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It did occur to Frank that despite his words, he was still about to have sex with the first guy he had met with running water. Running hot water. He only gave the comment a second thought because he felt Bill’s hand - Bill’s tentative hand - on his shoulder, and in that moment it was important to him that Bill believed this wasn’t about the lunch.
Because already, it wasn’t.
But Frank thought that telling Bill that, trying to make sure he believed it, might be a bit too much too soon. But that was alright, he could show him instead.
That hand on his shoulder. It almost undid him. And it wasn’t because it had been four years since someone had touched him with anything approaching care - since that sort of thing had been an option - it was because no one had ever laid a hand on his shoulder like that. Not ever.
Bill touched him like he was scared but he trusted him. And what was that about, four years after the world ended and other human beings were more likely to shoot you as they were to offer you a hand. And yet. Bill had offered him a hand, and then a shower, and then dinner. And now this too.
He could feel the calluses on Bill’s hand. The roughness of it. The way the feel of that hand on his bare skin was a map of everything Bill had put into making this place safe. Of everything he had put into keeping the world out.
His fingertips danced over Frank’s bare skin. Skated, slow and careful, even though laying over him, Frank could already feel how excited Bill was, the pink of it staining his cheeks; what little of his cheeks could be seen above his beard.
Bill was nervous. Frank was too but he did his best not to show it. He couldn’t mess this up. Not this. And it wasn’t about the lunches.
“If I do this, I’m going to stay for a few more days. Is that okay?” Frank said, for a lot of reasons.
Because he wanted to stay. Because he needed to rest. Because he couldn’t imagine leaving this place after finding it. Couldn’t imagine leaving Bill.
They were all reasons, but they weren’t the big one. The main one.
Because he knew by the cautious touch of that hand on his back that Bill’s experience, his first real experience, wasn’t going to be of someone who was gone in the morning. Someone who he never saw again. Because he knew that if he left in the morning the walls went back up. If he left in the morning that very real fence keeping out the world would stay up, stay up for good. And Frank didn’t want that, couldn’t bear it. Not this man, who played piano, and cooked gourmet meals for a stranger, and sung so softly, whose shoulders were up around his ears.
Maybe he was being presumptuous. Maybe he was making assumptions about a man he didn’t know yet, that he had only met a couple of hours ago.
“Yeah. Yes.”
No, Frank knew him. He knew him already.
He kissed him again. Sweet, chaste were it not for all the naked skin they had pressed together.
Bill was warm, from his shower, from the soft fuzz of hair on his chest, from his arousal.
Frank wondered if he would make the first move. He could remember his own first time with a man, how desperate and impatient he had been. But no, Bill wouldn’t. Frank didn’t want to make him wait anyway.
He kissed him again, deeper this time. His tongue pressed against the seam of Bill’s lips and Bill yielded for him; he tasted like mint toothpaste, and something twisted in Frank’s chest knowing that he’d done that. He’d gone to that much care, had combed his hair and cleaned his teeth, even in the apocalypse. It didn’t feel like the apocalypse in here.
Bill kissed him back, gentle but hungry. With care. He responded to everything Frank did. Frank felt the rapid uptick of Bill’s heart under his lips as he started to move down his body. Kissing a path down Bill’s barreled chest, he felt Bill’s cock twitch against him, thicken what little more it could as he understood Frank’s intention.
It was heady, knowing no one else had ever done this for him before.
When he’d taken the towel off Bill - surprised, pleasantly, when Bill let him without trying to cover himself - he’d seen his cock, stiffening even then. It was thick, in an unruly bed of hair that Frank ran his fingers through as he kissed Bill’s hip, barely teasing the base of Bill’s cock, but it was enough to make him gasp. A tiny, surprised sound, that Frank already wanted to hear again.
No one had ever heard that noise before. That was a heady thought as well.
Frank kissed the underside of Bill’s stomach and felt his cock twitch against him again as he moved lower, letting his lips drag against Bill’s skin.
He missed Bill’s hands on his shoulders when he moved out of reach, but it was worth it as he kissed the base of Bill’s cock and breathed him in; water and clean skin mixed with something that was just Bill. That made him want to watch Bill cutting all those logs he’s seen out front and then bury his nose in the side of his neck and just inhale.
He pressed his lips low on Bill’s cock again, with no intention of pulling away this time, only to do so.
“Ah,” Bill said, his voice broken and nervous. More so than Frank liked. So he pulled away, was glad when he did.
“Hey, is this alright?” Frank asked, reaching up to find one of Bill’s hands, now balled into fists in the sheets. His face screwed up tight. Nerves Frank didn’t mind, but embarrassment had no place here. He wouldn’t let it.
“Fine,” Bill said. Frank squeezed his hand, put his free hand on Bill’s hip and stroked his thumb over his hip.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.” He kissed the little divot of Bill’s hip and waited. Bill didn’t squirm, some people squirmed when they were unsure of themselves. Not Bill. Bill went completely still. Frozen, like a statue. Frank waited. Bill’s voice was rough when he found it.
“Thought you were gunna start with simple, simple stuff,” Bill said, eyed on the ceiling. He didn’t see Frank cock his head to the side.
When Frank moved back up his body Bill’s hands went back to his shoulders as soon as he could reach, but his head was turned away, not making eye contact. Frank didn’t like that, kissed his shoulder, his jaw, his ear.
“You want to start slower?” Frank asked, tangling their legs together. His hand went back to petting at Bill’s chest, like it had when Bill had first slipped in beside him.
Bill’s shoulders were still frozen up around his ears, but he seemed to shrug.
“Hey,” Frank said, running his hand along Bill’s jaw, rubbing his thumb over his beard and bringing his face back around with kisses, a thrill going through him every time Bill turned a little more to follow his lips. When he pulled away, Bill was looking at him again. “Talk to me.”
He waited again, as Bill found words to talk about something Frank was certain he had never had to find words for before.
“I don’t know how to…”
“You don’t have to just because I am. I want to. I enjoy it,” Frank reassured, kissing Bill’s jaw through his beard, trying to get those shoulders to relax, that forehead to uncrease.
“But, I want to touch you, too,” Bill said, and Frank kissed him to stop him looking away again.
He sighed into Bill’s lips and moved, straddling him again.
“Here,” Frank murmured, settling his knees around Bill’s hips. He moaned softly as his cock slid against Bill’s. Beneath him Bill made that noise again, that ah . Frank smiled and dropped a kiss to his slightly open lips. “How’s this?”
“Good,” Bill said, though the word was so rough it was almost not a word anymore. He cleared his throat, repeated himself. “Good.” His eyes were wide, looking up at Frank.
Frank rolled his hips, his sigh mixing with another of Bill’s broken noises that were so close to a whimper. He almost asked if he had any lube, but he imagined for someone like Bill there was nothing worse than feeling unprepared. Besides, he didn’t need it for this, not really.
Instead he smiled at Bill, what he knew was a cheeky smile - the kind of smile that didn’t belong in an apocalypse - and ran his hand over his palm. Bill watched with wide eyes, his cock hot against Frank’s as Frank sucked each of his fingers into his mouth.
When his hand was wet he lowered himself down again, chest to chest with this man he had found, and those hands immediately returned to his shoulders, to tentatively resting against his back, barely moving.
Frank kissed him again as he snaked his hand between their bodies, was still kissing Bill as he wrapped his hand around them both - as far around as he could get.
Bill whined, high in his throat, straight into Frank’s mouth, his whole body jerking.
“Fuck,” he gasped, turning his mouth away from Frank’s. Frank watched him as he stroked them together, watched Bill’s face screw up, his shoulder still at his ears, his teeth coming down on his lip. “This is going to be embarrassing,” Bill muttered, quiet, like he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be heard.
“No, it’s going to be fun.”
“I’m not going to last.”
“Good. Me neither,” Frank said. It wasn’t a line. It had been a long time for him, and Bill was…Bill was too many things to think about after two hours. “Give me your hand.”
One of Bill’s hand came down from his back and Frank held onto his wrist. Bill’s eyes went wide as Frank got it wet just like he had his own, and then guided him between their bodies.
“Alright?” He checked, beneath him, Bill nodded. “Good,” he said, ducking his head lower to kiss Bill, to greedily steal away his whimper as he wrapped both their hands around their cocks.
Frank moaned, that rough but gentle hand that had been driving him to distraction against his back now wrapped around his cock; it was better than the lunch.
He started slow, or, he tried to. He really did. But Bill was so responses beneath him, strangled-off noises falling past his lips no matter how hard he tried to hold them back; his bitten off moan when Frank swiped a finger over the wet head of his cock. It was almost better than the feeling of Bill’s hand on his own cock.
“I want to hear you,” Frank encouraged. Permission seemed to be all Bill needed, a choked sound pouring into Frank’s mouth before he was drinking down Bill’s moans with every stroke of their hands.
“I’m- I’m- already. Sorry,” Bill raggedly gathered up words as Frank felt his cock twitching in against his own, throbbing as Frank sped their hands.
“Good. Fuck, I want you to,” Frank said, short of breath as he sped up again, unable to help himself. Bill was so responsive, so pent up, it was easy to pick up what he liked; Frank’s voice, a firm grip, a squeeze at the tip, a thumb rubbing over his slit. Frank gave it all to him, would give him anything and it had nothing to do with the lunch .
Bill’s whole body was tense, wound tight from too long without and Frank wanted to make him come. He liked to think of himself as a generous lover, but he had never been so hungry for his partner’s pleasure before. Never. He wanted Bill to come, he wanted to feel it, to see it, he wanted Bill to come-
It was only as he grazed his teeth against Bill’s neck, exposed now as he threw his head back, that Frank realised he was speaking out loud. Bill shouted, his entire body going tense before shuddering almost violently. Frank felt him come, felt the warm, slick of his come on his knuckles, on Frank’s own skin as he stroked him through it, and his own cock throbbed.
Bill was non-verbal, moaning and shaking with every after-tremor. Frank took a stranglehold on his control as he forced his hand to slow, squeezing every drop of pleasure from Bill’s orgasm without wanting to overstimulate him, gently releasing his cock when the tenor of Bill’s moans changed from pure pleasure to something a little more complicated.
Frank wrapped his hand back around himself, now slick with Bill’s come and stroked himself fast and with no finesse, chasing his release. Bill’s eyes were still shut, his breathing shaky, his body still trembling, his come caught in his body hair. He was a feast, the best thing Frank had ever seen.
No. Best came next. When Bill opened his eyes, half-lidded and hazy and sated . When his hand, clumsy with release and inexperience joined Frank’s own. He looked unsure, inexperience, but not embarrassed, and that, that , was the best. Frank hadn’t messed it up, he hadn’t-
Thoughts were driven out of his brain as Bill’s hand slipped under his own, his palm warm around his cock, his fingers loose, Bill looking at him, nervous but happy.
“Show me,” Bill said, voice cracked and rough and perfect. “I want to.”
Frank guided Bill’s hand with his own, a tight grip, stripping his cock fast, spreading Bill’s come up and down his shaft.
“Fuck,” Frank gasped as Bill squeezed his cock without instruction. Frank’s own hand fell away and he moaned when Bill didn’t falter. His forehead fell to Bill’s shoulder, his teeth grazing Bill’s skin again, hearing that hitch in his breath again. Frank could feel his cock pulsing, he was close, so close, and then Bill’s hand, the hand that wasn’t on his cock, went back to his shoulder and held him so gently and so tight and Frank was undone.
He shouted as he came, voice breaking into a moan as he buried his face in Bill’s neck and spilled himself between their bodies. He shuddered, the world and all its problems vanishing from him as Bill kept stroking him. His hand was tentative again now, unsure what Frank liked, so Frank covered Bill’s hand with his own again and showed him, wringing himself out until he collapsed half beside and half on-top of bill.
He nearly whimpered when Bill’s arms hesitantly went around him, nuzzled his face further into his neck. He let his eyes close, catching breath. As Bill’s fingers traced patterns on his back he very nearly fell asleep. But they were a mess, and he didn’t want to leave Bill to clean them up, he wanted to do that, wanted to do that for him. Wanted to find a towel and warm water and show Bill he wouldn’t betray the trust he had just given him.
When he felt like he could, Frank shifted onto his side, propping himself up and leaning down to kiss Bill’s lips. He looked worried - no, not worried, just uncertain. But not tense anymore.
“You know, I think this is the first time your shoulders haven’t been up around your ears,” Frank smiled, kissing the corner of Bill’s mouth.
“Was it, I mean was I…?”
In another situation Frank might have made a joke, pointed out the come that was all over Bill’s chest. But he didn’t, not this time, with an uncertain look fighting its way back into Bill’s eye.
“It was perfect,” Frank said, and he kissed him again. Couldn’t seem to stop, only managed to because he didn’t want Bill to get uncomfortable in the mess. “Wait here,” he murmured, dropping another kiss to Bill’s lips as he pulled away and forced his legs to behave as he stood.
Bill’s eyes tracked him as he went to the bathroom. Frank returned with the towel - still soft, despite four years of hell - wet with warm water, and slipped back into bed beside Bill. A furious blush crept into Bill’s cheeks as Frank cleaned off his skin. He tried to take over, muttering something near-unintelligible about being able to do that himself.
“But I want to do it,” Frank said, not relinquishing the towel.
He took care not to pull uncomfortably at any of Bill’s hair and turned to discard the towel only when he was satisfied.
When he turned back, Bill looked unsure once again. Lying a little rigidly - too rigidly - as if he wasn’t sure what came next. Like he didn’t know if he would now lie carefully alone with a demilitarised zone down the centre of the bed.
Frank settled on his side and lifted the covers slightly.
“Come here,” he said.
The rigidity didn’t vanish immediately, even though Bill shuffled over to him without pause. He was awkward about finding a position to settle against Frank in; and Frank was reminded, a sharp, protective pang in his chest, that Bill would have never done this before either.
“Here, let’s try like this,” Frank said, a hand on Bill’s hip guiding him onto his side. Frank pressed up against his back, pressing their bodies together and pulling the covers up. He slid an arm around Bill’s waist, let his hand rest over his chest and held him close.
Then, with a long exhale, all the tension that had snuck back into Bill melted away.
A few more days was not going to be enough, Frank thought, so suddenly and violently that his heart picked up in his chest. But then Bill’s hand found the one against his chest, and he laced their fingers together, and Frank dared to hope that perhaps he wasn’t the alone in that thought.