Fic: Compromising (2/2)

[interpretthis]

Title: Compromising

Author: interpretthis

Fandom: RPS

Pairing: William Fichtner/Wentworth Miller

Part: 2/2

Rating: NC-17

Genre: Slash
Spoilers: 3x04 - "Good Fences"

Disclaimer: If they were mine, I would be much too busy to write this.  Needless to say, they are probably too busy to write this themselves, but for entirely different reasons.  This exists not because these two actually have hot sex, but because I have no life.  Please sueth not.

Summary: In which William and Went participate in hands-on character studies and debate the perks of toothpaste.

Notes: My brain hurts.

Previous: Part One

 

              

                He had a feeling he’d be there.  He wasn’t sure why, exactly, but he supposed it came down to what Alex would have done, and they’d spent quite a bit of time lately compromising between reality and their character-driven existence.

 

                The set was quiet and tepid, sweeping, paint-streaked walls dull in the dark.  The air was rife with the woody, chalky scent of construction, which Wentworth imagined was leagues away from the show’s depicted and intended stench of pervading rot and grit.  He cleared a corner and spotted a light on near the end of the hallway, just where he’d expected it to be.  It was only fitting that they’d meet in Michael’s cell.  After all, Alex had downright accosted him there just days before.  Not as though Michael had cared.  Nor Wentworth, for that matter.

 

                “I thought I’d find you here.” He leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, smooth smile curling across soft lips.

 

                William cracked a short grin from his seated position against the wall.  “Wonder what gave you that idea.”

 

                Wentworth’s smile widened, fleshing into that full, genuine grin his character rarely gave.  “I guess I know Michael pretty well.”

 

                “God, I hope so.”

 

                The air turned thick in a snap, a warm rush of hesitation - of want and need mutual understanding – flooding into their bellies, indicating the pivotal edge between back out now and never look back.

 

                Neither skipped a beat.  There was a strong glance, a nod and then Wentworth was crossing the room to sit beside William, folding his knees up to his chest in the exact opposition of introversion, arms resting across his knees, the picture of relaxation.  The room’s one bulb hung in the corner above his head, trapped in a thick orange utility mesh.  It threw the hall outside into deep shadow, its blaze grazing even the sharpest corners of their room.  “Think we could kill the light?”

 

                “I think so, yes.”  William turned to the outlet, quiet smile playing about his lips, shoulder brushing Wentworth’s as he worked at the plug.  There was a low pop as the pressure gave under his fingers, and the room sank into darkness.

 

                William sat back against the wall, somehow closer than he’d been before, the heat of his side pressed into Wentworth in the dark.  Their breaths came slow and measured, each movement, each noise, each gradual accommodation of sense heightening nerves and expelling sanity.  Wentworth slid slowly, inching farther into him, head falling to his shoulder, their bare arms pressed together and tense.

 

                Went got to it gradually, slipping past William’s senses in the darkness until one moment his head was on the other man’s shoulder and the next he’d made it to his crotch, leaning over, hovering inches away, hands gripping William’s hip, thigh.  He felt the man above him shiver, drawing a sharp breath – felt a hand curl around his neck and rest, not forcing down, not pulling up, just resting.  Wentworth inhaled deeply, pulling in the soft, cottony scent of jean along with a deeper, muskier scent that tore straight through his chest to his cock.  He exhaled long and low and almost felt William’s cock tighten against his jeans as his fingers twitched on Went’s neck.  Wentworth took the moment to stretch slowly, thankful his legs could still move as he worked his way into William’s lap, straddling the other man’s hips.  Their cocks rested against each other through their confines, heavy and firm and increasingly desperate.  Wentworth braced his palms against the wall, pressing forward, letting their abdomens collide heat-on-heat through fabric as his lips went to William’s neck, laving at the pulse-point and drawing a quick shiver of approval.

 

                “Nnugh, what are we doing?” William gripped Wentworth’s hips tighter, head arching back into the wall.  He felt Wentworth smirk against his neck.

 

                “In-depth character exploration?”

 

                He snorted, grasping Wentworth’s chin to drag him in for a slick, delicious kiss.  He panted softly, groaning, mouthing against the other man’s lips.

 

                “You taste better than Michael.”

 

                Wentworth’s forehead rolled against his and he was overwhelmed by pure and natural heat, the acceptance of bare intimacy.

 

                “I think Alex might have something to say about that.”

 

                He felt Wentworth’s heartbeat against his chest.  Felt his breath on his lips and breathed back, reveling in his proximity.

 

                “Alex would appreciate the benefits of toothpaste just as well as any.”

 

                “Mmm,” Wentworth grinned and thrust forward, rolling their hips together.  “Toothpaste or not, if I ever happen to come across Alex Mahone in a dark alleyway…”

 

                William’s response was a convoluted mix of coherent speech and groan.

 

                “I’ll let him know if I see him.  Though I have no doubt he’ll be up to whatever you have planned.”

 

                “Is that so?” He could hear the snark in Wentworth’s voice, breathy as it was.

 

                “I guarantee it.”

 

William let his head fall forward to rest against Went’s temple.  Pressed his lips to the other man’s ear.

 

                “Toothpaste isn’t our only perk.  I can get you out of that damn shirt without having to worry about re-tattooing you.”

 

                Wentworth snorted.  “Alex’s favorite part?  You wouldn’t.”

 

                William flashed the darkness a cheeky grin, lifting Went’s shirt up and over his head, running flat palms over milky flesh.

               

“Oh now.  I think I’ve a much better idea of which bits Alex values most.”

 

“We’ll see about that.”

 

                Somewhere in the midst of their attempt at conversing-while-groping, Wentworth had managed to sneak his fingers up below the hem of William’s own shirt, inching their soft pads along slick, taut flesh.  He worked the shirt up and over the other man’s head, palms sliding along his smooth, warm abdomen, drawing a low moan from the other as he did so.

 

                “Michael.”

 

                Wentworth groaned.

 

                “So you want to play that game, do you?”   

 

                William didn’t answer, just let his eyes fall shut and leaned back with a deep sigh as the other man lowered his fly.  He arched his hips up off the ground to allow Went to work his jeans down his thighs.  Thin, warm fingers curled their way around his cock, one thumbing at the head, tracing around the tip as the length jumped in hand.

 

                “Jesus.”

 

                Wentworth repositioned himself, dragging down William’s outstretched legs to gain both room and much-needed friction.  His tongue darted out swiftly, alighting momentarily on the cock’s tip, earning a groan and a grasping hand on the back of his head.

 

                “You like that Alex?”  Wen'ts tone was at the height of coy.

 

                William’s breath whooshed out with a desperate whine, control slipping its way through his mental fingers.

               

                “Well?  Do you want me to stop?”

 

                “Ye-no.  No.  Please yes, I like that.  I need that.”

 

                “Good.  Me too.”

 

                Went smirked and slipped his lips around the head of William’s cock, groaning low against the full weight of him.  He struck up a rhythm along the base, pumping with slow, firm strokes, matching them with his own thrusts against William’s thigh.

 

                William came quickly, wheeling over the edge into steady, pulsing bliss as he felt Went join him, slowing and tensing against his leg.  He let awareness skim across the soupy, giddy surface of his mind, touching briefly on the high, briefly on beautiful, complicated reality and briefly on the final significance of their role-play.  Went’s legs came back around him, setting their hips in line, warm, naked chests pressed close, his head resting in the crook of William's shoulder.

 

                Just breathing.  Just breathing in.

 

                
-------fin-------

Comments

[antychan.livejournal.com]

RAWR!! In-character roleplay! You RULE!!

I urge you to write a series of that. Like, Went and Dom channel their characters doing a pre-series improv and have sex because Michael is needy and messed up and Linc can't refuse him anything. Or Bill and Went do a little, "what if our characters had met pre-show" thing.

[interpretthis.livejournal.com]

Oh, now that would be fun. I'm pretty much incapable of updating when it comes to anything longer than a one-shot (here be my exception :P), but I may try something along those lines. Thanks for reading!