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The first time Will follows the man to the bar, he's hit with a curious mix of feelings: surprise, a little irrational anger, awe – the couple looks so happy together, he can't believe the man is cheating on his wife, how hasn't he picked up any tension or pretense in their relationship – and underneath it all, well. Better not go there, he's on a mission here.
His team is watching the wife, number one priority protection target, while he's keeping an eye on the husband. They've been in Zagreb for two days now, after following the couple, ”Mr and Mrs Auden”, through Hungary and Slovenia on their road trip. It rubs Will sometimes the wrong way, the conspiratorial nature of the agency, but he's slowly getting used to not always knowing the real identities of the people he's sent to shadow, protect or spy on. It's rather obvious this time that the couple's files have been thrown together rather hastily, but he didn't pry (even if he could have, through his analyst contacts). He trusts his superiors to give him enough to work with.
(His uninformed guess is that the couple–at least the man, judging from the way he carries himself, the build of his body, how he turns corners and takes in his surroundings–is ex-agency, probably CIA. The woman is a bit harder pin down, she's fit but in an unassuming, easy way. They're comfortable and natural together, just like the married couple their files say, but now Will's not so sure.)
The job has been standard procedure so far, they're supposed to be returning home in a week, but now–he's surprised for the first time. He's been following ”Auden” on his evening jog through a small, neatly trimmed park and back to the streets again until he turns to a smaller side street, slowing to a walk. Will stays behind, watching him across the street as he enters a bar at the corner. He figures the man is just going in for a taste of local beer (unusual, since so far the couple has been going out together wherever they are), but as he checks the unassuming bar entrance a bit closer, he notices the little rainbow logo and a sign informing him it's men only in Serbo-Croatian.
Well.
For a moment, he toys with the idea of going in after his target, to better keep an eye on him. It's of course possible the guy's just mistaken and will be back out once he realizes he entered a gay bar, but Will finds that unlikely. The man clearly knows his way around the city, Will's been shadowing him around for a few more conventional jogs already, and speaks enough of the language. He came here with a purpose, and is probably well on his way into–something inside Will tightens at the thought, the man's mouth curling into that smile of his as he softly propositions someone with an atrocious American accent, skin still flushed, running his hand through his hair, and–
It's not that he's been in denial about the fact that the guy is utterly, completely his type, with his strong compact body, his mouth, always ready to smile, the charming line of his nose, the first faint wrinkles (if he's been watching the man closely, that's only his job) around his gorgeous–well, he's not had any reason to assume he'd ever actually get a chance to know him any more intimately. (Even though, of course, there is a certain level of weird intimacy involved when you're meant to follow someone for weeks, to be trusted with someone's life.) There's been no point in even fantasizing, until, well, right now.
He's pulled from his thoughts when a couple of men clad in black leather brush past him where he's stopped on the street, probably looking for all the world like a nervous sex tourist in throes of indecision. Which he has to admit he feels like, a bit. One of the men asks him if he's going in, holding the door open for him and for a split second he considers entering, his body aching faintly (he really needs to get laid–), but he shakes his head (–but not when he's working, for god's sake), offering a smile and a shrug when the other guy eyes him gently and whispers šteta to his partner.
Will does what these jobs mostly consist of, waits, pretending to take great interest in the church that's conveniently located on the other side of the street. He keeps an eye on the bar door, watching men come and go for an hour, routinely checking with his team members that they're doing okay with the woman at the hotel. (She's reading. His team is bored.) Finally he spots his man–his target, leaving the bar.
Will stays a few blocks behind as he shadows the man back to the hotel, not close enough to see if there are any visible changes to his demeanor or appearance. Any marks, bites or scratches, perhaps bruises. His step is light, he doesn't seem like a man who's just fucked a stranger while his wife dutifully waits for him. It's possible they're not really married, perhaps they're agents like Will suspects, partners with benefits; it's possible the man is a cheating bastard and a good liar, a thought that for some reason sits uneasily with him.
Or they're happily married but open-minded, as Will concludes when he's seen the man back to the hotel from a safe distance and returned to his team's temporary base in a room in the neighboring building. It turns out (thanks to the surveillance they're required to keep up at all times) the wife takes great pleasure in wringing out every detail of her husband's little expedition, whispered into her skin until she's breathless and begs for his mouth, his hands, anything.
Well.
-
The second time, only two nights after the first visit, the man's evening round takes him to the bar again. Will's shadowing him again, thankful for the routine they've set up with the team by now. She's their main job, and he trusts his team members to protect her, while he claims he likes the chance to stretch his legs while following the man. It's not a lie, but he can't deny anymore he's developed some more ulterior motives.
Since the revelation, Will did half-heartedly try to stop his train of thoughts, really. It's not easy anymore, though, not when he can still hear in his head the man describing his one-night stand to his wife, slowly, voice laced with amusement like he was still smiling (he probably was). Will joked about it with his tech, like you do when you're on a mission like this, trying to avoid awkwardness, but later, in the shower, he jerked off a little desperately. Fuck, but he wanted–
And here he is again, watching as the man enters the bar with ease. He has a brief but intense internal debate about whether this is an insane or a dangerously bad idea, but in the end even the rational part of his brain tells him that he might just as well be watching the man up close. It's his job, after all.
The bar, as he enters, turns out to be more like a club inside. He pays the small fee at the door, and the friendly doorman intructs him with a thick accent, pointing towards another doorway that leads to a dark, loud room full of muscled, mostly leather-clad men. There's a bar at one side of the room, but the place is clearly meant for cruising. He sees men pairing off, heading either back outside or disappearing into a corridor that Will assumes leads to private little rooms.
It's been a while since he's been out, but he realizes he's missed this, the press of bodies, the smell of sweat and leather and the looks he gets. It's heady, flattering, but he turns down offers and makes his way to the bar. He can't spot the man, and the thought of him having already found someone for the night is a disappointing one, and it's utterly ridiculous to feel jealous because it's not as if the man actually belongs to him, not even if Will spent the rest of his life watching over him.
But there he is, leaning against the bar, long hair falling over his face, brushing the bridge of his nose as he cocks his head and laughs, saying something in convincingly clumsy tourist-Croatian to a tall man in a leather vest. Will's breath catches at the sight of him; he's wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans, a picture of All-American temptation, that fucking smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. Will is convinced that any second now the tall man will put his arm around his guy and walk him away, ridiculous, he needs to get a fucking grip–
And then the man glances at his direction. He catches Will staring, but instead of ignoring him, he makes his excuses to the taller man and heads toward Will, and, god. His smile is almost too bright at this proximity.
”It's nice to see I'm not the only tourist here,” he says softly, almost inaudible over the music.
”How'd you know I'm not from here?” Will replies, lamely, feeling his mouth curve into an answering smile.
”I'm a good guesser.” The man leans closer, touching fingertips to Will's elbow. Even through his shirt the touch is electric, and Will leans into the man's space, breathing him in. He's never been this close to him before, never been looked at by him like this, and he feels helpless. He clears his throat.
”Do you– would you care for a drink?”
He curses himself for going for a needless pick-up line while the man is probably looking for someone more assertive, why would he stay with Will when there's a room full of gorgeous, strong men, fuck, the line of his mouth is so inviting, the tip of his tongue wetting his lips–
”That sounds nice but–” and Will wants to kick himself, but the man leans in to whisper into his ear, ”–you could also just fuck me, right?”
His heart jumps to his throat, and he forgets what words are for a moment. The man pulls back a little, eyes searching, and Will struggles to say something that doesn't make him seem like an overeager teenager.
”I'm sorry, did I misread you, I thought you,” the man begins, with the slightest of frowns, but Will cuts him off, sounding probably just as desperate as he feels.
”God, no, sorry, I just,” he swallows, smooth, Brandt, real smooth, ”Yes. Love to.” He breathes out, feeling dizzy as the man's smile returns. His hand pressed against Will's lower back, he steps closer again. Will can feel his warm breath on his lips, wants to lick into that mouth, reaches for the man's bare arm as he speaks.
”You wanna go somewhere else, or this place okay?”
Fuck, but this guy doesn't waste any time. Will doesn't know if he should feel flattered, or deduce the man is a huge slut (he goes for a bit of both options).
”Here's good,” he whispers, not resisting when the man pulls him closer, his erection unmistakable through layers of tight cloth. Will closes his eyes for a while, enjoys the friction.
And then the man steps back, only to take Will by the elbow again and lead him through the pushing, gyrating crowd towards the corridor in the back. There are doors on both sides, a few open to indicate the rooms are free. The man leads them to the nearest one, and Will barely has time to lock the door before he's pushed against it and then man surges against him for a kiss.
It's– Will lets out a desperate sound, not really caring about anything expect this, this man invading his space, licking along his lower lip before biting it, panting into his mouth.
”Your name,” the man murmurs. He tastes faintly of alcohol, his fingers are trying to unbutton Will's shirt. ”Please tell me your name.”
Will doesn't hesitate when he tells his first name, real one, it's common enough that he uses it even undercover if it fits.
”Will,” the man sighs, and the way he says it burns straight through Will and he tangles his fingers in the man's hair, pulling him into another kiss. His file says his name's Richard.
”I'm Ethan,” he says, and it's probably fake as well but Will couldn't care less now when his shirt is being yanked open, when the man pulls him with him into the small dark room. There's a simple bench, a dispenser for condoms and lubricant on the wall, and nothing else.
Ethan–Will's going to call him that for now, it fits–sinks to his knees, apparently not minding the filthiness of the floor. He glances up, and the sight of him reaching to unzip Will's jeans, a few strands of hair stuck to his damp skin, is enough to make any man's knees buckle. Will swears softly out loud.
”God, you have no idea–” how long I've wanted this, no, he can't, but he has an excuse not to continue as Ethan tugs his jeans and boxers down just enough to get his cock out. He lifts an eyebrow as if to ask, is this okay, and Will would laugh but he can only nod, and then Ethan's mouth is on him, sucking around the head, and fuck but he is good.
And then Ethan swallows him deeper, all in, the back of his throat a soft push against Will. Ethan moans, closing his eyes, gripping Will's hips tightly and pulling, sliding, urging– Will can't almost take the sight, he's going to come from this any second, hips snapping forward desperately– He slides his fingers into Ethan's hair and–
”Stop,” he whispers hoarsely, trying to still the other man. ”If you want me to– god– fuck you, you might wanna stop now,” and he watches as Ethan slowly, as if reluctantly, lets him slide out his mouth. He stops to tongue at his slit, fleetingly, causing Will's fingers to fist in his hair, which must hurt and Will has an apology on his lips but the man just gasps, locking eyes with him.
”Sorry,” he says, breath ghosting over the damp skin of Will's cock, the red of his lips gone dark already, ”You're just, oh fuck,” and his eyes run over Will, who would feel ridiculous and exposed with his shirt and fly open if it wasn't for the way Ethan's eyes are blown dark, eyelashes wet–
Will feels powerless against this, this want and need, he pulls Ethan up almost forcefully, he's still all clothed and it's not fair so he pushes him against a wall, fingers fumbling on his belt. He needs to touch and– Ethan kisses him, letting him slide his fingers under the waistband of his jeans and underwear and pull them down, just enough– The kiss tastes of blood, a little, and Will hazily thinks he whimpers as he feels strong fingers wrap around their erections, skin on skin–
”Wait,” he manages between kisses, ”Stay,” and at that he steps back, Ethan's fingers slipping away from him as he leaves him just to get a condom, a small packet of lube, what if I don't have any change flitting through his mind, a bit hysterically, and he's sure if he laughs now it'll ruin everything.
”Come on,” Ethan sighs, eyes tracking Will's movements and leaning against the wall obscenely, hips pushed forward and cock standing, darkened with arousal, against the white of his t-shirt. It's dark but Will can see he's flushed, lips and teeth glistening, the tip of his tongue running along his upper lip, impatiently. He's coiled wire, Will thinks as he finally gets what he needs from the machine, tense and about to snap.
Ethan turns around and braces himself against the wall, and Will opens the lubricant, warming it in his fingers and touching Ethan's back with his other hand. He steps closer, can't resist a kiss below Ethan's ear as he asks, ”Okay?”
”Yes,” Ethan sighs, spreading his legs as much as he can while still half-clad in his jeans, it'd be easier if– but Will's impatient too and slides a finger down, pushing past the tightness of resisting muscle and– ”Yes,” and Ethan's pushing down, it's easy, and Will can add another finger, wrapping his other arm around Ethan's chest.
Third finger in, a steady, rapid heartbeat under his palm, he buries his nose in Ethan's hair, his own cock rubbing against the small of his back, skin against thin fabric, the body underneath him just as hard and soft and open as he'd imagined watching from afar, and it hits him he's breaching protocol in so many ways right now, and it scares him he doesn't care, can't care as long as he gets this, selfish, he should–
”Will, Will,” Ethan whispers, ”Fuck me, please, please, Will,” and he says his name over and over again, as if he knew him.
Will backs off just enough to roll on the condom, not sure if–
”Turn around, please,” he says, voice gone so low it surprises him, and Ethan obeys him, lets Will pull his jeans all the way down, he wants, god, he just needs to fuck him right now or– Clothes out of the way, Ethan pulls Will into his space again, lifts one foot on the bench and– Will pushes into him, perhaps too rough, but Ethan's mouth curves into a smile.
”That's it,” he says against Will's mouth, hands on Will's hips again and pulling, pushing, and god it's so easy to fall into the rhythm he sets, just follow. They kiss again, and again and again, and Ethan laughs, breathlessly, as Will fucks him, his whole body shuddering.
Ethan's mouth leaves his lips to kiss and bite down the side of his neck, and when Will slides his hand down his chest, fingers curling around Ethan's cock, he bites just above his collarbone, groaning, fuck, and then he's tightening around Will's cock, slick all over his fingers, Will can't see his face but his breath is hot and grip on his hips bruising and–
He's falling, after Ethan, over the edge.
-
Will leaves the bar first, intending to wait nearby until Ethan– his target leaves, then follow. Once he's outside and out of view he tries to check with his team, they've been out of contact for more than half an hour now, he's starting to feel the dread of irresponsibility, fighting the loose feeling of post-coital haze–
His team's not answering.
Will frowns, the man is his responsibility and he can't leave him, but there's something– (He knows it's thought he worries too much to be an effective leader but–)
He decides to wait.