AU AU AU AU
Very AU here, Will and Finn are the same age with Finn secretly lusting after Will
Finn looked at the clock again, 2:04... three minutes later than the last time he looked; well three minutes and a can of beer later to be exact. Shaking his head, Finn turns back to his PS3 and the paused game of Call of Duty; looking at the score, Finn 318403... Will 310649.
The same as it had been seven hours ago when Will up and left on his date.
Finn can't really believe it, Will and he were walking around campus shooting the shit when from out of nowhere this ithing/i dared to come up and talk to Will, laying her claw like talons limply on Will's arm; her eyes flashing dark proving herself to be a demon sent to destroy.
No, Finn doesn't have a problem with Will dating... he only has a problem with the sorts of evil creatures that are out to trap and devour his best friend.
Letting out a put upon sigh, Finn switches off the game and the TV and slowly makes his way to his room pausing only to glance at his housemate's door before slinking into his own room and stripping off his jeans and shirt then curling up on the bed. Closing his eyes wearily, Finn tries to go to sleep.
It could have been hours or only minutes later when his eyes fully open, the muffled yelp and the laughing and giggling rousing Finn quicker than a bucket of cold water ever could. He can hear two voices, Will's deep baritone he'd know anywhere, but the insipid, grating, whining screech of a she-whore was also unmistakable.
Quietly creeping out of his bedroom, Finn hears Will's gravelly voice ask the witch to stay, that he wants her to sleep with him, would she? Hushed voices muffled by the sound of wet lips, Will's rough begging, urging the she-devil lower, to do something other than tease him.
Needing to see, but not wanting to know, Finn creeps further down the passage and tilting his head so only one eye can see into the lounge.
There they sit, entwined with each other, the bitch's hand in Will's crotch, rubbing and squeezing as her other hand fondles his chest beneath his shirt. Will's mumbles and groans of more are met with lukewarm enthusiasm, Finn can see that the cow's heart is not into it anyway near the way Will's is.
Any noise that the couple of the couch makes is silenced as the old grandfather clock in the passage strikes, scaring Finn almost bad enough to yelp aloud. But it is enough for that interfering slut to pull away, her piercing voice decrying that it is too late and she has to get home so she can sacrifice small babies or something, Finn's not too sure exactly, but he is happy enough that the shrew seems to be leaving... and not a moment too soon in Finn's opinion.
With a grunt of frustration, Will lets the girl up, but seems unwilling to follow her out; her displeasure is obvious by the tightly pursed lips and her brows dropped into a fierce scowl. With a flounce worthy of a diva the slut twirls dramatically and storms to the front door and with a final huff leaves, never to be seen again... at least so Finn hopes.
Feeling almost safe to walk back out to commiserate with his best friend, Finn is halted by a frustrated groan coming from Will. Peeking his head around the corner a little further, Finn can't believe his eyes as he hurriedly stuffs a fist into his mouth to stifle the matching groan coming from deep within himself at the sight before him.
There before him, lying debauched on the couch is Will, jeans down to his thighs and shirt gaping open. The long fingers of his left hand trailing idly through the wiry curls of hair on his chest, going first to one nipple, gently tweaking it, then moving across to the other. His right hand lays flat against his cock, almost completely hiding it from Finn's sight, fingers rhythmically palming it.
Finn knows he should go, that he should leave before Will sees him standing there, but he is rooted to the spot. His own hands mirroring Will's, rubbing himself through his boxers. He knows he should go... but doesn't.
Hearing a catch in Will's breath, Finn looks back up to see Will arching his back against the lounge as his hand moves down from his chest, past his cock and down to his jeans. Grunting as the fabric digs tighter as he tries to push the garment free. Finally, getting one leg free he abandons the jeans and sighs as his legs spread further apart, letting his nails lightly scrape against the inside of his thigh as he brings his hand back up to his balls and cupping them gently as his other hand grasps his cock firmly at the base and pushing it away from his stomach.
Finn's cock is throbbing within his own hand, begin for more movement, more touch... more anything. But for some reason Finn can't both watch and play, all his attention is centred on Will and the show he is unintentionally putting on.
Finn can see Will's cock clearly now, thick shaft topped with a large knob, almost purple from the grip Will has on it. He can see as Will slowly brings his hand up to his mouth and wets it with his spit, Finn supposes that you can't always have lube handy and that sometimes a slightly drier, harsher jack off technique is called for... like now perhaps.
With a barely there coating of spit, Will wraps his hand back around his cock and pumps firmly, right from the base to the crown of his knob, an almost too harsh twist and then back down again, rinse and repeat.
With what is left of any higher functions, Finn takes note of the method that Will uses, subconsciously using it on himself, bringing himself closer, just as Will does.
Will's hand is moving faster, stripping his cock ruthlessly, single-mindedly focused on one thing, the need to shoot, having to come... now.
Finn knows Will is about to blow a few seconds before he actually does, Will's back arches completely off the lounge and a strangled cry is let loose. Just watching Will blow is mind shattering for Finn, enough so he feels the tell-tale tingling and rush to shoot. With a cry of his own, Finn lets fly himself, shooting all over his hand and the floor in front of him.
Coming down from that great jack-off glow, Finn starts as he looks directly into Will's wide eyes, his own post orgasm flush still high on his cheeks. With another cry, this time fear, Finn races back into his room, locks the door and hides shaking beneath his blankets. Hoping Will didn't really see him, hoping against hope that he won't lose Will.
Praying that that is not Will hammering at his door.