Chapter Text
Kissing Will is hardly a thoughtless endeavor. Where lesser men have always left her mind to wander, he kisses her in a way that captures her every thought, forces her to focus them on lips and tongue and teeth, on heated between bodies, on roaming hands. It’s consuming, and drugging, steadying her more easily and more rapidly than any anti-anxiety pill ever has.
Hooking her feet around the backs of his knees, she rolls them until he’s pressing her into the mattress and slides her hands into his hair.
It starts softly, but escalates quickly. Clothes are moved out of the way, and then removed entirely, and the disparity between them to begin with grows and before she can fully digest what’s happening, Mac is on her back with Will positioned between her legs, eating her out with a truly prodigious alacrity. She doesn’t know if it’s because he feels like he has something to prove, or if it’s a point of male honor or if he just plain enjoys it, but sliding her legs over his broad shoulders she figures she has no reason to complain.
Her panties haven’t quite made it off her leg, the dampened lace hanging from her ankle like a flag waiting to be captured. It’s a nice image, so she doesn’t kick them off. If Will wants to claim them later, she’s already decided that he definitely has the right.
When he lets off, she protests with a deep moan.
Giving her clit one last lick with the flat of his tongue, he relocates his mouth to the inside of her thigh. She feels herself tensing even as the pulsing between her legs abates somewhat, and he keeps on with featherlight kisses as his hands tease the sensitive skin on the backs of her thighs, the insides of her knees. Before long she feels teeth, and then tongue, and she breathes her consent and pushes a hand into his hair when he starts sucking a mark into her flesh.
When she’s as taut as a bowstring he puts his mouth back on her folds, spreading her with his fingers and drawing his tongue through her wetness. He continues on like that, working her over with his tongue, swirling and lapping and kissing. It’s a slow and controlled ascent towards the top, one that leaves her legs confused on whether they want to be spread or wrapped around his head. But her hands are certain, fingers threaded through his hair and when he does something particularly clever with his mouth she pulls, hard.
He groans appreciatively. The vibrations travel through her pelvis, and a taunting sort of pressure builds.
“Oh, fuck,” she whimpers, tugging at his hair again.
There’s always been a part of him that’s the smallest bit a masochist, making happy noises when she pulls on his hair, shivering when she scrapes her nails down his back, letting them bite into his skin. The part that likes to be directed, pulled and pushed and told what to do. The part that makes him come suddenly if she bites his throat at the right place.
She wants him inside of her, stretching her, filling her.
“Fuck, Will.”
Sucking on her clit, he works his pointer finger into her to the knuckle, and then crooks it just so. The pressure builds more rapidly, and her body makes her chase it, her hips torqueing off the mattress towards his mouth. Sliding another finger into her he makes her hips twist up again, and a noise escapes her that sounds more akin to a choked-off scream.
Their eyes meet over the arced plane of her body, and she moans his name again.
Flattening a hand over the top of her pelvic bone, he pushes her back down into the sheets. The edge is coming up on her fast, and it feels like she might topple over it any moment. “Fuck, oh god, fuck. Will, please. Just like that—”
He’s fucking her with his fingers, hooking them inside her and hitting the spot that makes her toes curl (and they do, into the t-shirt still covering his back) and her back arch (off the mattress, and she throws her head back and finds herself looking through hazy eyes at his headboard) violently. Feeling no need to spare her the sudden onslaught of climax he takes her clit between his lips again, swirling his tongue around it and then sucking noisily.
It’s not long until she’s panting his name on a constant high note and then her body contracts in, limbs curling inwards around the point of contact where his face is buried between her legs.
“Will, please, Will, oh—oh.”
Planting her feet on the bed Mac does her best to push her hips into his mouth as she starts coming.
He releases her, moving the hand on her stomach around to cup her ass. For a moment her orgasm skitters close to the side of pain, but remains on the side of pleasure. Gasping for air, she tugs on the hair at the crown of his head as he continues swirl his tongue through her folds. It sounds almost like he’s drinking down her release (lapping and pausing, lapping and swallowing as she shudders against his lips, feeling herself getting wetter and wetter) as he draws out the contractions and the jolts pulsing through her body.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Will—”
A second orgasm rises up without warning and engulfs her first. The only sound she can make is a startled shriek.
His mouth stills against her, and with a final lick he lifts his head.
“Was that a good scream, or—?”
She’s shaking, and she can’t feel her feet let alone her legs, but she looks down at him and nods. Fingers pressing up into her one last time, he slowly draws them out. They slide, frictionless through her arousal and her thighs tremble as they circle her entrance one last time before he takes his hand away.
Fighting to catch her breath, she lets her eyes drift closed and focuses on her heart pounding in her chest.
A few moments later, she feels him crawl up her body. His fingers, still coated in her, touch her breast. They paint her nipple with her wetness, and his mouth follows, coaxing the bud to peak.
“What are you trying to do to me?” she asks without opening her eyes.
He repeats the process on her other breast. “I’m trying to get you to stay the night.”
Somehow managing to pry her eyes back open, Mac lifts a contrary eyebrow at him. Not that she’s entirely certain he can see it, since his face is now buried in her cleavage. Clenching and unclenching her stiff fingers, she tries to survey the damage she’s done to his hair.
(It’s thoroughly wrecked.)
“You could have just asked,” she says.
Will presses a chain of kisses from her sternum to her neck; she can feel that his face is wet, can smell herself on his skin. His lips graze the curve of her jaw. “What would you have said?”
“That I can’t possibly stay, I have work in the morning and I don’t have a change of clothes.”
Not that staying the night isn’t an incredibly enticing prospect. Her body thrums with an underlying feeling of contentment. Not necessarily satiation, but she’s well on her way there too. His mattress is nearly divine, and her limbs threaten to melt into the sheets. MacKenzie wants to stay, curled up with him. And he wants her to stay, meaning that he doesn’t care if the staff figures it out and if she wasn’t still trying regain feeling in her calves she’d pinch herself to prove that she’s awake.
That this is really happening.
“And so now I have to work for it,” Will murmurs, bracing himself on his elbows over her. “How are your legs holding up?”
“A little numb, if I’m being honest.” One of his hands reaches down to fit over the top of her thigh, and then moves inwards. Overly-sensitive if not exactly sore, she clamps her legs around his hand, giggling breathlessly. “Oh god, not yet. Give me a minute there, ace.”
“MacKenzie?” He looks almost concerned, even if the expression on his face is diminished by how truly and honestly she has managed to fuck up his hair.
She shakes her head. “It’s fine. Just… good to know you’re still incredibly detail-oriented when it comes to these things.”
Dropping down onto his side next to her, he draws his hand (once she releases it) up and down her abdomen. To his credit, he doesn’t pause over her scar at all, keeping his gaze on her face. “I don’t have to—”
“I’m not falling asleep. I show up in the newsroom in the same clothes tomorrow and the entire staff will know that we’re—that we did this.” Her eyebrows crease together. “What are we?” she asks, and then tenses. “You can ignore that. You didn’t leave a lot of blood left in my brain.”
Frowning, he considers her naked form. Sitting up, he reaches down for where her panties are still somehow tangled around her ankle, and tosses them down onto the floor onto the growing of their clothes. Still frowning, he lies back down next to her. And then asks:
“Wanna get married?”
“Sure, ‘cause fiancé sounds a lot better than girlfriend at my age,” Mac answers, biting her lip.
He smirks. “And what age is that?”
“Thirty,” she replies thoughtlessly, before lifting her hand to his face. “I really can’t tell if you’re kidding.”
Sighing, he turns his head to kiss her palm. “We’ll figure it out. Does it have to be right now? I mean, it can be. ‘Together’ sounds a bit cheap, but right now I’m kind of okay with just telling you I love you.”
She feels a smile split her face. Grinning himself, Will traces her mouth with his finger before leaning down to kiss her. Pushing her tongue into his mouth, she can still taste herself. The kiss deepens, and they allow themselves to be distracted for a few minutes.
“I love you, too,” Mac answers eventually, when they pull their faces apart. “I mean, I have to, after the performance you just put in a few minutes ago.”
The thrumming in her body is definitely no longer contented—he’s here, and warm, and willing. And half-dressed, lying next to her with mussed hair and a smug grin. They don’t really have a plan for tomorrow, or next week, and she’s a bit nervous if she’s honest with herself but at the worst she figures she has to walk into work tomorrow to knowing looks before she can reach the change of clothes in the go bag in her office.
But nothing worse than that.
“How are those legs of yours?” Leaning down, he nips at her chin.
Her hands find their way to his chest, and start mapping, moving downwards until they meet the waistband of his boxers. Teasing, really, her fingers combing through the wiry hairs leading down from his navel towards the tenting in his underwear. “You tell me.”
“I think they’re astounding, they go all the way down to the floor and everything. But I’m serious—”
“I’m not falling asleep and you’re not rubbing one out in the shower,” she scoffs, and then grabs the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head to toss down onto the floor. “Come on, Billy.”
Her hands on his waist, she maneuvers him on top of her, and then makes quick business of his boxers and sends them down to his knees. Laughing, he kicks them all the way off.
“Okay then.”
His eyes flicker from her eyes to her mouth and back, and curling her hand around the back of his neck, she pulls his face down to hers again. He takes her bottom lip between his teeth, biting down until there’s just a hint of pain before soothing it with his tongue. Moaning, she opens her mouth to him.
When she reaches her free hand down between them and finds him hard already. Still, she wraps her fingers around his erection and gives it a few good pumps, feeling him throb against her palm. Breaking his mouth from hers with a wanting sort of groan, he takes her hand off him, and settles down in the cradle of her legs.
“Okay then,” he says again, voice almost shaking.
This part is more awkward. Not just because the perfunctory conversation that always comes with first (re)encounters (the volunteered assurances that they’re both perfectly healthy and attenuated affirmation that no, they don’t need a condom because yes, she’s on the pill) but because it just is. Their bodies don’t remember how to fit into the other right away, and it takes him a few minutes to get the angle right and by then he’s halfway to orgasm himself.
It’s filled with stops and pauses but it does start to work, after a point, and Mac reminds him how she likes her clit to be rubbed and as his thumb works in tight steady circles over the bundle of nerves at the juncture of her thighs she comes once more. It’s a quiet fluttering of release this time; she sighs, her body turning to liquid under him.
Dropping down, he brackets her head with his forearms and burrows his face into her hair.
“Come on, honey,” she murmurs in his ear after she returns to herself. Spreading the cradle of her legs even wider and wrapping her arms around his waist, she closes her eyes as he begins to pick up into a more terminal pace. “That’s it. Come for me. Harder, you can go harder. I want you to—”
Will makes a strangled noise, his hips straining into hers. Kissing his ear, she scratches her nails down his back, holding them to bite into the skin just above his ass.
He stops, shudders, and with a low groan, reaches orgasm.
And the long story short from this point out is—
She stays the night in bed with him. And every night for the rest of her life.