Joel Chriznek (tears4therandom) wrote in wagfanfiction,
Joel Chriznek

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My first foray into W&G fics. Tell me what you think, hmm? ♥

Title - Moonlight Serenade
Author - Noah Colum
Pairing - Will/Jack
Rating - M / NC-17
Warnings - Slash, Graphic Sex. One shot?
Disclaimers - Music rights controlled by Warner Brothers / Giant Records.
Spoilers - Vaguely, yes, from the yacht episodes.
Summary - In the drunken fog I can see you clearly.


Let's have another drink. I'll pour the wine — or is it scotch, I don’t know anymore — and we’ll toast to life, to love, to the drag queen at Baxter’s with an ass from heaven.

Suddenly all your stupid, superficial jokes are funny in the haze of the scotch — or is it wine? — which is a rather new experience. And suddenly you’re laughing right along with all my boring anecdotes of the legal field.

In the drunken fog I can see you clearly. When did you grow? When did you become a man? When did your voice cease to grate, when did it become soft, gentle?

“You should grow your hair out again,” you sigh. I’m momentarily surprised; it’s been ten years since I’ve worn my hair any longer than yours. I’m flattered.

You reach across my sofa to my arm, draped lazily across the back, unclasping my watch without a word. Holding it in front of your face, you twirl it slightly.

I love the way you’re fascinated by shiny objects.

“Remember when I bought this for you?” you ask. “It was for your thirtieth birthday. God, I must have saved up your money for months.”

Of course I remember. I remember every dismal song in each of your three shows. I remember the time you found love at the coffee shop. I remember the time we slept-together-but-didn’t on Karen’s yacht. I remember the words you almost said the day after, before Karen interrupted.

It’s funny. I’ve always assumed my lack of relationships was because of Grace. Now, with the clarity of mind that only alcohol can bring, I realize it’s because I’ve wanted you all along.

“Whasswrong with your face?” You’re looking at the colour rising in my cheeks. I quickly blame the booze and look away.

And something soft brushes my cheek. I turn to look at you as I hear you laugh softly. “Your stubble tickles my thumb,” you say.

I love you.

Whatever we’re drinking has run out. I’m embarrassed, but you put your hand on my knee as I try to stand up. “It’s fine, Will.” You shrug. “We’ll just have to make our own fun. “A sneaky grin crosses your face as you stand, dangling my watch in front of my face. I smile, making a grab for it. You dart away, around the couch toward my bedroom.

I’m in pursuit, stumbling across the floor, still holding the cheap wineglass. I burst through into my room, tossing the glass aside.

The high crack of the crystal can’t compete with your laughter as I grab your arms. I wrestle you for the watch, pinning your arms behind you, pulling you close in an effort to retrieve it.

Your breath is warm on my neck. I notice as you do, and as you backpedal you trip. We fall, tangled together on the hardwood, and suddenly your lips are on mine.

I’m surprised. I’m not surprised. I kiss you back, hungrily, and I feel your hands slide down my waist, fiercely rubbing my buttocks even as you gasp into my hungry mouth. Your long eyelashes flutter slightly beside my cheek as you slide your hands under my tight black shirt, pulling my hips into you.

I hear my front door open, and instantly we slide apart. I struggle to stand up as you curl into yourself instinctively.

I hear Grace babbling about something-or-other as she heads to the kitchen.

“…Don’t try to tell me you’re busy, because I’m all ready to watch a bunch of movies and eat seven tubs of ice cream.”

I rub my forehead, trying not to look guilty. She immediately catches on, but not quite enough to realize who exactly she’s thinking of. “You’ve got somebody in your bedroom, don’t you?”

I nod slowly, and in a moment she’s gone with a wink. I find it impossible to return to you. I can’t even bring myself to look at you, now that Grace has brought reality back into my apartment. I bury my hands in my face, waiting for the next move.

And your hands are on my shoulders, rubbing gently, kneading softly. “What did she want?”

I tell you, through the space between my fingers, that she wanted a ‘girl’s night’. You sigh, and I feel your lips drawing goosebumps from my neck. “Come back,” you breathe. I tell you I can’t do this.

You giggle softly, reaching your arms around my neck, slowly unbuttoning my shirt. You step around the couch, kneeling in front of me, sliding my shirt further open, tracing the curves of my chest. I stare into the ceiling as I feel you loosen my belt. Then, as your hands leave my body, I look back at you. You’re sliding your faded Xanadu tee over your shoulders. I watch as you toss it aside to land in a pile by my dining room table.

You’ve become tanner. Your smooth chest, still as boyish as our college days, is perfect to me. How have I ignored you all these years?

You lean forward again, tugging at the bottoms on my favourite jeans. I can feel them growing tighter even as your fingers pry the buttons apart, revealing my soft red boxer-briefs.

I see the excitement behind your eyes, and I realize that we’ve never been this close, never been this desperately close to one another, physically, emotionally.

I shift my legs, allowing you to pull the jeans to the floor. You slide your own khakis off, stepping out of the legs, your eyes never leaving mine. You slip into my lap as I catch a glimpse of your arousal, hidden behind your snow-white underwear.

You trace my lips with a finger, smiling as you drape your other arm around my shoulders. I scoop you into my arms, carrying your light body to my bedroom.

You giggle as I lay you across my bed, climbing on top of you, grinding my hips into yours, pressing our stiffened cocks together through the thin barrier of cotton. I feel your hand slip past my waistband; I groan into your mouth as you wrap your hand around my erection, slowly massaging with a playful, teasing grasp. I whisper some half-baked quip about nursing school to nobody in particular as I feel you slide the crimson fabric down.

I obediently kick them away once you can’t reach any further. You make some half-baked quip about my amount of time without practice to nobody in particular, as I lift myself off you, as you struggle with your own underwear.

The last time we were naked in bed together was on that cruise; then, however, you weren’t clinging to me, I wasn’t holding on tight, we weren’t about to do what we’re about to do.

Shall you, or shall I? I prop myself on my elbows, asking the question with my eyes. You answer with your legs; grabbing your knees and pulling up as I slide to my left, I reach for the bottle of K-Y I’d stolen from Grace’s nightstand and kept ever since.

Do I know how to do this? I’m usually in your position. I drip a little on my fingers, spreading it across myself a little cautiously. Satisfied, I prepare to go where I never thought I would. I push, and it’s harder than I thought it would be to get through.

I’m new at this angle; forgive me, Jack. Kiss me and tell me it will be all right. Talk me through this before we fall asleep in each other’s arms.

My alarm clock, apparently set from the day before, launched us awake at exactly 5:45 AM to the subtle strains of swing music. It’s the CD Grace bought when she thought I was into Big Band.

Stars are aglow, and tonight, how the light sets me dreaming
My love, do you know that your eyes are like stars, brightly beaming?

I hated this song until you were here to share it with me. You stir as the man croons, and your eyes open.

Your hair is a mess. I love you. The sun isn’t up, but I can see your eyes shining.

“G’morning, Will, I love you.” There’s a smile on your face. Not a smirk, not a simper, but a genuine smile. That’s something I haven’t seen since your high-school years.

I kiss you softly. I love you, too.

…So don’t make me wait, come to me tenderly in the June light
I stand at your gate and I sing you a song in the moonlight
A love song, my darling
A moonlight serenade…
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