This story takes place in the Reverse Falls AU. I do not own this AU and I don't claim to.
Enjoy some WillFord. ;)
Warning: Rated M for mild sexual themes, but nothing explicit.
Cover art by kutaraa
Faithless
Will thought that, after all this time, he would be used to the chains by now. But he still couldn't tolerate the pain in his wrists from the chafing manacles, attaching him to the wall, making even the smallest movement an ordeal. Regardless, he didn't have the strength nor the willpower to complain, or try and fight against his imprisonment. There were only tears, falling silently down his blue frame, perhaps to get a sympathetic soul to help him. Why did he ever think that would work?
Even he didn't listen. The person he once trusted more than anyone. There were times he would just sit and watch, smiling at the power he had over his prisoner, as well as the power Will had now lost. It seemed to amuse him – his agony; his helplessness. There were also times he would actually touch him; run his fingers along his sides, his mouth briefly brushing against the hands made immobile by the shackles. Despite everything; despite how much he should hate the man… he wanted to touch him back. More than anything. If his hands were free he would run them through his thick hair, entangling his fingers within it, and trail them along his skin. Everywhere visible: his cheeks, his chin, his shoulders, and he would move underneath the clothes if he could, touching all the places he wasn't allowed to glimpse.
But sadly, he was under an impenetrable spell, and he was not the one in control. He could only think, not act, and simply accept the attention he'd receive on an occasional basis. He admitted he loved it, and craved it more and more each time. But he hated himself for it.
He's a liar and a traitor.
These words screamed at him every time he felt his captor's icy gaze or his gentle touch.
But… I…
He didn't know. He just couldn't stop feeling the way he did, so intensely. All he wanted was to be touched by him, and recent events had certainly not changed that. How stupid he was for it.
"So, Will." Stanford suddenly said.
He's talking.
The chains rattled as the blue demon quivered in surprise, his eye wide with attention as he looked up. Stanford was examining his hands, not moving from his chair. His features were lit up by the orange glow of the fireplace.
"It seems you're going to be here for a while. And I'm wondering… what I should do about that."
Will's entire frame tensed up. He's going to kill me. He thought. He's going to smash me to pieces.
Or maybe he'll keep me.
When Stanford suddenly rose from his seat, Will's fists dug into his palms, not stopping as he approached him. The magician's hands went behind his back as he looked at his prisoner from a small distance. He wasn't as close as he often was. Perhaps he was taunting him. Perhaps he knew how desperately Will longed for the space between them to close.
"What do you think I should do?" Ford asked, his tone cold.
He had to speak. He wouldn't cry, even though he felt tears brimming up. Don't let your shield down. You mustn't.
The silence was excruciating as he searched for a response, the emptiness inside him feeling lighter than ever. "I… I don't want you to…" His voice cracked with the threat of a sob. "Please just don't-"
"Oh, no need to worry. I don't plan on hurting you."
He doesn't? Will found himself almost pleasantly surprised. But he could be lying. Remember what he's already done to you.
"Don't look so shocked," he said with a small laugh. "The twins gave you the wrong impression entirely. I'm not like them. I only wish to protect you."
Will studied the look on his face, to see whether it was a genuine expression, or something to cover up a lie. "R-really?" he found himself asking, his voice trembling.
"You don't believe me." Ford's voice was suddenly low, almost aggressive, and he finally moved closer in a few slow steps. His forefinger gently traced Will's bow-tie, examining it like artistry with his eagle-like eyes, and Will could barely contain a shudder. "Maybe you don't know me at all," he suggested, his interested gaze not leaving his lower side. "But don't fret. I can change that soon enough."
Despite his non-physical form, Will felt incredible heat build on his surface. His wrists suddenly felt clammy under the manacles. He shouldn't feel these feelings – these feelings that were so eerily human. The fingers brushing against his vulnerable surface were not making it easy to ignore them.
"You think I just want you for your power, Cipher?"
Will's single eye was fixed hazily on Ford's hand as he paused in his movements. He seemed to barely hear his question.
"That was the plan, yes," Ford continued, his fingers moving around his sharp corners now, but gently, as if the smallest movement would break something. "And there's no doubt your powers are something great, so please don't think I am done asking you for favours. There are none with capabilities like you, Will. Understand I require much of it."
With a sudden jerking movement that startled a whimper out of the demon, he grabbed the chain holding the left arm in place, making the entire body rattle. "But what you don't understand is that my uses for you go beyond just power. Circumstances have changed, as have I. Have you noticed that, Will?"
Maybe? I don't know.
Will wanted to voice his thoughts, but he found himself unable, mostly out of fear. Unpredictability meant he could end up with a knife in his side at any moment, so for his own safety, he replied with silence.
"You and I are similar, aren't we?" His gaze was intense, right on Will's eye. He seemed to assume the demon was never going to answer his questions so he continued to talk. "I'm happy we found each other, despite what you might think."
"I don't think anything."
Will breathed in sharply, realising those words had actually come out of him and not only been a thought. If he had a lip to bite to keep himself quiet, he would have done it.
"You're still so loyal," Ford said, with a soft laugh. "I admire that."
The grip he had on his manacles loosened, becoming almost tender as his fingers moved around his wrists. Then a click suddenly sounded.
Will felt unbelievable relief spreading across his limbs, like a weight had been lifted. His hands were free. He could move around in the air, not that he dared to move too far, with the eyes of Stanford never leaving him. But... he was free. He'd freed him.
"You don't need those anymore," Ford pointed out, perhaps with kindness. "I feel we can trust each other now."
Will listened vaguely, but he was mostly focused on his wrists, no longer baring the manacles he had become so used to. He massaged the black skin, realising how much they had been burning him all this time. The release of the pain was such an alien feeling to him. He met Ford's gaze. That searing gaze that had been with him for days he had lost track of.
Free hands.
Free movement.
He could… if he wanted to… if he would let him…
"Thank you," he stammered gratefully, keeping his thoughts to himself for the time being.
"I said I wanted you for purposes other than your power, Will. I wasn't lying."
In a flurry of shocked gasps, Will found himself being dragged downwards by strong hands, bringing him directly in front of Ford, only a few centimetres away from his face. The man was cradling him by his sides, an almost predatory expression in his eyes as he held his perplexed stare. Will could feel his breath on his surface he was so close.
Then he said in a delicate whisper, "I think we both know what I want you for now."
Those words along with the feeling of his warm hands sent Will's mind, and heart, if he had one, racing. The urge to touch him was overwhelming. He was right there. He could if he wanted to. And he did want to. He needed to, more than anything. There was no reason why he wouldn't be allowed, if Stanford was suggesting what he thought he was suggesting.
What remained of his rational side told him not to be so trusting. He was only going to use him, distract him with what he wanted, then toss him aside like a doll that had served its purpose.
But what if he won't? What if he's changed?
He barely had time to argue with himself, however, because Ford was pulling him closer. He couldn't help himself… he just… couldn't…
He felt his hidden lips take shape, a withheld breath escaping him in the form of a moan, and they were touching. And touching. And touching more. Will felt him all over; his hair, his body, his mouth. He felt as though he were about to cry again, but not out of sadness. This time, he felt tearful for the opposite reasons.
He wants me. Just me.
His tongue was warm as he explored him.
He's going to keep me.
I want him to keep me.
His teeth were sharp as he bit down on the sensitive areas.
Because I want him so much.
He'll protect me and he'll love me.
Buttons and ties were slowly being undone.
For me.
Everything he told me was a lie.
Will could barely keep the tears back as pain started to take over.
What we did… What we became… It didn't mean anything, did it?
Instead of shackles, he now had to tolerate hands digging into his skin, holding his body up like a circus animal on display. He would have traded this for the chains in an instant.
Why isn't he here for me? Protecting me?
Older hands caressing him had been replaced by younger hands torturing him. The knives were back, dancing around his eye, swiping across his blue surface to create black lines that stung like nettles.
He told me I'd never see them again.
They were laughing. They were enjoying his fear, his panic, his pain.
"Give up yet, Cipher?" the girl asked gleefully. Like the Gleeful she was.
The tears weren't visible, but they would be soon. He felt his power ebbing away as they drained it from him.
It's not yours. It's not yours! Leave me alone! Please!
"I'm not like them. I only wish to protect you."
You lied to me. I worshipped you and loved you with everything I had and you LIED to me.
Will Cipher would never trust again. Will Cipher would never love again. But he would always feel pain. It was the only thing that made him sure he was still alive.
As Mabel's knife rammed into his arm, and Dipper's hands drew out everything he possessed with one simple motion, he accepted it all. For he knew was living; at least for now.
