disarrayed | au inbox;

[obviously when you said "text when you land" you meant four hours after, right?]

👍

I expect you took more than the prescribed dosage of Xanax on the plane and that's why it took you four hours to tell me you've landed?

We'll have to discuss this in our next session, Mr. Alvida.

and ppl say my generation can't communicate 😘 koby. just koby here unrelated but i'm out of xanax 🥺🥺🥺

Koby it is. An interesting nickname. Who gave it to you?

I'll have to find my prescription pad if you want more Xanax. I think I misplaced it in my travel things. Care to help find it?

short for jakob i made it up. aw, you're helpless, cute say please ❤️

Creative.

[ koby is cute - a name that's a little more playful on the tongue. ]

I believe it's you who should say please. If I don't find my prescription pad, then I'm unfortunately unable to refill your medication. I would hate to see you go without for such a long time.

thanks, i guess? just a nickname, not a big deal.

[it is; jakob wasn't his choice. this was.]

🙄🙄🙄 helpless without me. fine. i'll help you look, doc.

Of course.

[ and joke's on you koby, he knows it's a big deal. ]

I appreciate your assistance all the same. Once we find it you can chastise me all you please. We have the whole of the English countryside as our backdrop.

[stop perceiving him 😤]

romantic. i lecture u with the rolling fields and stuff watching. u got something for my hangover and i'll let the robins and bluebirds watch me thank u for it 😘

I have a few things that might help your hangover.

You'll have to ask nicely, where the robins and bluebirds will hear.

you're getting a great yelp review baby 😘 hmph. fine, but only because its therapy i guess 🙄

Excellent. You've come a long way on accepting that some things are meant to be a collaboration, a give and take from both parties. Your demands come with understanding now - it's progress.

I have what you want ready for you - you'll have to come collect it soon.

okay freud, keep it in your pants for 5 minutes, damn 🥰 where's ur room house is too damn big

My office is down the hallway from the library.

You have five minutes, then. If you don't find me by then, I fear the prescription pad is lost for good.

Edited (do not perceive me) 2025-06-02 15:37 (UTC)

i don't know where the LIBRARY is, doc, come on, i hang out cool places. FINE 😠

[seven minutes later, a dull thud, because he's kicking the door. brat.]

lemme in

[ will doesn't respond. koby's a smart boy, he'll figure it out in due time. and when he hears the thud of a foot on the door he almost snorts. petulant little thing, amusing. jakob has been in his books for some time now, and only lately has he started creeping round the back of his skull, like an itch that can't be gotten but you still chase it.

so he rises and opens the door. he's in his usual attire - nice, trim slacks and a button down cuffed up at the elbows. usually he has some kind of waistcoat or vest, but today he has a few buttons undone at the top of his shirt instead. ]

Ah. Mr. Alvida. Come in. You're only two minutes late.

[ a quirk at the corner of his lips. ] I'm impressed.

[it's always different in person -- the air changes when koby stomps inside, heavy boots and black on black, the quintessential broody youth. sometimes he's softer, around dr. graham, flannels layered over washed-soft tees, loose cargo pants, sneakers. sometimes he wants that, the softness, the strange way that his doctor -- will -- looks at him and seems to see everything koby is, every shattered, miserable piece.

and sometimes he comes to will like this: sharp edges and glares, stuffing his phone in his pocket and tracking mud across the carpet to flop into one of the gilded armchairs.] Yeah, next time pick a room that isn't a million miles away, god.

[scowling, daring, pushing -- koby knows the lines, knows the boundaries, but he bites at them, strains and snarls until will puts him back in his place. his eyes are bright with wanting it, wanting the particular bite only the good doctor can give him.]

[ he shuts the door (and locks it) behind them as koby stomps into the room, tracking muddy prints all over a rug that he doesn't own and doesn't give a shit about. he circles back around behind the desk, fluffing some papers and organizing a few things. ]

It will teach you to be more observant. That and if you really wanted that prescription, you would have found a way. I'm going to subtract a pill for every ten seconds you were late from the count on the script.

[ he pulls out an elaborately beautiful fountain pen, writes koby's name on the prescription pad. ]

Unless you have something else to tell me? Or something to show for your tardiness? My time is very valuable, Koby.

[ not mr. alvida, no - the first time he's used any other name for his rambunctious patient. ]

What?! [it comes out as a squawk, as koby sits upright, expression pure indignation.] That’s like – that’s – [a brief moment wherein he tries (and fails) to do the math on what he’s about to be shorted] – so many! That’s like, all of them!

[he scrambles out of his chair, clomping back onto the rug, expression beseeching and – yes, okay, a little desperate. he cannot do this damn trip sober, there’s no way in hell. reaching out, koby sets a hand on will’s arm, eyes wide, teeth notched into his lower lip.] I’m sorry. Really, I’m – sorry, I-I just got lost, I swear.

[he’s playing it up, stroking his palm along will’s arm slowly, feeling the work of his muscle beneath the fabric, the solid, firm shape of him, standing there offering everything koby wants – oblivion, drugged and dreamy and painless. that’s what will’s been, since the beginning of all this, a doorway out of the life koby didn’t ask for, didn’t want, and he’d be lying if he said it was only the drugs. it’s those and it’s everything else.

so he looks upwards with those big blue eyes, steps closer, drags his tongue over the swell of his lip in a slow, deliberate movement.] Can’t I – make it up to you somehow?

Actions have consequences, Koby.

[ but there he goes, a little firecracker full of desperation and need. that's not the attractive part, no. he knows one day he will have to insist koby depart from the medications, that he will have to gingerly wean him off the things he chases to forget everything except himself. but not now, no. koby isn't ready for that.

and the man lays it on thick in a way that makes will snort, with his bitten bottom lip and the pets along his arms. it's the eyes, though, that always get him. knowing and wide and innocent all in one. sometimes he wonders what koby would taste like, dressed up in sweet sauces and neatly laid out. a feast for a man who enjoys fine things. ]

We can come to an agreement, yes.

[ he reaches to pluck koby's hand from his arm, giving him a tug so that the other has to sit on one spread thigh. and if he follows, will smiles up at him, reaches to touch his cheek, brush hair from his forehead. almost doting, were it not for the cool hunger in his eyes. ]

What do you think I want? [ he drops his hand, smears his thumb over the spit-slick bottom lip, giving it a soft pull before his fingers land on his chin. ] Guess right and I'll give you thirty seconds back.

[will is visibly bemused, and he’s not normally visibly anything, veiling all his emotions behind the veneer of a good, dutiful therapist, confidentiality and how does that make you feel and notes jotted down on paper. koby doesn’t know what he wrote back in the beginning, back before things took a turn, before all his bared teeth and snarling and ferocity came to nothing and he finally just stood up, crossed the room and plopped himself down into will’s lap, that first time, leaned and whispered – you want to help me? i’ll show you how to help me.

this time is gentler, because koby knows he isn’t going to get shoved to the floor and have his guardian and the police and probably the vatican called. because will takes his hand and tugs him along, and he’s amused, and that’s a win, so koby’s smiling smug as a satisfied cat as he slips onto the offered seat. it’s an effort not to straddle will’s thigh, not to grind down against the meat of it and get himself off that way – wouldn’t be the first time – but he’s playing sweet today, he’s the earnest little strung-out patient willing to do whatever he’s told, willing to behave.

so he tips his head towards the touch, demandingly affectionate, smushing his cheek into will’s palm, pulling a thoughtful pout.] Hmmmmm… [one arm lifts, drapes around the good doctor’s neck, nestling the warm, pliant shape of the younger man’s body closer. koby huffs, scrunches his nose, rests his chin in will’s hand as his eyes roll upwards, exaggerated thought.] Dooooo I get a clue?

[ it had been all business until koby snapped - until he stomped around like he had when he walked in the office door moments ago and demanded what he wanted. and maybe that was when everything started to crumble - when the lines between doctor and patient started to blur in many of his professional relationships. koby, a gateway drug.

he snorts at the thought, tipping his head back to look at him, fingers curling around his cheek, sliding up to the back of his skull, into his hair. he strokes the soft hair at his nape, nothing more or less. his free arm falls to koby's lap, reaching to tug him closer, get his legs up in his lap, a palm resting on his thigh. ]

Do you think you deserve a hint?

[ he tilts his head, curious. he always enjoys the creative answers, the many ways that koby can come up with to pull and push and pry to get what he wants. he should punish him. throw him down to the desk and make him beg until he's crying, but he doesn't. instead he reaches behind koby to undo a drawer of the desk. there's the tell-tale rattle of something - but will doesn't let koby see it. he raises his hand and with a quick toss, a rectangular pill on his tongue. ]

Take it.

[the drugs are nice too, but – he can get drugs anywhere. that had been one of the things he’d thrown in will’s face, back at the beginning, how replaceable he was, just one of a dozen of therapists brought in to perpetuate the myth that alvida gave a shit about the kid she’d scooped up at random out of the system. will had nodded and said nothing and written things down and then, when koby had pushed and pushed and pushed he’d bent him over and fucked him until he cried.

and that wasn’t so easily replaced. that and the way will cradles the back of his head like koby’s something breakable, something to be careful with, making his eyes flutter nearly-shut, vulnerable like an exposed throat. giveaways, every which way, reveals that not many get to see. will likes taking him apart, likes to explore the marrow and the meat.]

No, sir. [soft, shame-faced, bashful boy kicking at the ground with the toe of one scuffed sneaker. he doesn’t deserve it, but he demands it anyway, he asks for too much, youthful greediness. koby’s body goes softer, slack, melting into the shape of will holding him like a purring cat, completely surrendered.

there’s a pill on will’s tongue, and koby opens his mouth like he’s waiting for communion, the new(ish) metal stud in his tongue catching the light. and he waits, because he might not deserve it, but will’s going to give it to him, give him this and more and more and more, because koby’s never going to stop asking for it.]

[ how soft and pliant koby becomes in moments like these - first all pomp and circumstance and fire - then a molten surrender. it feels more genuine with him like this, even with the dramatic expressions, the kick of his feet. he's a sweet thing, koby, something he wants to curl his tongue around and taste until nothing remains.

the hand cradling his thigh moves, slides between koby's thighs, fingers pressing up against his crotch. applying pressure only at first, but soon after he curls his fingers in feather light touches, up and down the seam of his shorts. ]

Good boy.

[ he leans forward, bumping their foreheads together with a little amused huff then kisses him, licks hot into his mouth so that when their tongues tangle the little pill can slide between them and into koby's mouth. it doesn't stop him from kissing, though, from drinking deeply from koby's mouth, sucking his tongue into his own once, all the way up to the new little piercing and nipping there. ]

That's new.

[ spoken into the corner of koby's mouth, beard scratching the fair skin. ] What have you planned to do with it?

[will touches him, hand skating up the shivery inside of his thigh, warm and firm against the bare skin, the ragged hem of cut-off denim – and any brattiness left inside koby melts away, because will’s one of the few men who knew exactly what to do from the very beginning. he’s learned koby’s body by now, knows the perfect amount of pressure to give against the seam of the shorts, knows what’ll make that shaky breath pitch up into a keening, pleading sound instead, but he’d never hesitated, never been weird or hesitant about touching.

maybe that should’ve been a red flag, yeah, but koby doesn’t see those anymore – things happen and if he should be anxious or concerned, it doesn’t register. it doesn’t matter that it’s his therapist kissing him, open-mouthed and messy, feeding him the bitter dissolving pill on his tongue. because koby takes it, reaches up and grabs at will’s shirt, pulls him closer and swallows and swallows.

he doesn’t ask what it was, either, just chases after will’s mouth when he moves away, huffs in annoyance and impatience, hips squirming up against his teasing fingers.] Y-Yeah. Uh – heard it feels good. For, y’know. [pierced tongue flicking out, the stud rounded and glinting as koby licks back into will’s mouth, teases the metal in slow, deliberate circles against his tongue. he’s pretty secure in his ability to make any man insane, any way he chooses, but if koby had to pick his best skill, it’s going down on someone. he pulls back, licks his lips, just barely succeeding in hiding the smirk.] Stuff I usually do with my mouth.

[ will keeps the pressure of his fingers slow and deliberate, just enough to be felt and just enough to leave koby wanting more. he always likes slowly working him up, slowly plucking and pulling and biting at him until he's pliable and perfect. he turns his hand, thumb pressing against koby's clit through the denim, other fingers still gently curling and uncurling. ]

Y'know.

[ but koby's kiss is tantalizing, the rub of the little metal ball, the way koby moves his tongue to accommodate it. it makes him impossibly hard in his own trousers, something koby might feel against a thigh, a knee. ]

Show me what you can do. [ with the piercing, with his hands, his body, his mouth - anything. he leans in, licking long, lewd stripes along koby's neck to the shell of his ear which he bites and pulls before he speaks. ] And you'll get your reward. Do you think you can be good and show me, Koby?

[it’s not like koby can’t measure his responses – he can, he has, he does most of the time, bottles them up and boxes them away for later, for another time, another life. but will has a way of drawing them out coaxingly, soothing and caressing until the walls crumble, until the dam sags enough to let in the ebb of deep, dark water, and koby doesn’t notice until it’s pooling around his ankles, his knees, his waist. until there’s no choice but to sink, because swimming’s never been an option, not with doctor graham.

so he lets his knees rock open, apart, one nudging the hard bulge almost carelessly, curled against will’s chest and moaning open-mouthed into the crook of his neck, near-cradled, a pieta sort of pose – he’s been to rome, he’s seen it, he’d been compelled by the fragility of the held body, the power and stoicism of the holding. but he’s no christ, and will’s no virgin mary, so koby rocks his hips up once more, grinds into the hand cupped between his legs, then pulls away.]

Y-Yeah, I can. I can. [gulping, earnest, like will’s mouth hadn’t left his neck, his ear tingling, singed with contact, with the forbidden bliss of his tongue, his teeth. like koby couldn’t feel every touch like a brand, imagining it layered on top of thousands of other touches and burning them away, all in one measure. he wonders, mildly, what will had fed him, what sort of drug is taking effect, but he waits until he’s up on his shaky legs, then down on his wobbly knees, hands on his doctor’s thighs, pushing them apart and bullying his way between them.

it’s there, there only that koby pauses, a penitent kneeling, tips his chin up and drums his fingers against will’s firm thighs.] What’d you give me? [pointed, bemused even, tilting his head to one side and letting the overgrown fluff of his hair fall into his eyes.]

Good boy.

[ soft, giving koby's bottom a gentle squeeze as he rises, will's eyes following his movements with every turn. he can't remember when their sessions turned into this, into something fraught with tension and lust and want. they've talked through these sessions before - will playing with koby and guiding him through murky waters until the next moment he's bouncing in his lap.

every time will graham plucks at koby alvida he finds something new, delectable, addictive. he reaches down to press koby's chin between forefinger and thumb - raising his head before fingers slide up and into his hair, gripping gently. ]

You asked for Xanax, didn't you? [ it's not an answer, though, is it? ] Weren't you going to show me something?

[there’s a coltish sort of awkwardness in koby’s movements, even now, because will’s so damn good at unpeeling his layers, at making him feel seen in a way that’s fucking terrifying and fucking bliss at the same time. there’s no need to pretend, no need to fake it, no need to be anything but will graham’s good boy, and while he’s been cagey about the why and what and how, koby’s let slip a few things – that he’s lonely, that he’s miserable, that his adoptive mother has a grip on him both terrifying and inescapable. that he does anything she asks, seduces or threatens or robs anyone she points to, because he doesn’t know how to do anything else anymore.

more telling, perhaps, is the way koby’s eyes go glazed and heated when will’s hand slips into his hair, when he grips and tugs up, secure, safe, held. whatever he does, whatever comes next, koby wants, wants it laced with the haze of whatever drug is pumping through his system even now, wants it any way will chooses. it’s an escape, an addictive one, and koby doesn’t really wanna think about how he’d be without it.

a soft huff, reaching up to slide his hands over the familiar shape of will’s dick in his pants, palming the thick heft of it, then squeezing, before moving to undo his belt.] Doesn’t mean you gave me Xanax, doc. I’m not stupid. [koby rolls his eyes upwards, sticks out his tongue, lets the stud catch the light, leave his lips plush, wet.] Gonna let me suck you off or what? Once this shit really hits I won’t have the coordination to do anything but get fucked over your desk, y’know.

You're not stupid. It's why I enjoy you.

[ he strokes his fingers back through koby's hair, soft and tender in a way that doesn't match the hungry, dark energy burning behind his eyes. he smiles, knowing and amused as koby sticks his tongue out and reaches for it, pressing his thumb against the little piece of metal, his fingers under koby's chin. it's brief - the way he swipes his thumb over the piercing, but he tilts his head. ]

Are you going to suck me off or are you going to continue to pout at me? [ a tap of his wet thumb to koby's nose, smearing it against the skin, then his chin. ]

I gave you Adderall. I thought you might enjoy something different.

[ either calm him down or crank his anxiety up - either or both, will loves an experiment. ]

That the only reason? [given with a knowing arch of his eyebrows, even as his tongue chases after will’s fingers, teasing the taste of his skin – salt, sweat, medicinal, like chewing aspirin dry, but sweeter.] Pretty sure there are a couple other reasons why you enjoy me, Doc.

[koby’s eyes go crossed momentarily, chasing the tap of will’s thumb as his hands move on their own, expert, familiar with the feel of will’s belt, the drag of his zipper down, down, the weight and heat against practiced fingers as they pull his cock free, thumb seeking the wet of the head to circle, press.] You like when I pout. Or cry. [a laugh, tongue going out, teasing, just the tip following the path his thumb had taken.] You really like when I cry, don’t you, Will?

[adderall – koby steers clear of prescriptions, usually, never sure how they’ll interact with the t, hating the unpredictability of their effect, perhaps avoiding memories of a hazy childhood where his constant anxiety was treated with a list of drugs that just made him mellow, calm. his eyes are already going hazier, relaxed, though he can feel his heart pumping in his throat as he swallows, sighs, gaze fixing upward as he drops his mouth open, sticks his tongue out and teases the piercing over the head of will’s cock.]

Is this Dr. Graham? My name's Timoteo Salvatore. I'm wondering if you're taking new patients while you're here.

[ oh. salvatore. interesting. ]

Hello Mr. Salvatore, a pleasure.

My books are a little busy but I have some times throughout the week available. If it’s urgent, of course, I could try to squeeze you in today if you’d like.

What has you reaching out to me today? If you’re more comfortable, I could send you a short questionnaire instead.

How urgent is urgent? I'm not about to kill myself or anything. There's just a lot going on.

Okay. I can fill something out.

Why don’t you come by this afternoon? I have an hour at 1:00 PM, another at 3:00 PM.

I’ll send a link over shortly of course. Feel free to answer any question you see fit or that applies to you. I know sometimes it’s easier to have someone there to listen, so we can tailor these sessions in a way that best suits your needs.

[ and in the picture of professionalism, there’s an automated link to some information about his practice, pricing, and a link to a quick mental health assessment to set baselines. cannibal doctor? no signs here. ]

I can do 1.

Thank you. See you then.

[ The survey will include a lot of middling answers - he feels like he's not good enough only sometimes, and neither agrees or disagrees with many statements about himself and his feelings. It's not that he’s not taking it seriously, but 'you are often worried about the future?' It’s all more nuanced than a rating from one to five.

The daddy issues manage to shine through, though. ]

I'll see you then. My office is near the library. If you have trouble finding it, please reach out.

[ but the little questionnaire is interesting - very undecided down the middle, but again this is only a jump pad for talking points. he knows a little about timoteo from a number of sources, so he's very intrigued to see what he brings to the session.

when tim arrives, the door is open for him and will sits at his desk, writing something in a notebook. it's the noise of old floors creaking that has him looking up and giving a soft, small smile. ]

You must be Mr. Salvatore. Come in.

[ Tim’s been coming here every summer since he was a teenager. Every year, the rooms seem to shift a little bit, but he does know where he’s going, and finds Will’s office without issue. He's wearing short shorts and a tank top with plenty of chest hair poking through, and some live bites (and just plain bite marks) visible on his neck and shoulders. So what? It’s summer. ]

Hi. [ Taking the sunglasses from his face and folding them closed, hanging them on the front of his tank. ] Um, thanks for seeing me on such short notice.

[ This is good. It’s the new millennium, it’s a perfectly normal and healthy thing for a man to go to therapy. It doesn’t make him crazy, but he feels crazy, like everything that’s been bottled up over the last couple months (decades) is about to come loose with enough force to level the entire manor. And that can’t happen. Maybe this can help. ]

I’ve done this a couple times before but it was, uh. Court-appointed. I wasn’t taking it seriously. But I want to, now.

Going to therapy because you're told to is often not productive. Please, take a seat wherever you're most comfortable.

[ he rises from the desk and moves to shut the door behind them, locks it for the sake of privacy. how many times has he had koby or a staff member come busting in the door with little regard for it being shut. the woes of public spaces.

he returns to the seating area and takes up an arm chair. he leaves the notebook behind for now - better to get to know teo, even though he knows enough already. or some, at the very least. he's dressed like he's ready to go back out into the sun for some kind of party - the sunglasses, the tank, the sun-kissed skin. ]

I'm here to listen - tell me about yourself, Mr. Salvatore. Or dive in with both feet if you'd like to get to work right away.

[ He takes a seat in an armchair across from him, cool leather soothing against the sunkissed skin that’s spent all morning by the lake, staring out into the middle distance. Tell me about yourself sounds so basic, but he’s got to start somewhere, doesn’t he?

Teo leans back, sinking into the cushion, and cradles the coffee he brought with him against his chest. ]

I just graduated with a degree in history and sociology. It took me an extra year because I got in trouble a few times. I’m an activist. My friends and I have performed some actions that some people think are extreme. I wasn’t even planning on being here this year, but my parents insisted because a sex tape I made last fall got out. My grandfather died only a month ago but somehow people seeing my ass is the worst thing to ever happen to this family.

[ He steeples his fingers against the warm side of his cup, trying very hard, and failing even harder, not to let any bitterness seep through. Teo knows what his problem is. But he can’t deal with any Freudian, cliche bullshit like his daddy didn’t love him enough and now he’s broken, sorry. Every Salvatore believes the world revolves around them, and hell if he’s going to prove his father right. ]

I sabotage my relationships. Every time they get too close I get cold feet or push them away. I want to figure out how to stop doing that.

[ everything about teo across from him reeks of someone waiting to bolt - or to make a decision to be anything but the young man in the chair spilling his life story. it's an energy that heightens his own senses, not unlike predator and prey. but he tilts his head, listening, eyes dropping to the cup between teo's palms. ]

You'll spill it.

[ it's all he says in response at first, but offers a warm smile. ] If you want to figure out how to stop pushing people away, you'll need to first identify what frightens you.

[ and then, a little more frankly: ] Your parents sound like controlling prudes. That's always a bad start.

[ Expecting him not to wave his cup around is anti-italian discrimination. But, he relents, taking a small sip from it before leaving it on a side table within reach. Will’s next words nearly make him recoil, as if he’s smelled something rotten. What frightens him? They just met.

He can talk about his parents, though. He’s certainly complained to less willing audiences. ]

Try just...absent. She’s already left him for his brother, but even when she was around, she wasn’t really. I mostly see her when she decides to lecture me for making her look bad. My dad just works. Sometimes he tries, but it’s always years too late. They hate each other and pushed me off on nannies and boarding schools and my nonno. Who's gone, so.

[ He pauses. Is this normal, to just blather out the cliff notes of his entire life so the good doc can slap a bandaid on it? He doesn’t know, he never asked Koby how the actual therapy part was supposed to go, he just asked if the dick was good. Teo shuts his eyes, just for a second. Maybe it’ll pass as a long blink. ]

And they’re finally getting a divorce, so they care more about who gets what than the fact that he’s gone.

[ a mother who has turned to her husband's brother, a divorce being finalized between two likely emotionally stunted egotists. and yet they have managed to have a son who still wants to see good in the world. interesting. ]

Their priorities don't match your own and they're not willing to meet you in the middle. Too little too late. Their egos are more important than their child.

[ he shifts in his seat, tilting his head. he knows a little bit about teo simply by way of koby, but putting all the pieces together now makes their friendship make even more sense. ]

Usually a therapist would ask how it makes you feel, but I don't see the value in that here. Close your eyes again. Try to relax if you can - something tells me you don't often get quiet, safe places away from the noise of their drama. So rest your eyes for a moment.

I'm going to be in bed for a week so I will miss racing the snails. My apologies. My entire life is over.

Harry.

Are you back in your rooms already?

Yes.

I do not wish to be seen.

I am certain I've been more humiliated at some point, but I can't remember when.

I'd like to come over. You don't have to say anything, but I'll sit beside you and read.

You shouldn't be alone, humiliated or otherwise. Not right now.

You fear I am a danger to myself, or to others?

Hardly.

When things are difficult it is often times good to have a friend at your side.

[A friend. He could cry, he really could.]

I should tell you now that it might be a conflict of interest to be around me. One of your patients is involved in my mess.

I'm not your doctor. And while I'm not at liberty to discuss anything my patient says or feels, it doesn't stop me from listening to how you feel, what you say.

I'll give you a few minutes to make yourself decent, then I'll come over.

Twenty at least, please. Half an hour would be better.

I'm not very good with speaking, Will. And I didn't want to burden you with this but I just have no-one else who would even pretend to give a shit.

Thirty minutes.

You don't have to speak. Like I said, we can sit beside one another and read. We can do anything you'd like. It's hardly a burden to spend time with you.

Thank you.

I'm nothing but a burden. That sounds so melodramatic but you don't understand. It's true. I try so hard, I really do, I've tried over and over but I can't get it right. My love is a burden. A trap. Something that makes people's lives worse.

You'll see.

I look forward to proving you wrong. Your friendship and love could not be farther from a burden.

Thirty minutes. I’m always on time.

[ will graham knocks on the adjoining bathroom door at precisely half an hour and doesn’t wait for an answer before opening it. will’s dressed more casually - a plain tshirt and joggers, something harry has probably seen him in while roaming the bathroom or his own room. ]

Harry.

[ and will won’t hesitate to find him. ]

[Harry has been in bed for a full forty-eight hours already following the disastrous revelations of Saltburn's own gossip rag. When he realised Will wasn't going to be deterred, he'd forced himself to get up and brush his teeth, shower, and pull on clean sweatpants before crawling right back into bed.

The curtains are drawn, leaving the room in a hazy darkness that suits him just fine. Harry is just a lump under the covers of his bed.]

Hello, Will.

Hello, Harry.

[ the room looks as he expects it to - dark and gloomy, the air a little stale. it doesn’t deter him.

he steps inside and shuts the door behind him. padding to the bed barefoot he climbs up on it, thinking for a moment he could climb under the covers. instead he sits close, a hand already reaching for harry’s hair, gently sliding through the damp waves. ]

You took a shower. I’m always envious of your cologne. I’ll cone clean - I stole a spray a few days ago.

[ gentle banter - easier to start than to barge in on the sad elephant in the room. ]

That's alright.

[The touch is a greater comfort than he'd care to admit. Harry forces himself to actually look at Will, figuring he deserves that at least. His red rimmed eyes are continually oozing tears.]

Supposedly it's based on an old Victorian recipe, but I'm not sure that's true. Pretty sure they thought you were a nancy boy if you wore scent back then.

[Harry's voice is as gentle as ever, but it's hoarse.]

A nancy boy? Maybe I just associate the smell with you and disagree.

[ he pets his hair slowly, smoothing the damp curls back from harry’s forehead. when he sees the slow leak of tears he sighs, shifting in the bed to lie beside him atop the covers, leaning up on an elbow to press his lips just below the corner of a puffy eye, catching one of the tears. ]

Tell me all about it, if you’d like. If not, then I’ll read aloud to you.

Well. I am, a bit. Hardly rugged.

[Harry closes his eyes and tries not to tremble at this display of kindness.]

I made a fool of myself. What's worse is that it was entirely pointless. I've been dumped.

My ex husband will probably fuck him, now.

[He doesn't sound angry, or even particularly self pitying. He just sounds incredibly sad and resigned.]

What did you bring to read?

[The sun has just set - orange and pink still stain the horizon but the rest of the sky is an indigo edging into velvety black. The heat of the day is only now beginning to dissipate, and a light breeze drifts through the open windows.

What Will will find upon entering his room is Harry completely nude, spawled on top of Will's bed. He's reading in the low light of the bedside lamp, and he looks up when Will comes in.]

You're not going to believe what I found in my room.

[ he's just coming back from a few added appointments and walks in shrugging off his suit jacket when he spots harry, comfortable and sprawled on his bed. this isn't a completely unusual occurrence, but it does bring a surprised little smile to his face. ]

And what did you find in your room? [ he steps out of his shoes, shucks his jeans, leaving him in a button down and boxer briefs as he approaches the bed, smoothing a hand along the back of one of harry's arms. ]

From the looks of it, you didn't find your clothes.

Too hot for clothes, luv.

[He turns the book do that Will can see the title: The Indifferent Stars Above: The Harrowing Saga of the Donner Party.]

Found it tucked into the desk. A little light reading from the former occupant, one supposes. But look, it gets better...

[He sits up a little, turning the book so Will can see that there are post-it notes peeking out from the pages. Harry opens the book to one.]

Look at this. The book speaks of the unusually harsh weather that occured in the Sierra Nevadas, and the note says, "It was the same cold snap." It's even underlined.

[He smiles at Will, but his eyes are dimly confused and frightened.]

Strange, isn't it?

Lots of strange goings on, Will. Here, give us a kiss. You look lovely.

[ he takes up the book, looking closer at the little post-its, but the notes make little sense to him, at least in this context. but it's harry's voice and demeanor that draw him in instead, fingers sliding away from the book to the man's wrist, idly feeling for the rabbiting of his pulse. ]

You're afraid.

[ he turns then, moving to straddle harry's hips, weighting him down to the bed but not obliging the kiss just yet. harry is delightful to kiss, to do so many more things with, but even will can see the solid outline of a man begin to blur and distort. ]

What are you afraid of, Harry? [ he reaches for his cheek, his chin, then leans in and kisses him hard. ]

[He wets his lips.]

Yes.

[He's more sober than he has been in some time, and that isn't helping. But Will's body does, gives him an anchor to reality.

He kisses back hotly, fear channeling itself into lust instead.]

I saw something. Things have been wrong since.

[His one hand finds Will's curls and tugs.]

[ will leans his body heavy into harry’s, soaking up the kiss and letting his own strong hands plant on either side of the man’s head. it gives him nothing else to look at but will.

he gets close, noses bumping, mouth a ghost over harry’s. ]

Talk me through what you saw, from the beginning.

[ he shifts his weight, clothed ass sitting comfortably over harry’s dick. weight, presence - what better than the body’s base needs to keep someone firmly rooted in the present. ]

[He sighs and closes his eyes, grinding up against Will lightly. Both his hands move now, skating over every part of Will that they can.

Slowly, he speaks.]

I found a room. I was leaving the observation deck of the casino, and I walked into this room with... a chest, or a box. I'm not sure which.

There was something in the box that I can't properly recall. Valuables, I think. But also... not.

The thing is, Will, I can't find the room again. I've looked everywhere.

[He bares his throat and digs his blunt nails into Will's shoulders.]

[ will lets him move, pressing his hips down as harry’s go up, enjoying the sensation even though his attention hangs on every word the man says. ]

Close your eyes, Harry.

[ he slides his hands over the man’s chest, soothing and soft, tracing the lines of muscle and their connective tissue. ]

You left the casino floor. You opened a door and inside there was a box, or a chest. Tell me.

[ he drags his nails over the man’s chest. ] What did the box look like? Did it have a scent? What did it feel like?

[He does as he's bid. His cock stiffens a little and he rocks up again.]

Just the sort of thing you'd find in an attic. A steamer trunk sort of thing. It had... gold coins. At first.

[Harry groans softly.]

It smelled awful. Like spoilt meat.

Kiss me again?

A first.

[ he presses his palms up harry's chest then up until he's cradling the man's face between his palms. leaning forward applies more friction, allows him to drag his own stiffening cock against the man's.

and just as he's asked, he kisses him - sweet and slow at first, with teeth catching the swell of his bottom lip after, pulling. ] It smelled awful. What did you see when you looked in again?

[ another kiss, hungry and slow, words spoken between every brush of contact. ]

Ah. Yes.

[Harry groans again, his hands wandering as if he's not sure where to rest them: Will's wrists, forearms, sides.]

Broken glass. And... Will, this is so strange, I cannot begin to explain it, but... I'm almost positive that I saw a dead monkey.

[Harry's confusion at least makes sense. His horror, however, seems to be without reason.]

I've not felt right since.

A dead monkey.

[ interesting. he lets harry's hands go, allows the skirting of fingers and nails along his skin. he kisses him again but this time he bites into it a little too harshly, draws blood from harry's tongue. ]

You could be restless - lost in yourself. Perhaps you're struggling with a change, or questioning who you are. Tell me, you saw a dead monkey - why did it make you uncomfortable.

[ he leans in further, flattening his chest to harry's, head dipping in against his throat, bloody and wet. ]

A capuchin.

[It's all he manages before he's kissed again, groaning and rolling his hips up when he's bitten. Blood, the taste of blood, so familiar.

He wraps his arms tightly around Will's neck and spreads his legs so he can hook his heels over Will's calves. He doesn't think when he answers:]

Because I killed her.

[ he sighs, a low rumbling sound against harry's throat, their hips coming flush. he wastes no time grinding his hardened, clothed cock down against harry's. he's warm and tolerant, eager for the taste of blood and the bite of pain. he sucks an angry, purpling mark into harry's collar bone. ]

Tell me how you killed her.

[ quiet, but intense, hands sliding down harry's side, pressing fingers into the place he'd bitten him when they laid out in the garden, just over his ribs, the wound likely healed. ]

You're doing so well, Harry. [ a passing lick at a nipple, a sloppy kiss to his sternum, blunt teeth dragging their way until he sits up, out of harry's reach and nudges forward, cock rutting against the curve of harry's ass. ]

[He cries out softly when Will digs at the old bite, hurt but excited by that very fact. He welcomes every scrape of teeth on skin, wonders what it might take to get Will to draw more blood.

He presses back, shameless in his clear desire to be taken.]

I don't know. I can't remember. Only that it was for a greater purpose.

Will, please... please, your teeth...

What purpose do you think it was for? Go on - take a guess.

[ he could have harry here - he could fuck him until he forgets about the monkey and purposes and any such things, but his ears fill with noise as harry urges him to use his teeth. it's been a rough day - a few strange sessions and meeting a young man named danny has made him realize just how quiet his hunger has been until now. ]

On your stomach.

[ he grinds his wanting cock against harry's ass one more time before he sits back, giving the man room to roll. he peels his own remaining clothes off - no need to get them messy - and only once harry has turned does he dive in, pressing wet kisses down his spine until he reaches the cleft of his ass. ]

Keep talking. [ and he presses, sliding his tongue eagerly along the puckered muscle of his hole. he'll have a bite of him - he knows it now, maybe a few, eager to remember harry's blood on his tongue, but he will build up to it. ]

Experimentation.

[He says it without thinking, the only way that seems to produce answers. If he lets himself consider the question for any amount of time, he thinks his way out of a reply.

He groans with relief when Will tells him to move. It's been a while, he realises, since he's not been cast in the role of 'daddy.' It's a nice change.

He rolls and pulls a pillow to him, hugging it tightly as Will kisses his way down. He whines softly when his tongue goes where he really craves.]

Ah. Yes. I. Please.

I think I'm losing my sense of reality. And I feel... a darkness. A disregard for myself. It's probably just a response to being so selfish, but...

Did you find what you were looking for?

[ experimentation. how delightful. he hums low and dips his head back, sucking at the sensitive flare of muscle before he settles into slow, slow licks, enjoying the little whines, the way harry moves and settles so eagerly for him. he grips at his ass cheeks, keeping him spread open, fingernails digging half moons into the pristine skin. ]

What were you selfish with? Tell me, Harry. [ a sigh against one buttock, a swipe of his tongue and the rub of bristle at his jaw. ] Tell me what you want. Do you still want my teeth? My mouth? [ a kiss, a nip, a lick. ] Or my hands? [ a thumb, pressed in against the wettened hole, just applying the faintest bit of pressure. ]

Or both.

Unfortunately, yes.

[He has no idea what that was, but he knows the answer to be true nonetheless. He feels entranced, as if Will has hypnotised him with his soft voice and clever tongue.

He lets his head hang, face obscured by his curls.]

I. I don't know. But I've been told as much. So it must be true.

[He shivers. His cock is trapped between his body and the bed and he makes no move to touch it. For the moment it is preferable to simply throb, not yet desperate.

He whines again, high and soft, at the feel of Will's thumb.]

Your cock. And your teeth.

[Quietly:]

I think of you often, in my dark moments. Of your lust. I wish to be enveloped by it.

To be consumed.

[ consumed. enveloped. it stirs something deep in will's belly, a monster waiting to be released and he laughs low against harry's skin, nuzzling in against it as his thumb is replaced by a forefinger, pressing in to the second knuckle. ]

You'll get my cock soon enough. [ he smiles, licks a long, slow stripe from the junction of harry's ass at his thigh up to his tail bone. he's divine - from the moment in the garden when he tasted blood and skin on his tongue he knew harry would be an utter delicacy and here he is, given a wide berth to consume, to taste, to sample him. he pushes the finger all the way in to the hilt, draws back out, repeats the motion slowly before he seeks out harry's prostate, pressing against it right as his teeth sink into the flesh of harry's ass cheek, into muscle. ]

Good.

[Murmured softly before he whines, hips twitching. He shoves a hand between his body and the bed, fingers finding his eager cock. He strokes, pulling his foreskin down so he can thumb the head, feeling precum dribble over his skin already. There is another fresh spill when Will presses against his prostate, and his body jerks beneath the sudden feel of teeth.]

God, yes.

[ he wants to stop the pesky hand that harry permits himself to use, but that can be dealt with later. later, because his teeth sink in, in, in - breaking the skin and then with a shallow bite - tears through sinew, muscle, tissue. spills hot blood into his mouth and will groans, heady and lustful and wanting the moment he pulls his head back, laughing as he chews. ]

You are...

[ another pump of his hand before he adds a second finger, making sure to find that pleasant little spot each time as he devours the very workings of harry altogether. ]

You taste divine. I could call you a fine carpaccio, but I think you taste even better than that.

[Harry's hand stills and his eyes snap open; the pain goes from being a sharp but regular thing to something deeper, something wrong.

Harry shrieks... but he doesn't move away.

Below the pain and sudden horror is still a pleasure.

Panting, he looks back over his shoulder. His eyes are huge, and they grow wider still when he sees Will swallow.

The whole world goes still white for a moment.

When it crashes back he's shocked to find that he's still hard, is in fact pushing back at Will's hand.]

You.

[ how funny how pleasure and panic can sound so similar. will swallows around the tender meat, blood dripping down his chin. the wound isn’t so bad - shallow and careful but shaped so perfectly like a dangerous kiss. ]

You wanted to be consumed, Harry.

[ the hips rocking into his hand, the sound he makes, the wet drip of harry’s cock onto the sheets. will pulls his fingers free and shifts on the bed, dropping his cock against his worked open hole, but not breaching it yet but applying pressure. ]

Yes, Harry? Tell me what you want.

[Not like this! part of him screams, the part that isn't spreading his legs wider. Blood pours freely down his thigh when he does. His heart pounds hard and fast and his breath catches in his throat as he hitches it in to scream.

It doesn't matter, a soft voice speaks up from the pit of his subconscious.

You're poison.

This nonsensical thought calms him, and he exhales in a quiet rush.]

I want you to bugger me already. And if you plan to take any more bites out of me, just not the neck.

[ harry is tender and warm on the tongue in a way that makes it so tempting to have another bite. that makes him want to lean in and lick the wound, give him a second to match it. hear the way harry's voice hitches and rises and shrieks.

he huffs, reaching down to take himself into hand, smearing blood and spit over harry's hole before he slowly presses in, bears down and drops his mouth to the man's strong shoulder blade, dragging teeth against the skin as he grunts and pushes in to the hilt. ]

And what about here? [ a hoarse laugh, teeth dragging to leave welts as he begins to move his hips slowly, setting a languid pace. ]

That's fine.

[Harry's voice is soft and oddly content. It's as if his anxiety is leaving his body on the wave of his blood. He breathes through Will's intrusion, his body being moved by his subsequent thrusts. Harry's pulse steadies and his eyes slip half shut.

It is a strange sort of ecstasy.

Eventually he grips his own cock, not stroking so much as simply providing a place to fuck into. He begins to move his own hips back, trying to provide Will with more pleasure.]

Good.

[ he laps his tongue over the skin, tasting the angry welts he's made, gently warning harry where his teeth will sink next. and they do - biting into the shallow skin - not taking any flesh with him this time but leaving the half-circle shape of his teeth as he begins to thrust a little harder into harry's eager body. ]

Shit, you taste - [ a breathless laugh and he leans down against the bite mark and sucks, groaning lewdly around it. ]

You're doing so well, Harry.

[Teeth punch into his skin and Harry whimpers. He strokes himself faster, shameless in chasing his own pleasure.]

Ah. Yes. Please don't stop. Please.

[Will could bite him over and over, could stain the sheets crimson. None of it matters. He's alive, he's alive and present.]

[ it's impossible to ignore his own pleasure, hips moving at a punishing pace as he tilts his head, biting the back of a flexed, working tricep, punching holes there all over again, licking lewdly at the skin.

he pauses, breathing coming in sudden desperate pants, mouth falling back to the wound at his shoulder blade as he comes hard and sudden, teeth finally tearing into the wound as he comes hard and fast, filling harry and fucking into him slowly as his orgasm progresses. he doesn't take any flesh with him, just blood - so much blood. ]

Fuck. Come for me, Harry. I can taste it in your blood - go on, perfect man. Come.

[It's fucked up that what gets Harry to come isn't being called perfect, but that Will says he can taste it. Intermingled thoughts of blood and semen. The short, sweet spike of ecstasy has Harry's senses completely blotted out for a moment.

When he comes back to himself his legs are trembling and his body hurts in multiple places. He's come all over and he more or less just falls into the mess, absolutely wrecked.

He lays there, panting.]

That was different.

Edited 2025-07-21 19:58 (UTC)

[ will comes back into his body very much the way harry does - trembling, sore, worn. he pulls free and rolls over onto his back on the bed, breathing heavily. he's quiet for a long, long moment before he reaches to touch harry's hair, fingers sliding into the curls at the back of his head. ]

It was.

[ he can still taste harry's blood on his tongue, it's messily smeared over his mouth and chin. he should take time to wipe it free, but he doesn't. ]

How do you feel?

Bloody fantastic.

[Harry stretches experimentally and winces. Carefully, he brings a hand to his asscheek and feels the damage there. It's shocking to find that, yes, part of him is just gone.]

I have to take care of this.

[But first he moves clumsily to kiss Will on the mouth. He can taste his own blood and can feel Will's cum leaking out of him. He's a mess.

He laughs against Will's mouth.]

[ will hums into the kiss, leaning in and prolonging it, playful. harry laughs and he can't help but chase his mouth again, kissing him and letting it linger. ]

I'll help you clean it, bandage it, if you'd like.

[ he smooths a hand along harry's side, petting, watching him with fond interest. ]

That would be nice, thank you.

[Mostly because it's hard to bandage your own ass.

He hesitates again, stealing another kiss.]

Did you enjoy it?

Stay put then. I'll bring the supplies to you.

[ when harry kisses him he reaches to touch his face, thumbing over the high point of his cheek bone as he pulls away, looking at his eyes, the bridge of his nose, the pout of his mouth. ]

Yes. Very much. I hope you did as well.

[ he leans in and presses a fleeting kiss to the corner of harry's mouth then pulls away, climbing from the bed a little bloody and sweaty, stretching. ] It's going to sting, but as you know we need to properly sanitize everything.

I did.

[Harry lays on his stomach and puts his head down, turned to one side to watch Will.]

Mm. I know.

I'll be alright.

au inbox;

text; un: kboy88

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@timmyyyyy

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sorry i legit never got the notif for this

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@sadsir | post gossip column

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sometime in later june

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cw: dead animal

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