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Living in a house with his two best friends was fun most of the time, it was nice being able to get their work done without shipping hard drives halfway across the country and it was even better being able to do the live action work more often. What wasn’t so fun though was the lack of personal space, sure their bedrooms were all of a decent size but the walls were thin and that meant that the only viable time to be able to ‘relieve some stress’ was either in the dead of night when the others were asleep, upstairs or in the shower.
The shower of course provided its own problems, namely that if either of his housemates were in their rooms that the sounds still travelled and he would have to be quieter than the sound of the running water.
Trott was out for the weekend, going back home to see family leaving Ross and Smith to finish editing content over the break in filming.
“Mate you've been in there for AGES, I need a piss.” Smith’s whine carries through the thin wooden door making Ross stop mid movement.
“Two minutes!” Ross calls, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as panicked as he feels.
Smith slaps his palm to the door a few times. “Come on mate.”
Ross hurriedly rinses himself off, trying desperately to think of the least arousing things he can as he shuts the shower off and wraps a towel around his hips, giving his own member a death stare. He had been so close when Smith had interrupted him and getting himself to calm down was presenting a bit of a problem.
Looking down at himself he tries to slow his breathing. “Fucking- Swimming pool full of cacti, Boris Johnson sucking off David Cameron, The Queen, Prince Phillip, Prince Phillip doing The Queen-” Ross mumbles to himself, trying to picture the scenes in his head before moving on to more things to try and kill his boner. “The merch goblin, Memory foam mattress or-” No that didn't work, thinking about beds with Smith right outside was not helping the situation. Smith was in his head now.
This wasn't helping.
“Ross!” Smith’s voice begs. “If you don't fucking get out of there in the next ten seconds I am going to piss in the sink downstairs.”
Ross, flustered, opens the door with his hair stuck to his forehead and tries not to breathe too heavily. He looks as if he has just ran a marathon. Smith makes a scrunched up face and barges in not even bothering to close the door as the sound of liquid splashing into liquid floats out of the room, into the hallway, successfully doing what Ross had not been able to manage and causing the towel to now lay flat against his legs.
Smith appears moments later, reaching out and grabbing at the bottom of the towel still wrapped around Ross to dry his hands. “Cheers mate.” Smith grins.
The tent in the towel was back, and Ross was defeated. Fuck.
“Ross? Mate?” Smith licks his lips, waving a hand in front of Ross’ far-off look. His eyes look glazed over, and he's looking right over Smith’s shoulder.
Smith’s hand brushes Ross’ shoulder as he tries to get the other man's attention, Ross’ eyes snap into focus, boring into Smith’s with his pupils blown wide and breathing ragged.
“Ross mate you look like you’ve-” Smith winces as he is shoved against the wall, head hitting against the plasterboard heavily. He’s caught with his eyes squeezed closed and his mouth wide open, reaching a hand up to the back of his head when his space is invaded by Ross, hands either side of Smith’s head and lips, wide open against Smith’s. Ross’ body presses against Smith’s- traps him- and Smith’s hand settles to rest on the back of the slightly shorter man’s neck, the other hand pressed against the damp skin of Ross’ hip where his towel has slipped down.
Ross’ breath is still ragged against Smith’s top lip, and he winces at the auburn haired man’s stubble stabbing into his chin. He doesn't say anything though, scared to ruin the moment. Smith’s leg is in between Ross’ bare ones, and he doesn't try to escape even as Ross pulls back from the kiss.
Smith clears his throat, trying to formulate some kind of coherent sentence in his head. “You-” He tries, but falls silent again.
Ross bends his neck down so he doesn’t have to look at Smith, the crown of his head pushed against Smith’s chest, soaking through the material of his T shirt.
Smith leans his head back to rest against the wall, hand still on Ross’ hip. “That was-” Smith says, taking a breath. “-Fuck.”
Ross nods against him, slowly coming back to his senses and lifting his head, his face heating up into a rosy blush that spreads down his neck and across his chest.
Smith feels something poke into his hip. Ross licks at his lips, and leans back slightly. “I'm sorry-”
Smith pushes forward again, rubbing against Ross, and pokes his nose into the brunet’s cheek, before kissing him again.
Ross leans into him to push Smith’s back against the wall as he breaks the kiss, using his hand to turn the taller man’s head to the side so he can press open mouthed kisses to the exposed skin of his neck.
“Holy shit-” Smith whimpers as Ross sucks as his pulse point, teasing Smith’s sensitive skin with his teeth.
Ross looks up at Smith, then, and pecks at his lips. “Shut up,” he says, before he gets back to painting the bruise onto Smith’s collar with his tongue and teeth.
Smith bites his lip, trying to stop the noises escaping his mouth.
Ross pulls away from the bruise he made and kisses the pink skin around it, his breathing ragged. “The things I want to do to you.”
Stroking a thumb over Ross’ hip, Smith replies, his voice barely above a whisper. “The things I would let you do to me.”
“That makes it boring, mate,” Ross growls against Smith’s neck, “Gotta fight it a little.”
Smith whimpers softly, deflating slightly as Ross presses his teeth against his neck. “Fucking hell, your stupid voice is hot.”
Ross smiles. “My voice is hot, Alex. You just don't listen hard enough,” and Ross presses a hand flush against the tent in Smith’s jeans, smirking against the man’s jaw smugly.
Smith bucks his hips into the touch, needy sounds escaping his throat. Ross licks his lips and pulls his hand away, stepping backwards.
“Ah.” Ross tuts, and feels arousal stir in his stomach when Smith sinks against the wall, teeth worrying his bottom lip. “Do you have lube or do I need to drag you downstairs to my room?” The dark haired man asks, eyeing the door to Smith’s room for a moment.
“I have some,” Smith breathes, chest rising and falling rapidly. Ross has barely touched him. The dark haired man wonders what he’ll be like when he is buried deep inside him, tight around his-
“Ross, please.” He begs, panting furiously. Ross thinks he sees sweat roll down the taller man’s forehead.
Ross steps back, releasing Smith from the wall and gesturing for Smith to lead them into his room with an outstretched arm. “After you.” He says, adjusting his towel so it doesn't slip further.
Smith pulls at Ross’ hand and locks the door behind them. Reaching down beside the bed to pull out a shoebox and place it on the bed, flipping the lid open to retrieve a bottle of lube.
“Are you clean?” Smith asks, more under his breath than direct.
“Yeah.” Ross calls, rolling Smith’s duvet up to the headboard of the bed and grabbing pillows. Smith nods, an awkwardness creeping into the room without the two men in physical contact.
Smith throws Ross the lube and unbuckles his belt, but is stopped by Ross’ hand. Ross flips them around so the back of Smith’s legs are against the foot of the bed and Ross is against him, unzipping his fly and tugging down the jeans in a swift motion.
“How do you want me to fuck you, Alex?” Ross asks. “With your face buried in the mattress-” He starts, lifting Smith’s T shirt over over his, only continuing to speak when they can make eye contact again. “Or on your back so you can watch my face as I take you?”
“I want to see you, if that's alright.” Smith sweats, clammy fingers tugging at Ross’ damp hair harshly.
Ross smiles at him and pushes at his chest, Smith falls to the bed with his legs wrapped around Ross’ thighs. He lets go, and looks up at him, flushed.
Ross feels his hands around Smith’s thighs gently, before tugging at his towel and letting it drop to the floor, and reaching for the bottle of lube beside Smith as the taller man pulls off his boxers and settles his lower body onto a couple of pillows. Smith spends longer than he really should staring at Ross kneeling between his open legs.
Smith thinks of putting his hands through the man’s hair but resists and instead keeps looking as Ross opens the bottle and squirts some into his waiting palm. Ross rubs his fingers in the cold liquid, heating it up quickly. Smith squirms slightly under Ross’ gaze. The dark haired man presses a kiss to Alex’s knee cap, and then slips a finger into Smith's entrance. Smith’s breath hitches more from the temperature than the ingress, and quickly relaxes the ring of tight muscle as Ross crooks his finger.
Smith whines, “More, please,”
Ross watches Smith’s face as he slowly pulls his finger out, a second joining the first as he pushes back in. He makes a scissoring motion, gently at first, rubbing his other hand up to Smith’s face to rub the spot under his lips.
Smith lifts his neck off the bed, teeth grazing Ross’ fingertip as he sucks one of the digits into his mouth. Ross makes a happy sound and adds another finger, roughly thrusting them in and out. Lube drips down his wrist, and it’s pleasingly warm to the touch. It pools on Ross’ lap in a small puddle.
Smith releases Ross’ finger and throws his head back, hips thrusting off the bed as pleasure surges down his spine. “Fucking-” Smith grinds out through clenched teeth before descending into a lament of nonsensical moans.
“You ready for me, Alex?” Ross whispers, licking his lips. He never thought this would be happening earlier, thinking about him in the shower.
Smith nods but doesn’t speak, sucking in a breath as Ross removes his fingers and looms over him, lining himself up and meeting Smith’s eyes as he eases into him.
The sensations provide too much, Ross’ head falls backward, letting out a lengthy groan as he pushes in, letting out an airy “Fuck.” As his hands bunch into the sheets either side of Smith’s torso.
Smith wipes away a tear as Ross presses further into him, the base of his stomach pressed against the taller man’s ass. Smith feels the rough hair there and makes a strangled noise and lifts both his feet from the bed to wrap his legs around the other man.
Ross lifts his head and smiles down at Alex, who bites his lip in return. “You okay?” He asks, breath hot against Smith’s forehead.
“Never better.” Smith smirks up at him.
“Bigger than you thought?” Ross asks, sliding his hands up and down Smith’s sides. He relishes the heat around his cock, drinking in the noises Smith makes.
“Mh-” Smith hums, and slides back to take Ross all the way, teasingly. Ross takes this as a challenge, and grabs at the taller man’s sides hungrily before thrusting.
Smith clutches at the other man’s shoulders as Ross sets a fast pace, Smith pulling him closer with this legs as he Ross drives forwards, loosening as he pulls back out. “Fuck- Smith-” Ross pants as the snaps his hips back and forth. “You feel- so fucking- good!-”
Ross slows, movements long and fluid, one arm leaving Smith’s side to pry one of the taller man’s hands from his shoulder and guide it to wrap around Smith.
“I’m so fucking close, Alex.” Ross admits as his hand releases Smith’s to grab at his hip again as he increases the pace back to its former speed.
Skin slaps against skin at a more celere measure, and Smith’s little whines are cut short every time their hips meet, his arm trying to keep pace with Ross’ thrusts.
Smith cries out, throat dry as Ross’ hands settle to scratching at Smith’s sides, enjoying the small whimpers he receives in return. “Ross- fuck, I’m coming, holy shit-”
Ross keeps the pace steady as Smith spills over his own hand and chest, the look of pure pleasure on the other man’s face sending him over the edge with a shout of his name.
Ross pulls out and promptly collapses onto Smith’s mattress.
Both men lie without speaking, getting their breathing under control as sweat cools on bare skin.
“That was-” Smith whispers, staring up at the ceiling.
“Overdue?” Ross questions, rubbing his forehead against the sheet to dry it rather than raising his arm.
“I was gonna say something else, but you’re right.” Smith looks over to Ross coyly.
“What were you gonna say?” Ross asks, curiosity piqued.
“Painful?” It sounds more of a question. Smith turns onto his side to look dead at Ross. “I’ve already forgotten.”
Ross scoffs. “Jesus. Are you alright?” He eyes the pink scratches around Smith’s hip guiltily.
Smith follows the other man’s gaze and shrugs. “It’s fine, not like I was complaining.”