Chapter Text
The evening temperature rests well above the 90s. It’s a sweltering heat that prowls low and close to the coarse grass and tropical fauna. Their AC works only periodically, mostly during the day- for which they’re both grateful for.
Although, Floridian nights are just as hot and humid, even with the imagery of nightfall.
The house they’re building is nestled in the Florida Keys, away from metropolitan population. It's a tourist trap location, but their small community is located in a private sector with few wandering vacationers. It’s peaceful, and solitary, Will thinks.
He’ll never have to worry about chasing his dogs through thigh high snow, shotgun in hand.
It’s not much, more of a large cabin than anything at this point. There are construction tools scattered on every counter and Matthew’s clothes littered on the back of chairs. They have a bedroom, a bathroom, and a makeshift den that functions as a kitchen and laundry room, but that’s it.
It’s not exactly home.
But it will be.
Will drags the bed sheets down onto a ratty old rug, while Matthew does his nightly perimeter check. The evening is hot enough that the mattress was ruled out without even a single word exchanged
Neither of them have a preference for soft pillowy beds, so it works well- the hardness of the floor comforting and solid.
Will folds their bed sheet over the rug, eyes skimming the sweat on Matthew’s back with a familiar ease. Lingering lower. Matthew has never been shy of his body, so nudity is nothing to him. In fact, he makes a showing of bending down to adjust the pillows.
Will plays around with a spinning top as he waits. He looks away when Matthew calls out his name.
When they finally lie down, it’s with a heavy exhaustion that comes on the heels of a sigh of comfort.
There’s a casual air of sexual energy between them- the muggy heat, their furtive glances, and Matthew’s frank nudity.
It doesn’t take a whole lot to interest Matthew, but these things require a bit more time on Will’s part. He’s healthy, he’s fit, but he’s no longer as young as he was five or ten years ago. There are some traumas that reach inwards and change the very physiological processes of your being.
Matthew has never complained though. Conversely, he is delighted by the slow pull and tug of their bedroom relations. He is endlessly fascinated by every touch and caress, threading fingers through Will’s curls and tugging gently until his hips jolt in response.
Will unfurls quickest when Matthew is talking, whispering words into the salty skin from between the V of his thighs. Sometimes inane chatter, other times, darker fantasies.
They’re on the edge of exhaustion and interest, where a single touch could lead to so much more, or a blink of the eye, a heavy dream filled sleep.
In the end it’s Will who rolls over, shirking his t-shirt in the process, more frustrated about the heat then with any intent to seduce. It’s a good combination of movements though, because it leaves Matthew dry in the mouth, and a smoldering heat in his belly.
Matthew’s thighs come up against Will’s hips, and any other day Will would raise an eyebrow and joke about how he was getting thicker around the waist with age- he’s not-, but the sight is effective in its own.
I’m trying to seduce you, Mr. Graham. Please let me know if it’s working.
It worked 10 minutes ago, Matthew.
Amusement falls away from Will’s face when Matthew guides their mouths together, eyes open the entire time, pupils dark and intense.
Matthew likes to kiss with his eyes open, so Will indulges him and they stare at one another through the chaste, the teasing, and the passionate.
It hardly matters that Matthew is already there and Will only half way, because they’ve learned to wait and follow one another in more ways than one since the first time they met.
It’s a bit of an unplanned surprise when they hear the distinct sound of the pet door being opened, and a sharp characteristic bark. In seconds a furry object has torn through their makeshift camp, hobbling away in excitement afterwards.
Matthew breathes out, wetting his lips, while Will laughs and moves away.
He reaches out a hand to rub at Tripod’s ears, receiving a small playful nip in retaliation.
Tripod’s a jealous one, you’d better go, Matthew.
Nothing is as important as you, Matthew wants to say. Nothing, and no one. But Will is already standing up, shaking out a nearby bundle of wrinkled sheets.
Matthew watches as Will comes back to him, wrapping the fabric loosely around his hips, folding it in like a bath towel. Matthew suppresses a shiver down his spine as Will’s knuckles work across his tattoos, and the sheets shift against his sensitive skin.
Ah.
They both still, and stare with an offbeat horror at the crumpled sheets.
I’m sorry, Mr. Graham, but I think you made it worse.
I suppose I did.
I’ll be right back. You don’t have to wait for me.
Will huffs in amusement, but doesn’t say anything.
There’s really nothing to say really, when they both know he’ll be standing on the porch a few minutes later, next to Matthew, taking in the vaguely salty sea breeze, and curling in with the company of their canine family.
They most likely won’t return to bed till a few hours later, exhausted or not. Matthew would play fetch with their dogs- too warm and restless from the evening heat. He would occasionally get distracted by Will’s quiet but lingering gazes, and they’d lose themselves for a few brief seconds against the banisters of their porch.
Ultimately though, they’d settle back, and that, too, would be fine-
Will smiles and follows Matthew out the door, holding the long skirt of the sheets. Matthew hums beneath his breath.
You’re wearing black boxers, and I’m wearing a white sheet.
Yes. Winston and Tripod can lead them in chorus. Mendelssohn might be a little difficult though.
Fuck, Mr. Graham, you’ve thought about this.
-because now they have all the time in the world.
No need to rush.