Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. I did not write this story to be slander, nor do I make any profit from it.
Notes: Shorter than last time, longer than the first.
Warnings: AU, slash, sexual situations between two men, and language.
Sam is pretty sure that Will's moved away, but the phantom tingling on his lips keeps his eyes closed as his brain struggles to understand what has just happened. He can still feel the large body in front of him, the teasing sensation of warmth that won't quite touch his own. Can sense the strong arms on either side of him, locking him, confining him, straining against wrapping around him. The penetrating glare that's mixed with hesitation and heat and more than just a little selfless concern.
"Sam?" He trembles slightly as the call ghosts over his cheek, down his neck. It's a whisper, he knows. So why does it resonate through his head like a battle cry, echoing and piercing and making him cringe?
"What was that?" He swallows, hating the equal quiet of his voice. But Will chuckles, to his surprise, and he feels a thumb brush across his cheek, forcing his eyes to flutter open on instinct. There's no sign of disgust on the captain's face -- no acknowledgement that he was forced into whatever the hell was going on. Just a gentle smile of care and understanding, turquoise eyes of endless compassion. Sam can't help but look away from the vulnerable intensity of it.
"A kiss," the other man offers in answer, and the thumb repeats its caress. "I asked you to trust me, Sam, and you see why now, right?"
"Y-yeah," he replies. Is he leaning into the soothing ministration? That's a strong possibi-- yes, yes he is. "I'm not gay, though." He says quickly. But Will just shrugs.
"That's not the point, Sam. None of this is about declaring love, or finding attraction in the same sex. It's not even about me." The hand pulls away, and Sam is pretty sure he mourns the loss of the touch. "This is all about you -- helping you, showing you that you don't always have to be so strong. No one is holding you solely responsible for anything, Sam." The fingers are back, trailing under his chin. "And no one is going to make you -- let you -- carry this burden by yourself." Sam watches morbidly as Will leans forward again, chapped lips connecting with the side of his jaw. "I won't let you."
A nip, and Sam can't hold back the groan the slightly sharp sensation of teeth calls forward.
"What are ... what are you ... what?" Fuck, where did his comprehension go?
"Nothing you don't want to do, Sam." Whispers, it's all whispers. The barricade of arms is now wrapped around him, holding him, slowly leading him away from the wall and forward, away from the kitchen. His eyes flutter closed again, one hand coming up subconsciously to squeeze Will's shoulder as the lips from his chin travel down his neck. He knows this isn't the best idea -- remembers everything his mother ever told him about going into strange peoples' homes and falling into ... certain activities. About people taking advantage of him and to practice some rational responsibility. He can see Mikaela's face, stunned and hurt, but ...
But he can't pull away from Will. Because maybe he's done with responsibility, and Mikaela. Maybe ... fuck, but it feels good to have someone paying some attention to him, concerned for him. He whimpers softly as Will's body crashes gently into something. And then they're moving again, stumbling, twisting until Sam's the one leading. Falling back onto cool sheets and a soft mattress that finally breaks them apart. And Sam finds himself staring up at the captain once more, taking in the glowing eyes, the lightly heaving shoulders -- all for him, all focused on him.
"I don't ... I can't do this, Will." With the lips gone, he's suddenly able to focus, to understand what's going on. "I ... I appreciate this, but I ... I can't. I don't ..."
"Don't what, Sam?" Damn, he hates that voice. The husky whisper, the stupid eyes. Hates that Will is making him tremble in both grief and desire. Hates the spark of hope the man is bringing to him, that tonight he will be able to sleep without nightmares. He dips his head.
"I don't deserve it." He expects anger, annoyance, a departure that will leave silence in his wake and let the screams come. He expects a heavy sigh and disappointment at his admission. He expects to be left alone.
He does not expect a large body to slowly fall on top of his, forcing him to fall completely onto the mattress, Will above him. He isn't ready for the smoldering kiss, the forcefully roaming hands, the growls of dissatisfaction, or his wanton cries when fingers twist against his chest over his shirt.
"You deserve it," Will growls between kisses, and Sam shakes. "You saved aliens you barely knew, a city you didn't really care for, a planet that did nothing for. All at the cost of yourself." Another nip, pulling back just enough to be apart. Sam watches cautiously as Will watches him. "You're staying here tonight, Sam. You're going to let me help you, because you deserve to be helped, and because I owe you that help." Dark eyes stare hard in the shadows of the moonlight.
"Because I want to help you." And he pulls away and leaves the room, leaving Sam to the silence of the foreign area. Tears form in his eyes as he takes in the words, the situation. He's not attracted to men, but everything Will had done had just felt so right -- so perfect. For the first time in weeks his body had felt light, his mind soothed and no longer weary or worn. The tears trail downward, tarnishing his face and blemishing the pillows. But he rolls over and ignores them, twisting atop the white sheets as he clutches a pillow to his chest. His shoulders shake, his body trembling, but his eyes still close despite the warnings, overcome with strong emotion as the voices begin.
Will's mad, but he can do nothing as he offers a quiet assurance and hangs up his phone. He's lucky that Mr. Witwicky is a fan of bravery and commitment, and that Mrs. Witwicky is already horribly concerned over her son's health. They agreed to allow Sam to stay for as long as necessary, once they realized who was asking. Not, he was sure, that they would have been as okay with it if they knew about his healing method.
He runs both his hands through his short hair vigorously, releasing a loud sigh.
"You will have to stay with him tonight." And he is not overly surprised to hear Ironhide's voice through his window. He opens his eyes wide enough to glare at the dark space where he knows the Autobot is hiding.
"And you will have to let him have the nightmares." Ratchet this time. "That is essential."
"Know that, too."
"I believe that the Captain knows what he is doing." Optimus this time, low and rumbly. He's playing the part of the concerned parent very well, Will notices. "We are trusting you, Will Lennox." No pressure or anything, of course.
"I know." And he turns to head back to the bedroom.
"Will?" Bumblebee, tentative and raspy. "Take care of him."
An suddenly he can see a boy about Sam's age -- lanky and pale with blonde hair and curious eyes -- standing bedside of Sam, vigilant and watchful and everything a brother should be.
And then he sees Sam -- vulnerable Sam from Mission City, strong Sam from the base, broken Sam from now. Wide brown eyes filled with tears, a lithe body on the verge of collapse that had practically folded into this arms in search of sanctuary. The taste of milk and syrup of his lips and bitter metal of his skin. And he knows that his words are not a lie -- that he really wants to help the other man currently resting on his bed.
To be continued
Okay, so it's going to be five parts with a sequel. Next chapter VERY high rating, please. O.O Will undoubtedly go on AFF. Or LiveJournal. Whichever.
Drop a review and let me know what you thought, please!