Work Text:
Will looks up at the sound of the front door slamming, and heavy booted feet making their way through the apartment, to Will's corner of the study. He sits back, waiting for the door to open. The steps hesitate on the other side of it. There's a pause, like someone is steeling themselves, taking in a steadying breath.
He fights back a smile.
The door opens, far too slowly and evenly for the glare he's sent by the man behind it. "Hey," Will greets Nigel, not letting anything show on his face or in his voice aside from vague pleasantness. Nigel isn't an idiot, he can pick up body language and vocal intonation as well as Will can.
Nigel's eyes are narrowed on him, his upper lip just slightly curled back in an aggravated snarl. He crosses the threshold and circles to stand in front of Will. He looks royally pissed off, but he's puffed up so large as well, as though he's expecting a fight from Will.
Will considers this, still giving nothing away. He's good at that.
"What did you do?" Nigel finally demands, when silence doesn't work for him and Will doesn't volunteer any information.
Will knows exactly what he's talking about, of course. He always knows what Nigel's up to, despite the man's frankly adorable attempts at keeping him in the dark. As though the void Will fled from isn't just as dark as the one Nigel regularly visits.
Still, it's more fun for Will to play dumb, since Nigel is so insistent. "What do you mean?" he asks. His brow creases, his voice changes to show a thread of unsureness, of insecurity. He reaches for Nigel and acts surprised when Nigel flinches. "Nigel, what's wrong?"
"You know exactly what I mean," Nigel snaps at him, knuckles white, shoulders tense. He steps into Will's space and leans down, one arm braced at the back of the chair, beside Will's head. It takes all of Will's self-control not to point out that exposing the artery in his underarm is a monumentally stupid idea. Nigel grabs Will's chin with his other hand and makes their eyes meet. "He's fucking dead."
Will moves slowly. He doesn't need to ambush Nigel, it's much more unsettling for a man like him when he sees danger coming. He takes Nigel's wrist and pushes two fingers at the pressure point around his pulse, making him weaken his grip just long enough that Will can free his chin.
Nigel doesn't fight back. He blinks, focus shifting, realization dawning. "You killed him, didn't you?"
"The way you were acting, you sound so surprised now," Will replies coolly. His next blow comes in the form of a gentle press, cupping Nigel's jaw and coaxing him to straighten so that Will can stand. He does, never once letting go of Nigel's cheek, rough with five o'clock shadow. "I took care of a problem," he adds. "I took care of your problem."
Nigel's eyes widen, and he looks at Will as though Will is a brand-new species of animal he has never seen before. Will slides his hand to Nigel's chin and holds tight. "You think I don't know when someone's going to fuck you over, Nigel? You think I'm just here to be quiet and look pretty for your friends?"
Of course, that's exactly what Nigel thinks. Thought.
Nigel shakes his head, denying to the end. Will's smile merely widens. "I'm the only one who gets to fuck you, sweetheart," he purrs, kissing the words to Nigel's jaw. "And I don't like sharing." Nigel shivers, his heart racing beneath Will's lips, his arms tense when Will touches his bicep and runs his hand up to Nigel's strong shoulder.
"You have a problem with that?" Will presses. Nigel is still angry, he can tell. Maybe the guy was important to his business deals, Will doesn't know and he doesn't particularly give a shit. Nigel growls at him.
Will draws back. This strike isn't slow. His palm connects with Nigel's cheek hard enough that Will smells blood, sees it well up at the corner of Nigel's lip from his teeth cutting the soft inner skin. Nigel reacts, as Will expected him to. He grabs Will and throws him up against the wall, bloody teeth bared.
Will laughs.
Nigel is so pretty when he's on edge. When he needs to fight something. When his hair falls in front of his eyes and every part of him is coiled to lunge. Will spreads his legs and fists his hands in Nigel's hair, forcing Nigel to kiss him. He makes sure to shove his tongue against Nigel's cut cheek just to feel him flinch again.
Nigel reacts immediately, as Will hoped he would. He wrenches Will away from him with a hand in his hair, harsh enough Will is sure some of it gets ripped out at the root. He kicks Will's knee to send him stumbling and throws him over his own desk. Will can't help but laugh at how fucking predictable he is. He's already stretched and wet.
When Nigel notices, shoving Will's jeans down just enough for him to fuck, when he touches the half-dry lube covering Will's rim, he freezes. Then, shoves in with two fingers right away, making Will hiss. "You're so fucking arrogant," Nigel says, clenching and twisting his other hand in Will's hair as he shoves his fingers to the root, then begins working in a third with no warmup. "You could have been fucking killed, Will."
Will's breath hitches as Nigel's nails scrape his prostate. It hurts, but Will knows it was meant to.
He reaches back anyway, kicking at Nigel's ankle to get the space he needs to shove himself away from the desk and swing at Nigel. He's caught, again, because this isn't a matter of life and death. Will has a bad habit of not fighting back anyway, not when his curiosity is so damn strong.
This time, when a blow comes, it's Nigel's fist against Will's jaw. It's hard enough to snap his head to one side, making blood bloom across Will's tongue and a dull ache worm its way all through his skull. He does still, closing his eyes, relishing the pain as it digs its talons into his neck and behind his eyes, makes itself comfortable like someone returning home from a long trip.
He smiles.
"Fuck, Will, are you okay?" Nigel has mastered the violent man's concerned voice, the plaintive, false apology that comes when they know they struck a little too hard but have hit a new milestone to measure against, in the future.
Before Nigel can touch him, or apologize again, Will smiles and pulls Nigel close, kissing his bruised lower lip, a wide grin on his face. "That was good," he murmurs, nudging their noses together, "but I know you can do better. You can hit harder than that."
Nigel stalls. His fingers twitch against Will's hurt cheek. "You're fucking insane," he whispers, a hysterical laugh in his voice.
The new milestone is set. Next time, Will can push him a little farther and see how he measures up. He kisses Nigel again, gentler but no less passionate, pushes himself up on his desk and kicks one leg of his jeans off so he can spread his legs and pull Nigel between them.
"I'll do it again," he promises, fumbling with Nigel's belt and the button and zip of his nice suit pants. Nigel rests their foreheads together, panting hard, blood shining in the saliva he uses to wet his lower lip. "You give me a name, that's all I need."
Nigel's eyes flash. He cups Will's nape with one big hand, his lashes fluttering when Will licks his palm and draws Nigel's cock out of his clothes, getting him wet. He's already so hard, slick at the head, warm to the touch. He loves violence, Will knows he does, it's so fucking easy to get him riled up like this.
Nigel grabs Will's thigh and lifts him up, holding him still by the back of his neck as Will leans back on one elbow and lets Nigel force his way inside. Will grunts, eyes closing, head falling back as Nigel snarls and bites hard over the bruise starting to form on his jaw. It hurts like a bitch. Will loves how Nigel makes everything hurt a little.
He wraps his free leg around Nigel, goading him on with his free hand digging claw marks into Nigel's back, hard enough that even through clothes he knows it stings, as Nigel continues to bite and mark Will's throat like the possessive son of a bitch he is. Will knows that it's not the threat on Will's life that pisses Nigel off more – it's that someone else got close enough to potentially take it. Will has a habit of falling in love with men who want nothing more than to be the one to kill him.
"Harder," he snarls, as Nigel finally finds his prostate and ruts against it, desperate to wring more needy noises from Will's bruised throat, to be the one to taste them first.
Nigel laughs darkly. "You're gonna regret pushing me, gorgeous, one of these fucking days."
Will grins, and wrenches Nigel's head up. He looks unhinged, ready to snap, ready to fuck the life out of Will if Will lets him. "Make me," he purrs. Nigel's eyes flash. "Come on, Nigel, make me regret helping you. Being good for you. Being the slick little bitch all your friends think I am."
"Fuck, Will," Nigel groans, his thrusts stuttering for a brief moment. Their eyes meet again. The next hit comes hard, Will's cheek stinging and his vision momentarily going white. He moans weakly, and reaches down to stroke himself as Nigel fucks him, hard enough the desk rattles alarmingly and Will can't catch his breath.
His hand tightens on the back of Will's neck, so Will has a hard time breathing. His heart is flying in his chest, his muscles going limp as he fights for air and starts losing the battle. Nigel bows over him, bracing himself by Will's head. He loosens his grip just as Will's vision starts to grey out at the edges, then leans down and kisses Will, stealing all the air he just managed to get back. Will whimpers, clinging to Nigel's shoulder.
Nigel kisses down his injured cheek, his jaw, to his neck. Will bites his lower lip, wincing at the sting, and arches as best he can, tilting his hips up so that Nigel can fuck as deep and hard as he needs. "That's it, gorgeous," Nigel breathes, hands flying to Will's hips to hold him steady, right there, fuck -. Nigel shudders, his thrusts stuttering in rhythm. "So fucking hot, taking my cock so well, my perfect, fucking insane little whore, aren't you, fuck…"
Will sighs, closing his eyes as Nigel goes still, hips jerking just a little as he comes and fills Will up. It stings a little, Will barely stretched himself out and Nigel certainly didn't help in any way. His ears are still ringing, all he can hear is Nigel's heavy breathing and his own rushing pulse.
He cards a hand through Nigel's hair and yanks him upright, taking advantage of Nigel's weakened state to shove him to his knees. "My turn," he hisses, and makes sure Nigel is looking at him when he first sinks into Nigel's mouth. Nigel's lashes flutter, but he keeps his eyes open because they're both greedy when it comes to seeing the other one like this, wild and depraved and with no qualms about shedding blood.
Will smiles, pushing on Nigel's injured cheek as he quickens his pace and fucks Nigel's throat brutally, until he comes with a sated sigh. Nigel swallows all of it. "Good boy," Will purrs, petting Nigel's face briefly before he pulls out and corrects his clothes.
Nigel is still on his knees, breathing hard, looking up at Will like he's not quite sure who won that round. Will smiles at him, feeling merciful, and sinks down to his level, kneeling in front of Nigel on the floor. He kisses, gently – Nigel's forehead, then his cheek, then his swollen lips.
"Feel better?" he murmurs. His own body hurts all over, his ass and thighs are sore, his neck aches from Nigel's tight grip, and of course his jaw and cheek are likely to get swollen and purple over the next few hours.
Nigel swallows, lowering his gaze. Deferential, as he should be, to the true predator in the room. "Yes," he rasps.
"Good," Will purrs, cradling Nigel's face to his neck and gently petting his hair. He kisses the crown of Nigel's head, and then asks, "You got another name for me?"
Nigel tenses, for only a moment, before he quietly whispers, "Yes."
Will grins. "That's what I thought."
He stands, and goes to Nigel's side of the study where he poorly hides his books and deal contracts, where he thinks Will doesn't know what they are because they happen to not be in English. He takes a pack of cigarettes from Nigel's desk, as well as one of his nice lighters. He senses Nigel rising behind him, armor cracked but in place. Will lights a cigarette and takes a drag without turning to look at him.
Nigel approaches, stinking of heat and sex and radiating awe. He wraps his arms around Will from behind, holding him as tightly as he dares. Will closes his eyes. He leans back to rest his head on Nigel's chest and feels strong fingers tangling in his hair, gently petting him.
There's blood on his fingertips and in his mouth. Will likes the scent of it combined with the cigarette smoke. He turns his head and presses a kiss to Nigel's neck tattoo, before feeding him the filter of the cigarette. He watches with pleasure as Nigel takes a drag, how he winces at the sting of smoke to his inner cheek. He kisses the smoke away.
"Make sure you tell me about all these people who are bothering you, in the future," he says. His voice is gentle, but Nigel can practically feel the steel in it. Will likes how he trembles and tightens his grip, like his embrace is in any way threatening. Will turns, so that their eyes can meet, and touches Nigel's lip gently. To outsiders, it would look like a gesture of concern, a plea for compassion and shared intimacy.
Will knows Nigel understands what it really is: a warning. Will can always hit harder, too.
Nigel swallows, and rasps, "I will."
Will smiles. "Good."