It didn't seem like it was going to take a lot of finagling to launch Operation Zipless Fuck. Brent was already angling for a hook-up, so all Will had to do was allow it. He'd just lay out a series of choices designed to move them ever closer to the nearest private horizontal surface, and he'd let Brent choose his own adventure. 

If at any point, Brent chose the "public and vertical" option in the decision tree, Will would just drop the idea, they’d go their separate ways, and he’d finish the evening with a couple of beers and some quality alone time… During which he would courteously try not to think too much about Brent while he got himself off. He was pretty sure that wasn't how things would go, however.

“Are you done for the day here? If so, there’s a coffee place I like not far from my place. I could cash in your selfless offer there?” Will gave Brent a smile designed to remind him that Alphas weren’t the only ones who knew how to turn on the charm. 

The smile had an immediate effect. Brent looked briefly paralyzed and then nodded as he reached into his pocket for his car keys without ever breaking eye contact. “I’ll drive," he offered hoarsely.

"No, we should take two cars—I’m not going back to the station after..." Will said ambiguously and gave Brent directions to the coffee place. As he climbed into his car, Will felt slightly smug over the success of his seduction efforts so far. He'd practically been able to see Brent's heart thumping under his shirt like a cartoon character’s. Well, maybe not his heart, exactly. And maybe not his shirt. 

The coffee shop was crowded, as Will had known it would be, so at his very off-the-cuff suggestion, they decided to walk and drink their coffees instead of waiting for a table. The walk coincidentally took them past Will’s townhouse. He casually identified his place to Brent, and asked if he would perhaps like to go inside where they could sit, drink their coffees, and discuss work in comfort. 

Brent, as it happened, was amenable to the idea of a stopover. Will led the way up the steps of his stoop and got his keys out. He noted, pleased, that his hand was impressively steady as he unlocked the door, despite the fact that his brain was busily trying to calculate how many more decision nodes lay between him and getting laid. 

He let Brent get all the way inside the foyer and closed the door fully behind him, waiting an extra beat to take a calming breath. Heartbeat pounding in his ears and a couple of other sensitive places, he turned to point Brent towards the living room. From there, there was no need to formulate the next set of options. 

They flew together right where they were. Will had no idea who started it. He waited until they’d stumbled to the sofa, barefoot and shirtless, forgotten coffees rapidly cooling on the table in the entryway, and then he spoke. The hurry to strip each other was a pretty solid indicator that they weren’t about to discuss the Suarez case, so Will launched the standard hook-up preamble.

“Hey, to be clear, I was serious about not dating. I’m not looking for anything ongoing. This is a one-time thing. To clear the tension. Is that cool?”

Brent gave him a quick, arrested look, but maybe Will had just imagined it, because Brent gamely gave the chivalrous version of the ritual response, which was: “If that's what you want.” 

Will liked that option more than “Yeah, cool,” because it implied that the other person perhaps, just maybe, would have liked things to continue. Being courteous and urbane, however, they were willing to settle for a single night without argument. This was more flattering than communicating that the lack of desire to hook up in the future was entirely mutual. 

A toast to Brent’s good manners. 

Ritual concluded, Will reached up and pulled his head down to his, kissing him hungrily. 

Brent groaned and wrapped an arm around him to pull him closer. The arm was so heavy and hard and warm against Will’s back that his dick twitched enthusiastically against Brent's body, telling on him. Of course, Brent’s body was telling on him, too. Loudly.

Unnf. God, he’s big. Big all over. Warm all over. Hard all over. 

This was shaping up to be an outstanding idea. 

Seriously. Bless you, Erica Jong.

While Will had the chance, he was going to settle something for himself. The eyes. What color were they?

He pulled away from the kiss to check, but Brent had his lids at half-mast, and Will still couldn’t get a good look.

 Damn. 

He’d have to remember to get a gander at them later. He slid his hands into Brent’s thick hair and went back to kissing him like a sailor on shore leave for a minute before lowering his hands to work at the hooks and clasps of Brent’s pants.

Very, very close to those clasps, directly behind them even, was the head of a cock that had unprecedented stats in Will’s personal experience. He’d always figured that the tales of Alphan endowments were embellished. Alphist propaganda. He had to be fair, though. This was an absolutely massive dick. 

He was glad all over again that he’d chosen Door Number Two, plan-wise. He wasn’t entirely sure how to get the thing inside Door Number One yet, but he was going to have fun trying.

As soon as he got the trousers unfastened and reached inside, however, Brent reached down to stop him after one quick, exploratory stroke. Not before Will got a more precise understanding of the scale of the situation, however. 

If he’d gambled wrong and Brent wasn’t good in bed, they’d have to call the whole thing off. Without patience, lube, and a fair amount of dirty talk, no one could take that dick without pain. He was about to see whether Brent was inclined to demonstrate the necessary attentiveness, because Will didn’t do pain and suffering when he bottomed. Or when he topped, for that matter. Either it felt good to both of them at the same time, or it wasn’t happening.

Will arched an eyebrow inquiringly at the unscheduled break and waited, hands still for the moment.

“There’s that sardonic brow again,” observed Brent, his hand still wrapped around Will’s wrist.

“Why are we stopping? I’ve got plenty of condoms and lube upstairs, if that’s why,” Will said, gesturing with his head towards the bedroom.

“We’re not stopping, we’re slowing. If I’m only getting one night, I don’t want to rush,” said Brent, in a low, intent voice, bending to kiss him again with slow, searching sweeps of his tongue. 

Ooof. Right thing to say, Brent. 

This guy was dangerously smooth and easy, and entirely too good at kissing. Will found it increasingly difficult to think as Brent bit at his lips and lured him into venturing his tongue back into his visitor's mouth, which was heated, satiny, and pleasantly coffee-flavored. When Brent broke away and began to kiss and nuzzle the underside of his jaw, Will lifted his chin to allow better access, feeling his body going soft everywhere but his throbbing cock. 

Brent worked his way down the front of his throat, catching at his Adam’s apple lightly with teeth, tonguing the hollow between his clavicles, and then coming back up the side of his neck and tugging at his ear lobe. Will heard himself huffing in pleasure, shivering even as he felt his skin flush. He wondered at himself. He did not melt right down like this usually. Definitely not during a casual thing.

Brent lifted his head and surveyed Will’s response to him. “Oh, look at you. Damn. Look at that blush. You're gorgeous.”

To his frustration, Will felt himself blush harder, as if his skin was eager to please. 

Damn it.

This was not on the one-night stand script. A couple of broad compliments to get the ball rolling, “You’re so hot,” “Can’t wait to fuck you,” “You’ve got a really nice body…” Maybe something generic like, “You have pretty eyes.” That was expected. It wasn’t supposed to be about blushing. No one was supposed to use over-the-top adjectives like gorgeous.

“You smell like heaven, too,” added Brent, once again going off-script to inhale spots on Will’s neck and at the top of his head. 

Okay, weird. 

In point of fact, Will did not enjoy smelling like things. His body wash smelled faintly of sweetened oatmeal and nothing else, and his deodorant was unscented. He didn’t want to smell like sweaty human body or like any scent named for weapons or wild animals. 

He had a couple of bottles of nice cologne he’d gotten as gifts from exes. He’d worn whatever they’d given him from time to time to please them. Sometimes he splashed a little on for fancy occasions, but mostly it made his nose itch, so it gathered dust. So, while he was used to compliments on his face or body, he honestly didn’t think he’d ever been complimented on his smell. 

He was irritated to discover that he felt flattered. 

To get things back into his comfort zone and figuring they’d slowed down for long enough, he tugged at his wrist so Brent would let go and he could get his hand back inside Brent’s pants. Brent did not let go. Instead, he lifted Will’s hand to his shoulder and pressed it there, communicating that this was where he preferred to be touched for the time being. 

Will's brow creased in confusion. What had he done wrong? 

Who in the hell doesn’t want their dick touched during a hook-up?

It’s not like he’d been doing substandard work—he’d barely gotten started when Brent had caught his wrist. 

If Brent wanted to be touched somewhere else, though, Will was ready to be good, giving, and game. It was just that things were feeling strangely intimate for a quick hook-up. Considering how many places inside and outside of his body he was ready to let Brent thoroughly explore, intimate was maybe not the best word, but still. It was odd. 

Will's comfort zones for very temporary partners were apparently below the belt and above the collar. That was certainly where he’d spent the most time learning how to make a partner feel good. Below the belt, at least, was the area where the motive for a person's touch was utterly unambiguous, so Will's preferences made sense. No confusion. He wasn't sure he'd ever noticed this about himself before, though. He also wasn't sure it was a checkmark in the optimal emotional health column.

Feeling awkward, Will opened his hand, which had been loosely balled, and pressed his palm against the top of Brent’s shoulder. The firm muscles and heated skin beneath his hand made his eyes want to roll up as unease rapidly gave way to increased arousal. 

Nnngh. Nice. 

He experimentally ran his hand along the length of Brent’s shoulder and then gripped the swell of muscle in his upper arm. 

Ohhh, fuck. Very nice. Too nice. 

His head dropped back as Brent kissed him heatedly, making hoarse sounds that indicated that Will’s touch, although relatively chaste, was very, very pleasing to him. 

Okay, Brent, if that’s what you’re into, then we’ll do that. 

Will would have been willing to do a lot more than stroke a shoulder if it meant Brent would keep making those very motivational noises.

Selflessly, he lifted his other hand to the opposite shoulder and explored it, too. Then he ran them over Brent’s broad, lean back, feeling the strength of it, stroking the expanse of warm male skin with extravagant care, not missing an inch. Because that was what Brent was into. 

He slid a hand up the back of Brent’s neck, and into the velvety cropped hair at his hairline. He splayed his fingers to hold Brent’s head against him as Brent leaned him backwards against the cushions and tongued one of his nipples. Will grunted as Brent sucked the nub of dark skin and caught it in his teeth, pulling just hard enough to make Will gasp out a “Fuck!” of approval.