disarrayed | au inbox;

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?

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