spot that makes Est gasp.
A bratty grin tugs at the corner of William’s mouth. “I’m not rushing you, am I, P’Est?”
He presses an open-mouthed kiss to where a drop of pre-cum is dripping down Est’s cock, then slides his tongue up the length of the shaft once more. This time, however, he closes his mouth around the tip, sucking it softly between his pillowy lips and into scalding heat.
Est twitches under him, hand tightening in William’s hair when he crooks his fingers like Est just taught him. “Fuck, oh—you’re being naughty.”
William’s eyes flick up, and he sucks once more before pulling away to speak. “Am I not doing good?”
“Brat,” Est’s reply is a disbelieving, breathless chuckle.
William’s fingers work in a steady, almost hypnotic motion, stretching Est just enough to make him throb. He can feel the tension building in his spine, his hips working down to fuck himself on William’s fingers.
The younger curses under his breath, hiding his face in Est’s stomach. “Phi, you’re so—been wanting this—so fucking hot,”
Est smiles as he looks down and runs his fingers through William’s hair, how undone he looks and he’s barely been touched, drooling against his stomach and licking at the tip of his leaking cock like he can’t stop it.
Est slides his hips forward, the three fingers buried deep in him, feeling himself pulsing around them with each subtle roll. The sting is sweet, makes him grind down harder, putting on a show for William.
He pauses before he can get too into it, tugs at William’s hair to pull his focus back. “Come on, I’m ready.”
William, bless his heart, manages to be considerate even when looking desperate, like he can barely take a second longer without being inside of him. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
Est grins. “I told you like it when it burns.”
He sits up, shifts his weight and gently pushes William away. He reaches for the lube, dripping some more onto his own palm before reaching for William’s cock, an angry red at the tip that makes his own jump. He closes his fingers around the length in a tight circle, pumps him all the way down to slick him up.
William gasps, growling low like it was teared out of his chest. Est brings him into a kiss with his free hand, but it’s more panting into each other’s mouths than actual kissing, tongues licking against each other but not deepening it, unable to.
“You’re gonna fill Phi up so nicely, aren’t you?” he breathes into William’s mouth, smirking. “Such a pretty, thick cock my sweetheart has. It’s like you’re made for me.”
“Yes,” William agrees immediately, squeezing his eyes shut like it physically aches, hips bucking up into Est’s hand, out of his control. “God, Phi, don’t torture me—”
“Fine, but only because I want you to come inside of me,” Est sighs like it’s a great effort to let go, delighting so much in William’s struggle to keep his composure, his cock messily wet from lube and leaking copiously. He eyes the sealed condoms on the corner of the bed, smile turning wicked. “I’m clean. You think you can handle it without?”
William’s mouth twists into a curse, the sound raw and ragged. “Fuck… Not gonna last,” he whines.
A flash of cruelty burns through Est, the need to see him squirm. But then it’s also the fact that he wants William to have this closeness, this intimacy they can’t take back. He wants to give William everything.
“But you’ll be good for me, won’t you? Don’t worry about lasting.”
“Fucking hell, you’re so evil,” William whines, making Est laugh, really laugh, before once again laying on his back.
William moves with a newfound urgency, his hands surprisingly firm as they grip the backs of Est’s knees. He pushes, folding Est in half and pressing his thighs towards his chest. The position leaves him completely exposed, and William’s eyes drop to the slicked-up opening, his work. He curses again, a low, guttural sound that’s pure reverence.
Est can’t stop looking at him—at the sweat beading at his temple, at the pained, desperate look on his face as he guides the tip of his cock to Est’s opening, lining himself up. He looks utterly wrecked already.
Est’s breath gets stuck in his throat as William pushes in. He feels the burn of how thick he is, the tight, stretching fit of his body accommodating him. It’s a perfect, overwhelming pressure.
“Oh fuck,” Est moans, his back arching off the mattress. He loves it, loves the fire licking up his spine, the way his body yields to William’s. “Come on, pup, make me take it.”
William’s control snaps. He sinks deeper, burying himself to the hilt in one relentless, burning thrust. Est cries out, his hands fisting in the sheets, his body trembling from the sheer, intoxicating fullness. William stills for a moment, his head bowed, his chest heaving as he fights for breath.
“You okay?” William asks, his voice strained, his concern evident even through his own haze of pleasure.
“More than,” Est gasps, reaching up to cup William’s face. “Move. Go on, William, fuck me.”
“Give a second,” he heaves, head dropping against his chest, trying so hard to regain focus. “You’re squeezing me so tight, Phi,” he takes a moment to breathe before pulling out and fucking back all the way in, forcing all the air out of Est's lungs.
He adjusts his grip on the back of Est's thighs, pressing down harder, folding him further before rolling his hips and burying his cock in deeper. It hits Est just then that he forgot for a second, amidst the heat and lust and nearly ruining everything, that William is a dancer. He moves his hips for a living, trains it for hours for several of his days.
Fuck him, he's a natural.
“Oh fuck, baby,” Est moans, not allowed much space to move, really being made to take it now. “Yeah, just like that. Feel you in my guts, pup.”
“Fuck, don't—” William whines, hips snapping harder, a little out of rhythm before he manages to hit Est's spot dead on, ripping a high-pitched moan out of him. “Say shit like that.”
Est laughs, delirious, but immediately gets interrupted by another embarrassingly whiny moan he lets out. “Right here, god—it's true, though. Can't you feel how deep you are? Gonna make Phi feel it for so long.”
“P’Est, please, shut up,” William begs, but Est knows better. He knows his boy, his man, knows he likes it when he's mean.
He reaches for William's hair again and pulls him down towards him, biting his bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth. William's whole weight bears down on him like this, changing the angle so he's hitting his prostate with every thrust turned into a deep grind of his hips.
“You like hearing it, you brat,” Est whispers against his lips. “Don't lie to me. You like knowing you're splitting your Phi open on your cock, making me take it.”
“P’Est,” he cries, burying his face in Est's chest, rhythm growing desperate and erratic as he grinds into Est's swollen prostate, making his eyes roll back. “Can't—”
He feels it then, the hot burst of William's release inside of him, making Est shudder on his cock, nearly there but not quite. It doesn't matter, though, not when he locks his legs around William's back and keeps him there, feeling William tremble and his hips stutter, his cock shifting deliciously inside of him.
William collapses against him, his face pressed into Est's neck, his breath coming in ragged, shuddering gasps. Est runs a soothing hand down his sweat-slicked back, feeling the tremors that still wrack his body.
“God, Phi,” William mumbles against his skin, his voice muffled and still heavy with lust. “I tried to hold on, but give me a second, I can—”
“Shh,” Est murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to William’s temple. “It’s okay. Breathe.”
“No, really, please,” William squirms. “I can still go, Phi, please, let me make you feel good.”
Est can’t even begin to explain just how badly William brings out the side of him that loves this, to be begged for something, to be given control entirely to make decisions, like his pleasure is more in serving Est than doing what he wants.
It’s how William thrives, too, he’s come to realize. He’s so responsible at such a young age, mature and capable and a leader. Not with Est, though, not like this. He likes a guiding hand, likes providing, and apparently, likes to be told what to do and taught in bed.
His perfect, golden boy.
“Alright, make Phi come then,” Est concedes, his voice a low purr.
William is still dripping when he pulls out, pulling away to make Est turn around and lay on his chest. He sees William reach for another pillow and shove it under him, pulling his hips up and making him arch.
He presses himself to Est’s back, hissing when his cock, still half-hard, rubs between the cleft of his ass. Stupid twenty-year-old stamina.
He kisses the back of Est’s neck, licks and sucks little marks, nips at one lobe.
“P’Est,” he moans right against his ear. “Tell me again.”
Est doesn’t need to ask what. “You’re mine. Don’t look at anyone else. Your heart is mine and your cock is mine.”
William moans, kissing whatever spot he can find, working himself up against Est’s back and making Est grind his own leaking cock against the pillows. “And I’m yours, too. You know that now, right?”
William doesn’t answer with anything but a strangled noise and his hands parting Est’s cheeks, thumb brushing over his already abused hole before pressing inside again. The slide should be easier, but William pulls his hips higher and his chest further down, deepening the arch of his back and pulling him down on his cock, the angle immediately sending stars behind Est’s eyes.
“Holy fuck,” he grabs onto a throw pillow for purchase, confused at just how much deeper William can fuck him. He’s close, has been close, and it only takes a beat for William to once again fuck right into the right spot, pushing tears out of the corners of Est’s eyes.
“Is this good, Phi?” he snaps his hips, harder and it hurts just how he likes it, so good he knows he’s about to come immediately. “Is this right? Am I making you feel good, Phi?”
Est nods, for once too slow and overwhelmed to form a sentence, feeling every thrust at the back of his throat.
William alternates between thrusting and grinding in harshly, abusing the swollen spot inside of him, perfect.
Est comes without a warning, shaking apart on William’s cock before he can even shove a hand between his body and the mattress to get himself off. All it takes is the punishing pace and the friction against cotton, making him spill messily on fabric, moans muffled by the pillow he had been holding onto. His hole flutters around the length stretching him to his limit, making him unable to even clench properly.
“Fuck, oh f–,” he cries out, hips twitching uncontrollably as William fucks it all out of him, not stopping or slowing down. “Oh my god, pup—” his voice stutters and his vision goes white, the rhythm too overwhelming as he starts—or at least his body tries—to come down.
William pays it no mind.
“Phi,” he whines instead, mercilessly still pushing into him, frantic fucks of his hips. And when Est goes boneless, protest stuck in his throat as his mind goes into overdrive and his climax morphs into painful overstimulation, William just lets him fall back, pulling out only so he can rest his whole body on top of Est’s, further pressing him against the mattress and pushing inside again, finding no resistance.
“William,” Est chokes out, voice failing him. “Sweetheart, enough.”
“Phi, let me, please,” he cries into Est’s back, rhythm growing more desperate as he barely pulls out, just grinding relentlessly. He mouths and bites at Est’s shoulders, drooling, marking. “I can make it good, Phi, please.”
“Y’did,” Est slurs, unable to stop the tears from falling and it hurts, fuck, it really hurts. “Will—” his words die in his throat as he feels his peak approaching again through the blinding pleasure-pain, and this is what he gets for pushing, this is what he wants when he does it.
The tingling at his spine climbs as it matches the rhythm of William’s fucking, both losing the ability to think.
The world dissolves into electric agony. Est’s mind struggles to keep his grip on the situation. His body is a live wire, oversensitive to the point of cruelty, prone to William in his desperate quest to please.
A desperate, fragmented plea forms once again in his throat—stop, please, stop—but it dies before it can break free, choked off by a wave of terror at the very thought. The idea of William stopping is somehow worse.
He’s boneless as a ragdoll and all he can do is take it.
He doesn’t know who comes first, doesn’t think he’s conscious for long enough to compute it, all he knows is he feels himself falling apart once again and his ears ringing. The pillow he shoves his face into is soaked with tears and spit when he comes back to his body, and the unmistakable heat of William’s release is filling him up once again.
They stay like this for what feels like an eternity, both twitching in oversensitivity and painful aftershocks. The muscles in his hands throb when he finally lets go of the pillow, and William lethargically, finally, pulls out of him and slides away to lay on his side.
Est refuses to move for another small eternity. His legs are sore, his lower back burns, his hole is swollen and gaping, and he would be embarrassed at the way he feels William’s come leaking out if he had any energy or shame left.
He feels William kissing his arm softly and finally turns his head to look at him.
“Naughty, dirty boy,” he accuses, clicking his tongue.
William smiles dopely at him, only a little apologetic. “Let me clean you up,” he murmurs softly. “Was I too rough?”
Est shakes his head. Stupid, awful twenty-year-old stamina.
“Give me a kiss.”
William obeys promptly, fingers gently brushing the tears on his cheek before gently kissing his lips.
“You better clean me up, actually,” he murmurs against William’s lips, smirk slipping back into his voice despite feeling utterly spent. “You used your Phi up so cruelly. Take responsibility now.”
“I’ll do anything,” William replies, a little too earnestly, brown eyes looking molten with love.
They trade a couple of lazy, languid kisses without the desperation, but William yelps when Est reaches around and gives a resounding, mean slap to his ass and rushes him to clean him up.
Later, somewhat clean enough to wait until morning, Est stumbles at the edge of his consciousness with William half laying on top of him, holding on tight like Est could escape in the middle of the night, his face tucked in the warm curve of Est’s neck.
He’s much more awake than Est, and even as he himself is about to pass out, he knows William is only pretending to be asleep. Est smiles up at the ceiling, heart aching with a fondness that feels like a physical pressure in his chest.
He kisses the top of William’s head, the soft strands of his hair tickling his lips, and whispers a goodnight. His nails keep scratching gently at William’s nape, a slow, rhythmic motion that feels as much for his own comfort as it is for the man in his arms.
He does it until he can no longer remember anything, until his thoughts blur and soften into nothingness.
He thinks he hears William whisper something, but even with his mouth so close to his ear, he cannot make out the words. He might’ve replied, too, but he isn’t sure. It can wait, anyway. They have time.