Work Text:
I.
Will isn't too keen on the quiet. He paces from one corner of his room to the other, drawing a crescent in the carpet around his bed with his steps. He should be resting, or at the very least lying down. He strips instead, lifting his shirt over his head. His shoulders lock at an odd angle, cuts pulsating from the motion.
Water begins running, too loud in the modest bathroom. Will shudders at the sound, the sensation it brings to mind. He steps out of his briefs and enters the spray, letting out a faint gasp as the water trickles down over his body, washing away the remnants of the match.
The wound over his side reacts strongly to the surging heat. He clutches at it, fingers skirting the freshly-torn meat. His breath shakes on exhale. He doesn't remember which offense of Omega's it was, he can only recall the moment he noticed it. His thumb drags along the irritated skin.
It hurts.
His cock throbs at the touch.
He clenches his jaw before breathing out. Normal. It's normal. It's the adrenaline. Does Omega feel the same when he looks in the mirror with his good eye? Will absently scrubs at his stomach. He must feel some of it. It's impossible that he's alone in the feeling. Routine motions. The body wash burns over the open cut.
Show me just how mad you are.
Will's hand wanders down to his crotch. Muscle strain keeps his thighs from relaxing. He breathes out a sigh as his fingers wrap around the base if his cock, squeezing, willing his erection away. But the thought of Omega ensnares him. His pre-come rolls down the head of his cock and drips thickly between strands of water.
His voice, calling his name.
A breathy gasp, another squeeze. Will's cock jumps in his wet palm. His toes curl against the tiles.
Is it better to give in? Get it over with, stop these—these thoughts, from popping into his head.
He gives his cock a hesitant stroke. His knees buckle a little. He plants a forearm against the shower wall for support.
Omega.
Omega.
"Ah—"
Will lets go of his cock. It stands there pathetically as he muffles a groan.
What was he doing...
II.
He wrestles him in the ring, until they're torn apart at the end of a lock-up. Wrestles him at the conference table and makes a fool of himself doing so. Doesn't stop wrestling him until they're up against a solid wall and there's nothing stopping him from baring his teeth at Omega, as he's trapped between his body and the wall.
"Get off of me, you fuckin' cunt," he snarls.
Omega laughs. "What's that? You want me to get you off? Well, you should've just started with that instead of—ow."
Will doesn't bite him as hard as he could, but there's still the feeling of Omega's shoulder between his teeth, the taste of salt on his skin. He doesn't intend to arouse the man, and yet it escalates, devolves into him nosing at the thick column of Omega's throat, testing his teeth against the base of it, and he feels Omega's cock harden, pulsing against his hip.
Omega's hands come to grip him by the waist and pin him back. The restraint is momentary, as his right hand dips lower. His palm is warm through the thin, stretchy fabric of his tights as he gropes him, hesitancy leaking into his actions a moment too late.
Will digs his nails into his back and earns a stifled moan in response. Omega palms him harder, leans into him more. His smell pierces through the sweat. It's nothing fancy, really, but it makes Will weak in the knees, the fact that he is allowed to take his time being so close to him, claw at him and inhale him and have him humping his thighs with abandon.
"You're so hard for me," Omega murmurs, mostly to himself, judging by how quiet he's being.
Will was too engrossed to realize how this has all been affecting him. His cock aches for the friction Omega provides. His mouth hangs open around the meat of Omega's stiff muscle and yet he can't find it in himself to retort in any way.
The whole locker room reeks of semen and sour eye contact by the time they're finished.
III.
Taking the Cleaner to bed is a white-hot flash of something Will has grown to know intimately: A performance. He pulls his back into a tighter arch and takes him deeper almost unknowingly. The awkward parts he tries to push aside as quickly as they occur (can't look too eager reaching for his belt or he'll think he has the upper hand). That only leaves sensation behind. Omega looking at him, gaze a blur, like his hand sliding up his—
Will squirms, gets him to stop touching him like a coward. He can take it. He's done nothing but take it all these years.
Omega's room is near identical to his, the only personality being his clothes and bags strewn over the place, and yet he still feels like he shouldn't linger after the fact. Maybe that small peek into his person is intimidating enough for a lifetime—humanizes him too much for comfort. Maybe it's something else. He gets dressed and takes his leave before he could have the chance to dwell on it too much.
IV.
Kenny never fucks him as hard as he did the first time around. Maybe because neither of them expected there to be a next time, so it was low-stakes. Or maybe it was that greedy animal Kenny keeps smothered in his gut nowadays.
Will doesn't know. He keeps thinking about it though. Mostly in circles, sometimes with his eyes closed, his hole stretched around his fingers. God, just shut up, Kenny whispers in his ear. He gapes with the heat of the memory; Kenny's large hands, his body, his sweat, the faint talk of people outside the locker room, curses drooling out of his mouth and splattering on the floor in an echo.
You like that? I know you do.
He doesn't. At least, up until that point he didn't. The possibility didn't even cross his mind. Kenny's cock is painful, his grip harsh. There's nothing to like, only the crass contour of his muscles. He's about as gentle as a commandant and yet Will can't get enough of him. He also can't catch a proper glimpse of Kenny's expression, but he can blindly tangle his fingers in his hair and tug. The humiliation doesn't even burn anymore—the fever in him does.
Kenny's hand curls around his jaw. You get even dumber with a dick inside you, huh?
That's the one that stings the most. Kenny weighs down on the back of Will's neck. Will's throat squeezes down around a growl and he moans into the pillow. Kenny refuses to give an inch. His cock is so hot inside. Will just keeps groaning as he pounds him, slick sounds between them. His cock dangles embarrassingly hard between his legs, and the combined stimulation—Kenny's saccharine voice, the shudder tearing down his spine, the rhythmic slamming of their hips, fuck, fuck, fuck, wet slaps as Kenny moans into his shoulder—it makes him clench down and cry out.
His brain blanks at the sound of his own voice. His strength doesn't last long either, but Kenny's arm tightens around his torso and hauls him up onto all fours. He can barely make out the sound of Kenny's crotch against his ass over his own dumb whining as Kenny jerks his leaking cock.
It's awful. Kenny breathes under his ear. It's nothing like Will has ever felt before.
Come for me.
Will's phone buzzes on his nightstand. His eyes open to his hotel room, the faint droning of the TV.
Right. Just a memory.
V.
Will grips Kenny's forearm. "I'm gonna come."
Kenny keeps touching him, his breath in Will's face. "Yeah." He lets out a moan. "Let go. Let me see."
Will's breathing only grows louder, small sounds galloping into throaty groans. He comes, hot and obedient in Kenny's lap. His hands are clammy. His stomach heaves while he catches his breath, cock twitching helplessly against wet skin. Kenny is there, under his shuddering thighs, his hand a loose fist around the head of his cock—the tip barely pokes through, shiny and a sensitive red. His thumb finds Will's slit again, pushing through the come that is dripping from it. Back, and forth, rubbing slowly. Fuck, and it drips so slow too, down Kenny's wrist and the back of his hand, in thick strings, the feeling rolling up Will's spine.
He thrusts into Kenny's tight-hot grip one final time, drawing it out, slowly rocking his hips forward. Kenny's fingers manage to squeeze out a stray drop of come that drips over his knuckles.
Will gulps down a deep breath. "Fuck me."
He doesn't mean it. Kenny meets his eyes again. (He looked away, briefly, an odd burst of emotion across his face as he stared at the mess over Will's crotch.) He lets go of Will's cock, bringing his hand up to his mouth. He parts his lips and begins mouthing at the back of his hand, licking between his fingers. Will's come smears between the bristles of his beard and over his chin. It hangs in a string between two of his fingers. He looks like he loves the taste, his lids hanging low as he savors it.
They watch each other, Kenny's eyes roaming Will's body, Will's eyes glued to the come stuck to the corner of Kenny's mouth.
He leans in swiftly and licks at it before Kenny could protest, earning a bodily shudder, a rasp all the way from Kenny's chest. His hands grab at Will, pull him as close as humanly possible, skin melting into skin.
"I love that you always seem to know what I want," he mutters behind a smirk.
Will snorts. "You're not that hard to figure out, really."
Kenny hums. "Maybe not..." He touches his hand to Will's neck. "Maybe you know me better than anyone."
I.
Will is the textbook definition of volatile. Kenny doesn't... mind it, necessarily. Not when he feels like he diverts that sudden rush of energy into his own body instead of letting it pass through him and ram him into the ropes. When Will frots against him with an unsure push of his hips, his eyes trained on Kenny's lips, but refusing to cross that last bit of distance.
He lets out a small sound and Kenny grips his waist with both hands. He smooths his palms up over his back and down to his ass.
Will meets his eyes. Their faces slide closer, wet cocks clumsily grinding against one another. Kenny groans, rocks up harder. Will gasps and buckles forward before steeling his arms and setting his own tempo, off-beat and hungry.
Kenny tries to still him with a squeeze of his hips. "Calm down," he says.
Will blinks at him before his gaze falls between their bodies. His features are not as intense as they were across the ring. He looks younger like this. His cock moves against Kenny's again, slower this time. He's drooling pre-come over them both, slick, and gluey, and...
Kenny takes them both in his large hand.
"Fuck." He sloppily runs his thumb over the head of Will's cock. "Look at me."
His other hand cups Will's jaw. Will sucks his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, eyes blown wide as he moves against Kenny, every inch of him pressing down. Kenny's mouth falls slack around a gasp, and he gives both their cocks a firm pull, watching Will's face contort in pleasure, brows twitching.
Kenny swallows, thrusting up against him. "You're so hot."
Will collapses on top of him, body shaking with their movements, his face shoved in Kenny's, breath hot, skin sweaty, cock throbbing. "Jesus, fuck," he whispers.
Kenny's lips curl in a smug, brittle smile. "Not, ah, not quite."
Will groans. Kenny's eyes slip shut as he grabs him by the hips. Will's body jostles in his lap as they readjust, but they find their new rhythm, mindless humping as they pant into each other's mouths.
Will's lips are a lot softer than he remembers. He tastes of Kenny's skin and feels like wet heat. His drool is thick as it drips down the corner of Kenny's mouth. Kenny can't distinguish which of them whines next—maybe they both do.
He's gonna come any second now.
He pulls back. He leans into the side of Will's neck.
"I'll fuck you next time." He mouths at Will's skin, sucking on the junction of his shoulder. "I'll fuck you full of my come."
That small spot above the base of his cock is starting to hurt from how badly he needs to come. Will's cock slips against his with another hurried thrust. His fingers dig into Kenny's shoulders, and then he barks out a slight hiccup of a sound, and he's coming, strings of come shooting across Kenny's abs, hanging between his damp skin and the head of Will's cock.
"Fuck," he groans. He clumsily gropes his cock. "Let me..."
He starts jerking himself, using Will's come to slick himself up even more. He's never felt this tethered to another man before. It's all Will. His hand moves even faster, a rough twist of his wrist, his balls tightening, thighs squeezing, Will's mouth on his.
He holds Will close long after they've both come—doesn't even occur to him to do anything else. His cock is half-hard and nestled inside him, warmed by his insides, stirring each time he shifts. His thighs are ridden with goosebumps, palms rubbing up the scratches on Will's pale back as he snores lightly into his neck, milk-warm and heavy.