Bitter
Title: Bitter
Fandom: Glee
Rating: R/18A
Length: 3,260
Pairing: Will/Bryan
Summary: Will can't get his duet with Bryan out of his head, and after all, according to Bryan, angry sex is the best kind of sex.
Notes: Contains quite rough sex, adultery etcetc. Basically I couldn't stop thinking about all the sexual tension between Bryan and Will, and this thing sort-of....spawned. There needs to be more Will/BryRy in this fandom, seriously! The chemistry is undeniable.
Will couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t that he wasn’t trying, because he was. It was just that he couldn’t calm down. He felt as though he’d just run a twenty-mile race and won. It was adrenaline still coursing through him, excitement pooling in the bottom of his stomach. It had been this way since the audition this afternoon. All evening he’d felt antsy this way, and hadn’t been able to sit still for more than ten minutes. This was not conducive to quickly going to sleep.
He rolled over, pressing his face into his pillow and heaving a sigh of frustration.
He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. All he knew is that he couldn’t sleep.
Fucking Bryan.
He was taking over Will’s life. All his free time was spent worrying about him cutting the Glee club, and taking him out for beers, and now auditioning together. It just seemed unfair that all through high school, he had one-upped Will at every turn, and that even now that they were adults, there he was, making life difficult.
The challenge thrummed through his veins and he angrily threw off the sheets covering him. He lamented the empty side of the bed. At least if Terri was here, he could burn off some of the excess energy with her. He wanted to dig fingers into hips and lick stripes up someone’s neck. Wanted to be aggressive, wanted to bite til there was blood and wrap hands around wrists to pin them down.
Will pulled down his pyjama pants just enough to wrap fingers around his rapidly hardening erection. He sighed in pleasure as he started to move, eyes closed and head tipped back. He swallowed and felt the strain on his extended neck. He imagined another hand closed around him, saw the lines of another body above him. He felt skin moving over muscle beneath his hands, smelled sweat and sex and the faintest scent of cologne. He wanted to bury hands in short blonde hair and to use up all his anger.
He managed to sleep after that, and although he could wash the evidence of his activities off his hand and stomach, he couldn’t remove the shame staining his cheeks.
The next day was a Saturday and he woke up late. Staunchly, he tried not to think about the night before. It wasn’t like he’d never masturbated before, but it was horrifying to linger on the thoughts he had had towards the end. So he didn’t. He didn’t think about it. He got up, got dressed and did some housework, busying himself with mindless work until he could once again sleep.
//
A week later, the thoughts hadn’t gone away. He’d solved the problem. He’d given Bryan his part as Jean Valjean, saved the Glee Club (again), and things had gone on as usual. As mind-numbingly usual.
The weekends were a bit of a strange time for Will at the moment. On the one hand, he was able to rest and relax and pretty much do whatever he wanted. There was no wife to nag, nothing to do but what he wanted to. But on the other...he was alone here. It was lonely. He didn’t want to sit around his empty house, so on Sunday he did what he always did when he couldn’t stand being at home. He went into school.
He was a teacher, there was always more work to do. There were Spanish assignments to mark, and tests to write and lessons to plan. Then there was the Glee Club stuff. He had to select music, listen to parts, think up choreography. He was a busy man.
Will was in his office writing “I’m disappointed but encouraging you to do better” comments on an essay when the normalcy stopped.
“Schuester,” said Bryan, and the teacher’s head snapped up to see him in the doorway, leaning to one side, looking as casual as it was possible to be.
“Ryan,” he replied and stood up, on guard, “What’re you doing here?”
“What’re you doing here?” the other man drawled, stepping into the office and trailing his hands along the bookcase along the wall, looking wholly disinterested in what he was doing.
“Working,” said Will, sitting back down and picking up his red pen again. He waited for Bryan to say something else or to explain himself, but when it seemed there was no information forthcoming, he sighed, “So what did you want?”
“I,” began Bryan and sat in the chair opposite Will’s desk, clasping his hands and resting his elbows on his thighs, “was bored. There is nothing to do in this town, as you well know.”
“What about your wife?”
“Out of town.”
“You couldn’t visit your parents or something?”
“They don’t live here anymore,” he leant forward to touch the picture frame on the desk, “moved to Oklahoma when they retired.”
“Oklahoma?”
“What about it?” the other man snapped, one thin eyebrow going up.
“Nothing,” said Will and sat back in his chair, clicking his pen in his left hand, “So how can I be of assistance?”
“Well, my dear William,” there was a pause for what Will imagined might be dramatic effect, and then the other man leant back in his own chair, rather obnoxiously swinging his feet up to rest on Will’s desk, “I have a bone to pick with you.”
“That is?”
“Do you honestly think that you’re a better singer than me?”
Will studied his face, but he looked completely serious. Nevertheless he responded, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Why would you ask me that?”
“It’s just that I was at a rehearsal earlier today for Les Mis,” Bryan made a great show of examining his fingernails, which were spotless, “and a woman asked me if I was the understudy. She seemed to be under the impression that you were Jean Valjean and wanted to know where you were. Because you’re so obviously superior to me, I thought I’d come to you and ask. Do you think you’re a better singer than me, Will?”
Incredulous, Will replied, “How could you even ask something like that?”
“Look, don’t fuck around with me here, William. I asked you a question. Give me an answer.”
“I can’t give you an answer to that,” he threw up his hands as he watched the other man’s face darken, “We’re both good. Our voices are different. Who’s to say which of us is better?”
“I’m giving you a chance to say right now,” Bryan tipped back his head and looked down at the teacher, managing to sound completely sinister even with his sarcastically raised eyebrow, “So, which would you say?”
It was a tough choice. Should he play into Bryan’s ego or not? Will pursed his lips, thinking, and the other man leaned forward, taking his feet down. “Maybe you are,” Will said eventually, just wanting him out of his office. This close, he could smell him, and the danger of having this aggressive man in the same room as him was putting him on edge, “You used to get all the solos, you know. All the girls.”
“Liar,” said Bryan, standing in one quick, angry motion, “You are a liar. You think you’re better than me and you don’t even have the gall to admit it.”
Will stubbornly remained seated, though he felt anger starting to rise in him. “What do you want me to say, Bryan? You’re an amazing singer. I thought I fit the part of Jean Valjean better. But you have the chance to prove me wrong, so why don’t you just concentrate on that? Instead of focusing on failures, concentrate on making successes.”
“Always the inspiring teacher.” Bryan made a slow circle around the back of Will’s desk, passing within inches of his chair. The hairs on the back of the younger man’s neck rose as he glided past, “But, Mr. Schuester, maybe you should try inspiring people with actions, not with wishy-washy words.”
“How do you me--”
“-How about you stand up for yourself for once, rather than giving people whatever they want so that they’ll leave your Glee Club alone for one more week? Why don’t you try standing up for yourself and telling them to fuck off rather than self-sacrificing everything? Why don’t you take what’s yours and demand what’s owed to you, instead of making yourself out like the martyr?” He turned to leave, smirking at Will’s rapidly flushing face, “You’re pathetic, Will Schuester, and that’s why you’ll never leave Lima, and why you’ll never amount to anything more than an aging wash-up dedicated to building up dreams in kids so that they can be torn down later.”
He made to leave, but Will was already across the room. Ripping the doorknob out of Bryan’s grasp, he flung the door shut before roughly shoving Bryan so that he fell against it. That done, he slammed his hands on either side of the other man, boxing him in and leaning forward, “You’re a nasty little man,” he said quietly, dangerously. Bryan’s expression didn’t falter, eyes meeting Will’s in defiance, “You couldn’t make it, just like me. But instead of giving children some happiness, like I try to, you just go around tearing down their dreams for them, before they even get a chance to shoot for the stars.”
“Better now than later.”
“No, it’s not,” Will leant in closer so that their faces were inches apart, “Give them something to dream about. Teach them not to give up hope. Show them that they don’t have to be a bitter, lonely asshole like you.”
The response was a fist to the stomach, but Will had been half-expecting that ever since Bryan had first walked through the door and grabbed his fist before he could retract it, pulling both of them over to the floor, making sure Bryan went down first. It sounded as if he had been winded when they went over, but that didn’t seem to stop him from grappling back, attempting to roll the much heavier Will off him.
They were almost evenly matched. Will was heavier and stronger, and had the advantageous position sitting atop Bryan, but the other man was quick and scrappy and had broken Will’s lip and bruised his cheek before things changed.
Will wasn’t sure who had kissed whom, but somewhere along the line, they were fighting in a different way and their mouths were locked together. He could taste his own blood from his broken lip, and his cheek was throbbing in time to his racing heartbeat. He had one arm under and around Bryan, and the other hand had the man’s fist pinned to the floor. Underneath him, Bryan was still writhing, and his hip ground against Will’s crotch. He moaned into their kiss and pressed down harder to stop the elder man from moving.
In retaliation, Bryan elbowed him in the side and thrashed his legs. Will, who was firmly seated across Bryan’s hips wasn’t even jostled by the leg movements, but nevertheless bit down on the blonde’s lip. Eventually, they needed to separate to breathe, and the struggle for dominance began again, with Bryan trying desperately to roll them over, but not managing to do anything more than rub their bodies together. “We should stop this now,” said Will against the skin of Bryan’s neck, letting his teeth scrape roughly over his skin.
“Yes,” came the reply, more breath than voice, “give up like you always do.”
“Fuck you,” said Will, against the collarbone now.
Bryan tilted his head back and looked down at him through half-closed eyes, “If you dare.”
Will laughed darkly and yanked up Bryan’s t-shirt. Getting the jacket and shirt off would have been much too difficult when the man was pinned to the floor, so he pushed it up as far as he could with his right hand, making sure to keep Bryan’s right to the floor with his left. Will mouthed up the lines of his chest, followed the muscles with his tongue. He laughed when the muscles of the flat stomach twitched under him and Bryan shuddered and swallowed a moan.
He fumbled with the man’s belt, trying to undo it with just the one hand. He got it undone and the button opened. Will lifted his eyes to the other man’s face as he slowly pulled down the zipper. The expression splashed across his features was unreadable. There was no protest though, so Will continued, sliding down so he could yank Bryan’s pants and underwear down enough to free his half hard penis. Quickly scooting back upwards, he wrapped a large hand around the slowly growing erection, watching as Bryan’s lips curled back in what looked like anger.
“Say the word and I’ll stop,” Will said, a pang of uncertainty suddenly shooting through him, “I won’t do it if you don’t want it.”
“You would say that, wouldn’t you?” His left hand was suddenly wrapped over Will’s right, fingers interlacing around his dick, “Do what you want to, Will, stop asking for permission or forgiveness. You’re a man, aren’t you?”
Will leant forward until he was less than an inch from Bryan’s face, lips almost brushing as he spoke, voice deep, “Yeah. I am, and you’re about to find that out first hand.”
“Oh, I’m scared,” the blonde said and smirked, voice dropping to a murmur, “Make my fear worth my while.”
The teacher dipped down, connecting their mouths for a split second before ripping away and roughly rolling Bryan onto his stomach. Moving upwards, he sat on the small of his back, watching as the man tried to decide how to lay his head against the carpet, eventually settling on laying his right cheek down, watching Will out of the corner of his left eye. Hoping against hope that he still had the condoms he’d put in his wallet just in case, he pulled it out of his back pocket and dug through the various compartments, looking for the innocuous packages.
There they were. Pulling one out, he put the package between his teeth and threw his wallet across the room towards his desk.
“Lube,” Will abruptly remembered, sitting up straight and desperately looking around. He had some at home, but it wasn’t like he had come to school looking for a quick fuck, so it wasn’t with him.
“Back pocket,” came the voice from beneath him, muffled slightly from where half his face was being pressed into the carpet.
“What?”
“Look in my left back pocket.”
Will reached behind him, groping down Bryan’s body until he found it, pulling out the contents. Condoms and two mini-sachets of lube. “What that fuck, Bryan? You came prepared for this eventuality?”
“I’m always prepared for this eventuality. Now hurry the fuck up, my dick is getting chafed against the carpet. If you’re gonna fuck me, get a move on and do it.”
Will felt the anger swell up in him again knowing that he’d probably been manipulated into this. Still, Bryan was going to get what he was asking for and deserved. He quickly slid off Bryan, keeping his hands pressed against his back. The man squirmed roughly under him and resisted when Will’s fingers dug into the indents of his hip bones, dragging him up onto his knees. “Brace yourself,” said Will, as he undid his own belt and pants.
Bryan laughed, not moving from where his forehead was now pressed into the thin carpet, braced on his knees and his elbows. “So chivalrous,” he said.
Will ignored that and wasted no time getting the last of his clothes out of the way and rolling on the condom, tearing open a lube packet with his teeth and smearing it liberally over his erection. Getting up onto his own knees and positioning himself carefully, “Last chance,” he warned, looking down the slope of Bryan’s back. He was still almost completely clothed, but somehow this was one of the hottest situations Will had ever been in. He didn’t have to be gentle with Bryan, didn’t have to delicately touch a soft body. He could assert his dominance, could hold him down and fuck into him roughly. And let’s face it, Bryan deserved to hurt a little.
“Do it,” said Bryan, and Will watched as his fingers curled into fists and pressed against the floor.
“No prep--” Will began to warn, but Bryan growled, “Just do it.”
So he did. He pushed forward as the blonde man groaned and panted underneath him, going slowly until he was in all the way. “Fuck, Bryan,” he gasped, curving his upper body over to rest his forehead on the other man’s back, “Bryan Ryan,” he laughed breathlessly.
“Move, Schuester,” came the answer, in a voice that sounded strained. It was funny how when Bryan talked, his voice was one of the most irritating sounds on the planet. But...when he sang? It was...indescribable. And...apparently, Will discovered approximately thirty seconds later when he wrapped a hand around the other man’s dick, when he moaned, his voice was even sweeter.
They didn’t last long in the end. Thinking back, Will realised that the foreplay had begun when Bryan had stepped into the room. Will came first, managing to retain the presence of mind to keep moving his hand, despite the overwhelming desire to pull out and collapse to the side. It was only seconds later that Bryan released over his palm with a strangled moan that he couldn’t contain.
Will pulled out and rolled off Bryan to lie on his back on the carpet. He felt the other man collapse to the carpet next to him as he was stripping off the condom and tying the top tightly. Looking over, their eyes met. Will smiled awkwardly, but didn’t get a grin in return. Instead the other man heaved a sigh, and with an undecipherable look, he pushed him himself off his stomach, tucking himself back inside his clothes and doing up his pants and belt. He stood and rolled down his shirt and yanked down his jacket.
His hair was still mussed, Will noticed, and there was a dark red mark against the side of his face where he must have injured Bryan in their fight. Blood stained his lips a darker red and it made something deep inside Will stir when a pink tongue darted out to clean them of it. “Wait,” he said as the blonde man headed for the door, “You’re just going to leave like this?”
The reply was a haughty look, “What did you expect? Cuddling?”
“No...” he trailed off, “but you can’t just up and leave. We need to talk about this!”
Bryan shifted his weight to one leg, his hip jutting out, arms crossed across his chest, “What do you want to say, Schuester? Are you gonna propose now? Because I’m already married, you know that.”
“So you say.” Will sighed and stood himself, fixing his clothes and walking over to the trashcan behind his desk to deposit the condom, “What did you really come here for, Bryan?”
“Exactly what I got,” came the reply, and the blonde turned to go, “Thanks, Will. I’d love to do it again some time. Angry sex is the best sex, after all.”
He left the room without listening to any more of Will’s protests and closed the door behind him. Will sank into his chair and wiped his sticky hand with a tissue. What a mess. Literally and metaphorically a complete and total mess.