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James doesn’t know why Will ends up back at his place after it all. Cannot for the life of him remember if it was something they agreed on before- when the whole run was purely hypothetical, or if maybe it came after, when he was really able to consider all that Will had done. He thinks about the way Will fell into his arms after arriving at the coffee shop and how all James had wanted to do was get him home, away from the cameras, make sure he hadn’t hurt himself too much, and wonders now if maybe he had fallen too deep into those considerations. Pushed his wistful thinking into his actions. But Will had followed him home, despite his chance to drive back to London with the rest of the crew.
Said crew are all long gone by the time James pulls Will in through his front door, having packed up filming around an hour ago and leaving not long after, so it’s just him left alone to bully Will up another set of godforsaken stairs. James loves the townhouse style of his new place, the historical elements running through each floor, but in the moment, all he can think about is how painful it must be for Will, who takes step after step like a champ, just barely favoring his slightly less injured leg.
When they hit the top stair, Will’s breathing finally evens out again. The minute hitch in it as James talks is only noticeable because James has been listening so closely. “The bathroom with the tub is to the right,” James offers in a gruff voice. They had gone quiet a while ago, James having given up trying to fill a stilted silence with useless comments, instead focusing on the pained huffs and swearing between Will’s still staggered breaths. The walk hadn't even been that long; James’ normal morning coffee run barely pushed ten minutes. But Will made it almost twenty, and James can’t even imagine the pain he is in, almost wishes he had ordered that Uber, despite how expensive it was with how late it had become. But Will had insisted, and James never finds himself trying to battle against the stubborn man when they aren’t on camera.
“Thank’ya lad.” Will sounds almost defeated as his words merge together, and it’s a stark contrast to the adrenaline-filled laughter James had been on the receiving end of just an hour ago. However, when he turns to catch James’ eyes, his are still crinkled into a soft grin, always radiating his familiar warmth despite the obvious pain.
“Of course, bestie, anytime.” Even he knows his words are loaded, just barely holds himself back from saying anything too cheesy, and steers Will’s shoulders gently when the shorter man begins to turn left. Can’t even hold in his laughter as he does so. “This way you dope, don’t even know your lefts and rights.”
Will immediately smacks James’ hands from his shoulders, huffing and puffing, “Piss off. Its dark as owt in here, can’t see shit.” Still laughing, James flips the switch in the hallway and pushes Will gently to move forward.
They navigate themselves carefully down the hallway and towards the bathroom, and in the new light, James is suddenly hyperaware of the state he left his place in when he left. It’s not dirty per se, but he’s certainly not the cleanest person ever, preferring his place to look lived in over Will’s modern art style apartment in London. There are clean towels on the railing Will uses to lean on, left to dry by James a few days ago, and a half-empty suitcase still stood half open on its side in the entrance to his guest bedroom, filled with all kinds of knick-knacks he just never got through sorting after the tour. Will doesn’t say anything, maybe because he’s too busy being in pain, but he’s also never said anything about it all before, and James isn’t entirely sure why he’s even worrying about such things.
They push the bathroom door open together, and James is again left to worry about something else, his brain full of nagging this evening. He can’t tell if he’s pushing too hard, being all up in Will’s space, guiding him around like a child, but everything about their current predicament feels so raw, so full of something that James feels compelled to coddle so things can’t go wrong. It’s almost intimate, going into the main bathroom in James’ home, in Brighton. Sort of feels like they’re on the cusp of something that could be so much more- more than anything they’ve ever had the chance to explore together.
Will toddles slowly towards the closed lid of the toilet, and James gives both of them a second by turning from the room and grabbing a towel; lets Will keep some dignity, even as he hears him drop himself onto the toilet with a heavy groan. “Figured you’d want the bath, but if you’d rather just wash up quickly and go to bed, that’s fine.” He offers gently, leaving it as an almost question, hoping to finally give Will some space, and it all works exactly how he’d hoped, watching the other man’s face flip through multiple emotions. Will has always been a sucker for a bath, for as long as James has known him, always using a good bath to chill out, and if he’d had the forethought, he’d probably have a bottle of wine chilling in the fridge to go with it, but even without it, the relief on Will’s face is obvious.
“A bath sounds immaculate right now, Jimberoni.”
Nodding, James appreciates the half ask that it is, appreciates being given something solid to do, and begins setting the bath up. “Alright. It’s best to do a cold bath after this kind of thing, right?” He questions, watching the tremor wrack through Will’s leg again out of the corner of his eye. The other man, while perched on the toilet seat, has still not taken all the weight from his legs, and it seems his body is beginning to protest that fact.
“I’d rather go warm, feeling colder as the adrenaline drops.”
Even Will seems uncertain in his ask, though, and James knows he’s the one in the right- that allowing Will to take a hot bath will, in fact, be bad for his body. “Not what I asked, is it?” He snaps, and doesn't mean to be as harsh with it as he is, but he does know the dangers, and doesn’t want to have Will pass out or worse, refuses to have to deal with the paramedics on top of everything else this evening.
“Right, well, you clearly know what's better, so why did you bother to ask?” Will bitches him right back, Geordie accent somehow growing heavier in his sass, and James wants to find it funny, feels his mouth twitch, but he’s also just trying to do things right. Not trying to make anything worse for the body Will’s clearly pushed too far.
“Why don’t you do a cold bath first, and you can warm up with a shower after?” He bargains, keeping the previous edge from his voice.
And Will does grumble, but he doesn’t stop James from flipping the cold tap on, and the other man can only take that as a win. “You want some of these salts?” He asks, holding up a bag from the cabinet beside his bath, displaying some fancy Epsom salts he’s had for a while that he brought for some post-workout muscle twinges, and in doing so, he uncovers some lush bath bombs he’d stashed guiltily.
He’s not exactly embarrassed, but he can still feel himself blush when Will spots them and begins laughing teasingly from his spot on the toilet seat.
“Of course you have lush products, you pretentious, gay vegan.”
The insult is completely expected, and yet James still can’t think of a comeback quick enough, just tries to fight the blush and flips Will off over his shoulder. “And you won’t be indulging in any of them.”
Will doesn’t apologise, letting out some strained noises of discontent, “Awh, com’on Jimbo, lemme have the gay bath bombs. I’ve done all this for you.”
“Didn’t ask for you to, though, did I?”
Will doesn’t grace that one with a response, and when James flicks his eyes towards him, he’s toeing off his shoes gently, pulling the laces out almost completely in a gesture James can only assume means his feet are probably in a right state.
“Oh great, you’ve just trekked ninety kilometers worth of mud through my house, and now you’re getting your sweaty, bloodied feet out on my pedestal mat.” He tries to joke, lightening his voice so Will knows he’s messing after all their bitching at one another, and watches the quick flick Will’s eyes make to his own, calculating.
Then finally, Will laughs. And it’s a proper laugh this time with his full body shaking, and James almost relishes in the way it bounces around the room. “Oh, that's what you call this pissy bacteria rug.” He halts, taking his socks off to fold in half, giggling so hard he’s shaking the entire toilet seat also. And James can only watch, waiting for him to catch his breath again.
“It doesn't get pissy if you use the toilet right, you twat.” He corrects and picks himself up from the side of the bath to move over to help Will properly, unsure if he needs it, but wanting to be close in case the blood makes him any swimmier than he already seems.
James sinks to his knees easily by Will’s feet, ignoring the stench that hits him now that the nose-blindness has worn off again, and tries not to think too hard about the position he’s found himself in again. He’s always doing the stupidest shit for this man.
It takes a long second for either of them to feel ready enough to pull back bloody socks, and only when they’ve both taken a second, James grabbing some deep breaths taken away from Will’s general direction that are thankfully filled with the smell of the open bag of bath salts, does Will allow him to begin peeling back the foul, almost stale fabric.
“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” James says to fill the silence with something that isn’t questioning hums, unfavourable grunts, and the crispy sounds of the dried blood on the fabric.
Will grunts again. “Me neither.” And gasps when his left heel finally unsticks, and a blister the size of James’ palm is revealed. “Fuck me.”
“Tell me that isn’t an ‘I’m about to pass out’ kind of fuck me.”
“No.” And neither of them is entirely convinced, but James keeps going anyway, needing to just get it over and done with.
Until finally, Will’s feet are revealed. And they're minging.
His toes are already turning various shades of blue and purple, blisters cratering not only his heels, but also either side of each foot, covering his smaller toes, as well as his entire big toe. James will be surprised if Will doesn’t lose a toenail or two. “They don’t normally look like this, do they?”
“You tragic buffoon. Of course they don’t.”
“Ouch. You don’t think I’m funny?” James looks up again, eyes widened with a stupid pout on his lips, and it’s only now, while his face is just inches away from Will’s own- as well as his gammy toes- that he truly faces what it is that could be changing.
Will’s eyes flit across James’ face, dance from his eyes down to James’ mouth, double-take when James drops the pout and instead licks his lips, tongue flicking up to catch the spit that pooled there while he was being daft, refuses to have that there when they finally kiss.
A loud grumble fills the bathroom.
Will suddenly clutches at his stomach in surprise and pulls back, almost embarrassed as he looks at James. “No way was that your stomach?” James manages through his own startled laughter, giggling with Will, pushing back the fear that Will might have gotten embarrassed with anything prior to his stomach rumbling. “God, I didn’t even think about food, sorry man, I’ll grab you a snack to eat in the bath, and maybe we can get some proper scran when you’re done?”
“Yeah, that’ll be good.”
James caves on the torturing of Will eventually, chucks some muscle relaxing salts into the lukewarm bath, along with a slice of his blue bubble bar; even sets a stupid cow bath bomb on the edge of the tub for Will to use when he gets in, and thinks back to what the staff had told him at the store as he picks it out of his box carefully. Hopes Will sees the cow shit rainbow into his bathtub.
He can’t imagine it’ll be the most relaxing bath, what with the cold water and all, but at least it looks cozy, almost overflowing with bubbles. “I’ll leave you to it?” He offers when everything is ready. Will has already pulled his shirt off, but he’s also still chewing on further words, seems to be waiting for something to be said before he dismisses James. “You don’t need a hand to get in or anything?” He asks, just in case.
“No. Just-. Can you wait outside the door for a second? I should be fine, but if my body reacts wrong, if I lose my breath or something-.” James thinks he understands, knows Will struggles with understanding his body’s reactions sometimes, that it creates anxieties surrounding his seizures, and quickly jumps in to reassure him.
“Of course man, yeah, I’ll wait outside and you tell me when you're okay, yeah?”
James does exactly as instructed, gives Will a second as he stands outside the cracked door, back turned to the bathroom just in case, and wills the instinctual reaction away. Has to remind himself that it’s Will on the other side of the door. Will, in pain. Makes himself take another deep breath before calling over his shoulder. “You good?”
There’s another gasp, some splashing, and James can only assume Will has finally dropped himself beneath the bubbles. “Yeah, amazing, thank you,” Will calls back, his voice far less stilted than anything James had heard all evening, and James can breathe again.
“I’ll only be downstairs. Call me if you need anything.”
“All good.”
In an attempt not to think too hard about Will in his bathtub upstairs, James skims through his entire house and picks up anything that’s out of place, there's nothing that takes long- he’s not about to pick up a hoover and duster, but he does check his living room, puffs up the sofa cushions and flips over some blankets that Otto has covered in fur, clears some bits and pieces from some of the counters downstairs; even grabs the pile of darks spilling from his laundry basket and sticks it in the washing machine, leaving it open to throw Will’s running clothes in once he’s cleaned up. Some dishes on this drying rack could probably be put away, but James ignores them and instead locates his overnight oats jar from the pile and takes it to the fridge with a fresh spoon. He makes up a snack for Will with some Greek yogurt and granola, even stacks on some of the fancy erewhon almond butter he keeps for special breakfasts, and can’t not stick a spoonful of it in his mouth as he does so. Sue him for having a few guilty pleasures.
He thinks about finding the bedding for his spare room, wonders where the box of linens had gone in the move as he grabs a pint glass from his glassware cupboard; dismisses the idea when he considers just how much effort it would all be. He really can’t be fucked to dress up a room he doubts Will will even want to use anyway, moves on from the thought of sleeping beside Will again quickly by filling the glass with cold water from the jug in his fridge, another habit that James hadn’t been able to leave in London, and spots another snack for Will in the form of a sweet protein shake from his crisper drawer. Tucking it under his arm, he gathers everything up, and only then does he make his way back upstairs.
“Will?” James calls gently before he can second-guess actually entering the bathroom again, clutching tightly onto all the items in his arms. “You alright if I come back in?”
“Yeah, Jim, come in.” Will sounds just blissed out enough as he giggles that James can finally relax again, and he kicks the bathroom door open slowly.
The bubbles have calmed in the time it’d taken him downstairs, and James tries his hardest not to let his eyes drift. “Got your water.” He says in lieu of greeting, placing the pint glass down on the wooden table that sits at the side of the bath by Will’s head, and putting the protein shake down along with it before explaining the third container, “also found some yogurt and granola, a snack before we get real food.” When his eyes do slip, he notes that the water has become almost milky, just opaque enough that James doesn’t have to worry. He’d obviously used the bath bomb.
Will thanks him with a soft grin, and pokes a hand out of the water to reach for the glass before draining it in one, “cheers Jimbo. You’ve spoiled me.”
James snorts, brushing off the teasing to find out how Will is actually doing. “How are you feeling?”
Will rambles on after answering, filling the bathroom with chatter that James can’t escape from, and it leaves him awkwardly hovering, not quite by the bathtub, not quite at the door, but hanging in the liminal space between each of Will’s words. Eventually, when he seems to notice that James hasn’t had much input in the mostly one-sided conversation, he cracks an eye open and raises an eyebrow. “What are ya doing, man?” He asks, almost sounding offended, “standing there like a butler. Sit down.”
“I could leave you to it.” James offers back lightly, scoping out what Will really wants.
But Will is quick to shake his head, smiling around the spoon of granola he’s just shoved in his mouth. “Nah, man, stay in here.” There’s more to it all, more in his words that James isn’t sure he wants to look for yet, that neither of them is particularly ready for. But Will sounds blissed out, his breathing much calmer than James has heard it all evening, and all he can really wonder is if it actually is nice in the cold water, or if it’s just doing it for Will’s sore muscles, the weightlessness of the water taking all the pressure off his joints.
James sees it when Will gets sick of being stuck in the tub, doesn’t get the chance to offer an out before Will’s toes breach the surface of the water, and deposits the plug on the edge of the bathtub. He almost wants to be disgusted by the action, but he’s also slightly amazed, and then horrified by the thought of the water disappearing before he can leave. Will fixes that by flipping the hot water tap on- also with his toes- and promptly flinching into more of a sitting position when the water begins to burn his toes.
“You're such an idiot, Will.”
Will is quick to make his own noises of indignation at the insult, narrowing his eyes and shouting as he wraps his arms around his tucked knees. “Don’t be a prick. Your water gets hot really fast.”
James can’t respond. The bathroom is filling with warmth again, the steam that rises from the tap as it spills warm water into the tub is almost hypnotizing, and he can barely focus as the water that Will sits in slowly becomes less cloudy. The other man has yet to point out that James’ gaze keeps dipping, and he doesn't seem to be uncomfortable with James, who he knows is incredibly gay, still being in the bathroom. Having been the one to ask James to stay, he knows Will isn't worried. And yet there's still that nagging in his head that won’t give up.
It’s this thought process that once again has him opening his big mouth. “You could have just told me.” The that you wanted more is unspoken but still hangs heavy in the thick air of the bathroom.
Will chooses not to offer a verbal response to this either, simply raises an eyebrow as he lets his shoulders sink back under the water, his mouth twitching into that half frown half smirk that James can never quite understand.
He wants to skirt around it all, really, doesn't want to say anything explicitly until Will says something himself, plausible deniability and all that. But it’s almost impossible to do so with how little Will is giving back. “You didn’t have to run all this way; you could have just said. I’m in London filming with you all at the end of this week.”
“And what would I have said?”
“I don’t know, Will. But if we do need to have a conversation, of any kind, I’d rather it be on equal stances, and not after you’ve run an ultra marathon to my new home.”
The water is filling fast, despite the pulled plug. James should probably look into that. “Believe it or not, I didn’t realise how much I wanted something more until I had already run halfway here.”
James does his best not to falter at the heaviness of what Will has just said, finds himself focusing on the wording in his attempt to do so. “Something more?” He repeats in question. Needs to know what Will could want more of. Because he’ll give that. Whatever it is. He’ll give it.
Will lifts his knee up higher and winces like it hurts, but keeps it there anyway. “James, I wouldn’t run this for just anyone.”
“Everyone seems to think you might for your best friend.” James flaps a hand, Will tracks it. “You did.”
“Well yeah, but we’ve always been a little more than best friends haven't we.” And then. “Need to get out. Can you get me some clothes and a towel?”
James just accepts the dismissal. Turns on his heels and flees the bathroom like a proper fool.
They order food while Will towels off and gets dressed into a pair of James’ sleep shorts and an old faded purple Marriott hoodie, and it’s been prepared by the time James gets them both downstairs. It’s out for delivery when they sit down, and only once they've pressed play on a film they can both agree on does the doorbell ring. The scran hits different for both of them, James’ hunger appearing as soon as the smell of kokoro hits his nose, and there's no noise from either of them as they eat, just the sound of the movie playing filling the room.
The food hasn’t long been put down when Will starts to yawn. He’s hardly being loud about it at first, stifling them quietly behind his hands, into the front of James’ hoodie, but it doesn’t take long for James to pick up on them anyway, still listening far too closely to Will’s breathing, and he’s quick to pause the film when he does. Only then does he really turn to Will, and both of them are left looking at each other properly for the first time since the half-confession without any other distractions. Before he can say anything, though, Will’s expression grows serious again, a wrinkle forming between thick, preened eyebrows.
James quickly attempts to curb the growing anxieties and realises it’s not the time to go all deep on Will. “You’re exhausted, stop thinking so hard about things.” He wants to lean forward and smooth his fingers across the visible stress, wonders if that’ll be the thing that finally breaks the stiltedness between them. Needs Will to know that things are just fine.
“I’m not thinking bout nothin’, I’d be asleep if it weren’t for this shitty flick.”
“You literally chose it.” James rolls his eyes, brushes off the sass as worry about their situation, and goes to move off the sofa. “Let’s just go to bed.” He offers, shifting towards Will and throwing out a hand.
The other shoots up quickly before James can fully complete the motion, as if to get up before James can help him, but as he rises to stand, something goes wrong. James doesn’t even see it before Will’s turning into a blur, his knee likely failing, causing him to fall back into the sofa with a grunt. Will’s surprised expression quickly morphs into embarrassment when James twists to catch him. “Sorry.” He apologises quickly and barely gives himself a second on the sofa before he goes to try again.
James stands back, but stays watching carefully as Will stands again. He’s slower with it this time, less sure of himself, and James doesn’t miss the flicker of real pain that flashes across his face. It’s barely perceptible, only visible for a split second, but in James’ searching its all he can pick out, that and the tremble in his leg.
“Will-.” James starts, pulling himself up to stand beside the other man, going to offer a hand.
Will dismisses the faff quickly, “Fine. I’m fine.” He waves his hands, gesturing for James to back away. “Just been sat down for too long, it’s the first time after the bath, it’ll be lactic acid buildup or whatever, the cold. I’ll be okay.”
“But it hurts,” James states. It’s not a question.
“I’m fine, all good, see-.” Will moves to prove his point, takes a step and nearly collapses. James has to lunge forward to catch him under his arms to keep him from falling to the ground.
They’re almost hugging, closer than they’ve been since Will had flung himself into James’ arms back at the cafe. James can smell his own soap on Will’s warm skin, the bullshit in his words and stuttering breaths. “Fuck that, Will. What the fuck?” He hefts Will up, one hand under his arm, the other slipping around his waist to cage him in. Will holds onto James but avoids his eye as he works to get his legs settled beneath him.
They begin to move again, slowly, in tandem, James stepping backwards with Will in his arms until they make it back to the hallway. “What did the doctor actually say Will.” James asks, before realising just how scathing his tone is and tries to chill Will out by rubbing soothing hands down his shoulders.
“It was never safe for me to do it.” Will doesn’t look at James at all. “Got some hypermobility issues, over-rotate my ankles and knees or something daft when I run. Because I’ve got no lower body strength it just fucked me.”
James wants to hurt Will for being so careless with his own health, as he so often does. Kills those thoughts as soon as Will looks back up at him. He looks ashamed enough as is, biting at his lower lip, stupidly blue eyes welled with pained tears. “You ridiculous fucker. I’m really supposed to believe you went through all this, did what people said you couldn’t before you had even realised all this.”
“It was to prove it all to myself, too. Who would I be if I didn’t challenge my anxieties?”
“A smart person.”
“A’ve never claimed to be the smartest.” Will beams up at him.
It takes every bit of willpower in James’ body not to lean down and kiss him. “Just, let’s get you upstairs.” Shakes himself off carefully and untangles his limbs from Will’s before he does anything stupid.
“Oh fuck me. Why did we even come down those bastard stairs?”
They don’t even talk about the bedroom situation. In fact Will walks straight into James’ bedroom and perches himself on the right side of the bed, even clicks his phone onto the charger he knows is tucked in the side of the bedside table, before kicking one of his socked feet up onto the bed.
“You got comfy fast. Want anything else before I go brush my teeth and wash my face?” James offers half jokingly, watching him get comfortable. It should feel odd, he thinks, seeing Will be so normal about it all without a conversation. And yet it also settles something inside of him, chilling anxieties he’s been holding onto all evening. Because if Will isn’t worried, why should he be?
James does, however, second-guess all this when Will begins to smirk. Knows it is an entirely stupid question to ask, by the mischief in the look that takes over Will’s relaxed features. “You could give us a massage. That rub you've been offering us for years.” The second part was absolutely not needed at all, and Will asks it with a cheek that still somehow cracks James up. Makes him cave without any pushing.
“Alright.”
Will’s eyes fly back open from the slow relaxing blinks he’d been falling into, his entire body flinching for a split second as he processes.
“What? Chill out man!” Laughter fills the room, flowing from both Will and James, the slightly more hysterical sounds coming from the former. This still doesn’t stop James from walking around to the right side of the bed and bullying his way into Will’s space. “Immediately, chill out.”
“Oh shut up, you asked for it.”
James slips a pillow from the bed to the floor and kneels down, letting Will readjust himself as he gets comfortable. It’s only slightly odd to be kneeling beside Will; probably only made worse by Will, who isn’t quite with the program yet. Has to roll his eyes and force Will to still when he’s still faffing, and James is already getting sick of being stuck on his own bedroom floor. “Stop fucking moving and chill out yourself.” Will’s still only got one leg up on the mattress, the other dangling off the edge, and he shoots out a hand to the latter limb, hoping in doing so he can avoid getting a solid kick between the eyes.
He holds onto Will’s upper leg gently with one hand, doesn’t want to cause unnecessary damage by digging his unskilled fingers into injuries, and slowly runs his opposite palm up and down Will’s other calf in attempt to relax him.
“Okay?”
“You don’t have to, James.” They’re the first words Will manages, shaky as he avoids admitting James is good with his hands.
James just laughs. “I know. But I don’t mind. Is this okay with you?” He punctuates the repeated question with another gentle drag down Will’s calf.
Will rolls his eyes, doesn’t say yes or no. “I asked for it, didn’t I?”
“Doesn’t mean you’re okay with it actually happening now.” And he’s being so gentle, he doesn’t at all expect the snapping back that he receives from it.
“Piss off with your consent talk and get to it James.”
So he can only laugh, settles himself in for a long night, and begins to do what he can to help. James does his best to relax Will first, massages his muscles just enough to get him loose and limber before he attempts to get them both into a better position to help. But it’s just as he’s pushing Will’s legs apart, making space for himself to be more comfortable, that Will lets out a gasp of pain. James backs off immediately, “Hold on-,” he says as he goes to readjust himself, watching Will begin to squirm again while he plays with the cushion beneath his knees, but none of the movements are appreciated by Will.
“It’s fine James, just keep going, keep doing that-.”
And James can only cut him off again, interrupting stupid ideas easily. “No, Will. I’m not gonna hurt you, we just have to figure out a different position.”
It takes another long while of bullying Will’s legs and hips about, but they eventually find a comfortable position for Will to lie in; laid on his back, with his upper body almost completely on the bed while the rest of him hangs off. He’s propped up by multiple pillows, and James is nestled carefully between his thighs, still on the floor but no longer fully on his knees, hunched a little uncomfortably himself. There are pillows on either side of Will to support his hips this time, and because he’s so relaxed again, James can maneuver his limbs just that little bit more without causing any pain.
There’s a twitch in Will’s thigh before James has even got his hands on him the second time around, so he starts there. Massages some lotion just above the inside of his knee and tries his hardest to allow Will to completely relax before he starts actually doing anything, but in doing so, all James can focus on is the fact that it’s Will he’s touching. Will’s warm skin that his fingers are gliding across, nothing between them but the cocoa butter he’d originally brought for tattoo aftercare. He takes his time with the melted substance, watching the muscles beneath his fingers as they respond to different touches, listening to how Will’s breathing changes with the different pressures.
And Will himself is a decent patient, keeping stiller and quieter than James has ever seen him; James has to mentally check himself every time he thinks about dropping a sweet kiss against the other man’s legs whenever the intimacy hits him. Multiple times he has to force himself away from Will fully, pulling his hands back completely to stop himself from pressing his mouth to the strange knobs of Will’s knee as he rubs his thumbs across them, feeling the tension slowly begin to leave him.
He wants to pride himself in being so professional about it all, and is about to give himself a mental pat on the back when he digs a thumb deeper into the meatier part of Will’s thigh, mirroring each hand as he moves up the inside of Will’s legs, and Will groans, long and low, hiking himself up on his forearms suddenly.
James stops immediately. “Are you okay?” It’s a stark contrast to the relaxation from seconds ago, seeing Will’s big eyes looking down at him in such a position. Heavy lust is replacing the sweet intimacy that has taken over James’ mind.
“Yeah, lad, yeah. Sorry.” Will mutters slowly, readjusts his head on his shoulders, and lets it hang over James, both of them struggling to catch the breath that sticks heavy in their throats. “Just a lot for a second. Give me two minutes.”
James nods, still finds himself inquiring further, just in case. “Is there any pain? How bad? Can you give it to me on a scale of one to ten?”
“It hurt, but It was good. Like a 6. Maybe a 7.”
James can’t ignore the wince, forces himself to hold back next time. “Ok, that’s fine. Tell me if it gets to be too much yeah?”
“No worries. ” Will replies gently, relaxing back into the pillow.
About ten minutes later, Will’s singing a different tune.
“Chill out man,” Will chokes out, “I thought this was supposed to help, not finish me off.”
James digs his fingers deeper into Will’s thigh, trying to knead out the tension that’s making his whole quad spasm. “I’m trying to help, it’s not my fault you didn’t listen to your physiotherapist.” He’s not trying to hurt Will, truly, but by the way he swears again when James hits another tender spot, he’s clearly hit it a little too hard. Pulling away from the tenderness, he switches up his movements and drags a thumb up the soft inner side of Will’s knee until he twists away again, hissing fueled less by pain and something more charged this time.
“This isn’t you chilling out,” Will mutters through gritted teeth, but once again, it doesn’t seem much like he really wants James to stop. Instead, he’s begun pushing his legs into James’ grip, shifting so James can properly hit the areas he needs touching most.
James feels as though they’re getting somewhere again, the dance from earlier has picked up its pace again, and the flirting that they might once have been able to move on from can no longer not be sincere with their conversation from earlier in mind. It’s different, and real, and scary. So scary that he’s so focused on trying not to get carried away that James doesn't even realise his hand has slipped too far up Will’s thighs, and he’s following muscle, feeling around for the groove of his upper quad and-.
“Fuuuck, James.” Will kicks a foot into James’ hip and groans, this drawn-out thing that comes out so slowly that by the time he’s speaking James’ name, he’s realised how loud he is and is attempting to muffle it into the pillow beside him.
A punched out sound leaves James’ mouth as he tries incredibly hard not to catalogue the other sounds spilling from Will, quickly pulls his fingers out from where they’ve dipped into the legs of the boxers Will is wearing when he catches himself, and only then can he take his own shaky breath. “Fucking Hell, Will.”
Will turns his head to the side and buries his face into the cushion. “I knew this was going to be bad, didn’t expect I’d also be so turned on.” And it’s so brash that even James blushes, has to clear his throat of the arousal that’s begun choking him.
Slowly, purposefully, he finds that muscle group again. Will’s knuckles turn white as they clench the quilted blanket. James digs deeper, kneading through that line of muscle. Will whimpers again, his lower body tensing, and James thinks he might've tried to escape if it hadn’t felt so good, tries not to picture making Will squirm harder under his hands. Fuck he wants so much more.
“Breathe, Will.” James reminds him softly, waiting for another measured inhale before he continues. He’s still watching so closely that on his next pass along the muscle, he catches Will’s hips roll up into a thrust against the empty air, letting out a breathy sigh as he does. And it’s hard then, not to notice the bulge that has grown in James’ shorts. Will is so obviously hard, almost pulling the waistband of the too-big briefs he’s wearing away from his hips, though he isn’t quite long enough for it to poke out yet.
James’ throat clicks audibly as he swallows hard.
“James,” Will says, and it’s so strained that James doesn’t have to look up to see that Will is on the same page.
“Will.” He thinks he’s probably said Will’s name more times today than he ever has, yet every time it spills from his lips, it somehow flows with more emotion than the last. He thinks it might become one of his favourite words. “I-. Tell me I’ve not gone too far.”
“Need you to go further lad.”
And that is all James needs to snap into action.
He should be surprised by how suddenly he picks himself up off the floor to crowd over Will; the visceral need that fills him entirely. But a short, “Fucking Hell,” is all he can manage, just about remembers to make sure he’s not grabbing onto pained hips or sore limbs, and buries his hands in the duvet on either side of Will before crashing his lips against Will’s.
He tries for tender, even after he forces their lips together, wants so bad for things to be normal, chill, sweet, and soft, and just about everything else you could want out of a first kiss. Instead, they both chase their arousal, and like just about everything they’ve ever done, they both jump right in, kissing until neither of them can breathe.
James has to pull back finally to take a deep, ragged breath. “What-.” He goes to ask. Falters. Feels Will’s fingers tangle in the little flicks at the back of his hair. Tries again. “What are we doing?”
He searches Will’s face carefully, catching when the smug grin returns to Will’s face, and just knows what’s coming next. “Kissing lad. Thought that was obvious.”
“Piss off. Really. I’m just-. Are you sure that this is what you want? Definitely. This isn't just post-run endorphins?” He’s not sure when they got so tangled up. One of his knees is propped on a pillow on Will’s right, the other just carefully leaning on the edge of the bed, and it’d be dangerous if Will weren’t gripping onto him tightly, holding on where James can’t.
He flicks two fingers at the base of James’ neck with the arm that’s not holding on so tight, “James.” He scolds. “I’m not running off adrenaline anymore. My body is mostly chilled out, and the only reason I’m hard as a rock right now is because you’ve been rubbing your hands all over my body.”
James blinks, processes everything himself in an embarrassingly slow brain, and licks his lips, watching Will track the movement with glazed eyes. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious, James.” Will murmurs, already tipping his head back up, using the arms around James’ neck to tug him back in.
The next kiss is somehow more frantic, with far less searching, like they can already read each other perfectly like this, too, and it’s so good that James can’t even be mad that this is how their first evening together is going. Will tastes like kokoro and vanilla protein shake, salty and sweet in the weirdest way, but his mouth opens just so beneath James, and he couldn’t wish for anything else. He gently bites at James’ lip, breaking him from his thoughts yet again, and quickly soothes the sting with his tongue when James snaps back to it; already sure enough in it all to be pulling teasing moves that he somehow just knows get James riled up.
They move together like they’ve been doing this for years and not mere minutes, tongues and teeth in sync, pushing and pulling, biting and gasping. When Will’s hands make for the hem of James’ tee, James’ go to the hoodie Will is wearing. “You first.” He demands, pushing gently at Will’s chest with a shoulder and breaking the kiss.
They both pull their tops off quickly, but before Will can dive back in for more kisses, James lays a hand on his chest and gives himself a second to look. The other man looks insane, blush spread past where his normal pearl necklace usually sits, all the way down his chest in the heat of the room, and he’s just laid back on James’ bed like it’s nothing, “fuck me. You look so good.”
“Maybe I would if I weren’t so broken. You’ll have to do all the work this time.” And it’s already a promise of something more.
James feels greedy just thinking about all that he might be able to have eventually. Has never been more glad that he jumped when he did, that he took the chance. “Fuck. Yeah.” He just about manages under his breath, feels Will’s fingernails graze over his own hairy chest, shivering as his palms follow the path, graze over sensitive nipples, before Will’s fingers are curling over his shoulders.
“Already want so much.”
James hums in agreement, fingers nudging at the sides of Will’s waist and lets him be pulled back down by Will to kiss him some more.
Fingers press harder into James’ shoulder blades as Will tries to pull him impossibly closer. Their hips have shifted through their make-out session, and when he lets himself drop just a little more weight down on Will, all it takes for them now is one shift before they both gasp at the friction between their cocks.
“Can I-?” James goes to ask, but can’t fully catch his breath before he does so, and fails to finish his question before Will laughs at him.
Somehow Will isn’t breathless at all, and even manages to respond through his laughter. “You don’t have to ask if it’s that much of a struggle. Just do it, James.”
“Are you-.”
But before he can even finish, Will is hiking the shorts down past his hips himself, not at all self-conscious as he throws another sly grin. “Just hope it means you finally touch my cock.” He struggles pulling them past his hips, pushing James to action.
James chokes on his next breath, just barely manages a muttered, “oh fuck”, and he pulls back from Will completely to help him be rid of his shorts completely. He nearly stumbles over his own feet as he pushes himself off the bed, limbs entirely numb, and can only play it all off by falling to his knees back between Will’s newly bare thighs. He runs his palms back up the newly wired muscle from Will’s calves, up to his thighs, and just kneads the muscle as he goes to see what reaction might come from it.
Will doesn’t disappoint at all. His dick is twitching visibly from where it’s resting on his stomach. Naturally inquisitive, James squeezes a little harder, watches Will twitch, a dribble of precum spilling into the dip of his navel. “So responsive. Should’ve guessed.” James says, thoroughly amused.
If he’s blushing, it blends right into the flush Will was already covered in. James can sense the embarrassment, though. Feels it fade as soon as he begins tasting the soft skin that sits at mouth level. The gasp Will lets out is borderline pornographic, and James has to keep his hands on Will’s upper thighs to stop him from jerking too hard and hurting something. “Be careful.” He reminds, pushing the words into Will’s skin, biting when Will doesn’t respond.
“Sorry. Shit.” Will sinks his fingers into James’ hair, tugs at it, and James chases the pull, letting himself be directed right to Will’s hip.
When he looks up, their position from earlier is almost mirrored- just this time James is impossibly closer, and they’re a lot more naked. Will’s thighs are warm on either side of his head, and there’s something comforting about being closed off from the rest of the world like this, with nothing more than the view of Will’s half-lidded expression, his cock right in front of James’ face.
He huffs a teasing breath as he settles back in, giggles when Will whines. “Oh, come on James. Please.” The room smells heavier around them, like cocoa butter and promises, and Will’s whining only pushes James to finally get his mouth on him. He keeps teasing, tipping his face up so that he has a view of more than just skin once he’s started lapping delicately at the head of Will’s cock, feeling Will’s legs tense back up around him at the sight.
James pulls back immediately, “Do I have to warn you to be good?” He asks sternly, and it’s the only reminder that Will needs to stay still, to relax. He gets a goofy grin in response, if goofy can at all be on the table with the blown pupils and bitten lips that pair the look, before Will throws his head back and James gets a good look at the still kiss-wet underside of Will’s frankly impressive jawline.
All coherent thought promptly vacates his head, though, when Will’s cock jumps again, and all it takes is for him to lean forward an inch to slide it deep into his willing mouth, keeping a teasing but gentle rhythm, following his own thought path to distract himself from his own gag reflex.
James has given a fair share of blowjobs in his life. Mostly to the same few select people that he liked enough to want to deal with the sensory nightmare that is giving head, but he wasn’t against a quick-and-dirty post-show fuck, when endorphins ran high, and he’d be able to ignore sensations for just long enough to get everyone off, leaving as soon as he comes himself. He has the apps on his phone still, those meet-ups reserved for the quickest-and-dirtiest of days, when he values himself least. All this is to say, James knows what he is doing. How to use his words, his mouth, his tongue. He’s figured the right combination of batting his eyelashes and flicking of his tongue to make the men above him splutter, and the kinds of guys that prefer him to swallow, or would rather make a mess. Both of which are again, a sensory nightmare.
None of it feels right to compare to now; there's something different about it all this time.
Something that he can’t place, but that makes James enjoy the head he’s giving.
Will’s thighs swallow his big head, and instead of them muffling music or sounds he wants to hear, James finds he feels perfectly at peace, like this place was made for him, like he isn’t forcing himself into somewhere he doesn’t fit. He doesn’t mind the coarseness of the hair over Will’s legs either, finds the prickle of new hair that trails down Will’s navel quite funny, nice to run his fingers across as he finds where Will likes them to rest most. The pudge in his lower stomach is unfairly sexy. James had eyed the way it had spilled over his boxers carefully before he’d taken them off, stored the image away for another time, but even now, as he lies out on the bed, there’s a jut in his hipbones that proves he’s still fit.
It’s easy, when he loses himself in his head, throat so relaxed he doesn’t even realise Will’s gently fucking himself in and out of his mouth. James picks up the pace, simple but unrelenting, allowing Will to slow and fall back into the plush duvet, taking back his role easily.
“Feel so fucking good, James.” Will’s voice just about makes it through the haze, his blunt nails dragging slowly across James’ scalp, fingertips stopping to rest on his forehead. James follows the movement, drags his eyes back to meet Will’s. Spit pools in his mouth, spilling from the corners, wetting his tongue and lips, slicking Will’s cock every time James lets it slide out. “Bet you can take more.” It’s almost a competition, James can imagine something about his big gob coming after, finds himself longing for an insult, and has to kick a leg to the side and drag the pillow from beneath his knees up in between his legs, quickly manages to grind down into the pillow to calm the arousal that curls low in his stomach.
His eyes flutter shut of their own accord as he groans, barely managing to nod. Above him, Will’s breath stutters, and then he’s bobbing down further, Will somehow hitting deeper than before. “Oh fucking-. You’re amazing, James.” The whispered praise keeps flowing, each new compliment sending new sparks of heat right down James’ spine. “So good Jamie.” James breathes a deep breath in through his nose, consciously relaxing the muscles in his jaw and tamping down on the whimper that threatens to escape his full mouth.
He wants to dig his hands into the meat of Will’s upper thighs, instead glides soft fingers down twitching muscles, clamps his fists tight when he can’t restrain himself, and feels fingernails bite into the flesh of his palms. “You like that? Like me telling you how good you are, James?” Will’s hips stutter when James has to take another pause, forcing him to pick his pace back up and ignore the way his stomach flutters as he finds Will’s accent fucking sexy. “You’re so good for me. Can tell you that as much as you like, whatever you need. Never had anyone so good, Jamie. You’re perfect.”
James is too close to cumming to consider if maybe Will is being too sappy for a quick blowie, the words doing so much that his hips begin to stutter unconsciously against the pillow beneath him. It feels like he’s burning up, probably covered in a sheen of sweat, but Will doesn’t seem to care, still running his fingers through James’ hair, speaking words James can’t even make sense of. A hand slips from his hair without his notice, and he’s mid rut when the fingers of it slip down his jaw to settle on his throat.
“Oh fuck me James.”
They both moan in tandem, Will’s groan lengthening as James’ causes him to choke around his cock. They can both feel the bulge of it beneath Will’s grip, the distension there when his cock slips deeper, the way it caves back in when he pulls back. James thinks this could be the hottest head he’s ever given.
“I’m not going to last long if you don’t slow down James.”
Will’s panting, clearly closer than he’s giving away, still a fucking sight; dark hairs plastered to his forehead, the middle part draping messily in front of his big eyes, pupils blown bigger than ever. Definitely the hottest head James has ever given. All of this only ramps up the competitive drive in James’ mind, though, and with a single-minded focus, he dives back in. Both of their actions are losing their once well-paced rhythm, but he knows what he wants, and he’s going to make it happen.
“James,” Will warns again, moving to pull away, but before he can take his hand from James’ jaw, James sets his own free hand over it and lets the other one sink back between Will’s legs, squeezing both gently as he makes deliberate eye contact with him.
In my mouth.
He hopes the action conveys what he wants.
Realises its hit when Will chokes on air. The hand in his hair buries itself impossibly deeper, creates a change in position as Will has to pull himself up slightly, and James only squirms as Will fucks in further. He holds tight onto the hand at his throat, does his best to keep Will exactly where he is and swallows.
It works.
Will’s back bows, his shaky breaths pick up and stutter over one another, like he might if he were fucking James. James has to grind back into the pillow again when the tension in his gut reacts to the picture his brain supplies. He doesn’t want to let himself cum before Will has, knows it won’t take long, at least not when he ruts his hips again and lets another moan spill from his mouth, the sound of it reverberating down Will’s spit-slick cock.
Another choked gasp fills the room, and a second later, Will’s thighs are tensing. Then, with one final twitch, he’s cumming down James’ throat, hot and wet and salty.
It takes all of James’ focus to swallow the bitter cum, working his tongue against the underside of Will’s cock, until he’s a breathy, swearing mess, pulling himself back, sore limbs be damned. James chases the hand that releases his throat embarrassingly, but Will doesn't notice. “Fuck. James.” He gasps. James looks up from his perch to watch Will push his hair back out of his face, pushing the wet strands back like one of those lifeguards in that shitty show they watched once for a video. His hands are still shaking, a pitchy laugh escaping with his rattling breaths.
It’s so hot that James can’t even be worried, so hot that he feels like he’s on fire. That his blood feels like fire in his veins. “Christ Will.” His voice is wrecked, raspy, and sore. He knows he looks like an absolute mess, doesn’t even think about wiping the mess around his mouth, just keeps digging his hips further into the pillow, chasing friction he wishes he were getting from Will, and watches the other man bask in the high of a good blowjob.
The pillow is doing its job, but he’d do anything to be grinding against Will himself, leaning over his long body, chasing bitten lips and bad language. Will must realise what he’s doing then, because a heel shifts to push at the pillow beneath his legs just as James reaches for his boxers, and like a hair trigger, James has barely adjusted himself before his balls tighten, he’d gotten all he needed, and all it had taken was just the slight change in angle before he’s cumming in his boxers like a horny teenager again.
He rides the feeling out on the cushion, forgets to feel embarrassed as Will folds himself over James’ body, pressing him deeper, harder. “Will.” He knows he shouldn’t keep talking through the vocal fry, but can’t help it. It’s fucking hot. Knowing it was Will that caused it.
James swipes a loose fist across his wet lips, trying not to grimace as the mess smears sticky along the back of his hand. Looks up again slowly when Will still hasn’t made another sound. “You okay?” He finally manages to ask, peering into big blue eyes despite the way the other man is still pretty much folded in half.
“Lay down with me.” He might as well be making grabby hands. James wants to laugh, but his throat is already scratchy, and he really doesn’t want to do any unnecessary damage to his vocal cords because he wanted to give Will some mind-blowing head.
Teasing would probably be mean anyway; Will might full body cringe at the baby voice and turn into one big cramp. “Yeah, ok Will. Just-.” He pulls himself up to his feet and does his best not to cringe at the feeling of his own sticky boxers.
Ditching them fast, he does a perfunctory wipe through the mess with a t-shirt from the floor, picks up the pair of shorts he’d been wearing, and prays for his future self. In an act of preserving Will’s future dignity, too, he picks up the briefs Will had been wearing before and slips them over his legs. “We should shower.” The man forcefully being dressed offers unhelpfully, as if he isn't just sitting there still catching his breath and making James do all the work to get the briefs on him. They should. They should change, too. Put on new bedding. Crack open the window to let the smell of fresh sea rain replace the stench of sex in the air.
But James doesn’t do any of it. “We’ll do it in the morning.” He says instead, and helps Will spin back around into the bed, tucking him under the covers of the right side of the bed before moving over to the other, only stopping to completely turn off the dim lights in his bedroom. He slips under the covers of his side of the bed easily, bullies his way over onto Will’s side of the bed, and tilts the other man just so, allowing them to curl up with his body entirely encasing Will’s from behind. “Comfy?”
“Gonna overheat under your fat stature.”
“I’ll smother you with my fat stature, you prick.”
Will shuffles backwards, pushing himself further into the curve of James’ body, his head tucking perfectly under James’ chin.
“Love you lad,” Will speaks gently, slow enough to indicate he’s falling asleep. James can hear his eyes fluttering shut against the pillow they're sharing, twists his hand as best he can to squeeze back against Will’s hand that’s fallen to rest atop the one James has laid on his stomach.
“I love you too, you daft twat.” James responds, slipping his leg gently between Will’s. Presses a kiss to the crown of Will’s head, breathing in his own shampoo, sweat, and the lingering mud and grass of his day’s run.