FIC: Broken (Hollyoaks) (Gilly/Rhys)
Title: Broken
Pairing: Rhys/Gilly
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Just a story I dashed out based on some of the recent episodes. I'm not sure if it will continue or not, let me know what you think.
-
When Rhys had first arrived in Chester, he'd had everything. He hadn't realized it at the time, of course, but now he did.
Rhys ground his face into his pillow, trying to remember the time when his biggest problem had been shagging Sarah Barnes and her mother. When he'd known who his father was. When his sister was that cute, funny girl who wasn't puking her guts up. When...
*knock*
Rhys put the pillow over his head, not even bothering to tell them to go away.
He hated Beth. Hated her for making him care about a woman. Hated her for making love with him when he wanted to take things slow for the first time in his life. Hated her for being his sister. Most of all, he hated her because even now, even when she was his flesh and blood instead of his fantasy girl...he still wanted her. He felt sick, and dirty, but no amount of guilt made his desires go away.
*knock knock*
The heel of Rhys' palm began to grind into his left temple. Sometimes he wondered if he could just beat her out of his mind. He'd tried avoiding her, he'd tried drinking, he'd tried flirting with other girls. Thoughts of shoving a knife into his skull never seemed far away. It couldn't hurt any worse than the pain he carried with him now.
*knock knock knock*
Rhys finally just swung the door open, answering in his boxers.
On the other side of the door was Gilly, his old friend. Even with Gilly's bangs falling into his deep blue eyes, Rhys could still see the pity swimming in them. Unexpectedly, Rhys choked back a sob.
Gilly shut the door behind him and just stared at Rhys, his mouth hanging open as he tried to figure out what to say. Like some charity worker coming 'round to see if Rhys would have a proper Christmas. One of the reasons Rhys had befriended Gilly all those years ago was that he always knew he'd be smarter than Gilly, funnier than Gilly, better looking than Gilly, more popular with the ladies than Gilly. He couldn't take Gilly's pity. Anything but that.
"Don't look at me like that, Gilly. Please."
He couldn't look Gilly in the eye.
Rhys knew Gilly had been expecting some anger, some insults, a smirky facade. Gilly was so used to being insulted, he didn't know how to cope with anything else. Gilly fidgeted. Rhys could tell Gilly wanted to share a hug, but couldn't quite go through with his instincts.
"We're worried 'bout ya. All of us."
Rhys had no response. What was he supposed to say? Thank you?
"Told ya, I've told ALL of ya, I'm fine."
Gilly ran his long fingers through his hair, sifting like a fork in a spaghetti bowl. Rhys had never seen Gilly look so frustrated.
"You're not fine! Something's happened, Rhys. I know this has been a bad year, but c'mon..."
The anger coursed through Rhys. He was both pained and relieved to realize he could still feel anything beyond a dull ache.
"What do you know, huh? You got your life all sorted out. You know who you are, no matter how pathetic that is. My whole fucking life's a lie. It's a lie, Gilly. Why do you even care? You think you're gonna be a real member of our family if you pretend to give a fuck about me?"
Rhys felt as if he'd have hurt Gilly less if he'd punched him in the kidneys. Still, Gilly wouldn't leave. Even with the tears brimming from his eyes.
"We're mates, Rhys. You're my best friend."
At that point, Rhys turned his back on his friend. Better than to turn his back than for Gilly to see him cry. Rhys squinted his eyes shut, shoving his palms into his eyes, waiting for the click of the door shutting.
Instead, long arms encircled his waist. Long fingers resting on his bare midsection. Through the shaggy hair hanging over his ears, he heard Gilly's whisper.
"It's just us. Promise. No one else. I promise. Tell me. Please. Please."
"I can't."
"Please, Rhys. Please. Please. Please..."
Slowly, Rhys turned around to face his friend. His friend who remained so innocent and pure, the light to Rhys' darkness. He wanted to tell Gilly about Beth. He almost did. But if he said out loud what he'd done with Beth, he knew he'd die. He knew Gilly's pitying stares would turn to disgust and Rhys would lose the one last sure thing in his life.
All he could think of was Beth, and how she'd corrupted his soul. Gilly was so different from what she'd turned out to be. Gilly was good. Gilly was there for him. He'd always been there.
Their faces were pressed so close together, sharing breaths, sharing pain. Their tears mingled as Gilly tried to absorb what he could not fully understand. Without quite realizing what he was doing, Rhys tasted Gilly's tears on his lips and tongue. He needed more. He kissed Gilly, his best friend, his sycophant, his superior, now his lover.
When Rhys kissed Gilly, he had no idea if Gilly protested. His mouth was pressed tight to his friend's thin lips. Gilly's hands were pressed against Rhys' bare chest, torn between pulling him in and pushing him away. Rhys didn't know what he was doing, and he didn't really care. His hands were in Gilly's hair, holding him tight, keeping their half-naked and fully clothed bodies entwined.
He'd never thought about what it was like to make out with his best friend, with the man he'd so often humiliated and degraded and taken for granted. Soon he felt Gilly give way, Gilly's warm, hot mouth open for Rhys' desperate tongue. The confused, heavy hands on Rhys' pecs gave way to more tender caresses.
Gilly was a good kisser. Very giving. What else would Gilly ever be? Their kisses were sloppy but determined, as if they knew they were on borrowed time. Every time Rhys tasted Gilly's tongue or put his hands under Gilly's sweater, he thought less about what his life had become and less about...her.
Gilly pulled away, gasping for breath. Confused and barely in control of himself, he tried to meet Rhys' grey, haunted eyes. Rhys couldn't let him in again. Visions of stopping, talking, angsting all ran through Rhys' head. Gilly would ask him what he was doing and they were only friends and then Rhys would go back to being alone and in pain.
Finally, Rhys shoved his hand down Gilly's pants.
Rhys ignored whatever Gilly was trying to tell him. All he could concentrate on was sifting through the layers of clothes, finding the shaft heavy in his hand.
"Rhys...stop."
Rhys wasn't sure why, but the grunt from his friend as Rhys began to jerk him off made him smile. Gilly was so close, he probably hadn't had anyone touch him in a long time, the complaints had been replaced by...
Somehow, feeling his best friend's cock ejaculating in his grasp shocked Rhys back to reality. He pulled his hand free and washed it, then handed Gilly a washcloth. From time to time he tried to look at Gilly, hoping to show him remorse, but he didn't feel remorse. He didn't feel anything. Except for the dull ache beginning to creep up again.
Gilly took the washcloth, silently cleaning himself up. A long, awkward silence, eventually broken when his hand began to turn the doorknob.
"Feel better now, Rhys?"
Said with such a sad tinge of curiosity, longing, and bitterness. Rhys wanted to stay quiet. This had been bad enough already.
"Yes."
Rhys turned his back. He couldn't face Gilly. Both men knew he'd told a lie, but lies were all Rhys knew. Lies and cruel betrayals. The one person he knew he could trust was Gilly, and now...
"Oh God, Gilly, I'm so sorry, I..."
Rhys realized the room was empty. He was alone. Again.
Maybe he was better off that way.
Pairing: Rhys/Gilly
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Just a story I dashed out based on some of the recent episodes. I'm not sure if it will continue or not, let me know what you think.
-
When Rhys had first arrived in Chester, he'd had everything. He hadn't realized it at the time, of course, but now he did.
Rhys ground his face into his pillow, trying to remember the time when his biggest problem had been shagging Sarah Barnes and her mother. When he'd known who his father was. When his sister was that cute, funny girl who wasn't puking her guts up. When...
*knock*
Rhys put the pillow over his head, not even bothering to tell them to go away.
He hated Beth. Hated her for making him care about a woman. Hated her for making love with him when he wanted to take things slow for the first time in his life. Hated her for being his sister. Most of all, he hated her because even now, even when she was his flesh and blood instead of his fantasy girl...he still wanted her. He felt sick, and dirty, but no amount of guilt made his desires go away.
*knock knock*
The heel of Rhys' palm began to grind into his left temple. Sometimes he wondered if he could just beat her out of his mind. He'd tried avoiding her, he'd tried drinking, he'd tried flirting with other girls. Thoughts of shoving a knife into his skull never seemed far away. It couldn't hurt any worse than the pain he carried with him now.
*knock knock knock*
Rhys finally just swung the door open, answering in his boxers.
On the other side of the door was Gilly, his old friend. Even with Gilly's bangs falling into his deep blue eyes, Rhys could still see the pity swimming in them. Unexpectedly, Rhys choked back a sob.
Gilly shut the door behind him and just stared at Rhys, his mouth hanging open as he tried to figure out what to say. Like some charity worker coming 'round to see if Rhys would have a proper Christmas. One of the reasons Rhys had befriended Gilly all those years ago was that he always knew he'd be smarter than Gilly, funnier than Gilly, better looking than Gilly, more popular with the ladies than Gilly. He couldn't take Gilly's pity. Anything but that.
"Don't look at me like that, Gilly. Please."
He couldn't look Gilly in the eye.
Rhys knew Gilly had been expecting some anger, some insults, a smirky facade. Gilly was so used to being insulted, he didn't know how to cope with anything else. Gilly fidgeted. Rhys could tell Gilly wanted to share a hug, but couldn't quite go through with his instincts.
"We're worried 'bout ya. All of us."
Rhys had no response. What was he supposed to say? Thank you?
"Told ya, I've told ALL of ya, I'm fine."
Gilly ran his long fingers through his hair, sifting like a fork in a spaghetti bowl. Rhys had never seen Gilly look so frustrated.
"You're not fine! Something's happened, Rhys. I know this has been a bad year, but c'mon..."
The anger coursed through Rhys. He was both pained and relieved to realize he could still feel anything beyond a dull ache.
"What do you know, huh? You got your life all sorted out. You know who you are, no matter how pathetic that is. My whole fucking life's a lie. It's a lie, Gilly. Why do you even care? You think you're gonna be a real member of our family if you pretend to give a fuck about me?"
Rhys felt as if he'd have hurt Gilly less if he'd punched him in the kidneys. Still, Gilly wouldn't leave. Even with the tears brimming from his eyes.
"We're mates, Rhys. You're my best friend."
At that point, Rhys turned his back on his friend. Better than to turn his back than for Gilly to see him cry. Rhys squinted his eyes shut, shoving his palms into his eyes, waiting for the click of the door shutting.
Instead, long arms encircled his waist. Long fingers resting on his bare midsection. Through the shaggy hair hanging over his ears, he heard Gilly's whisper.
"It's just us. Promise. No one else. I promise. Tell me. Please. Please."
"I can't."
"Please, Rhys. Please. Please. Please..."
Slowly, Rhys turned around to face his friend. His friend who remained so innocent and pure, the light to Rhys' darkness. He wanted to tell Gilly about Beth. He almost did. But if he said out loud what he'd done with Beth, he knew he'd die. He knew Gilly's pitying stares would turn to disgust and Rhys would lose the one last sure thing in his life.
All he could think of was Beth, and how she'd corrupted his soul. Gilly was so different from what she'd turned out to be. Gilly was good. Gilly was there for him. He'd always been there.
Their faces were pressed so close together, sharing breaths, sharing pain. Their tears mingled as Gilly tried to absorb what he could not fully understand. Without quite realizing what he was doing, Rhys tasted Gilly's tears on his lips and tongue. He needed more. He kissed Gilly, his best friend, his sycophant, his superior, now his lover.
When Rhys kissed Gilly, he had no idea if Gilly protested. His mouth was pressed tight to his friend's thin lips. Gilly's hands were pressed against Rhys' bare chest, torn between pulling him in and pushing him away. Rhys didn't know what he was doing, and he didn't really care. His hands were in Gilly's hair, holding him tight, keeping their half-naked and fully clothed bodies entwined.
He'd never thought about what it was like to make out with his best friend, with the man he'd so often humiliated and degraded and taken for granted. Soon he felt Gilly give way, Gilly's warm, hot mouth open for Rhys' desperate tongue. The confused, heavy hands on Rhys' pecs gave way to more tender caresses.
Gilly was a good kisser. Very giving. What else would Gilly ever be? Their kisses were sloppy but determined, as if they knew they were on borrowed time. Every time Rhys tasted Gilly's tongue or put his hands under Gilly's sweater, he thought less about what his life had become and less about...her.
Gilly pulled away, gasping for breath. Confused and barely in control of himself, he tried to meet Rhys' grey, haunted eyes. Rhys couldn't let him in again. Visions of stopping, talking, angsting all ran through Rhys' head. Gilly would ask him what he was doing and they were only friends and then Rhys would go back to being alone and in pain.
Finally, Rhys shoved his hand down Gilly's pants.
Rhys ignored whatever Gilly was trying to tell him. All he could concentrate on was sifting through the layers of clothes, finding the shaft heavy in his hand.
"Rhys...stop."
Rhys wasn't sure why, but the grunt from his friend as Rhys began to jerk him off made him smile. Gilly was so close, he probably hadn't had anyone touch him in a long time, the complaints had been replaced by...
Somehow, feeling his best friend's cock ejaculating in his grasp shocked Rhys back to reality. He pulled his hand free and washed it, then handed Gilly a washcloth. From time to time he tried to look at Gilly, hoping to show him remorse, but he didn't feel remorse. He didn't feel anything. Except for the dull ache beginning to creep up again.
Gilly took the washcloth, silently cleaning himself up. A long, awkward silence, eventually broken when his hand began to turn the doorknob.
"Feel better now, Rhys?"
Said with such a sad tinge of curiosity, longing, and bitterness. Rhys wanted to stay quiet. This had been bad enough already.
"Yes."
Rhys turned his back. He couldn't face Gilly. Both men knew he'd told a lie, but lies were all Rhys knew. Lies and cruel betrayals. The one person he knew he could trust was Gilly, and now...
"Oh God, Gilly, I'm so sorry, I..."
Rhys realized the room was empty. He was alone. Again.
Maybe he was better off that way.