Sticking two hot heads who've had it out for each other since day one didn't seem smart. But yet that's exactly what happens. Roman and Will didn't "click" together, the closest they were to having something in common was their swim team and their n...
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He sat there, mindlessly fixating on the vase of fake flowers in the center of the table. Why do people do that? Are they really that lazy they have to get fake ones? Too irresponsible to get real ones? Or maybe they crave something that stays with them forever, unlike their multiple boyfriends who left them. Regardless, he couldn't stand it.
Do you know what else he couldn't stand? So many things. The stinging pain. How he waddles when he walks. The itchy feeling in his ass. How he couldn't swim because it felt like something kept stabbing him in the ass. He felt like an old grandpa with back issues and he was tired of it.
But Will? He looked as happy as he could, swinging his feet and humming. Roman couldn't help but stare in disgust. He was here suffering in pain when he's just there sitting all satisfied. He couldn't help but glare, especially at his horrible piano playing. Roman found him like this in the morning, music sheets laid out and a dedicated look.
He was attempting to play "Mary Had a Little Lamb," though his progress was less than good. When he missed yet another note, he suddenly turned around. "You know what?" He inquired, only to find Roman already glaring at him.
Roman didn't respond except with a weary expression. His eye twitched in annoyance, and his skin crawled as the memories began flooding.
"You know what?" Will's breathless voice chuckled above him, his hips rhythmically hitting into him. Roman was pressed on the floor after having fallen off the coach a few fuckings ago. He honestly lost track of the time and he didn't know if that was a good thing or a very bad thing. "I think I can live like this."
Roman let another grunt out when Will grabbed his ass, helping his hips move. He could taste the metallic flavor in his mouth from biting his lips and the stinging pain in his rear end. It honestly felt like one of their fights, except the cumming part.
"Shut up." He seethed, covering his mouth with his arm to stop the strain of pleasure out of his mouth. Will hated that and instantly grabbed his chin and held it up, just so Roman's voice could be heard from all ears, and maybe houses near, from how loud he was being.
"Don't tell me what to do." Will grinned as he leaned into his enemy, hitting his prostate with such intensity that noises just began spilling out from his lips.
Roman rubbed his hands on his face, almost trying to drag the skin off. After... fucking relentlessly until Roman passed out, he woke up clean, tucked into the coach, with a painful ass, and Will calling him to eat dinner. As he stumbled into the kitchen, he was met with a delicious chicken and a seat at the table. Roman maintained a glare throughout the whole meal, unable to do anything but that. Will informed him how he made the chicken vegan, after Roman finished with a little smile. Will left him alone other than that. He even cleaned up Roman's plate and wished him a goodnight.
He sat at the table for what felt like hours until he finally got up, toddled his way to bed, and got not one wink of sleep. His brain kept replaying the events. What the fuck did he do? He let Will fuck him. He could sort of get the idea of being with a man... but receiving? And to Will!? It was diabolical. But he remembered the endless fucking they did, how sweaty and hot he got, how good it felt. He kept going in circles, unable to find common ground with his body and rational thinking.
