Fic Update: The Loose Ends Will Make Knots... (9/10 B)
Title: The Loose Ends Will Make Knots. (9/10)
Author: Starvinbohemian.
Rating: NC-17.
Pairings: Sonny/Brian, Sonny/Will.
Chapter Summary: Will.
Read either here or over at Ao3.
… The Loose Ends Will Make Knots
(Chapter 9 B)
________________________
Folded neatly, Will’s shirt waits on the countertop.
There are still hours to go until 6 o’clock. Try as you might to resist, your gaze keeps going straight back to the clock. You don’t even know if you’re excited or dreading Will’s arrival. Either way, this is probably a bad idea.
Still, once 6 o’ clock, then 6:30, and 7 all roll around and there’s no Will, you can’t help feeling disappointed. There’s no message from him on your phone- you’ve checked. You don’t want to think that something bad happened to keep him from coming, but the alternative is that Will just chose not to come. You wouldn’t blame him, though you don’t really believe he would stand you up.
Which is why you’re scrubbing at the counters for all you’re worth, caught up in your epic battle with coffee stains because it’s better than worrying. Common Grounds has way more opportunities for stress cleaning than your tiny apartment.
You’re so busy trying not to think that you aren’t initially paying much attention to Lucas and Kate, who are having an intense conversation at one of the tables. It’s only when you happen to overhear Gabi’s name that your ears perk up.
“Is Gabi in labor?”
Labor? That can’t be right…
“I don’t know,” Lucas says, frowning down at his phone. “Sami’s not sure. She’s having contractions.”
The rag falls from your hand.
Kate says exactly what you’re thinking. “It’s way too soon for the baby.”
You were right to worry. Will had to stand you up because the baby is in trouble. Will’s baby. Will…
“I know it is,” Lucas says. He looks worried, too. “That’s why I have to get to the hospital.”
“I’m going with you.”
The door hasn’t even fully closed behind them yet, and you’re already hurriedly fumbling with your apron strings. You grab Jackie as she’s walking passed. “Can you close up for me?”
She looks taken aback by your intensity, but she says, “Sure.”
The word is barely out of her mouth before you’re out the door.
________________________
On the way to the hospital, you keep replaying your last conversation with Gabi.
You don’t know what’s wrong with Gabi, but it’s hard not to feel guilty. Just an hour ago, you were dwelling on your negative feelings about her. Maybe you weren’t specifically wishing ill on her, but you weren’t exactly sending her positive vibes either.
In the face of potential tragedy, you feel fairly ashamed of yourself. But mainly you’re just worried for Will. He must be so upset.
You find them all hovering in the hospital lobby. Lucas, Kate, and Rafe are there with Will. They all look terrified.
You clear your throat.
There’s a moment when you feel the weight of their collective stares, when you think someone is going to ask what you’re doing there, and you’ll have to defend yourself for intruding on a very personal situation even though you’re not Will’s boyfriend, or related to anyone, or anything to them really.
And then Will’s expression crumbles, and he’s throwing himself into your arms, and you’re holding him, and no one is asking anything.
His arms are tight around your neck. You clutch him to you, an arm around his waist and a hand holding his head against your shoulder. You’re murmuring things into his hair, “I’ve got you. You’re okay. I’ve got you…”
“Sonny, the baby…”
“… is fine. Everything is going to be fine.”
You don’t actually know if everything is going to be fine. You don’t know what’s wrong with Gabi or the baby. But you would say anything to get the pain out of Will’s voice.
You eye Will’s family over his shoulder. Their relieved expressions make you wonder how bad Will was before you got there. It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.
________________________
Later, after you’ve led Will away from the group supposedly to get a cup of coffee but really just to give him some room to breathe, he says, “I can’t believe you came over here.”
Your smile is self-conscious. “I heard your dad telling Kate what was going on and… We’re still friends. I just had to be here.”
You are still friends, you realize. Now, standing here across from him, it’s hard to believe that you ever worried that you couldn’t still be there for him just because you broke up. When something big like this happens… How could you stay away?
When Will doesn’t say anything, you nervously add, “Unless I’m in the way. I can go.”
“No.” More sure, “No. I want you to stay.” He drops his gaze. “I really do.”
You try not to look so obviously relieved. “Okay.” You touch his shoulder. “I can’t imagine how hard this is on you.”
“You know, she was just this idea. She was just this problem. And then I saw the sonogram, and she was, like, trying to suck her little thumb.”
You can’t help smiling at the wonder in his voice.
“I put my hand on Gabi’s stomach, and I felt her kick. It was like she was saying, ‘Hey! There you are. I’ve been waiting for you.’ And I’m like, ‘That’s my kid. You know, I have a daughter. And I started thinking about all the stuff we could do together. I could take her camping in the summer. We could go ice skating in the winter.”
The picture he’s painting for you is exactly the one you’ve been avoiding thinking about. Listening to him, you can easily imagine Will with his daughter, who in your mind is beautiful and golden just like her father. For the first time, the mental image doesn’t hurt.
You don’t know who Will was kidding. He never could have given up this baby. Not for you. Not for anyone. It’s clear that he’s in love.
Being here, seeing this… there so many complicated feelings soaring around your head. You can’t even zero in on one without risking unthreading entirely.
Somehow, you manage to keep your voice steady when you say, “Will? You kind of suck at ice skating.”
He manages a self-deprecating smile. “Yeah. I was gonna try to get better though. I can’t fall if she’s holding my hand.” His voice wobbles. “I really hope I get to hold her hand.”
Seeing him start to crumble again snaps you out of your temporary backslide into self-pity. You touch his hand. “Will, everything is going to be okay.”
He searches your face, probably gauging your sincerity, so you try to put your conviction where he can see it. You must have failed, because Will’s eyes become misty.
Uh-oh. “What is it?”
To your surprise and relief, Will smiles through his tears. “Nothing. It’s just really nice to see your face.” His fingers curl around yours.
You have to swallow around the lump in your throat.
“It’s really nice to see your face, too.”
________________________
Your vigil in the hospital lasts through most of the night.
Will doesn’t handle the wait well. Anxiety has him pacing around the room, always in orbit around you. You want to reach out and touch just to make him stop, but his family is watching you. You can’t tell if they want you to or not.
It’s one of the longest nights of your life. After so long without news, you start to consider what you’re going to say to Will if the baby doesn’t make it. It’s a dim prospect. After everything, it’s possible that Will, undoubtedly distraught, won’t want to hear anything from you at all. You could tell him that you’re sorry, but why should he believe you?
You keep all of your anxiety locked down tight under lock and key with the full understanding that this is not about you, but not everyone manages to do the same. There’s a lot of stress-related behavior that you’re witness to throughout the night.
Everyone seems intent on blaming Sami for this, Will included. Apparently, she and Gabi argued at the Brady Pub, and that’s what led to Gabi’s early labor pains and the rush to the hospital.
Will can barely stand to look at her. All of their issues are on full display for the whole room to see. He orders her out of the hospital multiple times, but she stubbornly stands her ground, determined to be there for him whether he likes it or not.
You hold your tongue because you have no idea if Sami is to blame or not; though, it strikes you as unlikely that someone cold enough to have their own best friend kidnapped just to get them out of the way would be so delicate as to collapse just from a few harsh words from Sami. If that’s all it takes, then you’re lucky she didn’t collapse after talking to you. This thought has you feeling fairly sympathetic toward Will’s mother. But you aren’t here for Sami.
After a while, Will finally exhausts himself. He slides down the wall to the floor beside your chair. He looks defeated. It hurts to see him like that. Without thinking, you abandon your chair to join him on the floor. Your shoulders brush.
His lip trembles. “Tell me again.”
He’s whispering, so you lower your voice to match his. This conversation obviously isn’t for anyone else. “Tell you what?”
“That it’s going to okay.”
You imagine everyone can hear the sound of your heart breaking. Oh, Will. Forgetting your earlier trepidation, you put your arm around his shoulders. When he leans his head on your shoulder, you murmur into his ear, “It’s going to be okay, Will.”
“Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “Okay.”
You realize with a jolt of surprise that he might actually believe you. Because you would never lie to him. Could he still have that much faith in you?
Suddenly, there’s a weight on your chest and you’re pulling him closer so you can lay your head against his. It could be your imagination, but Will seems to breathe a little easier. It’s amazing that just an hour earlier and this kind of closeness between you wouldn’t have been possible.
It seems to take forever for Maxine to come out and say that Gabi and the baby are all right.
Dehydration. All the blaming and snarling at Sami, and it was just dehydration all along.
Will hugs you again with a half-relieved, half-hysterical laugh. Sami looks just as relieved, and you don’t blame her. You’re feeling pretty relieved yourself to know that it wasn’t your bad vibes that put Gabi in here.
“You were right,” Will says.
Thank God. “Of course I was,” you joke. “It’s me.”
You can feel Will smile against your shoulder. You were aiming for glib, but there’s no denying that the thought of what-if-you-weren’t has you gripping him tighter. You send a grateful thank you up to the universe.
Sami watches you hold Will. When your eyes meet, she sends you a watery, grateful smile. In this moment, you think you understand each other. To you, she isn’t the town screw-up, just a frightened and protective mother. Neither of you are technically supposed to be here- Kate and Rafe haven’t stopped giving her the stink eye- but you’re both still here because you care about Will. The only difference right now is that Will is letting you hold him.
It’s a small, private moment between you and Sami when you return her smile over Will’s shoulder.
________________________
You take Will home.
________________________
Sometime when you weren’t looking, Will moved into the Salem U dorms.
The walk up the staircase to his room inspires conflicting feelings in you. Even when you were still planning on moving in together, this is where you privately suspected Will should be all along. You never told him, but you worried that moving in together would somehow take away from his college experience and make him grow old at the peak of his youth.
(Turns out that was going to happen regardless.)
Your worries didn’t stop you from giving him the key, though. Obviously, you wanted him to move in with you more than you worried for his overall wellbeing.
You can be selfish, too.
Will drops his keys onto the desk and flings his jacket without looking to see where it lands. He tiredly rubs his eyes. Poor guy has to be exhausted. You place his discarded jacket over the back of his desk chair.
Will isn’t looking at you when he asks, “Brian isn’t going to mind you being here?”
Christ. He isn’t looking, so he doesn’t see you flinch. “It’s fine.” There’s nothing else to say about it. Not now anyway. You don’t want to open that door. You’re not here to talk about Brian.
You say his name softly. That catches his attention, and he watches you with wide eyes as you settle on the edge of his bed. “Come here,” you say.
When he shuffles closer, you take his hand and pull him down so he’s sitting beside you. You put your arm around his shoulders, tugging him closer until he lays his head on your shoulder. It’s a mirror of your position at the hospital, except that the bed is much more comfortable than a cold hospital floor.
It’s been such a long night. You can hear all the pent up stress and anxiety release in his sigh when he slumps against you.
Will’s dorm room is quiet and still around you. Before this year, you chose mountains over classrooms, so you never really had the dorm experience yourself. You imagined loud noise reverberating through the walls well into the night.
And then you remember that it’s 4:30 in the morning. Even the most ardent frat boys are probably sleeping.
Will reaches up to clutch the hand you’ve got around his shoulder. The familiarity almost gets you. You’ve sat together like this a million times before and under much better circumstances.
You have to purposely suppress the nostalgia before it can rear its head. Instead, you will your mind to go blank. It doesn’t matter that the boundaries are blurred here. You just want to help. Being here seems to help.
You’ve felt so lost lately. For the first time in a long time, you know exactly where you’re supposed to be, and it’s right here taking care of Will.
Will’s voice is strained when he breaks the silence and says, “Sonny, I thought… When I got the call, I thought that-”
You shush him. You know what he thought. “Gabi and the baby are all right, remember? You’re all right.”
He nods a little desperately.
“Can I get you anything?” you ask.
“No. Just talk to me.”
“About?”
“Anything. Tell me about your day.”
“Well, most of it was spent at the hospital…”
“Before that. Tell me about before.”
You search your mind, but there really isn’t any part of your day that you want to share. Will doesn’t want to hear about your drama with Brian. So, you make up a story about Chad, some make-believe customers from Japan, and a cultural misunderstanding. You talk and talk until Will finally yawns.
“Am I boring you?” you tease.
“No. Just tired.”
“You want to lie down?”
“Yeah.”
You’re about to pull your arm back when Will tightens his grip on your hand, effectively locking you in place. When he leans back on the bed, you’re pulled down with him with Will’s head cushioned by your arm. You pull your arm back just enough so that you’re able to roll onto your side and face him. He smiles sleepily at you.
Your heart is beating rapidly when you say, “My arm is not a pillow.”
“Your arm is the best pillow,” he says, causing you to snort. More serious, he asks, “Stay?”
It’s only with a slight hesitation that you say, “Okay.” As if you could say no when he’s looking at you like that. “You can go to sleep if you want.”
Will does close his eyes, but you can still see signs of tension on his face. You reach out slowly, unsure but still wanting to soothe out the worry, and gently stroke your fingers over his eyelids. He twitches under your hand, and you freeze.
But when Will doesn’t move away or even open his eyes, and so you move your fingers down his cheek and trace the lines around his mouth. His bottom lip falls open at your touch.
The boundaries are blurred here, you remind yourself.
Emboldened, you let your fingers roam further. You touch his hair, softly trailing your fingers through the strands. Will hums contentedly under your touch. You think he looks relaxed for the first time since you found him at the hospital. The sight sends warmth through your chest.
You feel light, dizzy. Once you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop touching. Will lets you run your hands over his face, down his neck, and over his shoulders without comment. The only sound between you is his shallow breaths. Maybe he senses that speaking now would pierce the fragile bubble you’ve woven. This does feel like an other space meant just for the two of you.
Which is why you don’t say anything either when he curls around you, his arm tight across your chest. He must feel your heart beating wildly against your ribs, but he doesn’t call you on it.
He’s so close that his eyelashes graze yours when he leans forward. Your heart is in your throat as you let your eyes slide shut. His lips brush against yours. Soft and sweet, like a butterfly kiss. It makes you ache. This is what he does to you. He brings clichés to life and makes the rest of the world fade away.
But you have to cup his face and say, firmly if regretfully, “No, Will.”
You feel his disappointed sigh on your lips. It echoes your own.
“Sonny…”
When you open your eyes, the look on his face makes your breath catch. The truth is that no one has ever looked at you as Will looks at you- as if you’re everything. Being on the receiving end of that look is the most wonderful, terrifying thing in the world.
Will scoots down so he can bury his face in your neck. “I love you,” he whispers.
You’re glad he can’t see the pain on your face. Tortured, you say, “Will…”
Will takes your hand from where you’re clutching the bedspread between you. He kisses your knuckles. “I’m going to keep telling you so you don’t forget.”
________________________
You don’t leave immediately; rather, you wait until his breathing has evened out in sleep before you carefully reclaim your arm from under his neck.
Will’s blue shirt is still in your bag. You place it, still carefully folded, on his desk for him to find once he wakes up.
You’re creeping out of Will’s dorm room like a guilty lover when he says it.
Startled, you turn with your hand still on the doorknob. The soft light through the window has caught him just right to make him look ethereal lying there, pale skin on pale sheets, his blue eyes shining at you through the gray half-dark.
You either woke him or else he was never really asleep. He claims the pillow you were using, wrapping his arms around it and pulling it under his cheek.
There’s no vindictiveness that you can sense when he says it, only a simple earnestness that you could never blame him for.
Still, you make him repeat it. “What did you say?”
“Brian isn’t who you think he is.”
Yeah, that’s what you thought he said.
________________________
In retrospect, you shouldn’t have asked him to elaborate.
But you did.
________________________
By the time you actually leave Will’s dorm, you’re squinting against delicate morning light.
With the adrenaline having worn off, you’re left feeling groggy and vaguely ill from stress and lack of sleep. There isn’t much thought behind it when your feet take you back to Common Grounds. It is your home away from home, the place you spend most of your time.
You end up curled up in one of the booths. Sleep doesn’t come, not that you really expected it to.
You’re still there in the booth when Brian eventually comes to collect you. You don’t look up at the sound of the bell tinkling over the door, just when he hovers over the booth and there’s really no further excuse for ignoring him.
He looks tired, too. Other than that, it’s hard to read him. You stare at each other, and Will’s words echo through your head.
“Brian isn’t who you think he is.”
Brian doesn’t have to say what he’s thinking because there are something like six unanswered text messages on your phone from him sent over the course of the night asking where you were.
After a moment, you stand with a sigh.
Brian holds the door open for you, his expression still blank. You still haven’t spoken.
The silence is strained on the walk back to his apartment. You drag your feet until Brian gets frustrated with you and finally just goes ahead at a faster pace. A rebellious voice in your head suggests just turning around and going back to your own apartment. No explanation required. You don’t, but it’s tempting.
By the time you get back to the apartment, you see that Brian has left the door open for you.
In the kitchen, Brian is chopping vegetables with laser-focused intensity. His usual breakfast consists of a bunch of vegetables juiced together in the blender. The only time you’ve ever seen him cook anything unhealthy was when he was cooking something for you.
“Are you hungry?” he asks without looking up.
“No.”
“Where were you?” he asks evenly. The carrots get pushed to the side to make way for the cucumber. You watch him quickly hash out a row of perfectly symmetrical slices.
“With Will.”
You see him absorb that. His jaw clenches. You note that he doesn’t look surprised.
“At the hospital,” you add.
He just stares at you, so you spell it out more clearly. “I was at the hospital with Will.”
You jump in alarm when Brian abruptly slams the knife down onto the cutting board.
“I don’t have to be anywhere for six hours.” His voice is still eerily calm despite the violent gesture. “I’m going back to bed.”
Abandoning the vegetables, he walks right passed you and heads for the bed. He sits on the edge and starts taking off his boots. He can’t be serious, but he sure looks determined to at least act as if he’s returning to bed.
Well, he isn’t going to ignore you that easily. You follow him to the edge of the bed, hovering in front of him. “Aren’t you going to ask me why we were at the hospital?”
He gives you an ironic look. “No.”
“No?” Your hands clench at your sides. “You were his friend. You don’t care?”
Brian’s fuse must be shorter than he wants you to think, because he’s only just sat down but he throws his boot onto the floor and stands again. You’re too stubborn to move back even though you have to crane your head back to still look him in the eye.
His eyes are livid when he smirks at you. “No.”
“How can you say that?” you demand, appalled. You’ve never seen him like this before. Of course, you’ve never really fought before.
“How can I…?” He laughs incredulously. “Sonny, if Will was the one who was hurt, then you wouldn’t even be here. So I’m guessing it’s the baby mama drama. Yes? Thought so. And guess what? I don’t care about that or whatever else he’s using to try to lure you back in.”
He gets in your face and says, “You wanna know what I do care about?”
Your only response is a glare.
“While I was here, worrying about you, you were with Will? Ignoring my texts?”
You could reassure him that it’s not what he thinks, whether it is or isn’t, but you’re so angry you’re seeing red. So you say, “Yes.”
“Fuck you, Sonny Kiriakis.” And then he’s pulling you into a brutal kiss.
You shove him back. “No, fuck you-”
He cuts you off with another kiss. This time, you kiss him back. The kiss is angry, full of teeth and spit, and you’re rudely pulling at the buttons of each other’s coats. Your lust and fury are so intertwined that there’s no clear distinction.
If you were a more violent person, you might have just hit him. You hit T because that was the only way to make him understand that you weren’t going to take his abuse lying down. But that’s not you. Banked anger, emotional shut down, and sharp verbal jabs are how you fight back. Now you know Brian can match you in that. He can match you in this, too.
For you, it’s been a long 24-hour stretch with not enough sleep and too much stress. Stress about Brian, stress about Will. You’ve officially been pushed passed your endurance threshold. All your frustrations with him boil over, and you’re pushing Brian back onto the edge of the bed so you can straddle his lap.
Brian tugs your shirt over your head, and it’s barely off before he’s kissing you again. You pull back just far enough to get his shirt off, too, barely breaking the kiss. It’s hard to get his belt off while you’re still sitting on his lap, but you manage.
Gripping your hips, he rolls his erection up against you. You moan when he buries his face in your neck and growls, “I’m going to fuck you so hard.”
No, you think, though your whole body is singing as you grind down against him. How can you be so angry and still want him this much?
Brian may not be who you think he is, but you’re having trouble recognizing yourself at the moment. This isn’t you. This is the guy who punched T in the face maybe, but that’s not who you want to be. You want to be the guy who deserves to be looked at like somebody’s hero, like the guy who makes things better, not worse.
You wince when Brian abruptly catches your hair in a firm grip. He presses his mouth hard against your ear. “Stop it,” he hisses. “I can tell when you’re thinking about him.”
Your heart misses a beat. “Don’t…”
“Don’t what?”
What you think is: don’t bring Will even further into this. What you say is: “Don’t be an asshole.”
Scowling, Brian maneuvers you over onto your back somewhat rougher than necessary. You lift your hips off the bed so he can get your pants off. Brian throws them over the side of the bed, and then kicks his own off before crawling over you.
Brian rocks against you, sliding your cocks together, until you’re moaning and moving with him. With his hands hooked under your thighs, he hikes you up higher until you wrap your legs around him, pulling him in closer and creating a tighter friction between your bodies.
For all the anger, there is still so much want in his eyes. He groans. “Damn you, Sonny…”
You could have left it at that, let him be a jerk, and allowed yourself to be distracted by the amazing sensation of his naked body on yours. But Brian just can’t let it go.
Panting, he gasps out, “It’s not romantic to still be clinging to this, you know. To him. At this point, it’s just stubborn.”
Your temper flares. “Brian, will you just shut up?” You kiss him hard because you just want him to stop. Stop doing this thing where he’s being horrible and hates Will for no reason.
He doesn’t know anything about you and Will.
Brian starts rocking against you again, but it’s not enough like this, not when he had to go and needle you where you’re most sensitive.
With a strong roll of your bodies, you’re back on top, straddling him. Brian doesn’t fight the move. He can still make your knees weak just as easily from below as above. As if to prove it, he makes you whimper with a strong stroke of your cock, followed by fingers teasing at your entrance. Soon, his fingers are stretching and moving inside you. A twist of his fingers, and you nearly come right then. Damn Brian. No matter what, he seems to have more control of this situation than you do.
A strike of inspiration has you leaning over to grab one of Brian’s academic ribbons from the nightstand. You don’t remember what he won it for, but it should do regardless.
He tenses when he sees what you’re holding. “What are you doing?”
You grab his wrists and pull them up toward the headboard. “Don’t move,” you tell him as you carefully tie the ribbon around one of his wrists and the headboard. It’s too short to get around both wrists. Your knot is as flimsy as the fabric, but you trust that Brian won’t want to rip his accolade. Catching on, he grips the headboard. Good.
You pause for a second, taking in your handiwork. Are you really doing this?
You realize Brian is watching you. Maybe he sees some of your hesitance because his eyes soften slightly when they meet yours. With his free hand, he reaches up and touches your face. Just a soft graze of his fingers on your cheek, but it's completely incongruous to the mood you've set here.
He’s doing it again. Once was a fluke. Twice is a redefining of your pattern. You don’t want him to be gentle with you. You’re mad at him. You’re mad at yourself.
Frowning, you grip his wrist and return it to the headboard. “Stay.”
Brian rolls his eyes, but he takes a hold of the headboard with both hands. “Well?” he prompts.
This misdirection in your relationship is probably your own fault, so you need to fix it.
And so you rise up on your knees, position yourself over his cock, and attempt to show him what you do want.
Brian bites his lip as you slowly impale yourself, his fingers gripping the headboard. You work yourself down until you’ve got most of him inside you. There’s a long shiver that goes up your back and never really stops.
Brian sucks in a breath. You see him squeeze his eyes shut just long enough to get a hold of himself, and then he’s grinning up at you, all casual arousal and easy defiance. See? Isn’t this fun?
We’ll see, you think. You take a moment to adjust to the stretch and feel of him. Then, breath shuddering, you shift your weight onto your knees and start to move over him, slowly at first but quickly gaining momentum.
You can tell from his white knuckles and the way Brian is gritting his teeth that he’s doing his best to resist your pace. But you’re riding him now, and he can’t hold out forever.
“Easy,” he gasps out. You ignore him. You can tell he wants to go slower, to draw this out of you until there are tears in your eyes and a pressure on your chest, but you’re not going to let that happen, not this time.
You watch Brian’s control fizzle, hear the small, needy sounds he tries to but can’t swallow. Brian is all about control. At the moment, you’re all about taking it away.
And in the moment, it comes to you, exactly the button to push to get him up to your level. Head thrown back, thighs straining from the exertion, you start moaning his name. “Brian, Brian, Brian…”
Control snapped, his knees go up on either side of you, feet planted on the bed, and he slams up into you just as you’re lowering yourself- and you cry out for real this time. He meets you thrust for thrust, and it’s so good you lose yourself in the rhythm for a minute. “Oh, God, Brian…”
But just as you’re reaching the climax, you stop.
Brian makes a bereft sound. He looks up at you, confused. Before he can ask, you start again, but slower this time, breaking his rhythm.
You can see he’s getting frustrated. It’s your turn to smirk at him. Brian narrows his eyes at you, maybe finally understanding what you’re attempting here.
(Maybe he’ll explain it to you.)
You aren’t expecting it when he says, “Fuck it,” and rips his wrist out of the ribbon. Before you know it, he’s flipped you over onto your side. Mirroring you, he pulls you in and hikes your leg up and over his hip. You moan when he slides back into you.
Somehow, you’ve lost the thread again. Why you keep looking to lust to solve your problems, you’ll never know. But you’re gripping his shoulders, his face, and kissing him as he fucks you with hard, desperate thrusts.
Lust seems to be getting the better of Brian, too. He’s as mad as you are, but he’s gripping you as if he never wants to stop. You understand.
But you’re more confused than ever now, and he’s moaning things into your neck that you’re in no place to hear. And then he’s kissing you through the orgasm.
And there’s an ache building up in your chest that you’re not ready for.
Why is he doing this to you?
________________________
Only afterward, when you’re both staring up at the ceiling instead of at each other and it’s been quiet for too long, do you ask.
“Why did you tell Will we slept together?”
There’s sweat rapidly cooling on your skin, and the room has never been colder. You shiver when Brian rolls away from you, presenting his back.
His voice is flat. “Go to sleep, Sonny.”
You could push him, make him explain.
But something tells you that you don’t want to hear it.
________________________
Notes:
1. Selections of dialogue were adapted from the February 8, 2013 episode (the “Sonny and Gabi have it out” scene) and the February 22, 2013 episode (the “Sonny overhears Kate and Lucas" and the “Sonny comforts Will at the hospital” scenes).
2. If you're interested, then I've compiled a Companion Soundtrack to this story. Take a listen over here or check out the lyrics and character assignment over here.
Author: Starvinbohemian.
Rating: NC-17.
Pairings: Sonny/Brian, Sonny/Will.
Chapter Summary: Will.
Read either here or over at Ao3.
… The Loose Ends Will Make Knots
(Chapter 9 B)
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Folded neatly, Will’s shirt waits on the countertop.
There are still hours to go until 6 o’clock. Try as you might to resist, your gaze keeps going straight back to the clock. You don’t even know if you’re excited or dreading Will’s arrival. Either way, this is probably a bad idea.
Still, once 6 o’ clock, then 6:30, and 7 all roll around and there’s no Will, you can’t help feeling disappointed. There’s no message from him on your phone- you’ve checked. You don’t want to think that something bad happened to keep him from coming, but the alternative is that Will just chose not to come. You wouldn’t blame him, though you don’t really believe he would stand you up.
Which is why you’re scrubbing at the counters for all you’re worth, caught up in your epic battle with coffee stains because it’s better than worrying. Common Grounds has way more opportunities for stress cleaning than your tiny apartment.
You’re so busy trying not to think that you aren’t initially paying much attention to Lucas and Kate, who are having an intense conversation at one of the tables. It’s only when you happen to overhear Gabi’s name that your ears perk up.
“Is Gabi in labor?”
Labor? That can’t be right…
“I don’t know,” Lucas says, frowning down at his phone. “Sami’s not sure. She’s having contractions.”
The rag falls from your hand.
Kate says exactly what you’re thinking. “It’s way too soon for the baby.”
You were right to worry. Will had to stand you up because the baby is in trouble. Will’s baby. Will…
“I know it is,” Lucas says. He looks worried, too. “That’s why I have to get to the hospital.”
“I’m going with you.”
The door hasn’t even fully closed behind them yet, and you’re already hurriedly fumbling with your apron strings. You grab Jackie as she’s walking passed. “Can you close up for me?”
She looks taken aback by your intensity, but she says, “Sure.”
The word is barely out of her mouth before you’re out the door.
________________________
On the way to the hospital, you keep replaying your last conversation with Gabi.
You don’t know what’s wrong with Gabi, but it’s hard not to feel guilty. Just an hour ago, you were dwelling on your negative feelings about her. Maybe you weren’t specifically wishing ill on her, but you weren’t exactly sending her positive vibes either.
In the face of potential tragedy, you feel fairly ashamed of yourself. But mainly you’re just worried for Will. He must be so upset.
You find them all hovering in the hospital lobby. Lucas, Kate, and Rafe are there with Will. They all look terrified.
You clear your throat.
There’s a moment when you feel the weight of their collective stares, when you think someone is going to ask what you’re doing there, and you’ll have to defend yourself for intruding on a very personal situation even though you’re not Will’s boyfriend, or related to anyone, or anything to them really.
And then Will’s expression crumbles, and he’s throwing himself into your arms, and you’re holding him, and no one is asking anything.
His arms are tight around your neck. You clutch him to you, an arm around his waist and a hand holding his head against your shoulder. You’re murmuring things into his hair, “I’ve got you. You’re okay. I’ve got you…”
“Sonny, the baby…”
“… is fine. Everything is going to be fine.”
You don’t actually know if everything is going to be fine. You don’t know what’s wrong with Gabi or the baby. But you would say anything to get the pain out of Will’s voice.
You eye Will’s family over his shoulder. Their relieved expressions make you wonder how bad Will was before you got there. It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.
________________________
Later, after you’ve led Will away from the group supposedly to get a cup of coffee but really just to give him some room to breathe, he says, “I can’t believe you came over here.”
Your smile is self-conscious. “I heard your dad telling Kate what was going on and… We’re still friends. I just had to be here.”
You are still friends, you realize. Now, standing here across from him, it’s hard to believe that you ever worried that you couldn’t still be there for him just because you broke up. When something big like this happens… How could you stay away?
When Will doesn’t say anything, you nervously add, “Unless I’m in the way. I can go.”
“No.” More sure, “No. I want you to stay.” He drops his gaze. “I really do.”
You try not to look so obviously relieved. “Okay.” You touch his shoulder. “I can’t imagine how hard this is on you.”
“You know, she was just this idea. She was just this problem. And then I saw the sonogram, and she was, like, trying to suck her little thumb.”
You can’t help smiling at the wonder in his voice.
“I put my hand on Gabi’s stomach, and I felt her kick. It was like she was saying, ‘Hey! There you are. I’ve been waiting for you.’ And I’m like, ‘That’s my kid. You know, I have a daughter. And I started thinking about all the stuff we could do together. I could take her camping in the summer. We could go ice skating in the winter.”
The picture he’s painting for you is exactly the one you’ve been avoiding thinking about. Listening to him, you can easily imagine Will with his daughter, who in your mind is beautiful and golden just like her father. For the first time, the mental image doesn’t hurt.
You don’t know who Will was kidding. He never could have given up this baby. Not for you. Not for anyone. It’s clear that he’s in love.
Being here, seeing this… there so many complicated feelings soaring around your head. You can’t even zero in on one without risking unthreading entirely.
Somehow, you manage to keep your voice steady when you say, “Will? You kind of suck at ice skating.”
He manages a self-deprecating smile. “Yeah. I was gonna try to get better though. I can’t fall if she’s holding my hand.” His voice wobbles. “I really hope I get to hold her hand.”
Seeing him start to crumble again snaps you out of your temporary backslide into self-pity. You touch his hand. “Will, everything is going to be okay.”
He searches your face, probably gauging your sincerity, so you try to put your conviction where he can see it. You must have failed, because Will’s eyes become misty.
Uh-oh. “What is it?”
To your surprise and relief, Will smiles through his tears. “Nothing. It’s just really nice to see your face.” His fingers curl around yours.
You have to swallow around the lump in your throat.
“It’s really nice to see your face, too.”
________________________
Your vigil in the hospital lasts through most of the night.
Will doesn’t handle the wait well. Anxiety has him pacing around the room, always in orbit around you. You want to reach out and touch just to make him stop, but his family is watching you. You can’t tell if they want you to or not.
It’s one of the longest nights of your life. After so long without news, you start to consider what you’re going to say to Will if the baby doesn’t make it. It’s a dim prospect. After everything, it’s possible that Will, undoubtedly distraught, won’t want to hear anything from you at all. You could tell him that you’re sorry, but why should he believe you?
You keep all of your anxiety locked down tight under lock and key with the full understanding that this is not about you, but not everyone manages to do the same. There’s a lot of stress-related behavior that you’re witness to throughout the night.
Everyone seems intent on blaming Sami for this, Will included. Apparently, she and Gabi argued at the Brady Pub, and that’s what led to Gabi’s early labor pains and the rush to the hospital.
Will can barely stand to look at her. All of their issues are on full display for the whole room to see. He orders her out of the hospital multiple times, but she stubbornly stands her ground, determined to be there for him whether he likes it or not.
You hold your tongue because you have no idea if Sami is to blame or not; though, it strikes you as unlikely that someone cold enough to have their own best friend kidnapped just to get them out of the way would be so delicate as to collapse just from a few harsh words from Sami. If that’s all it takes, then you’re lucky she didn’t collapse after talking to you. This thought has you feeling fairly sympathetic toward Will’s mother. But you aren’t here for Sami.
After a while, Will finally exhausts himself. He slides down the wall to the floor beside your chair. He looks defeated. It hurts to see him like that. Without thinking, you abandon your chair to join him on the floor. Your shoulders brush.
His lip trembles. “Tell me again.”
He’s whispering, so you lower your voice to match his. This conversation obviously isn’t for anyone else. “Tell you what?”
“That it’s going to okay.”
You imagine everyone can hear the sound of your heart breaking. Oh, Will. Forgetting your earlier trepidation, you put your arm around his shoulders. When he leans his head on your shoulder, you murmur into his ear, “It’s going to be okay, Will.”
“Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “Okay.”
You realize with a jolt of surprise that he might actually believe you. Because you would never lie to him. Could he still have that much faith in you?
Suddenly, there’s a weight on your chest and you’re pulling him closer so you can lay your head against his. It could be your imagination, but Will seems to breathe a little easier. It’s amazing that just an hour earlier and this kind of closeness between you wouldn’t have been possible.
It seems to take forever for Maxine to come out and say that Gabi and the baby are all right.
Dehydration. All the blaming and snarling at Sami, and it was just dehydration all along.
Will hugs you again with a half-relieved, half-hysterical laugh. Sami looks just as relieved, and you don’t blame her. You’re feeling pretty relieved yourself to know that it wasn’t your bad vibes that put Gabi in here.
“You were right,” Will says.
Thank God. “Of course I was,” you joke. “It’s me.”
You can feel Will smile against your shoulder. You were aiming for glib, but there’s no denying that the thought of what-if-you-weren’t has you gripping him tighter. You send a grateful thank you up to the universe.
Sami watches you hold Will. When your eyes meet, she sends you a watery, grateful smile. In this moment, you think you understand each other. To you, she isn’t the town screw-up, just a frightened and protective mother. Neither of you are technically supposed to be here- Kate and Rafe haven’t stopped giving her the stink eye- but you’re both still here because you care about Will. The only difference right now is that Will is letting you hold him.
It’s a small, private moment between you and Sami when you return her smile over Will’s shoulder.
________________________
You take Will home.
________________________
Sometime when you weren’t looking, Will moved into the Salem U dorms.
The walk up the staircase to his room inspires conflicting feelings in you. Even when you were still planning on moving in together, this is where you privately suspected Will should be all along. You never told him, but you worried that moving in together would somehow take away from his college experience and make him grow old at the peak of his youth.
(Turns out that was going to happen regardless.)
Your worries didn’t stop you from giving him the key, though. Obviously, you wanted him to move in with you more than you worried for his overall wellbeing.
You can be selfish, too.
Will drops his keys onto the desk and flings his jacket without looking to see where it lands. He tiredly rubs his eyes. Poor guy has to be exhausted. You place his discarded jacket over the back of his desk chair.
Will isn’t looking at you when he asks, “Brian isn’t going to mind you being here?”
Christ. He isn’t looking, so he doesn’t see you flinch. “It’s fine.” There’s nothing else to say about it. Not now anyway. You don’t want to open that door. You’re not here to talk about Brian.
You say his name softly. That catches his attention, and he watches you with wide eyes as you settle on the edge of his bed. “Come here,” you say.
When he shuffles closer, you take his hand and pull him down so he’s sitting beside you. You put your arm around his shoulders, tugging him closer until he lays his head on your shoulder. It’s a mirror of your position at the hospital, except that the bed is much more comfortable than a cold hospital floor.
It’s been such a long night. You can hear all the pent up stress and anxiety release in his sigh when he slumps against you.
Will’s dorm room is quiet and still around you. Before this year, you chose mountains over classrooms, so you never really had the dorm experience yourself. You imagined loud noise reverberating through the walls well into the night.
And then you remember that it’s 4:30 in the morning. Even the most ardent frat boys are probably sleeping.
Will reaches up to clutch the hand you’ve got around his shoulder. The familiarity almost gets you. You’ve sat together like this a million times before and under much better circumstances.
You have to purposely suppress the nostalgia before it can rear its head. Instead, you will your mind to go blank. It doesn’t matter that the boundaries are blurred here. You just want to help. Being here seems to help.
You’ve felt so lost lately. For the first time in a long time, you know exactly where you’re supposed to be, and it’s right here taking care of Will.
Will’s voice is strained when he breaks the silence and says, “Sonny, I thought… When I got the call, I thought that-”
You shush him. You know what he thought. “Gabi and the baby are all right, remember? You’re all right.”
He nods a little desperately.
“Can I get you anything?” you ask.
“No. Just talk to me.”
“About?”
“Anything. Tell me about your day.”
“Well, most of it was spent at the hospital…”
“Before that. Tell me about before.”
You search your mind, but there really isn’t any part of your day that you want to share. Will doesn’t want to hear about your drama with Brian. So, you make up a story about Chad, some make-believe customers from Japan, and a cultural misunderstanding. You talk and talk until Will finally yawns.
“Am I boring you?” you tease.
“No. Just tired.”
“You want to lie down?”
“Yeah.”
You’re about to pull your arm back when Will tightens his grip on your hand, effectively locking you in place. When he leans back on the bed, you’re pulled down with him with Will’s head cushioned by your arm. You pull your arm back just enough so that you’re able to roll onto your side and face him. He smiles sleepily at you.
Your heart is beating rapidly when you say, “My arm is not a pillow.”
“Your arm is the best pillow,” he says, causing you to snort. More serious, he asks, “Stay?”
It’s only with a slight hesitation that you say, “Okay.” As if you could say no when he’s looking at you like that. “You can go to sleep if you want.”
Will does close his eyes, but you can still see signs of tension on his face. You reach out slowly, unsure but still wanting to soothe out the worry, and gently stroke your fingers over his eyelids. He twitches under your hand, and you freeze.
But when Will doesn’t move away or even open his eyes, and so you move your fingers down his cheek and trace the lines around his mouth. His bottom lip falls open at your touch.
The boundaries are blurred here, you remind yourself.
Emboldened, you let your fingers roam further. You touch his hair, softly trailing your fingers through the strands. Will hums contentedly under your touch. You think he looks relaxed for the first time since you found him at the hospital. The sight sends warmth through your chest.
You feel light, dizzy. Once you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop touching. Will lets you run your hands over his face, down his neck, and over his shoulders without comment. The only sound between you is his shallow breaths. Maybe he senses that speaking now would pierce the fragile bubble you’ve woven. This does feel like an other space meant just for the two of you.
Which is why you don’t say anything either when he curls around you, his arm tight across your chest. He must feel your heart beating wildly against your ribs, but he doesn’t call you on it.
He’s so close that his eyelashes graze yours when he leans forward. Your heart is in your throat as you let your eyes slide shut. His lips brush against yours. Soft and sweet, like a butterfly kiss. It makes you ache. This is what he does to you. He brings clichés to life and makes the rest of the world fade away.
But you have to cup his face and say, firmly if regretfully, “No, Will.”
You feel his disappointed sigh on your lips. It echoes your own.
“Sonny…”
When you open your eyes, the look on his face makes your breath catch. The truth is that no one has ever looked at you as Will looks at you- as if you’re everything. Being on the receiving end of that look is the most wonderful, terrifying thing in the world.
Will scoots down so he can bury his face in your neck. “I love you,” he whispers.
You’re glad he can’t see the pain on your face. Tortured, you say, “Will…”
Will takes your hand from where you’re clutching the bedspread between you. He kisses your knuckles. “I’m going to keep telling you so you don’t forget.”
________________________
You don’t leave immediately; rather, you wait until his breathing has evened out in sleep before you carefully reclaim your arm from under his neck.
Will’s blue shirt is still in your bag. You place it, still carefully folded, on his desk for him to find once he wakes up.
You’re creeping out of Will’s dorm room like a guilty lover when he says it.
Startled, you turn with your hand still on the doorknob. The soft light through the window has caught him just right to make him look ethereal lying there, pale skin on pale sheets, his blue eyes shining at you through the gray half-dark.
You either woke him or else he was never really asleep. He claims the pillow you were using, wrapping his arms around it and pulling it under his cheek.
There’s no vindictiveness that you can sense when he says it, only a simple earnestness that you could never blame him for.
Still, you make him repeat it. “What did you say?”
“Brian isn’t who you think he is.”
Yeah, that’s what you thought he said.
________________________
In retrospect, you shouldn’t have asked him to elaborate.
But you did.
________________________
By the time you actually leave Will’s dorm, you’re squinting against delicate morning light.
With the adrenaline having worn off, you’re left feeling groggy and vaguely ill from stress and lack of sleep. There isn’t much thought behind it when your feet take you back to Common Grounds. It is your home away from home, the place you spend most of your time.
You end up curled up in one of the booths. Sleep doesn’t come, not that you really expected it to.
You’re still there in the booth when Brian eventually comes to collect you. You don’t look up at the sound of the bell tinkling over the door, just when he hovers over the booth and there’s really no further excuse for ignoring him.
He looks tired, too. Other than that, it’s hard to read him. You stare at each other, and Will’s words echo through your head.
“Brian isn’t who you think he is.”
Brian doesn’t have to say what he’s thinking because there are something like six unanswered text messages on your phone from him sent over the course of the night asking where you were.
After a moment, you stand with a sigh.
Brian holds the door open for you, his expression still blank. You still haven’t spoken.
The silence is strained on the walk back to his apartment. You drag your feet until Brian gets frustrated with you and finally just goes ahead at a faster pace. A rebellious voice in your head suggests just turning around and going back to your own apartment. No explanation required. You don’t, but it’s tempting.
By the time you get back to the apartment, you see that Brian has left the door open for you.
In the kitchen, Brian is chopping vegetables with laser-focused intensity. His usual breakfast consists of a bunch of vegetables juiced together in the blender. The only time you’ve ever seen him cook anything unhealthy was when he was cooking something for you.
“Are you hungry?” he asks without looking up.
“No.”
“Where were you?” he asks evenly. The carrots get pushed to the side to make way for the cucumber. You watch him quickly hash out a row of perfectly symmetrical slices.
“With Will.”
You see him absorb that. His jaw clenches. You note that he doesn’t look surprised.
“At the hospital,” you add.
He just stares at you, so you spell it out more clearly. “I was at the hospital with Will.”
You jump in alarm when Brian abruptly slams the knife down onto the cutting board.
“I don’t have to be anywhere for six hours.” His voice is still eerily calm despite the violent gesture. “I’m going back to bed.”
Abandoning the vegetables, he walks right passed you and heads for the bed. He sits on the edge and starts taking off his boots. He can’t be serious, but he sure looks determined to at least act as if he’s returning to bed.
Well, he isn’t going to ignore you that easily. You follow him to the edge of the bed, hovering in front of him. “Aren’t you going to ask me why we were at the hospital?”
He gives you an ironic look. “No.”
“No?” Your hands clench at your sides. “You were his friend. You don’t care?”
Brian’s fuse must be shorter than he wants you to think, because he’s only just sat down but he throws his boot onto the floor and stands again. You’re too stubborn to move back even though you have to crane your head back to still look him in the eye.
His eyes are livid when he smirks at you. “No.”
“How can you say that?” you demand, appalled. You’ve never seen him like this before. Of course, you’ve never really fought before.
“How can I…?” He laughs incredulously. “Sonny, if Will was the one who was hurt, then you wouldn’t even be here. So I’m guessing it’s the baby mama drama. Yes? Thought so. And guess what? I don’t care about that or whatever else he’s using to try to lure you back in.”
He gets in your face and says, “You wanna know what I do care about?”
Your only response is a glare.
“While I was here, worrying about you, you were with Will? Ignoring my texts?”
You could reassure him that it’s not what he thinks, whether it is or isn’t, but you’re so angry you’re seeing red. So you say, “Yes.”
“Fuck you, Sonny Kiriakis.” And then he’s pulling you into a brutal kiss.
You shove him back. “No, fuck you-”
He cuts you off with another kiss. This time, you kiss him back. The kiss is angry, full of teeth and spit, and you’re rudely pulling at the buttons of each other’s coats. Your lust and fury are so intertwined that there’s no clear distinction.
If you were a more violent person, you might have just hit him. You hit T because that was the only way to make him understand that you weren’t going to take his abuse lying down. But that’s not you. Banked anger, emotional shut down, and sharp verbal jabs are how you fight back. Now you know Brian can match you in that. He can match you in this, too.
For you, it’s been a long 24-hour stretch with not enough sleep and too much stress. Stress about Brian, stress about Will. You’ve officially been pushed passed your endurance threshold. All your frustrations with him boil over, and you’re pushing Brian back onto the edge of the bed so you can straddle his lap.
Brian tugs your shirt over your head, and it’s barely off before he’s kissing you again. You pull back just far enough to get his shirt off, too, barely breaking the kiss. It’s hard to get his belt off while you’re still sitting on his lap, but you manage.
Gripping your hips, he rolls his erection up against you. You moan when he buries his face in your neck and growls, “I’m going to fuck you so hard.”
No, you think, though your whole body is singing as you grind down against him. How can you be so angry and still want him this much?
Brian may not be who you think he is, but you’re having trouble recognizing yourself at the moment. This isn’t you. This is the guy who punched T in the face maybe, but that’s not who you want to be. You want to be the guy who deserves to be looked at like somebody’s hero, like the guy who makes things better, not worse.
You wince when Brian abruptly catches your hair in a firm grip. He presses his mouth hard against your ear. “Stop it,” he hisses. “I can tell when you’re thinking about him.”
Your heart misses a beat. “Don’t…”
“Don’t what?”
What you think is: don’t bring Will even further into this. What you say is: “Don’t be an asshole.”
Scowling, Brian maneuvers you over onto your back somewhat rougher than necessary. You lift your hips off the bed so he can get your pants off. Brian throws them over the side of the bed, and then kicks his own off before crawling over you.
Brian rocks against you, sliding your cocks together, until you’re moaning and moving with him. With his hands hooked under your thighs, he hikes you up higher until you wrap your legs around him, pulling him in closer and creating a tighter friction between your bodies.
For all the anger, there is still so much want in his eyes. He groans. “Damn you, Sonny…”
You could have left it at that, let him be a jerk, and allowed yourself to be distracted by the amazing sensation of his naked body on yours. But Brian just can’t let it go.
Panting, he gasps out, “It’s not romantic to still be clinging to this, you know. To him. At this point, it’s just stubborn.”
Your temper flares. “Brian, will you just shut up?” You kiss him hard because you just want him to stop. Stop doing this thing where he’s being horrible and hates Will for no reason.
He doesn’t know anything about you and Will.
Brian starts rocking against you again, but it’s not enough like this, not when he had to go and needle you where you’re most sensitive.
With a strong roll of your bodies, you’re back on top, straddling him. Brian doesn’t fight the move. He can still make your knees weak just as easily from below as above. As if to prove it, he makes you whimper with a strong stroke of your cock, followed by fingers teasing at your entrance. Soon, his fingers are stretching and moving inside you. A twist of his fingers, and you nearly come right then. Damn Brian. No matter what, he seems to have more control of this situation than you do.
A strike of inspiration has you leaning over to grab one of Brian’s academic ribbons from the nightstand. You don’t remember what he won it for, but it should do regardless.
He tenses when he sees what you’re holding. “What are you doing?”
You grab his wrists and pull them up toward the headboard. “Don’t move,” you tell him as you carefully tie the ribbon around one of his wrists and the headboard. It’s too short to get around both wrists. Your knot is as flimsy as the fabric, but you trust that Brian won’t want to rip his accolade. Catching on, he grips the headboard. Good.
You pause for a second, taking in your handiwork. Are you really doing this?
You realize Brian is watching you. Maybe he sees some of your hesitance because his eyes soften slightly when they meet yours. With his free hand, he reaches up and touches your face. Just a soft graze of his fingers on your cheek, but it's completely incongruous to the mood you've set here.
He’s doing it again. Once was a fluke. Twice is a redefining of your pattern. You don’t want him to be gentle with you. You’re mad at him. You’re mad at yourself.
Frowning, you grip his wrist and return it to the headboard. “Stay.”
Brian rolls his eyes, but he takes a hold of the headboard with both hands. “Well?” he prompts.
This misdirection in your relationship is probably your own fault, so you need to fix it.
And so you rise up on your knees, position yourself over his cock, and attempt to show him what you do want.
Brian bites his lip as you slowly impale yourself, his fingers gripping the headboard. You work yourself down until you’ve got most of him inside you. There’s a long shiver that goes up your back and never really stops.
Brian sucks in a breath. You see him squeeze his eyes shut just long enough to get a hold of himself, and then he’s grinning up at you, all casual arousal and easy defiance. See? Isn’t this fun?
We’ll see, you think. You take a moment to adjust to the stretch and feel of him. Then, breath shuddering, you shift your weight onto your knees and start to move over him, slowly at first but quickly gaining momentum.
You can tell from his white knuckles and the way Brian is gritting his teeth that he’s doing his best to resist your pace. But you’re riding him now, and he can’t hold out forever.
“Easy,” he gasps out. You ignore him. You can tell he wants to go slower, to draw this out of you until there are tears in your eyes and a pressure on your chest, but you’re not going to let that happen, not this time.
You watch Brian’s control fizzle, hear the small, needy sounds he tries to but can’t swallow. Brian is all about control. At the moment, you’re all about taking it away.
And in the moment, it comes to you, exactly the button to push to get him up to your level. Head thrown back, thighs straining from the exertion, you start moaning his name. “Brian, Brian, Brian…”
Control snapped, his knees go up on either side of you, feet planted on the bed, and he slams up into you just as you’re lowering yourself- and you cry out for real this time. He meets you thrust for thrust, and it’s so good you lose yourself in the rhythm for a minute. “Oh, God, Brian…”
But just as you’re reaching the climax, you stop.
Brian makes a bereft sound. He looks up at you, confused. Before he can ask, you start again, but slower this time, breaking his rhythm.
You can see he’s getting frustrated. It’s your turn to smirk at him. Brian narrows his eyes at you, maybe finally understanding what you’re attempting here.
(Maybe he’ll explain it to you.)
You aren’t expecting it when he says, “Fuck it,” and rips his wrist out of the ribbon. Before you know it, he’s flipped you over onto your side. Mirroring you, he pulls you in and hikes your leg up and over his hip. You moan when he slides back into you.
Somehow, you’ve lost the thread again. Why you keep looking to lust to solve your problems, you’ll never know. But you’re gripping his shoulders, his face, and kissing him as he fucks you with hard, desperate thrusts.
Lust seems to be getting the better of Brian, too. He’s as mad as you are, but he’s gripping you as if he never wants to stop. You understand.
But you’re more confused than ever now, and he’s moaning things into your neck that you’re in no place to hear. And then he’s kissing you through the orgasm.
And there’s an ache building up in your chest that you’re not ready for.
Why is he doing this to you?
________________________
Only afterward, when you’re both staring up at the ceiling instead of at each other and it’s been quiet for too long, do you ask.
“Why did you tell Will we slept together?”
There’s sweat rapidly cooling on your skin, and the room has never been colder. You shiver when Brian rolls away from you, presenting his back.
His voice is flat. “Go to sleep, Sonny.”
You could push him, make him explain.
But something tells you that you don’t want to hear it.
________________________
Notes:
1. Selections of dialogue were adapted from the February 8, 2013 episode (the “Sonny and Gabi have it out” scene) and the February 22, 2013 episode (the “Sonny overhears Kate and Lucas" and the “Sonny comforts Will at the hospital” scenes).
2. If you're interested, then I've compiled a Companion Soundtrack to this story. Take a listen over here or check out the lyrics and character assignment over here.