They're away from their parents' eyes now, hidden up in the tree house. Now, thinks Will, Sam can be as high as he likes. He's taking the two sleeping bags and zipping them together, creating one giant sleeping bag the both of them will fit in easily. He's constantly making sure Sam doesn't get too near the doorway of the tree house. He could fall too easily.

Sam's wandered into a corner to keep out of the way, watching Will's shoulders move as he fixes the sleeping bags together. He's got a stomach full of lasagna and a brain full of something else and he's feeling very warm and a bit joyful at the moment. He's crouched in the low quarters. It's uncomfortable, so he gives up and drops to his knees. He crawls over to Will, crawling across the sleeping bags. "I brought comics up here, too." He grins.

"I saw those," says Will, smiling at Sam and then lying back on the sleeping bags, over his finished work. "And the candy too." He's so comfortable it's like he's never been gone. He has a pair of flip flops in the corner of the tree house, which is smaller than he remembered but still spacious enough for the both of them to move around in.

"Did you?" Sam lies down on his side beside him, head propped up on the palm of his hand. His eyes wander over Will's face. He doesn't feel quite so lightheaded now. Not quite so dizzy and hazy. The food likely helped, or his high is wearing off. Either way, he still feels amazingly lovely. Kiss me. "I was afraid it would melt. It's been up here most of the day." Kiss me.

"It looks alright," Will says, angling his face towards Sam's. "I think. We could always try it to be sure." Kissing Coleridge when his lips are flavored like candy. It's a very nice thought.

He's not kissing him yet. Maybe Sam should just outright ask. But that would be rather tarty of him. He sits up and leans over Will, reaching for the shopping bag of candy. Oh. Half on top of Will. Lovely. "What would you like?"

You. Half on top of Will. Yes. Will has noticed. "The gummy worms," he says. "I'd also like to know who thinks up what animals to turn into gummies. I'd also also like to know who thought up the word gummy, because when you say it too many times in your head, it sounds rather weird."

Sam grabs the bag of gummy worms and sits back on his heels. "Probably the Germans." He tears the bag open with his teeth. "They're a very strange people, I think. Farfeg... farfeg... nugen." He nods sagely and pulls a gummy out of the bag. He grins, then. It's one of his sparkly ones. He puts the gummy between his lips and tries to suck it up. He holds the bag out to Will.

Will laughs, taking one of the worms and dropping it into his mouth. "You know, I think I did see a Gummy specialty shop in Germany," he says. "Meanwhile, I hadn't even connected the two, apparently the experience was wasted on me. He chews and swallows. He'd been careful to take a red and white worm. His favorite.

Sam's is green and yellow. He hardly ever takes the time to look before he takes. He puts his faith in God for that sort of thing. He takes another gummy and bites its head of. Or... tail. Hard to tell. "Germany. Did you see the castles?" Also... kiss me. "I would love to see the castles."

"Oh, god yes," says Will. "I saw so many castles, and you never get sick of them, actually." He'd like the conversation to wind down. Give them a chance to get close again. But at the same time he wants to talk about his trip, and that's all Sam is asking for too. "I've got pictures you can see, but they don't compare."

"I can only imagine." He says it around half a worm. Sam tips his head to the side and sighs a little. "Some day. Some day, I'll actually make it out of this country and see something worth writing about. Someday it'll be more than daydreaming." His eyes have wandered to Will's chest for some reason. He reaches out and touches it, tracing a finger along his sternum like it's a line on a map.

Will looks down at Sam's hand, then back up to his face. When Sam's looking away like that he really gets a chance to view the lines of it. The set of his eyes and the shape of his lips. "What is it?" he whispers, like some secret only to be shared between them.

Sam doesn't look at his eyes right away. His finger traces down, down to Will's stomach. His fingers spread out, fingertips barely touching. Just heavy enough to feel. "There are just a lot of things I'd like to see." He draws them in together and his eyes go back up to Will's.

Will looks at Sam. His mouth is a bit dry. Normally he doesn't get like this about people. "Sam, you've seen me shirtless before," he says. And his eyebrows take on that innocent raise again, and he thinks he'd definitely be willing to take his shirt off for Sam again.

"No. Not you. Not you now." He looks down at Will's stomach again and tips his head a bit to the side. "Year-and-a-half-ago you." His fingers spread apart again and his thumb traces a line down the center of Will's stomach. He curls his lower lip between his teeth, tongue barely, briefly slipping out and he glances back up at Will's eyes with a little smile.

Will understands it. The curiosity about bodies. They're bloody interesting. The same general form can be manipulated so many ways. He's familiar with this curiosity. Knows it himself. Bodies. How they work. How they work with yours. Boy-bodies interesting because your own is one, and you always wonder what another's looks like. If it's better or not as good or just different and it’s amazing because of that. Different muscles are pronounced. And lord knows one is always thinking about sizes of things. Then girl-bodies you know are so different with special curves that are sort of overwhelming and fantastic. And that's only beneath the clothes. There are things like shoulders and hands and yes, he understands body-curiosity. Is touched by it now. Wants to see Sam's, all of it. See how things have changed and... But he isn't sure he can. Sam's still fairly drugged. He just doesn't know. "Here," he says, and he reaches down, past Sam's hand, and grabs the edges of his shirt, pulling it off over his head. He doesn't know, really, what Sam will see. What Sam will think of it all.

Sam's eyes are lowered again. Back to Will's body. Bare now, from the waist up. He's changed a little. Harder lines. A little more carved. A little more beautiful in a different sort of way. His body is different than Sam's, Sam's own being his largest frame of reference. But he could learn this one. He could learn the curves and the planes and the lines of it, if he studies hard enough. He's a quick learner. There are primal ways, basic ways to learn about something new. Babies understand it. Touch. They put everything in their mouths to learn the shape of it. It's all so basic and natural, and before Sam can think of it, before he wants to do otherwise, he lowers his face, bends low, and slides a light, testing tongue against Will's nipple, fingertips light on his side.

Will doesn't register the sound he makes as really coming from him. Oh Sam. He wants it, but can he have it? He should push Sam away but his body is hardening so quickly that it isn't so easy. Oh god he'd like their first time together to be up here. To be today. Now. But Sam is still sort of high and... is he really? This is something he wanted and is now just loose enough to accept. The high is wearing off by now, right? Right. "Sam..." It's a desperate, longing request. And a question and a warning and Will needs to be able to control himself but he isn't sure he can. He isn't sure he can withstand the power of his own passions.

His mouth has moved on, lips brushing against Will's skin. The better to learn him. He reaches Will's throat in time to feel the vibration of his name under his lips and slides his tongue against the hollow of his throat-- the notch between his collarbones. He lifts his face and looks down at Will, leaning over him a bit. One hand is pressed to the sleeping bag beside Will's head. The other is drifting along his stomach. "Mmhmm?" His blue eyes are bright. A little dreamy. He studies Will's face.

He wants Sam to go on. He wants to kiss him. One kiss, and then he'll tell Sam they can't. Not today, like this. His hand is on Sam's neck and he lifts his face, pushing a kiss against Sam's lips, and it was a bad idea because now he wants him even more. "Oh god Sam," he says, because Sam was never supposed to be sexy. He wasn't supposed to be an object of desire. But now the desire is raging through Will and he doesn't know how to stop it. He's never had to before.

Sam catches the last word against his mouth. His name. Will's lips are sweet and catches at the bottom one. Lets it loose to whisper against it. "Yes, Will?" Another kiss. So good. He's kneeling beside Will, leaning on his hands, bent over him. His mouth breaks with Will's and he shifts, mouths meeting again from a different angle. His tongue touches against his-- the lightest glance. He moves. One leg slides over Will. His hands press down on either side of him, calves pressing against his hips. Straddling him.

And what would Will say in the morning when Sam comes to again? I'm sorry, but you were asking for it? Claim that he didn't realize Sam was high? He did. He knows he is. And there's a conflict of thoughts because their hips are so close, and this is something Sam wants when he's sober but can't actualize and that would make it okay, right? No. Not alright. You should take advantage of me, Sam has said, but Will can't. His hands push against Sam's shoulders, not roughly, but away from his lips. "Sam, I can't do this to you," he says. And he's scared of how Sam is going to react to that but it's all he can do.

Sam's head stays bowed, neck bent, trying to keep contact with Will's mouth even as he pushes him away. Eventually, he yields and lets Will push him away. He looks down at him, trying to make his brain wrap around the words and make them make sense. His cheeks are colored faintly. He licks his lips. Sugar and Will. "Do... do what to me?" His voice is a little breathless.

Will is pretty sure something in him dies. A little bit or a lot, he can't tell. He was afraid of this. That Sam would look hurt and confused like this. "This," says Will, his voice much the same as Sam's. "I can't kiss you like it's alright when you're-- you're not really here. You're high and it wouldn't be right." It's such a strain to say. His body is asking to be satisfied but he can't do it. Oh god he's never had to do this before.

Sam's eyes drift down to Will's mouth. "But... Will." He looks back up at Will's eyes. "I am here. I'm right here." He leans down, pinning Will's hands between them, shoulder blades arching back sharply. "Promise." It's whispered. A faint brush of his lips. Touch me. I won't fade away. He doesn't want to stop. He doesn't know exactly what he wants. He's not thinking of it. All he knows is he doesn't want it to be over yet.

This can't get any more difficult, Will is fairly sure. He doesn't want to fight Sam off. He really doesn't. "Your body is here," says Will. He can't stand having to say this. It's so tempting to just give up. Give in. "Your body's here but you aren't. You're high. You know that, right? I can't touch you when you're high. I want to, but I can't, okay?"

Sam pulls back again, looking down at him. His lips are parted. Flushed. He closes his mouth. Bites his lower lip. "I just wanted to..." He looks down, eyelids lowered. He sits up, sitting back, settling against Will's hips without really thinking about it. "Okay." He sounds a little chastened. The boy sent to the corner.

Will really, really hates himself right now. Sam looks rejected and he's settled against a good-but-not-so-good spot. But he'd hate himself more if he pursued the other option. "Sam, I do want to kiss you," says Will. He thinks that much should be rather obvious. "But I want it to be you. All you."

"Mmhmm." Sam's eyes flick back up to Will's and he gives a little nod. A faint, wavery smile. He looks down again and shifts, moving off of Will, sitting beside him, pulling his legs up. He wraps his arms around his knees. He was feeling so good. Now he feels a little down. Dreary. Will says he wants to, but he's not going to, and it's a bad argument in Sam's head. Will's usually right. But Will's half-dressed and Sam's fully dressed and it's not Will who's taking advantage of anything, and it was so nice, and it was so right, and now... Sam picks at a scrap of skin on his lower lip with his teeth.

And now he's ruined the evening. Will doesn't want to have a bad touch like this to the evening. He's trying to calm his beating heart, and he looks at Sam, then nudges the gummy worms towards him. "Have another worm," he says. "I'm doing this because I love you, because you're my best friend," says Will. "Okay?" Please be okay.

"Mmhmm." Sam looks at Will and smiles, and it's tragically brilliant. "I love you, too." He reaches for another worm. Draws it out of the bag. He puts it in his mouth and then draws it out again so that it gleams like a jewel and then chews on one end. Red and white. Tastes a bit like Will's mouth. Will hadn't even asked to see him. For him to take his shirt off. Silly. Sam nudges a spot on the sleeping bag with his toe. Silly Sam.

Will had wanted to. Will had really wanted to. Will takes a worm. Red and orange. He likes those ones too. He always has. He wishes that Sam were sober or that he were high too. He doesn't have anything and he feels lost without it. He doesn't have any weed at home because he's just come back and he doesn't have the kind of prescriptions Sam has. He lies on his back and absently chews his worm and looks at the roof. "I wonder what tonight would be like if you weren't all drugged," he muses.

"I'm sorry." He says it around the end of the worm, a bit sullen. Will doesn't want him. He says he does. But he doesn't. He curls his toes. There's a stash of pot under a loose board in the corner. Not very much left. And there are more pills stuffed in his pillowcase up against the wall, along with his pajamas. He could offer them. But it was kind of a stupid idea in the first place. "I thought it would help."

"No, don't be sorry," says Will. "You just... do what you do." God knows they do both like their drugs. Will sits up, slides closer to Sam and leans his head against Sam's shoulder. "Smile for me again, Sam. Don't be sorry. Why did you think it would be a help?"

Sam tips his cheek against the top of Will's head and closes his eyes. "Help me stop thinking too much. Worrying about things. Just let me do what I want to do without my brain getting in the way." He brushes his cheek against Will's hair. He's quiet for a moment. And then-- it's hardly above a whisper. "You should stop thinking too much."

He's so conflicted. Sam had taken the pills because he wanted this to happen, but it would be wrong of Will to do this because of the effect the pills have. And if he follows up on this new offer its a choice he made sober for a certain end that would only happen and--Sam's right. He's thinking too much, and really, really needs to stop. "I do," he says, letting out a sigh. "You happen to have any ideas?"

Sam lifts his head. If Will takes something now, Sam will be sober while he's still high. They'll miss each other. Timing's off. He can already feel it clearing out of his veins a bit, leaving him tired and a little less euphoric. He could take another half, maybe. A little nibble. He sighs, an echo of Will's. "Little ones in pressed-powder form. You don't have to. We could just go to sleep." Options.


"Well where's the fun in that?" he asks. "I could go for some, but only if you want me to." Only if you aren't scared of what I may end up doing to you. His arm wraps slowly around Sam's stomach, a sort of hug. A sort of touch.

Sam closes his eyes at the touch. He raises his hand, slides it along Will's arm. There's a little flutter in his stomach again. Just a touch, but that's all it seems to take. He thinks it for a moment. Weighs his options. He turns his face and presses a kiss to the top of Will's head. "What do you want?"


"Not to go in circles anymore," says Will with a weak laugh. To kiss you and touch you and have you. "I'd like to try it." He doesn't want to take all of Sam's pills, but the doctor will just give him more. "I'd like to not think so much for a few moments."

There's an agonizing moment in which Sam considers pulling away. And then he actually does it and it's as bad as he'd thought it was going to be. He crawls toward his pillowcase and opens it. Reaches down into the corner of it. He gropes around for a moment, and then his hand emerges with a pill bottle in its palm. He glances over his shoulder at Will, twisting the bottle open, and then looks back down. He spills some of the pills into his palm, picks one, and puts the rest back. He crawls back to Will and sits back on his heels, kneeling beside him, facing him. His eyes travel over his face. A smile, brighter than the ones before. He bites his lower lip and holds the pill up between his thumb and forefinger.

He's still sober and almost shouldn't, but Will leans forward, lips closing around the pill and the tips of Sam's fingers. Euphemistic, he thinks. And he pulls away again and dry-swallows, then smiles at Sam. "That wasn't so bad," he says. "Is one enough? What kind of feeling do they give?" He's feeling pleasanter already for having taken it, even if there's no way it could've hit him yet. "And you're still feeling it?"

"Mm." Sam shakes his head, watching Will's mouth. He curls his fingers into his palm and his eyes go up to Will's. "Not so heavily anymore. But I suppose it's still there. Must be." He smiles again-- quick and brilliant. "One should be enough. Two might be too much." Will's consciousness is pretty important just now. "And if it's not, there's always more." He looks down at Will's mouth again. Lower. The planes of his chest. Shame on him. "You'll get tired pretty quickly, but if you don't let yourself fall asleep, it will go. And then you'll feel a little lighter, a little more free, a little happier. A little..." His eyes to back up to Will's. He bites his lip. "Don't go too far, okay? Don't go too far away. I want you here."

Will closes his eyes. Already Sam's words are slower and heavier to his ears. And after a long moment it seems to take an effort to open his eyes again. He smiles. Yes, this is better. This is undoubtedly better. "I'll stay," says Will, though he isn't positive of it. He closes his eyes again and opens them. "Have I changed? Since the year and a half? Does it all look that different?" Wrong order of words. 'Look all that different' compared to 'all look that different.' All. Sam hasn't seen all yet, so Will thinks the question inappropriate, since Sam can't quite answer properly, which is surely a problem.

"I can't say." Sam's eyes drift back down to his chest. He wants to touch him again. Taste him again. But Will had stopped him before and he might again, so he slides his hands along the thighs of his own jeans. "I've never looked at you from this side of things before." He's never wanted to touch him so badly before. He was always touching. Always affectionate. But this is different. This is his mouth. His tongue, aching to trace the line of his ribs. His fingertips wanting to trace that fine, faint line of hair that's drawn down from his belly button. Sam blushes-- that faint, prickling flush to his cheeks and he bows his head, looking down at his knees with a faint smile on his face.

"What is it?" asks Will, and he lies back again, because it is so comfortable and he can look up at Sam and he still looks beautiful from this angle. "We don't have to stop," he says. He doesn't really register any of the words that come out of his mouth. They are just words strung together that happen to have meanings he's not paying attention to. "Not if you don't want to. I want you to want--" No. He starts over. "I want what you want." One of his own hands, which feel big and heavy but graceful, rests on the drawstring of the shorts he wears. They seem more blue in the moonlight then ever before.

"Do you?" Sam's heart flutters and his cheeks darken slightly. Because if Will wants what he wants, then Will wants to be touched. He wants to touch. He wants to unwrap and discover and learn inch by inch. Sam's eyes are still lowered. He licks his lips and looks up a bit, eyes tracing along Will's arm to his hand.

Will is trying to meet Sam's eyes, but he can't from this angle. "Yes," he says. He wants Sam to be satisfied and comfortable, and yes, he yearns to be touched. Wants Sam to be happy, and wants Sam to find that happiness in Will. "You can ask anything of me," he says. He thinks the sentence makes sense. It might be outdated. He isn't positive, but he's sure it's coherent.

Sam's eyes flick up to Will's. Holds them for a moment. He looks back down at Will's body. He reaches out a hand, almost hesitant. His fingertips brush against Will's sternum. Trace lower. He brushes the curve of his thumb against Will's navel and leans forward, bending down. He presses a kiss, warm and full against Will's chest. A flash of his tongue.

There's another flash of heat through Will's stomach. He wonders if Sam will notice. If Sam's tongue will be burnt against his scorching flesh. He won't tell Sam to stop now. He'll let Sam's mouth continue to discover his body, and when Sam is satisfied it will be Will's turn. To see and touch. He moves his hands away, above his head, giving Sam full access to his prone body.

His fingertips trace down the dark line of hair, fingers curved. Kisses to Will's ribs. His breath is hot against his skin. He closes his eyes and brushes his nose softly along Will's skin. A faint brush of his mouth, nerves sparking. His fingertips reach the waistband of Will's shorts and stop. A pause, and then he slides his fingertips under the fabric, pulling it down the slightest bit. He shifts, jeans making a soft noise against the sleeping bag. He presses a kiss to Will's hip.

Will still isn't stopping him. He isn't going to stop him. His head tips back, lips parted, his skin heavy like gold where Sam's lips have touched. He doesn't say Sam's name again. He lets out a low moan, from the back of his throat and passing between his lips, beautiful.

Oh God. That sound, and Sam had coaxed it from him. It makes his cheeks flush again. He bites Will's hip softly, a bare press of his teeth and then it's gone, chased by a slow stroke of his tongue. His fingers are on the waistband of the shorts, fingertips just curved under it. He pulls them a little lower. Another half an inch of skin to touch. Another kiss, low on his abdomen.

Blood is rushing through his body quicker than it has any right to and makes Will's head feel all dizzy and confused. Over-turned and upside-down. He wants Sam to see him bare. Sam and his ridiculous, sexy, brilliant, amazing oral fixation. Will doesn't mind it. That's a lie. Will really likes it. Anticipates it, now. Burns for it.

Sam lets go of the waist band and slides his fingers to the tie there. He tugs on it slowly, pulling it loose, dropping the end of the string. He sits up and licks his lips without thinking about it. They're faintly flushed. His eyes are still lowered, lashes dark on his cheeks. His fingers move back to the waistband of Will's shorts. Both hands now. He slides his fingers beneath the fabric at Will's hips and pulls down softly. Testing. He looks up at Will's eyes.

Will meets Sam's eyes, then lifts his hips, just enough, to let him slide the shorts away. He doesn't speak. He doesn't break this beautiful enchantment upon them. Sam is a golden idol with lips made of rubies, eyes of sapphire. Sam is a beautiful sacred thing and the fact that they are crossing new lines he'd never thought of with Sam before isn't registering. His head falls in a single nod.

Sam doesn't think about the lines they're crossing. He's too caught up in the moment-- too wrapped up in the now to think of what might happen after. He just wants to see. He wants to know. He wants to look at all of Will with these new eyes he has and memorize him. Every line. His hands tug down again, sliding the shorts down over Will's hips. Lower. He shifts on the floor of the tree house, eyes leaving Will's to look down again. The shorts come off. Are left abandoned near Will's feet. And now here he is. All of him. Bare and beautiful and perfect and it stops Sam's breath in his throat. His eyes are worshipful. Adoring.

He's been bare like this before for others. His body an offering. But with Sam it takes on a new meaning. This new discovery altogether. This uncharted territory, even though he's been the world over there are still new places to find. To journey to. His eyelids are heavy and there's a languid smile on his face, shifting one of his legs to the side, bent a little at the knee. He doesn't need any words from Sam. It's like he knows them, hanging in the air, and it is enough. It is all he needs.

Sam's eyes go to the knee, caught by the movement. His gaze travels upward, up the inside of Will's thigh. There's a stirring somewhere in his stomach, a tightening. Heat between his hips. He licks his lips again. He reaches for Will, fingertips light on his thigh. Barely pressing. He leans down. There's a moment of hesitation. Barely there. And then his lips part and it's more than a kiss. The taste of Will against his tongue. The feel of him in his mouth. He doesn't know what he's doing, and he never thought he would, but his mouth is light and it's how he would want to be touched. Will wants what he wants.

Another moan escapes Will's lips. Sam's ruby mouth closed around him. His lips are taking them away. The drugs infusing solidly with his brain, his imagination. Sam's lips are the gateway to a secret world. Will's eyes drift close, and when they open again he knows that's where he must be. A world where the sweat beads against his skin and no one else will come to find them. Pleasure reigns and a butterfly on the window sill flaps its wings. "Oh Sam..." Another murmur.

Sam lifts his head, a bit breathless, mouth breaking contact. He shifts, sliding a leg over one of Will's so that his thigh is between his, and leans over him to catch at his mouth. Light, like it was before, and then deepening. "Will." It's whispered, hot against Will's mouth. Another kiss. Sam's still dressed. The fabric of his clothes drags against Will's bare skin.

It's so strange. That mouth. Will wonders if Sam realizes. Realizes that they are in another world and could be stuck here for eternity. Will's fingers trace along Sam's jaw, and he kisses back. "Let me undress you, Sam," whispers Will. "Let me see you." His hands are already against the fabric of Sam's shirt, ready to pull it away if Sam says yes.

It burns in Sam's veins. Let me see you. He wants to see. And Sam wants to be seen. So much. It's nothing like anything he's felt before. A dull, throbbing ache that matches with his heartbeat. "Yes." It's almost lost against Will's mouth. "Will. Yes."

His hands slide the shirt off of Sam's torso, over his head, and he isn't sure if it was slow or fast. If he had drawn it out or if hadn't been able to wait. But Sam is above him, and Will, pulls away, stops kissing him for a moment so that he can look. His hands are on Sam's chest, thumbs following over lines, circling around nipples, and then he's reciprocating; bringing his lips to Sam's throat, pushing them up again, Will sitting and Sam straddled above him, jeans against his thighs.

Sam makes a soft, catching sound. He doesn't tip his head or arch his neck. He lets Will's head determine the angle of his jaw, moving with his nudges. His hands are on Will's shoulders, eyes closed. Hands and lips and Will's name on his mouth,

Will moves with partial-curiosity, partial-hunger. His hands unfasten Sam's jeans, pull them open and down a shade, then stop. He moves back, looking at Sam. Looking into Sam's eyes. The stars are caught in them. He kisses Sam's mouth again.

Sam's mouth opens against his. Willing. He feels flushed and warm and it's more than the air around them. It's everything. It's Will. His mouth's movements against his are slow as honey. His hips shift forward the slightest bit. He raises up on his knees just a touch and then sinks back down. Oh, he aches.

His tongue tangles with Sam's and his fingers find their way below the two separate layers of fabric, pushing it down. He shifts, kneeling now in front of Sam, and they are both so close to bare and he can't stop kissing him. But he wants to look. Sam's muscles more defined than Will's. He pulls back, his fingers tracing over skin again.

Sam's eyes are on Will, mouth parted and flushed, breath a bit ragged. He looks at Will look at him. He raises his hands, touching Will's jaw and then letting them fall again. Letting Will see. His touch makes his stomach tighten and his eyes fall away from Will's face, lowering almost shyly.

"Lie down, Sam," says Will, and he places a kiss to Sam's jaw, just below his ear. "It's your turn now." It feels like they've grown up an awful lot in such a short time. Sam's body has become some sculpted thing of beauty.

Sam turns his face slightly toward Will's mouth, following its heat. His eyes drift closed. He moves, shifting, lying back. Never before, but it will be alright. He arches an arm over his head, over the edge of the sleeping bag, knuckles dragging against the gritty floor.

The jeans are moved over with the shorts, and then Will drags the back of his fingers against Sam's leg, up to his hip, and his thumb slides along the hipbone there. His hand closes around Sam, and his tongue darts out for a testing lick, looking up again for Sam's reaction. He's got no reservations to hold back, and his hand moves away; his mouth takes over.

"OhGod." It's caught on a rushed breath. Will's stealing his breath right out of him. Sam's fingers curl into his palm and his hips rise against Will's touch, feet sliding against the sleeping bag. The fingers of his other hand curl against the slick fabric and he lets out a soft cry, pressing up against the heat of Will's mouth.

It pleases Will to no end to hear that from Sam. They could be as vocal as they wished and no one would hear them in this world of theirs. A world where the two boys, naked and lying in a tree house of their youth, mouths more intimate than ever before, will be at peace together. His mind is not concentrated on any end for this. It's just his mouth and Sam's body and that is all that is important. All that is special to the world.

And he is vocal. He never knew he would be, but Will's name keeps falling from his mouth, chased by soft moans, catching noises. He can hardly breathe. He shouldn't need to. And another word, mixed in with Will's name. Yes. Again and again and he can hardly hear himself over the blood rushing through his veins. Yes.

He's encouraged. Will doesn't break away. He works harder. His tongue-- his hands. His dire need to please Sam and satisfy him. His tongue is find Sam's most sensitive spots. Agitating and relieving all at once.

Sam's heels slide against the sleeping bag, searching for some kind of grip. Something to hold on to. But there's nothing. It's a slippery slope and Will is pushing him faster and harder and it burns like it should hurt and it doesn't. Sam's breath is broken in his mouth, raking in his throat. "Will." Another cry, louder. Fire, ripping through him, scorching his skin from the inside and swallowing him whole. He doesn't even hear the rough shout that comes from his throat. He barely feels himself arch up off of the floor. Fire. Blood pounding in his ears, pleasure ripping through him and of course it would be Will. It was always meant to be Will.

His lips don't part till it's over--really over. And when they do he crawls forward, arms cradling Sam and keeping him close, and he presses kisses to the side of Sam's face, eyes closed gently and lips soft and puffy. "See how I love you, Sam." It's the easiest thing in the world to say.

He's coming back together bit by bit. It's like waking up after drowning. His body is damp. Slick. Waves of pleasure are still lapping at his edges. He may as well have dove to the bottom of the sea. He slides his arms around Will, holding on to him, digging a hand up through his hair. "I see." It's breathless, barely a whisper. "I see."

"Has it ever happened before?" he asks Sam, his voice the quietest whisper in the night. "While I was gone, was there ever anyone who...?" He must not feel jealous if there was. Will is not a creature of jealousy. He will see who he wants when he wants. Jealousy does not need to exist in Will’s world, but he's afraid it could

Sam shakes his head slightly before he can remember the words. "No." He licks his lips. His mouth is dry from panting. "No. That's never..." He slides his hands down Will's back. "Never like this."

Never lying together and bare in a tree house above the rest of the world and away from it. Never like this for Will either, but he's had experience. Experiences. Quite a few, and some rather strange ones too. He doesn't need to think about them today so he lets his mind wind down. He feels very happy and isn't sure whether to blame it on meds or situation. "It can be like this again, sometime." He tilts his chin up, looking at Sam. "If you want it to."

Sam opens his eyes, staring at the ceiling. He shifts, sliding against Will a bit. It sends another jolt through his bones and moans faintly, eyes shutting for a moment. "Yes." He smiles faintly. Save it for special times. He opens his eyes after a moment and looks down at Will as best he can. "Do you?"

Will swallows, then smiles. Good god yes. "Yes," he whispers. "More than anything right now. "

Sam closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the sleeping bag. "Anything?" There's a smile on his face. He shifts again and he reaches down, sliding a hand between them. He makes a soft noise as his hand finds Will. "Anything?" His tongue is between his teeth.

Nothing. Anything. This is everything. "Anythingjustdon'tstop," he manages. He arches under Sam's hand. Places they've never been before. He's done wild things but nothing that equals this. Heavy with drugs on his mind and the jeweled sky above them the emerald leaves of the tree Sam's hands. Sam's glorious hands and his naked body next to his. Will's thoughts lose coherency.

A moment ago, he'd been lost. Broken into a thousand pieces. His mind is focused now. Fuzzy and hazy but sharp in the center. His hand on Will. Will's reaction. Sam's mouth parts. He makes a soft, warm sound and then pushes Will off of him gently, pushing him onto his back. He's beside him, half on top of him, leg between his and hand moving again. Circling and drawing. He presses a kiss to Will's shoulder and he doesn't wonder if he's doing it right, because Will's body is telling him he is.

Telling him he couldn't be doing it much better. His head turns, mouth open against Sam's warm skin. "Sam..." Again. Worked up, worked up, and then sudden and almost unexpected he's letting loose. The stars in the skies, in their eyes, have multiplied. Yes, Sam is doing everything right. Sam is perfect and Will would not have anyone but Sam in this moment. He pants and it is because of Sam.

It catches Sam by surprise. He makes a noise against Will's ear, pleased. He presses a kiss there. Another kiss against the corner of Will's mouth. He's pressed against Will's hip and his hand loosens. Slows. Drawing it out for as long as he can. First times and crossed lines. He kisses Will's lower lip and smiles softly, lifting his face to look down at him.

His eyelids are heavy again, half-closed with the drugs and euphoria. Another smile. "This was definitely better," he murmurs, "than any coming home party I could have imagined."

Sam's smile fades slightly. His eyes lower. For a moment he's reminded how unexpected it is. How unplanned. He bites his lower lip softly and drops his forehead to Will's shoulder, hand leaving him. He curls up against him and closes his eyes. "I love you, Will."

"Sam." Will says it against Sam's hair. "I love you, Sam."