Work Text:
The morning air in Brighton was rather crisp for this time of year, scented heavily with the lingering notes of salt that picked at James’s barely awake sense as he stood in the kitchen, nursing one of the Matcha Rodds he kept in the fridge for when he wanted something a little less strong than his normal coffee hit.
Of course, once he heard the floorboards creak behind him and the familiar silhouette of his best friend (and something dangerously close to more than) entered his peripheral vision, he almost wished he had indulged, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp, hissed intake.
"Mornin', mate." Will, furiously handsome, rugged and infuriatingly headache-inducing Will, was standing by the counter, cradling Otto in his arms, the beast acting like a proper little baby in the slightly shorter man’s arms. That wasn’t the problem, however.
No, the problem was that Will was wearing James’s oversized, black t-shirt that was practically glued to James’s body day in and day out for the last 5 years and it was driving. James. insane. It was slightly too big for the Geordie, hanging loosely off Will’s frame, the neckline sliding dangerously low to reveal the skin underneath and one expansively plae collarbone that James wanted to trace with his teeth a little too much.
Given Will had stayed the night unexpectedly after a particularly tough meeting with their factory in Spain as well as their supplier reps, he hadn’t brought his own clothes, but obviously, James hadn’t taken into consideration that his clothes would end up on the other man till just this moment.
"Well, don’t you look like a bloody thief." James rasped, his voice dropping an octave into that dangerous, possessive register he usually reserved for business meetings and sometimes, when they were in Will’s office in London fighting over media content.
Usually, when he used it, it meant he got what he wanted. It didn’t seem to be affecting Will this time as the bastard leaned back against the counter, a smirk playing on his lips as he tugged at the hem of the shirt suggestively (slut), letting his fingers linger and twist into the fabric like he could just flick the shirt off any second. "Twas’ a bit chilly when I woke up in the guest, Jimmy, and the laundry hamper was nearby - sides’, it fits better than some of my own gear at home. Bit soft, innit?"
James’s jaw tightened. The sight of Will, his…god, he hated to admit it, but his constant, wrapped in his personal armour, was grating. It felt like an override, a territorial marker that Will wasn’t worthy of (or perhaps too worthy of) that James’s brain couldn’t register on a level that would be normal sounding in any sense. He needed to fix it; fix this before he did soemtihng that he knew he would regret and have to speak to his therapist about.
(‘She knew a lot of things about him at this point…’ A sly voice whispered to him as he stood there. ‘What’s one more?’)
He shook the thought away as he took a step forward, his height making the kitchen feel suddenly cramped as he narrowed his eyes at Will. "Take off the shirt, William."
All it seemed to do was make Will shiver, lips parted and eyes sparkling before James realised - Will knew exactly what he was doing. It wasn’t as much of a surprise as it should have been; they’d been dancing around this dynamic for months. Will thrived on the friction, despite publicly denying he didn’t and James could see it, he could see it in Will’s entire being as the man’s throat worked to find a cheeky response, a flash of teeth making James clench his fist as he did.
"What’s the matter? You worried people won’t know who the clothes belong to?"
The shit even shifted as James stepped into Will’s space, letting the shirt ride up and expose his underwear line, a calculated performance designed to make James’s pulse beat faster, hand reaching out to hover near Will’s hip, his knuckles brushing the soft pale skin stretched over the area. He could smell his own scent, his laundry powder that almost doubled as his cologne some days, intermixed with the faint, sharper scent of Will’s own that hadn’t washed off despite Will taking a long shower.
It was… intoxicating.
"You're doing this on purpose." James muttered, his hand finally coming to rest on Will's hip, his grip firmer than necessary as he pulled the man closer, Will’s chin almost hitting his chest from the brute force of it. "You know exactly what you’re doing to me, you naff Geordie bastard."
Will didn't flinch at the words or the closeness. Instead, he tilted his head, his Geordie accent thickening as he leaned into the contact. "Do I, aye? You seem pretty bothered about it, Jimmy. Maybe you should just...take it off me yourself?"
James felt a flare of something primal rise up in his blood, the possessiveness rushing back with a vengeance that made his head spin. He just wanted to mark Will up, take him back into his bedroom and hold his hands above his head, watch him squirm as his teeth sank into his skin as he rutted his hips against him. He hated it. He loved it.
"You're a menace." James breathed, though he didn't pull away.
"-and you're obsessed, pet." Will countered, his voice dropping to a low purr. “You’re fuming because I look better in your clothes than you do, don’t I? Can barely contain yourself, practically trying not to leak through ya pants at the sight of me."
James couldn’t help but let out a soft noise that sounded far too close to a moan, his other hand lifting to cup the back of Will’s neck, his thumb tracing the sensitive skin just under Will’s jaw. He felt Otto let out a soft mrow and jump down from the counter where Will had deposited him, leaving them together in the tense, heavy silence of the kitchen as James leaned in, his forehead resting against Will’s.
At this angle, he could see the pulse jumping in Will’s throat, the wideness of his pupils as he stared into James’s eyes, the stuttered breaths that emerged from his lungs as James lent even closer, touching nose to nose with him; his touch remaining agonisingly gentle, his fingers weaving into the dark hair at the nape of Will’s neck as he whispered. "I'm going to ruin you."
Will’s breath hitched, for he knew he’d won. He had James exactly where he wanted him: completely fixated, utterly frustrated, and entirely incapable of looking anywhere else.
"Yeah?” Will breathed, looking at James’s lips far too long. "Go on then, big man."
(They don’t see daylight for almost 3 days straight.)