Chapter 12 Will
Will
Over the next month, Will did exactly what Sage told him to when it came to studying magic, and then some. He read and wrote spells or little nonsense rhymes when Sage was out working, such as “swaddle, waddle, wooden paddle, turn into a kitchen ladle.”
That particular one, Will used on an old washing paddle he’d found in a cupboard under the stairs.
The result had been a ladle strainer, probably on account of the rhyme not really working.
When Will had shown Sage, he’d decided that was still more useful than a washing paddle, the existence of which had baffled him.
More complex spells usually took Will some time to come up with, and when Sage asked him to wind the large kitchen clock—not easy, he’d said, since it was so old and had been with the Verts for so long it was half made out of magic by now—it took Will a whole morning to come up with:
“Clock on the wall, time’s face watching,
rigors of time, the clockwork’s catching.
Smooth and steady, hands tick by
and wind themselves so they comply
to rigorous time and time again,
as stout and steady as arts arcane.”
Will aimed the spell at the clock under Sage’s watchful eye, and Sage clapped excitedly when the big hand adjusted itself back three minutes to tell the proper time again.
Will also took to making breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and whenever Sage came home after a job, Will did his best to subtly sniff him.
The fear that Sage would call or text one day to let him know he was spending the night elsewhere haunted him, and whenever Sage was out long for a job, Will’s wolf grew anxious and frustrated.
Still, by silent agreement, Will now slept in Sage’s bed.
It had helped massively with just sleeping in general.
Will still woke up sometimes during the night, but less often, and he no longer felt the need to wander through the house like he had before.
Also, Sage just had regular cushions in his bedroom, no enchanted ones, and that was a nice change.
As much as the routine seemed to work for Sage, who never once demanded that Will tell him what the fuck was wrong with him, Will had the nagging feeling that the clock was ticking on…
this. Whatever this was. He knew he wanted Sage, but he wasn’t going to kid himself.
Sage could do better. If Will failed to get his head on straight, Sage would do better, and Will would have no one to blame but himself.
He'd been thinking about all of that one day when he realized he already had the solution to all his problems at his fingertips. When Sage headed out to reinforce some warding the next morning, Will sat down at the kitchen table with the large clock ticking above him and called Peter.
The vampire sounded bored when he answered. “Did Sage accidentally turn himself into a toad?”
“What? No. Why would Sage transfigure himself?”
“The real question is, why are you calling me, William?”
Peter still sounded bored.
“Are you…doing something with stock photos?”
Peter paused. “Maybe. If I were, I’d tell you to get to the point, because I need to get back to the stock photos.”
Will took a calming breath. “Okay, so I want to ask you for your help again. Or a favor. I want to ask you for a favor.”
“Troubling, but go on.”
“I want you to compel me.”
There was silence for five whole seconds before Peter said, “And why would I do that, William?”
“It’s…it’s embarrassing.”
“Like bed wetting?”
“No! It’s… I need you to compel me so Sage can touch me.”
“I believe I’m getting where this is going. When you say touch, you mean well below the waistline, yes?”
Will swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. “Yeah.”
“Has Sage been pushing you to let him touch you?”
Peter’s voice turned glacial. Will had no idea why, but his wolf took note, and he flinched.
“No! Fuck, no. He doesn’t, at all, and that’s all my fault, because I freeze up, or I run, or flinch.”
Will heard a long, slow exhale before Peter spoke again.
“William?”
“Yeah?”
“I won’t be compelling you.” Peter dashed all of Will’s hopes with one verbal gut punch.
“Please? Peter, please.”
“I’ll pay for therapy. My personal recommendation would be Madame Celeste. She doesn’t have a degree in the field, but then who does? Celeste is the best listener you will ever encounter.”
“I don’t need fucking therapy,” Will blurted. “I just need to be able to have sex with Sage!”
“Why? Is Sage asking for sex?” Peter sounded as if someone were messing with his stock photos.
“No, he’s not.”
Will wasn’t sure how he’d ended up talking about this with Peter, of all people. Peter made creepy photos in his basement art studio, and he was probably pasting Corvin’s head on a naked centaur or something right now.
“Well, then I won’t have to give him a very stern talking to, will I? That’s something.”
Will sucked in air through clenched teeth. “You can’t tell Sage I talked to you about this. I don’t know why I’m fucking talking to you about this, but you can’t tell Sage. Please.”
“Well, who else would you tell? But imagine if you saw Celeste regularly. You could tell her everything.”
“I am not seeing a therapist!”
“William, Celeste is a sex worker, and excellent at what she does. I talk to her all the time, though she only listens selectively. Ah, but that’s Celeste for you. I can make introductions.”
Will’s cheeks flushed. “Look, can you at least compel me not to freeze up, please?”
“No can do. Do you want Celeste’s number? She owes me a favor still, so she’ll squeeze you in right away.”
“I’m not seeing your sex worker lady. I just need…”
“Manners?”
At least he’s not smothering me with pity.
Will thunked his forehead down on the kitchen table. “Will you think about it? The compulsion?”
He did his best pleading voice, the one every kid knew to use on an alpha to get candy or cuddles. Will had outgrown that voice, or so he’d thought.
“I don’t need to think about it. The answer is no. Was there anything else? No accidental toad transfiguration?”
“Can you promise not to tell him, at least?”
Peter sighed. “Yes, I can promise you that. And, William, since you are not living under my roof, I cannot really dictate any rules for you to follow anymore, so take this as advice. Stop trying to fix yourself. You aren’t broken.”
Will growled. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who can’t spread his legs for the man he wants to spread them for.”
“And is that man yourself, William?”
“What kind of a stupid question even is that?”
“Think of it as a riddle and mull it over, will you?”
Will sighed. If this wasn’t going to work out, he needed to get lunch started, because that would make him feel marginally useful, at least.
“I need to go.”
“As do I. Like I told you before, Photoshop waits for no man.”
And just like that, Will was right back where he’d started. He was also left with the memory of the kiss, that single kiss he’d shared with Sage the morning after the full moon, right before everything had gone wrong.
Will tossed the phone onto the kitchen table and went upstairs to his bedroom, the one he hadn’t slept in since before the last full moon.
The memory of Sage’s lips parting for him wasn’t sleep inducing. On the contrary, he decided he was going to lose himself in the memory now since the real thing seemed beyond him.
Frustration had made his entire body tight, wound up, and when he used some lotion for lube while touching himself, his body responded easily, readily. He imagined how that morning could have gone, how it should have gone.
He definitely wanted Sage’s kisses, soft and just the tiniest bit bristly on account of the lack of shaving.
Sage had tasted good, of smiles and sunshine.
Will could imagine licking all over Sage’s chest, along the lines of the raven feather that brushed over his abdomen to hide the appendectomy scar.
Will wanted to feel that scar, the texture of it.
He found in himself a strange longing to kiss it better, even though he doubted it still hurt.
I’d make him feel good. I’d make him whimper and touch me gently. I’d make him call me sweetcakes again.
Will closed his eyes and shoved his pants down. It was baffling how this just worked. He responded to his own touch easily, from nothing more than the memory of Sage’s scent, almost as if Sage were right there.
“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry.”
“Ah!” Will’s eyes flew open. Sage was right here, standing in the doorway and looking thoroughly…
“They had to reschedule the job today,” Sage said. He glanced at Will’s crotch, then forced his eyes to meet Will’s. “And I’m so fucking sorry I walked in on you. I was just going to make lunch today, and I wanted to ask what you wanted.”
“You,” Will said before he could stop himself. Inside him, the wolf vibrated with joy.
Sage paused, then nodded. “Can I watch? You looked—”
“Yes.” Will definitely wanted Sage to watch, especially if Sage enjoyed it. “I was thinking about you.”
“I see. I’ll stay right here unless you tell me differently.”
Sage planted both his feet just this side of the threshold.
Will sniffed the air and looked at Sage’s crotch.
He definitely liked what he was seeing. That was confidence inspiring.
Will shoved his pants down farther, aware he wasn’t revealing anything Sage hadn’t seen before, not after he’d shifted in Sage’s bed.
But this was still different. It felt different.
Will stroked himself with his right hand, and Sage watched every little movement. Will was gushing more precum now, spurred on by the fact that Sage was watching him, his desire sweet and heady on the rose-scented air. Something inside of Will craved this. It pushing him to this, to Sage.