New Beginnings: Marton and Will
Jan. 24th, 2005 10:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
palace_martonIt was fairly late but Marton, who by now had usually stopped work for the day, still had a folder on his lap as he sat up in bed, a steaming cup of coffee on the nightstand. The work needed doing, certainly, but it could have waited until tomorrow. However if things were going to change about the way he and Will interacted, he needed a gradual adjustment, not a sudden about-face, and this was perfect.
Right on time, the door silently opened and Will stepped inside, his face reflecting mild consternation as he turned from shutting it behind him and saw Marton was working. “Oh.” he said, pointing at the door. “I can come back?”
“No, no.” Marton was dismissive and patted the bed beside him. “I’ll be done in a minute. Want a cup?” He nodded toward the small coffee machine on the wall unit which was still burbling away quietly, the fragrant scent of fresh-ground beans filling the room.
“Umm. No. Thanks.” Will didn’t seem to know quite how to react to this markedly different behavior and Marton silently berated himself and simultaneously thanked Christian for the long-overdue wake-up call.
Once Will had settled on the bed beside him, Marton spent a good five minutes pretending to read, the other man’s scent, the feel of the warm, lithe body pressed against his side, a little too distracting for true concentration. Will had shucked off his shoes and was barefoot, dressed in pale denim jeans and a sinfully tight black t-shirt that kept riding up as he fidgeted, the lack of immediate action patently telling on his nerves.
Marton took pity on them both and discarded the folder, dropping it into the drawer while still taking the time to drain the now-cool cup of coffee. “So?” he said. Turning around and sliding further down into comfort, his head resting on his hand. “How was your day?”
“My . . . ? Umm, fine. Yours?” This was completely weird and Will felt like he should get off the bed and go into the living room or something. By now, they’d normally be busy fucking and because they weren’t, because Marton was talking instead, he was now waiting for the axe to fall. Was that what this was about? Had Marton grown tired of it, of him, and was looking for a way to end it?
“The usual.” Marton’s free hand was resting on Will’s stomach and his fingers moved in tiny circles across his rib cage. “Amendment 10a is coming up for review again; more amendments. That’s what I was looking over.” He tilted his head back toward the drawer.
“Ahh.” Will plucked at the covers, feeling a definite . . . itch. Should he . . . facilitate this, if that’s where it was going? But Marton’s hand had moved lower and was toying with the button of his jeans. “Pass this time do you think?” There! If Marton wanted conversation, he’d get conversation!
“Should do.” Marton shifted closer, fingers tugging at the bottom of Will’s t-shirt, lifting it. Will pulled it off over his head and Marton’s lips came down on one dark nipple, fastening on and lightly sucking before he’d even completed the move.
“Sean’ll . . . ahh . . . Sean’ll be pleased.” He was quite proud of himself for managing to speak even though his nerve endings were firing, courtesy of that mouth and those . . . “Unngh.” . . . fingers slipping the button loose and tugging down the zip.
Marton hid a smile and just nodded, dipping his head to Will’s stomach, tongue darting out to swipe the contour of his navel. “Gonna lose these?” He pulled at the denim and Will lifted his hips and slid them off himself, tossing them over the side of the bed onto the floor.
Marton could tell that Will was back on firmer footing and for now he was content to leave it there. There had to be some division, after all. But Will had it on his mind now and as Marton rose up beside him, he got a suspicious look.
“What is this?” Will asked.
Marton’s smile grew slowly into a broad grin as he bought up his finger and fondled the hard nub of Will’s nipple. “I am an addict.” He took the taut bud between his teeth and gently worried at it. “And you,” he added, peering upward. “are my drug.”
Right on time, the door silently opened and Will stepped inside, his face reflecting mild consternation as he turned from shutting it behind him and saw Marton was working. “Oh.” he said, pointing at the door. “I can come back?”
“No, no.” Marton was dismissive and patted the bed beside him. “I’ll be done in a minute. Want a cup?” He nodded toward the small coffee machine on the wall unit which was still burbling away quietly, the fragrant scent of fresh-ground beans filling the room.
“Umm. No. Thanks.” Will didn’t seem to know quite how to react to this markedly different behavior and Marton silently berated himself and simultaneously thanked Christian for the long-overdue wake-up call.
Once Will had settled on the bed beside him, Marton spent a good five minutes pretending to read, the other man’s scent, the feel of the warm, lithe body pressed against his side, a little too distracting for true concentration. Will had shucked off his shoes and was barefoot, dressed in pale denim jeans and a sinfully tight black t-shirt that kept riding up as he fidgeted, the lack of immediate action patently telling on his nerves.
Marton took pity on them both and discarded the folder, dropping it into the drawer while still taking the time to drain the now-cool cup of coffee. “So?” he said. Turning around and sliding further down into comfort, his head resting on his hand. “How was your day?”
“My . . . ? Umm, fine. Yours?” This was completely weird and Will felt like he should get off the bed and go into the living room or something. By now, they’d normally be busy fucking and because they weren’t, because Marton was talking instead, he was now waiting for the axe to fall. Was that what this was about? Had Marton grown tired of it, of him, and was looking for a way to end it?
“The usual.” Marton’s free hand was resting on Will’s stomach and his fingers moved in tiny circles across his rib cage. “Amendment 10a is coming up for review again; more amendments. That’s what I was looking over.” He tilted his head back toward the drawer.
“Ahh.” Will plucked at the covers, feeling a definite . . . itch. Should he . . . facilitate this, if that’s where it was going? But Marton’s hand had moved lower and was toying with the button of his jeans. “Pass this time do you think?” There! If Marton wanted conversation, he’d get conversation!
“Should do.” Marton shifted closer, fingers tugging at the bottom of Will’s t-shirt, lifting it. Will pulled it off over his head and Marton’s lips came down on one dark nipple, fastening on and lightly sucking before he’d even completed the move.
“Sean’ll . . . ahh . . . Sean’ll be pleased.” He was quite proud of himself for managing to speak even though his nerve endings were firing, courtesy of that mouth and those . . . “Unngh.” . . . fingers slipping the button loose and tugging down the zip.
Marton hid a smile and just nodded, dipping his head to Will’s stomach, tongue darting out to swipe the contour of his navel. “Gonna lose these?” He pulled at the denim and Will lifted his hips and slid them off himself, tossing them over the side of the bed onto the floor.
Marton could tell that Will was back on firmer footing and for now he was content to leave it there. There had to be some division, after all. But Will had it on his mind now and as Marton rose up beside him, he got a suspicious look.
“What is this?” Will asked.
Marton’s smile grew slowly into a broad grin as he bought up his finger and fondled the hard nub of Will’s nipple. “I am an addict.” He took the taut bud between his teeth and gently worried at it. “And you,” he added, peering upward. “are my drug.”
