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The Pains of Sleep
by WesleysGirl
Rating: NC-17
Ethan/Giles
For Magpie's birthday, 2004. Thanks to Wolfling for the beta.
Sleeping was something Ethan had always been good at -- he wasn't the type to lie awake for hours
fretting about the day's nonsense or worrying about what tomorrow might bring. He lay down, he fell
asleep. It was as simple as that.
Or at least it had been, until recently. He went to sleep with no trouble, just as usual, but every night he
woke two or three hours later, soaked with a cold sweat, his heart racing, his breath shallow and aching in his chest.
Fortunately, so far, he'd managed to avoid waking Rupert -- the man was a heavy sleeper, but had Ethan's
nightmares occurred closer toward morning he suspected that Rupert would have been more prone
to waking. He'd surreptitiously taken a sleeping pill that night before going to bed, thinking that a
drugged sleep was just what he needed to take the edge off -- a good night would break the
cycle, and everything would go back to normal once more.
That wasn't how it turned out though.
Almost before he was asleep, he knew he'd make a terrible mistake, but by then, it was too late to do
anything about it. He could feel the heaviness of his limbs, the way his heartbeat slowed, his
breathing lengthening and smoothing out without any effort on his part.
The darkness fell over him abruptly, like a blanket, and Ethan was afraid.
There were monsters in his nightmares, and not all of them were demons -- some were human,
and all the more terrifying for that. They taunted him with words, twisting his secret fears into
life and letting them swirl around him like tainted fairies, constant reminders that the reality
he'd been trying to build for himself could never be anything but a lie. A demon -- dull grey in
color, with enormous claws and a fanged, gnashing mouth -- grabbed onto a wisped, smoke
version of Rupert and disemboweled him, his scream dissipating into thin air as he faded to
nothing.
Ethan tried to thrash himself awake, but it was no use. He was trapped there, forced to watch terrible
things happen, forced to listen to all the things he tried to pretend weren't real, worked up into a
frenzy of fear and dread and certainty. Wisp-Rupert died again and again -- never any blood, thank
the Gods, or Ethan might not have been able to bear it -- and Ethan struggled, fought to wake, to
scream, to...
Something made him gasp and jerk upward, awake, awake, yes, thank you, and Rupert's hands were
warm on his bare shoulders, Rupert's voice warm as it washed over him.
"Ripper," he managed to choke out, clutching at the other man, grateful that for once Rupert had worn
a cotton t-shirt to bed and there was something to hold onto. His teeth were chattering uncontrollably.
"Thank God. I thought I'd never be able to wake you." Rupert pulled him close, uncomplaining as
Ethan gripped him much too tightly. "Are you all right?"
Ethan made a strangled noise and buried his face in Rupert's shirt, breathing in the familiar scent
of the man as he shivered. "No. I don't know."
Rupert seemed to understand that crooning reassurance was called for. "Okay. It's okay,
love. What do you remember?"
"Too much," Ethan said, keeping his eyes resolutely shut. "Things I don't want to think about." He
could feel the pull of the drugs tugging at him, trying to take him back under, and he
gasped and jerked back out of Rupert's embrace, willing to forsake the comfort if doing
so meant that he'd be able to stay awake. "I can't go back to sleep again," he said
desperately, getting out of bed and pacing to the other side of the room, aching for
Rupert but forcing himself to move instead.
"All right." Rupert stood and came toward him slowly, arms a bit at his sides as if trying to catch a
wild creature, which at that moment Ethan most assuredly was. "Ethan, tell me what's going on."
It was said in a tone of voice that permitted no disobedience, and Ethan was too upset to go stubborn.
"I've been dreaming," he said, wrapping his arms around himself, still trembling with cold and
fear. "I took a sleeping pill -- thought if I could just get a good night's rest, I'd break the cycle."
Rupert's eyes, dark with worry, softened. "And instead it made it worse," he guessed, coming
closer still. Ethan had to hold back a whimper -- he so wanted Rupert's arms around him
again, but he couldn't allow it. "It's all right. Here, let me get a robe for you."
Ethan's own robe was crammed in the back of the closet somewhere -- he rarely wore it -- so
instead Rupert took his own thick, warm one from the back of the door and wrapped it around Ethan.
"There, that ought to help. Would you like some tea?"
"Yes, please," Ethan said a bit meekly, feeling oddly -- or perhaps not -- comforted by the
fact that he was wearing Rupert's robe.
"Come on, then," Rupert said, putting an arm around him and guiding him toward the kitchen.
Once Ethan was sitting in the brightly-lit room, thick robe wrapped around him and his feet drawn up
onto the rungs of the chair to spare them the cold floor, he did feel a bit better. The physical urge to
close his eyes and lay his head down on the table and let himself slip away again was... well, still
there, admittedly. But less.
"Talk to me," Rupert said, as he set about making the tea.
"What do you want me to say?" Ethan asked, running a hand through his damp hair.
"Anything. How long has this been going on?"
"A couple of weeks," Ethan said, toying with the edge of the robe as something to do.
"Why didn't you say anything before?" Rupert finished what he was doing and turned around, leaning back
against the counter and looking at Ethan.
"Because I didn't want you looking at me like that," Ethan said petulantly. "I'm not a child." Of
course, he felt rather like one under the circumstances, which just made him sulkier.
"No, but it might have helped to talk about it." Rupert hesitated, then came over and sat down on the
chair beside Ethan's, reaching for his hand. "What are you more upset about -- the dreams, or the
fact that I know about them?"
Ethan watched as Rupert's thumb rubbed slowly over the back of his hand. "I don't know."
"They might be nothing."
"Or they might be something." Ethan wanted so badly for Rupert to be right that he was nearly trembling.
"Come here," Rupert said, pushing back his chair and towing Ethan toward him. And even though all
Rupert was doing was holding his hand, Ethan went along as easily as breathing, until he was
actually sitting in Rupert's lap with strong, warm arms around him. "It's all right, love."
"It's not," Ethan whimpered, pressing his face against Rupert's neck, clinging to him.
"It is," Rupert insisted. "And if it's not, we'll make it all right. I promise you." His hands rubbed
Ethan's back and sides, and Ethan slid his own cold hands underneath Rupert's t-shirt and
over the hot skin there, which made Rupert gasp and then chuckle, but not complain.
He could still feel the pull of the sleeping pills, but it was less now. "I'm sorry." Not sorry enough
to pull away, though.
"Shh. Don't be sorry. It's all right."
Without looking, Ethan untangled one hand from under Rupert's shirt and used it to turn the
other man's face, rubbing his own cheek against Rupert's, rough stubble like sand between one's
toes at the seaside. His mouth sought Rupert's in an anxious, needy kiss, a kiss which Rupert had
the good sense to return. He always did seem to know what Ethan needed.
The kettle began to make the funny groaning sound that signaled that the water was nearly to a
boil, but Ethan kept his grip on Rupert, not letting go of him.
"This is one of those times when I'm thankful for a kettle that shuts itself off," Rupert said, just as it
did so with a small click.
"I don't want the bloody tea," Ethan muttered. "I need you."
"You've got me, love." Rupert said reassuringly. "However you need me."
Ethan shifted his weight and fumbled at the front of Rupert's brushed cotton trousers, closing his
hand around the warm, slightly swollen shaft he'd managed to free. His brain skittered away
from the term of endearment Rupert had uttered not once but twice now. They didn't say things like that.
Rupert gasped. "God, your hands are like ice."
"All of me is," Ethan said, untying the front of the robe he was wearing and letting it fall open. "That's
why I need you -- to warm me up, inside and out." He stroked Rupert's lovely cock slowly, feeling it
swell and harden in his grip as he rather awkwardly straddled the chair and Rupert's lap. "Need you."
"Anything," Rupert whispered. "Although I can't say that this is a... particular hardship."
Ethan let the more obvious remarks go unsaid and shifted, guided. One helpful lift of Rupert's hips
and he was being penetrated, stretched, the angle and gravity making everything just a bit more
intense than usual. This was what he wanted to think about, what he wanted to focus on.
Rupert groaned and slipped his hands inside the robe to settle on Ethan's hips. "Is this what you need,
then?" he asked, his voice tight with control as he pushed deeper, making Ethan gasp and clutch at his shoulders.
"Yes. You." Ethan closed his eyes and caught Rupert's mouth in another hungry kiss as they began to move
together, more rocking than thrusting. He could feel Rupert deep inside him, wanted him deeper still.
Words formed and twisted and melted away again in Ethan's brain, thankfully never making it to his
tongue, where speaking them would have changed things forever. He didn't want things to change.
He liked them as they were. Needed to be here in this moment, not allowing anything else to take shape.
"Tell me what you've been dreaming," Rupert said, rocking forward and making Ethan whimper.
"No," Ethan said. "Don't." There was desperation in everything about him -- his voice, his hands, even his cock.
Rupert did what he could to still Ethan's movements, stopped moving, himself. "Tell me, Ethan."
Ethan tried to pull away, but Rupert held onto him. "Don't. Please," Ethan said, hating the word.
"I'm trying to help," Rupert said, shifting, his cock rubbing inside Ethan. "Tell me."
Pushed past the point of desperation into anger, Ethan curved his back, forcing Rupert's cock deeper
into him. "You die," Ethan hissed, and was fiercely glad when he felt Rupert tense, the hands on his hips
tighten. "Over and over again, in countless ways. There. Is that what you wanted to know? Now fuck me."
He began to move, then, as best he could, riding Rupert's cock, and the other man responded, fucking
him properly. The two of them growled, snarled, and Ethan bit at Rupert's neck, grinning viciously
when Rupert moaned and thrust harder. Ethan rubbed his own erection against Rupert's
abdomen, deliberately staying close enough that Rupert couldn't get a hand between them to help him.
It was only a minute or two later that Rupert groaned and shuddered, his cock throbbing inside Ethan. Ethan
clenched his body around Rupert and came, too, closing his eyes and thinking of nothing but the sheer
pleasure of it as his release slicked both their skin.
As soon as it was over, Ethan was up and out of Rupert's lap, stripping off the robe that didn't belong to
him and letting it fall to the floor. "Never do that to me again," Ethan told him furiously.
"Never do what?" Rupert asked, standing up, clearly unmindful of both Ethan's nudity and the
fact that his own clothes were mussed and sticky. "Presume to think that I deserve to know what's
going on in your head?"
Ethan couldn't stand there -- he turned and headed for the bedroom, intent on putting on the first
clothes that he could find and getting the hell out of the flat -- but Rupert was quick, closing his
warm hand around Ethan's bare upper arm and stopping him. "Let go of me," Ethan said.
"No. I want to know why it is that you're trying to keep me at a distance, even when you're clearly upset."
Rupert's voice was tight and controlled.
"Perhaps it's because you take advantage of me when I don't," Ethan snapped.
Gently, Rupert said, "I'm trying to help you. I lo--"
"Don't say it," Ethan broke in, even though part of him wanted to hear it more than anything.
"I love you," Rupert said.
"You don't," Ethan told him. "And I don't love you, either." As a lie, he thought it was rather convincing, actually.
"Is there a particular reason why you're so determined to pretend that's true?" Rupert asked.
"It is true," Ethan said, but now his voice wavered. He resisted when Rupert pulled him closer.
"Do you want to know what I think?" Rupert's arms were around him. It was very hard not to melt into the embrace.
"No," Ethan said petulantly.
Rupert ran a hand along Ethan's spine, making him shiver. "Too bad. I'm going to tell you anyway. I think
that you do love me, and that you're terrified of losing me. I think that's what these dreams are about."
"Yes, well, you always think you know everything," Ethan said, his voice muffled against Rupert's
neck. Somehow, his arms had gone around Rupert, and he was now holding on much more tightly
than Rupert was, and he couldn't stop.
"I don't know everything," Rupert said gently. "You're shivering, love."
"Don't call me that," Ethan said, still clinging. He wanted to beg Rupert to say it again.
"Do you still want tea? Or should we just go back to bed?"
"Bed," Ethan begged. The way that he needed to be touching Rupert made walking to the bedroom
difficult, but they managed, and once they were under the duvet, Ethan curled himself around
Rupert's warmth and hung on.
"It's all right," Rupert said. "I'm not going anywhere."
"I know." It was both comforting and embarrassing to need someone else so much, but
Ethan did need Rupert. There might not be any point in denying it to himself, not if
Rupert already knew. "Promise?" The word slipped out before he could stop it.
"I promise," Rupert murmured, holding Ethan securely. "I love you. I'm not leaving you. Never again."
Soothed by the embrace, Ethan gradually relaxed. The pull of the drugs was less now, and he thought
that Rupert was right. He thought that he might even be able to sleep without dreaming.
He waited a long time, until Rupert's breathing was slow and steady. Until he was quite sure that Rupert
must be asleep. "Ripper?" Ethan whispered, and there was no response. Barely audibly, "I do love you."
To his surprise, Rupert's hand reached up and stroked his hair. "I know."
End.
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