Will & Patrick Wake Up Married

Yes, Joe. Dr. McCloud and I did not have sexual relations after our otherwise entirely consensual and above-board marriage.” Joe snorts. “Oh, honey, the way you limped in here, I’m guessing you two had sexual relations all over the place.

Just what the hell is Will trying to prove with all of this do-gooding anyway? Rolling

We’re both hot, both loaded, both smart. I’d say that for drunken, horrific mistakes, we did okay.” “Except

Congratulations on your marriage, Guglielmo. We hope you and Dr. McCloud enjoy a long, happy life together. The Molinaro Family.

If wishes were changes…” “I wouldn’t be in this mess.” “Amen.

You slipped for the same reason any alcoholic does. You wanted to drink. It seemed like the only option to make it through whatever moment you found yourself in. All the context around the decision is, for all intents and purposes, excuses.

You practically pulled me to the wedding chapel by my dick!” That’s not even close to true either. Flashes of dragging Will toward the stairs that lead to the chapel while Will followed, flushed and laughing, burn in his mind. Maybe

I ever marry, it has to be for good. If I get a divorce I lose access to the money. It all goes back to the family.” “What?

Will’s on the bed on his hands and knees. Patrick pounds into him as he rubs up and down his back over and over. A strange, possessive thought fills him: he’s mine now and I have to take good care of him. Patrick

A sharp memory takes his breath away. Will’s bent over the bed, taking Patrick’s slamming cock, saying, “Everyone says married sex is boring, but this...this is amazing!” Patrick

Will’s bent over the bed, taking Patrick’s slamming cock, saying, “Everyone says married sex is boring, but this...this is amazing!” Patrick

That’s when Will notices the unfamiliar weight on his finger. He holds his hand up and the room tilts sideways. “Oh my God.” In a whoosh of tumbling horror, Will remembers it all. No, no, this can’t be happening. “We got married.” Patrick

Will is mortified to realize that it’s probably his, or maybe a mixture of theirs, and then his eyes are arrested by the gold, shining band on the guy’s left ring finger. “Oh my God. You’re married.

This is my hotel room. I think you should be asking yourself how did you get in here?” “I—I don’t—I don’t remember,

He wonders briefly if he can still keep the Molinaro’s trust money if he murders Patrick. He’s pretty sure there’s no Molinaro stipulation against that. Murder’s always been a viable Molinaro alternative to accepting the consequences of any situation that’s gone wrong.

Honesty is a quality Patrick likes. Give him a bitter pill if the situation demands it, but don't tell him it's chocolate.

Will nods. He slumps in his chair, trying to make himself small; make himself stronger by taking up less room.