Archive of Our Own

They’d done it.  Together.  Ghostface had done it.  

Everyone was dead, reduced to irrelevance, to rubble.  The lifeless bodies in Stu’s empty house were faintly illuminated by flickering images of horror as the television sat stubbornly amidst remnants of chaos, projecting scenes far less bloody from imaginations far less vivid.  

Far less real.

The bodies proved Billy and Stu were monsters of their word, their kept promises revealed in the corpses lying scattered, bodies twisted, life leaked out in puddles of blood - mere extensions of the after-party mess of beer bottles, paper plates, and half-eaten pizzas.  Pieces of garbage to be dutifully thrown in black plastic bags and tossed out by the curb, picked up every Monday, taken to the landfill where it belonged. 

Human garbage. 

Billy’s exhilaration bordered on a mindless high, face lit with sunbeams, with wild, crazy, intoxicating delight.  

Stu was happy that Billy was happy, not caring much for anything else - including the blood staining his clothes, dyeing his hands the color of dull brick, faded from too much sun.   

Billy shot a look at Stu that held a different kind of murder in it and stalked upstairs, not saying a word. 

He didn’t have to.

Stu followed, eyes fixed on Billy’s back, heart fluttering, wondering if Billy knew how much Stu fucking wanted him, how much he needed Billy to want him.  Finally achieving their plan made it that much worse, increasing the desire aching in his bones, along with deep-rooted fear.  Stu knew he wasn’t good enough for Billy - would never be - but that didn’t change the way his heart howled, dominating all else.

The corpses of everyone they killed faded from his mind with each step, and by the time he reached the landing at the top, were utterly forgotten.

***

When Stu crossed the threshold of his bedroom, Billy pushed the door closed, motion almost lazy, but tension hovered over his shoulders like a warning.  His mask, tossed carelessly on the bed, watched them through empty eyes.  Billy’s eyes burned fever-bright, intensity growing with each step as he drifted close enough to tug off Stu’s mask.  It fell from his careless fingers, settling on the floor, taking away the flimsy barrier of safety between them, Billy's breathing warm on Stu’s cheek.

But not gentle.

Billy took another step forward, like a wolf. 

Stu tensed, staring back.  Like a lamb.

Billy’s predator eyes caught the tension and he smiled, maddeningly close, so close Stu could almost taste him, intoxicating by proximity alone.  

Touch me, Billy.   

But if Stu pressed, he’d lose the moment.  So he held still, knowing Billy’s volatility better than anyone, in so many ways.

Clever lamb that he was.

Billy’s eyes crinkled with his smile, almost endearingly.  

Stu knew better.

“You did it, Billy,” he said softly.  

Billy’s laugh was tinged with pride.  “ We did, Stu,” he said, watching the blush creep into Stu’s face.  “And yeah, we did,” he repeated, eyes fixed on Stu’s apple cheeks.  

“I love when you blush, Stu,” he growled, voice deepening.  

The murders were merely incidental as far as Stu was concerned - this was what he really wanted.  A different kind of murder.  His own flirtatious dance with death.

“You always make me blush, Billy,” he murmured, drowning Billy in the ocean of his eyes.  He licked his lips, watching Billy’s wild stare follow the motion, almost biting his own.  

“Billy, what about the cops?”  

At least he had just enough brains left to consider practical details.  They probably shouldn’t linger around their own crime scene without being ready to stage themselves as victims, but…staring at Billy, taking in the reflection of madness, the way Billy was staring at him, Stu wasn’t sure he cared.

“What about them?  Do you know how fucking stupid they are?  It’ll take forever for them to get here.  If they even show up tonight.  You radioed the all-clear after you killed Dewey, right?”  

Stu nodded. 

His eyes gleamed like an animal’s.  “Plenty of time, then,” he said softly.

“Time for what?” Stu blurted.

Billy winked, coy in victory, still high on bloodshed.  “What do you think, Stu?”

After a heartbeat, Stu leaned forward, breath hitching, pressing his face closer to Billy’s, scared to reach for the moon, compelled to try.  Another moment and he would be kissing him, the way he’d wanted to all night.  

Every night.

Billy shoved him back.  Viciously.  Using far more force than he needed to.  One word would have stopped Stu, but Billy wanted violence.

Billy’s dark eyes flashed dangerously.  “Stu, stay the fuck away from me.”

Stu stood uncertainly, hating himself for the way tears welled suddenly in his eyes, for the way he was never good enough.

“Why?” he asked, managing - somehow - to keep his voice even.

“Because I’m the fucking devil, Stu.”  Billy heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair, suddenly more human.  The wildness faded a little from his eyes.  “I know what you want, but you can’t have it.”  

Billy took a step towards him, making Stu’s heart leap pitifully in his chest, soaring on wings of hope, but Billy crushed it like a flower under his heel when he shoved Stu again, sending him back against the wall.  

It didn’t hurt, but the surprise of it did, the ruthlessness.  

No trace of affection. 

His eyes were hard again.  

“I’ll never love you, Stu.  Don’t you fucking get it?  I can’t.”

“But if you could -”

“It doesn’t fucking matter, you fucking IDIOT because I can’t!  Even if I did want to!”  The slow grin twisted his face into a grotesque mask, into a demon’s.  “Because I don’t.  Stu, do you hear me?  I don’t want to.”

Stu leaned back against the wall, not fighting the tears anymore, letting them run stinging down his cheeks, heart breaking.  All he wanted was for Billy to love him, to be a good boy for Billy.  Maybe if he was better, if he did a better job, if he was a better boy, Billy would love him.  Or maybe Billy would always know how worthless Stu was, and that Stu could never - no matter how hard he tried - be good enough for Billy to love.  

It was his fault Billy couldn’t love him, not Billy’s.  He knew that.

But if he couldn’t have that, he could still have other things.  Anything was better than nothing.

Billy shot him a contemptuous glance.  “You’re fucking pathetic, Stu.  You already knew that and you still fucking fell for me.  It’s so fucking… disgusting. ”  

He took a soft step forward, brushing his hand gently against Stu’s cheek.  The shame in Stu’s heart burned.   

“And I know why, too,” he added, closing his thumb and forefinger around Stu’s chin, locking his face downwards, forcing him to meet Billy’s hungry gaze.  “So do you.  Tell me why, Stu.  Why did you fall for me?”

Stu’s lip wobbled but he sucked down the sobs.  “Because I know you best.”

Billy’s laugh was harsh.  “Yeah, but that’s not the answer.  Answer me, Stu.  You’re always such a good boy, don’t be a fucking disobedient pup now.”

“What if I was?” Stu demanded suddenly, defiance blazing in rare protest.

The look of surprise on Billy’s face made Stu’s stomach flop, twisting even more when Billy’s eyes narrowed.  He stepped closer, the wild, sweet scent of his heat washing over Stu in waves, making him stupid for this evil man.   Billy pressed his body against Stu, pinning him against the wall, grip tightening, holding him in place exactly where he wanted Stu to be. 

The sick part was that it was exactly where Stu wanted to be too.  Anything, as long as Billy was here, with him, looking at him, touching him.  It didn’t matter how.

“Jesus, Stu,” Billy murmured hoarsely.  “The way you’re looking at me.”

“How am I looking at you, Billy?” he whispered, voice breaking.

“Like you want me to fuck you.”

Stu didn’t answer. 

Billy jiggled his hand on Stu’s chin a little, as though getting his attention, but he already had it.  Without warning, he grabbed Stu’s dick suddenly with the other hand, closing his fingers around him possessively, the implication clear - anything belonging to Stu belonged to Billy.  Stu convulsed, gasped, but Billy held him in place, iron grip on his face, gentle fingers starting to stroke slowly with the other.  

Petting his good boy.  

“You do, don’t you,” he said softly, caressing.  

Leaning more heavily.  Pressing Stu into the wall.  Crushing his ribs slightly.  Making it harder to breathe for more reasons than one.

A garbled mumble escaped Stu’s throat.  Billy suddenly leaped back. 

No.   

No, no, no, touch me! Stu almost screamed.  However you want!  Just touch me!

“You really don’t get it, Stu,” Billy snapped.  “You think I’ll fall for you too, that love will change me, that we can live happily ever after like this is a fucking fairy tale, like we’re Beauty and The Fucking Beast, but Stu…”  his voice trailed off.

“But what?  Why not?  I’ll be your beauty, I’ll be anything you want.  And you can be a beast, or anything else you want.  Why can’t we have that?”

“Because there is no happily ever after,” Billy said quietly, after a pause.  “I’ll never change -  I am a beast.  I like being cruel.  To everyone .  Even you.”

“Do you?”

“YES!” he shouted furiously.  “Stop fucking trying to change me, Stu!  I like how I am!  I don’t give a shit what that means for you or anyone else!  FUCK!”

Stu blinked, voice caught in his throat, preoccupied with how Billy’s hand had felt on his dick, on how it was almost everything he’d ever wanted.  Did it really matter that Billy couldn’t love him?  Couldn’t he just…pretend?  He was so close.

“So be a beast,” Stu whispered.

Billy laughed, making Stu shiver.

“Stu,” he said mockingly.  “You think you want me to fuck you, but trust me - you don’t.  I’d hurt you.  And I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.”  He blinked, face smoothing slightly.  “No, actually…you know the saddest part?”

Stu shook his head.

“You really do deserve better, Stu.  You do.  Better than this, better than me.” 

Stu started to argue but the look on Billy’s face stopped him.

“But you’ll never see it, so you stay, and you don’t care what happens, what I do, or what I do to you.  As long as I stay too.  You’re a pathetic piece of shit, Stu.  I almost feel sorry for you.”

Stu let the tears flood his face, soaking the front of his shirt. 

Billy closed the distance between them again, stroking Stu’s face lightly.  Stu closed his eyes, pressing his face into Billy’s warm hand, not caring it was a lie, not caring for anything but this.  Even if this wasn’t real.  He could still pretend.  He had to have it, this relationship with his beast, willing to falsify the comfort he so desperately needed.

Would do anything for.  Had done anything for - it didn’t matter who he killed, as long as Billy was here.  As long as Billy was his.  No actually, that didn’t matter either, as long as Billy was here with him, as long as he was Billy’s.

“Poor sweet Stu,” Billy said softly, holding his face.  

Stu kept his eyes closed, drinking in the lies, imagining it was love, pretending he was good enough to earn Billy’s love.  Make-believing he could get the devil to love him, to capture his wicked heart, to make him sometimes gentler, maybe even kind.

He didn’t want Billy to change.  Only to love him.  Or at least…

“Open your eyes, Stu,” Billy said, not surprised when Stu obeyed.  “You want me to fuck you?”

After a pause, in which all sorts of unspeakable fantasies bombarded his brain, Stu nodded.

Billy laughed.  “No you don’t.”  He looked at him curiously, as though seeing him for the first time.  “Do you?”

But before he could answer, Billy covered his mouth, denying the privilege of speech, silencing whatever Stu had been about to say.  

Yes! he wanted to scream.  I do!  Fuck me, Billy!  I don’t care how.  Just stay.  Be here with me.  Stay here with me.  Do whatever you want to me, just stay.

Instead it came out as a muffled whine under Billy’s merciless grip. 

“Fuck, Stu, you’re worse than I thought.  You really don’t care, do you?  You don’t care if I hurt you.”

Stu shook his head mutely, cheeks burning with shame, unable to refuse Billy anything, even if it meant humiliation.  Especially if it meant humiliation.  He didn’t mind.    Actually, he wanted it.  Something about Billy’s cruelty was an aphrodisiac, although it was only in his darkest moments that he let himself acknowledge what it did to him.  

In those dark, hideous moments when he masturbated late at night, he imagined all the disgusting things he wanted Billy to do to him, craving the degradation, wanting nothing else.  And the worse the fantasy, the more disgusting the things Billy did, the more dehumanizing the acts of depravity, the harder he came.  

Every fucking time.

Stu knew it wasn’t really a question of worth.  He’d never be good enough.  But he could suffer better than anyone, and he knew how much Billy loved suffering.  If he couldn’t have love, he would earn its substitute in other ways.

Stu curled his fingers around Billy’s wrist and tugged his hand gently down. 

“I don’t care, Billy,” he said quietly, accepting his own shame.  “I want you to fuck me and I don’t care how.  I know you don’t love me.  But..”  He gulped.  “But I still want you.  And I want you to want me. ”

“Oh, I do ,” breathed Billy, sending shockwaves down Stu’s spine.  “But not the way you want me to.  I want to cut you while I’m fucking you, I want to choke you while my dick’s in your ass, I want to hurt you Stu.”

Stu stared glassily back.  Shrugged.  “So hurt me, Billy.”  

They stared at each other.  

Stu leaned closer, touching their foreheads together.  “Do it, Billy.  Whatever you want.  I can take it.  I fucking dare you. ”

Billy gaped back, jaw slightly slack, the only time Stu had ever seen shadows of doubt flicker in his eyes.  For a moment, Stu felt hope.  Maybe they were both wrong.  Maybe they could have redemption after all, maybe they could have happiness together.  Maybe it didn’t have to mean pain all the time, maybe he could have…grace?

But the way Billy’s eyes turned to stone shattered all hope, forcing Stu to face the truth, the knowledge that he really was as fucking stupid, as fucking pathetic, as fucking disgusting as Billy had known he was all along.  

Because Billy was giving him the chance to run, the choice to get the fuck away from the devil, a clear escape route from the monster that would never change.

Knowing he wouldn’t take it.

Knowing Stu belonged to him.   Completely.  In any way he wanted Stu to belong to him.

Stu would always be his loyal Argos, until the stars faded and the sun burned out and the earth turned to ice.  He was Billy’s, forever.

They were made for each other.  

A wolf and his pet.  

A motherfucking monster and his pathetic, whimpering, weak mess of a human being.  Not even really a person.  An object.  A thing.  

A toy.

As long as he was Billy’s toy.

“Poor Stu,” Billy said, tone equal parts mocking and sympathetic.  

Confusingly mixed.  

Changing nothing between them.

Billy leaned forward, grazing his teeth against Stu’s neck.  “I’d feel bad for you if I could,” he whispered.

Stu shivered, feeling the devil’s hands roaming his skin, fingers curling into his shirtfront, pulling him closer, drawing him in, casting his evil spell, clouding Stu’s brain and making him not care all over again what Billy did to him, as long as he stayed.  

Just stay. 

Please stay. 

As though reading his mind, Billy drew back slightly, grinning.  

“I should leave, you know.  If I really cared about you, I would.”

“Stay, Billy,” Stu pleaded, despising the desperation in his own voice.  “Stay with me.  Fuck me, use me, hurt me, I don’t care, just please stay. ”

“Shhh,” Billy soothed, stroking his hair.  “Don’t worry, babe.  I hate you enough to stay.”  He grinned, then kissed Stu’s neck.

Sensuously.  Lovingly.  Not like a killer at all.

But they both knew what Billy was.

And Stu liked that better.

“Where’s your knife, Stu?”

“I tossed it.  On the floor, I think.  By the bed?”

“Fetch it for me.” 

Billy stepped back, setting Stu temporarily free, waiting, expectant.

Stu crossed the room in a daze, blood roaring, willing to obey any command Billy felt like giving.  

Found the blade, just sticking out from under the bed, on the floor.  He bent, reached for it, but Billy’s voice stopped him. 

“No, Stu,” he said smoothly, his voice making Stu’s skin crawl in conflicting ways.  “Pick it up with your teeth and bring it to me on your hands and knees. ”

He laughed when Stu froze.  Leaned back against the wall, folding his arms.  

“You can still go, Stu,” he said languidly.  “I mean…let’s be honest, you should.   I’m going to make you regret it if you stay.”

Stubbornly, Stu sank to his hands and knees, bending low, face to the floor, retrieving the knife, cutting his lip a little when he closed his mouth around the blade.  He wasn’t worthless.  He could be a good boy.  Billy’s good boy.

He swiveled slightly, backing his hips away from the bed to keep from bumping the frame, and crawled across the floor towards Billy, knife between his teeth.  

“Stop.”

Stu halted, instantly frozen in place.  

“Stay,” Billy said, voice velvet and iron at the same time.

Stu may as well have been carved from stone.  The only movement came from the slight flick of his pulse against the skin in his neck, his ribs swelling and contracting with each breath.  Heart beating, lungs breathing, existing for Billy.  

“Good boy.  Now, come.”

He’d barely moved when Billy barked out another order. 

“Slower. ”

He raised his gaze, meeting Billy’s eyes, crawling excruciatingly slowly, craving the domination, drinking in the humiliation, dick getting harder with each knee-step.

Billy’s eyes went darker, flush creeping up his neck, coloring his cheeks vivid.  He looked glorious.

“Fuck, Stu,” he rasped.  “Look at you. ”

Stu flushed with pleasure, searching for reward in any form.  Desperate for the scraps Billy tossed him.  Dying to earn them.

Billy held out a hand and Stu dropped the knife in his palm, careful not to let it cut that lovely skin.  Some of Stu’s blood dripped on Billy’s hand, and he shuddered when Billy licked it off.

“Let’s see if the rest of you tastes as good,” Billy murmured, reaching for him. 

Stu whimpered.

He felt Billy’s hands on his shirt, heard the fabric cut when Billy slashed it, only just grazing the skin on his back, tracing a shallow scratch.  Stu still jumped.

But he stayed on his hands and knees, back arched, face down, forehead pressed into Billy’s legs, knowing instinctively Billy wanted him that way.  He held perfectly still when Billy bent over him, gripping his hips, and traced the cut he’d made down Stu’s back with his tongue.  

The goosebumps were born from equal parts pleasure and pain. 

Just like the rest of their relationship. 

Billy ripped the pieces of his shirt off and threw them on the floor, eyes fixed on Stu.  

“On your back, there’s a good boy Stu.”

Stu lowered and rolled obediently, happy for a command, the thought of resisting not occurring to him.  Billy straddled him and sank down, sitting on Stu's stomach, hitching his hips a little, brushing his ass against Stu’s cock. 

Grinning when Stu gasped.  

Billy bent forward, planting kisses on Stu’s bare chest and Stu swore he could have fucking died happy right then and there.  Who said they couldn’t have a fairytale ending?  It might be different than all the others, but in a way, that was fitting - they were different from all the others.  It was their own story, their own ending, and he wouldn’t have minded.  

Knowing the beast couldn’t be tamed.  Not really wanting him to be.

Billy traced kisses down his chest, scooting farther back, sitting on Stu’s legs, lipping his skin, lapping his tongue around Stu’s nipple, biting sharply, smiling through his teeth when Stu cried out, then licking gently, pressing kisses against his neck, down his stomach, stopping at his waist. 

He sat up abruptly, staring down at Stu. 

“Good boy,” he said softly, tearing Stu’s heart in half.

“But I want everyone to know you’re mine,” he said authoritatively.

“They already know, Billy,” Stu murmured, a confession he didn’t mind making. 

“Not good enough,” Billy snarled, holding the knife carefully in one hand, pressing the tip against the soft flesh in Stu’s chest.  “I’m going to carve you, to prove you’re my good boy.”  He paused.  “Still want to stay?”

Stu hated himself a little for nodding, not sure why, when this was all he wanted, but he nodded all the same.

Billy beamed.  “Good boy, Stu.  Now, stay.”

It was fucking confusing, but Stu was addicted to the roller coaster, to the wild taste of belonging to Billy, to the way he overwhelmed and commanded him.  Happy to be his puppet, happy to submit to his master.  Happy to be the fucked up beauty to this horrible beast.  No one made him feel like Billy did.

He knew what that made him.  

And didn’t care. 

At least - not enough to do anything about it.

Billy plunged the knife tip into Stu’s skin, throwing an arm across his neck and holding him down when he instinctively jumped.  But after the first gash, after the initial shock, Stu regained control of his reflexes and held still of his own accord.  Billy sat straighter, smiling down at him, and used both hands to cut carefully, deeply, carving Stu’s chest, watching hungrily as the blood flowed down Stu’s body, staining the carpet. 

Stu hissed a little, whimpered a few times, but held still, taking pride in obedience.  He wasn’t used to pride; it felt good.  Another gift Billy gave him.

Billy paused to wriggle a little on Stu’s lap, brushing his ass against Stu’s dick again, dark eyes flashing when Stu moaned in response, mixing more pain with pleasure, intertwining them in his mind until they were indistinguishable. 

“Billy,” he whined.  

“Mmmm,” Billy said appreciatively, taking his time, carving. 

He paused periodically to wiggle his ass over Stu’s swelling cock, making sure Stu knew pain and pleasure were twins.  And that Billy owned both.

Finally, he sat back, admiring his handiwork, jagged edges of the cuts marring Stu’s previously smooth skin, now torn and bleeding.  

“You look beautiful.”  

The pain didn’t matter, nor the way his skin burned, the way his blood spilled from his body, painting his stomach, the floor, Billy’s hands - those godlike hands - red.  

None of it mattered. 

Billy thought he was beautiful . 

He’d let Billy carve anything into his skin if it meant Billy thought he was beautiful. 

“What does it say?” Stu asked, losing himself in Billy’s eyes.

Billy smiled softly, stroked his cheek.  “It says good boy, ” he answered.

A tear slipped down Stu’s face, and Billy traced it gently backwards, smearing Stu’s cheek with the blood on his fingers, and sucked his fingertip.  Beneath him, he felt Stu’s dick twitch. 

He smiled.  “You like that, don’t you, Stu?”  He laughed softly through his nose.  “You’re not just a good boy.  You’re a perfect toy. ”

As long as he was Billy’s, he’d be alright.  He’d already killed for him, even someone he’d cared about, but Billy’s word was law, and Stu would never disobey, no matter who he told Stu to kill.  Or what he told Stu to do.  They both knew Stu would do it, whatever it was.  Because he wanted to.  Because Billy wanted him to.  

It was the same thing.

“Why are you here, Stu?”

Stu’s mind went blank.  “Because…because I…” he stammered.

“Because what, Stu?”  Billy smirked, knowing exactly what he was asking.  

“Because it’s you, Billy,” Stu finished lamely, afraid he’d ruin the moment.

It was the wrong answer.

“What about me, Stu?”  He traced the tip of the knife down Stu’s stomach, scraping the skin, watching it shudder and flinch under the pressure.

“I love you, Billy,” Stu said simply, not ashamed of the powerful rushing in his chest, each heartbeat pounding more blood out, coloring the words on his chest redder, making him beautiful. 

“I know you do.  Wrong answer, though.”  

Billy dug his fingers into the fresh wounds on Stu’s chest, making him scream. 

“Because,” Stu panted desperately, mind clouding with pain and an all-consuming desire to earn praise, “you told me to stay.”

That was the right answer.  Billy beamed down at him.  

“That’s right, Stu.  Perfect.”  

He shifted again, rocking his hips gently against Stu’s, watching his face closely, smiling when Stu whimpered and thrust back.  It was everything that mattered, everything he wanted.

Billy knew that.

Billy fell forward on Stu’s chest, hearing his gasp when he smacked into the cuts he’d carved, still bleeding, still fresh, so fucking painful and dug his bloody fingers into Stu’s neck, covering his mouth with warm, ravenous lips, pushing his tongue between Stu’s teeth, possessing his mouth, electrifying him.

Stu pressed against him, whimpering, kissing back, Billy’s hands around his throat, Billy’s tongue in his mouth, Billy’s teeth against his cheek, Billy’s scent filling his nose, clouding his brain.  His vision hazed slightly as Billy’s hands increased pressure, but Stu didn’t mind choking, didn’t mind gasping for breath, didn’t mind how it made the blood scream on its way to his dick, emptying his brain to flood his swollen erection, and the way it fleshed tight against Billy’s thigh, between his legs, the way he straddled Stu, oh god, oh Billy.

Stu’s vision twisted into a vivid kaleidoscope of colors, then faded to hazy black inkblots, a moving Rorschach, but all he could picture in the shifting shapes was Billy’s face, only Billy, all of them, Billy.  If this was a test, the answer was Billy.  He was sure of it.

“Billy,” he whispered in awe, marveling at the images.

Just before he passed out, Billy let go and Stu burst into uncontrollable coughing, the painful, ragged, wheezing gasps flooding his lungs, only vaguely aware of Billy’s movements.  Then he felt Billy’s hands on his belt, waking him up, ripping at the buckle, tearing at his jeans, pulling them down, draping himself back overtop Stu, the look in his eyes purely crazy and Stu still didn’t mind, and he really, actually only wanted more.

Then Billy was tearing his own clothes off, impatiently ripping at his shirt when it resisted, shredding it raggedly apart, making Stu think faintly of his own skin, how Billy would rip him apart too, shred him to tatters, not minding the viciousness because it meant Billy wanted him and nothing else mattered but that.

Billy’s breath was coming out in short, violent gasps, blowing against his cheek, rustling his hair, his panting driving Stu insane, making Stu’s eyes widen when he saw Billy’s erection pop out of his jeans, swollen taut, filled with blood, and promises of what it would do to him. 

Yes.

“I’m going to fuck you, Stu, just like you said you wanted, ” Billy growled in short bursts, scrabbling like a man possessed, reaching for the bottle of lubricant, stretching to reach, snatching it off the bedside stand, flipping the cap open, pouring it in his palm, not breaking eye contact.  

He laughed cruelly.  “And I don’t care if you like it, Stu, but we both know you will.”  

Stu licked his lips, nervous, excited.  Trembling a little.  Leaking. It wasn’t just blood.

Billy squirmed around on top of him, tilting his head curiously, reaching down between his legs, finding Stu’s erection, thumbing the tip in a circle.

“Fuck, Stu,” he said in wonder, eyes wide, “you’re fucking wet already.”

Stu whimpered, pressing against Billy’s hand, heart racing. 

Billy laughed wickedly, then clambered off, rolled him over, and Stu let him, happy to submit.

Then Billy’s weight slammed on top of him, grinding him into the carpet, the fibers biting his fresh cuts, scraping against his skin, burning  preludes to the immediate future and how his skin would be rubbed raw, how he would soak the carpet with blood, torn from his good boy markings. 

Stu could barely breathe, just enough to whimper, the way Billy shoved his face against the floor, pinning him in place, asserting the dominance Stu hated himself for loving.

“You still want to be my puppet, don’t you, Stu?” he whispered, voice husky, thick with lust, that monstrous beast raging in Billy’s chest, calling the masochist in Stu to life with a vengeance. 

“Yeessss,” grunted Stu, trying to free his head, but Billy redoubled the pressure, holding him down. 

“I know you’re scared of me, Stu, it’s fucking pathetic, and you still want this, fuck you are perfect .”  

Fucking pathetic.  Want this.  You are perfect.  

Billy’s words in his ears, taking over his brain, the way Billy dug his fingernails into the soft skin of Stu’s sides, his back - or was that the knife? - his weight pressing down, cutting off Stu’s breath - or was it his hands closing again?  

No, just weight. 

“You can thrash if you want,” Billy laughed, “because I’m going to carve you while I fuck you.  Only I know how disgusting you are, how needy, how fucking desperate.  How much you want to be torn apart.”  

He slipped his hand under Stu hips, wrapping his fingers around Stu’s bulging erection, stroking, licking his ear, kissing his neck, smearing Stu’s precome. 

“My favorite toy. ”  He closed his teeth on Stu’s neck.  “Beg me, Stu, beg me to fuck you.”

“Billy,” he moaned, thrusting his hips into the floor, pressing against Billy’s grip, mind going blank, stupid for this, for him.

“I said beg, ” Billy hissed. 

“Fuck me, Billy, please,” Stu blurted, embracing the humiliation in a stream of unconscious babbling.  “I want you to, I…I need you, Billy, I need you to fuck me, I need to be with you, I’ll do anything you want, anything, Billy, just please fuck me.  Please Billy.  Please!  I’ll say anything you want, I’m begging you, you’re my beast, my devil, do anything you want to me, I'll take it all, I'll be your good boy, please.”  

The world around them didn’t matter, it never had.  Not the bodies downstairs, not the sick, rusty smell of blood polluting the air he was trying so hard to suck in his lungs.  Not the burning of the carpet against his bare skin, against his bleeding cuts, as Billy made him buck, shoving him back down every time.  Not the people they’d killed.  Not his parents.  Not his school.  Not his future.  There was no future without this, without Billy.  

Without Billy, Stu had no idea who he was.  It terrified him. 

This was where he belonged.  He deserved every harsh word, every moment of degradation, every carpet burn, every knife cut, for being so pathetic, for needing Billy so badly.  

But Billy hadn’t left him.  Billy would never leave him.  As long as he was a good and perfect boy. 

“Billy, you won’t leave me will you?  You wouldn’t, would you?  Ever?”

Billy stroked Stu’s cock thoughtfully, laying little kisses on his neck, easing his weight up a bit to let Stu rut harder into his hand, moaning.  

“Why would I ever leave this?” Billy answered finally, closing his fingers slightly, increasing the pressure.

Stu gasped, pushed. 

Barely felt it when Billy sank his teeth into Stu’s back.  The sharp pain hardly registered against the overwhelming pleasure of Billy’s hand on his dick, giving him gifts of both hell and heaven, the best and the worst, damnation and redemption. 

“Roll over, Stu,” Billy ordered, climbing off him.  

Stu didn’t hesitate.  

Billy was kneeling beside him, staring hungrily down at Stu.  Fondling his own erection.  Eyes greedy. 

“Stu, be my good boy,” he purred.  “Make me wet for when I fuck you.”

Stu crept forward like a guilty dog, just as greedy as Billy to have his cock in Stu’s mouth.  Stu winced slightly, his own precome drizzling even more when he closed his lips around Billy’s dick, his mouth and cock both slobbering like he was being given a treat.  

He was.

Billy jerked slightly when Stu took him in his mouth, jolting electricity through Stu’s brain, delighted and grateful for his monster to allow him to provide pleasure.  He wanted so badly to be his good boy, his naughty boy, his victim, his beauty, anything he wanted.  

“Harder, Stu, I’m…not in the mood to…take it slow,” Billy rasped, pushing his hips forward, tangling his fingers in Stu’s hair, dragging Stu’s face forward, faster, shoving his cock down Stu’s throat, breathing heavy, increasing the speed of his thrusts when he heard Stu choke, then gag, coughing.

Stu didn’t mind that Billy didn’t care, that Stu’s gurgles only inflamed his desire, that he was too preoccupied with thrusting, with shoving his dick as far down Stu’s throat as he could, moaning, bucking, while Stu braced himself, hands on the carpet, pushing back against Billy’s force, meeting him, not backing down.

They both wanted this. 

Tears streamed down Stu’s face, flooding into the rivers of saliva his mouth frantically produced, while Billy fucked his throat hard.   Like it was a game to see how far he could go, how deep he could push, to find out where the back of Stu’s throat ended and his esophagus began.  Stu’s throat burned even worse than his hands and knees, dug into the carpet, absorbing the force, Billy’s cock hammering his mouth, making his cheeks ache, his tongue go numb, his throat split and stretch.  

He’d be sore for days, but that was alright.  He was happy to let Billy tear his throat apart, knowing he deserved to hurt, lucky that Billy was the one doing it.

Finally, Billy yanked away, gasping, petting Stu’s face, his back, his shoulders while Stu hunched over, coughing brutally in sounds of hollow violence, slobber pooling on the floor in thick ribbons from his wet cheeks. 

“So fucking perfect, my favorite toy,” Billy murmured, pulling him up, licking the saliva from his face, kissing his lips clean, humming approvingly.  

Stu sucked in deep, ragged breaths, the air setting his throat harshly on fire, but he’d done it, he’d been Billy’s good boy, and nothing else mattered.  

And now Billy was kissing him, holding him close, soothing him, petting his hair, erection pressed against Stu’s thigh and he gobbled the way Billy was fucking psychotic for Stu, the way Billy was obsessed with the unlimited possibilities of what he could do, high on the power Stu gave him.  

Stu pulled his head away and Billy let him, their eyes meeting. 

“Use me, Billy, ” Stu croaked painfully, throat on fire.  “Use me like the toy I am, the one you love to play with.”  

A guttural snarl ripped through Billy’s chest, and he was turning Stu around, throwing him down, shoving him prone into the carpet - fuck that hurt, the way the fibers bit his raw, rubbed, sliced up skin - slamming down on top of him, grinding him harder down.  Stu imagined the giant smears of blood - his blood - on the carpet from his hands and knees alone, not to mention the good boy cuts.  

But he was a good boy.  The blood proved it.

One of Billy’s hands snaked forward, clawing for Stu’s wrists, pinning them together, the other dumping the bottle of lubricant in a greedy torrent, drowning Stu’s ass with cold liquid, making him gasp.  

Stu felt the sharp pinch of Billy’s finger pushing inside his asshole and concentrated on relaxing, on not fighting back, on not resisting, on letting him do whatever he wanted.  And Billy wanted this, he wanted Stu.     

“Stu, get up, get on all fours.”

Stu clambered onto his hands and knees, lifting them both, ignoring the burning where his skin had torn.  Billy slid off his back, one arm circling around Stu’s waist. 

“Arch your back, Stu, like a fucking dog in heat.” 

Stu arched till his spine ached.  

“Perfect,” Billy said, nosing the back of his neck, then stroking Stu’s leaking cock.  

Stu gasped in surprise, bucking accidentally, but Billy didn’t seem to mind.  

“Mmmm,” Billy smirked, stroking, while he pushed his finger back inside Stu’s ass.  “Stay arched, Stu.”

Stu held mostly still while Billy finger-fucked his ass, confusing Stu’s brain all over again by perpetually mixing pleasure and pain - no, they were the same thing - driving Stu insane, making him mad with animal lust, not caring what it made him, what anyone thought, caring only for this, for what Billy made him feel.

Billy pushed a second finger inside Stu, ignoring the hiss of breath through Stu’s teeth, rubbing his dick almost lovingly at the same time, the gentleness creating a bizarre contrast to the way he was shoving his fingers into Stu’s ass almost viciously.  But Stu couldn’t make himself care - the burning meant he was still alive, made him feel more alive than anything else, the fullness no comparison to any other sensation he could think of.  

Filled with Billy, with the god he worshiped, with the beast.  He would crawl and kneel at this devil’s altar for as long as Billy would have him. 

However Billy had him. 

Always. 

Besides, this was what Stu wanted.  And what did that say about him except that he must deserve the pain?

Billy drew his fingers out of Stu’s ass, let go of Stu’s blood-filled cock.  Laughed when Stu whined.

“Brace yourself, babe,” Billy cooed in his ear, making Stu’s heart soar, and then he was nudging the tip of his cock against Stu’s soaking ass.  

“Back arched, Stu, don’t make me tell you again. ”

Stu arched so high he lifted Billy slightly, thrilled when Billy hummed in approval.  Shivers ran down his spine, the delicious anticipation of the blessing he was about to receive, the way his lust was about to be fed, the way he was about to be used - the way he’d begged - by the only thing worth kneeling to, worth breathing for. 

Or not breathing for.

Billy shoved his cock roughly inside Stu, groaning at the tension, at the way the muscle enveloped him, squeezing tight, Stu’s whimpers fading beneath Billy’s moans of ecstasy as he seated fully inside Stu, hips against Stu’s, gripping his waist, pulling him close, thrusting slowly. 

“God, Stu,” he moaned, “you feel so fucking good… fuck… ”

“Yours, Billy,” Stu grunted softly, “all yours.”

“Mine,” Billy repeated triumphantly, voice electric.  

He fell forward, pushing into Stu hard, making him brace more securely so he could take the force of the devil that owned him. 

“My pet, my toy, my favorite fucking thing in the whole world, Stu ,” breathed Billy, grunting, slowly increasing the speed until he was panting with the bursts, shoving his dick in Stu’s wet, slopping ass.  

“Touch yourself, Stu,” he growled in Stu’s ear.  “Show me how pathetic you are, how much you love being fucked, how much you love me hurting you.   Prove you deserve this, Stu, prove you want me to fuck you.  Prove you deserve to have good boy carved in your chest.” 

Stu cried out, reaching for his own pulsing dick, fresh precome spilling out, running down his fingers.  He shifted his weight to keep them both balanced on one arm, stroking himself with his other hand. 

“Oh, good boy, Stu,” Billy praised, voice cold, but believable.  

Anything was believable, as long as it was Billy.

Stu braced hard, stroking obediently, while Billy railed into him, making him absorb the force, drinking both pain and pleasure, intoxicating him beyond any time he’d been drunk on mere alcohol .    

“You'll cum when I tell you to, Stu, not before,” Billy panted hollowly, breath ragged against Stu’s neck, in his ear, the voice of the devil possessing him, the body of the devil slamming into him relentlessly, filling him, emptying him, tearing him, merciless. 

Again. 

And again. 

And again. 

“Don’t stop, Billy ,” Stu choked, holding them up, masturbating to the way Billy used him, god, it made him dizzy, and he was secretly happy to do it, only Billy knew that - knew how much Stu needed it, gobbling the pain, loving the savage way Billy fucked him, craving the way Billy treated him, grateful that Billy was always willing to give him what he deserved.  

“Fucking pathetic,” Stu murmured accidentally aloud, breath catching when he heard his own voice rasp quietly through the rhythmic panting. 

But Billy only laughed.  “You are, ” he agreed, but it sounded like praise.  

Billy’s fingers dug into Stu’s waist, making him cry out a little, but Billy was only searching for a better grip, and Stu submitted while Billy threw himself forward, burying his dick in Stu’s ass, harder, faster, the desperation in Billy’s breathing music to Stu’s greedy ears.

Stu could stay like this for as long as Billy wanted him to. The pain was nothing, the burning ache didn’t matter.  Only the thump as Billy crashed into him, filled him completely, the longing when he drew back, the reassurance when he shoved back in, each thrust saying Billy wanted him, wanted to be here, with him, joined as closely as they could be, hurting him, maybe loving him, but in any circumstance, only with him.

The pain proved it.  

Stu gritted his teeth and kept his back arched.

“What would you do for me, Stu?” Billy breathed, throwing his weight into Stu for the thousandth time. 

“...anything…Billy…”

Billy laughed triumphantly, pausing long enough to press his lips against Stu’s ear. 

Stu shuddered.

“Who does this ass - “ he sat back and shoved once, hard, into Stu’s ass, eyes gleaming, watching the way Stu absorbed the impact before bending back down, hand on Stu’s hair, petting him, loving him - “belong to?” 

Stu’s eyes glazed over but he didn’t have to think.  

“You, Billy,” he breathed.  “All of it, all of me, yours, Billy.  All yours.”

Billy grinned, kissing his back, then sat back and started fucking him again, rocking his hips, scooping, digging deep.

Like he was breaking in a rebellious horse.

Like he hated him.  

“I should…” Billy panted…”put…a collar…on you…”  

“And harness,” Stu responded immediately, gasping.  “Lead me around…on a leash…make me bring it to you…in my teeth…like the knife…”

“Fuck…Stu…” Billy gasped.  “I’m going…to… fuck I’m going to cum in you…”  

He groaned, pushing hard, rocking them both, and Stu could feel the blood on his palm, on his knees, from where the friction had eaten his skin away.

“Cum, Stu,” Billy ordered.

He knew Stu was always desperately happy to obey, such a good, naughty, needy, pathetic toy.

Good boy, his chest bled, his mind whispered.  

One more flick of his wrist, a final tug of his hand and Stu’s cream was spurting out, decorating the carpet in opaque liquid bursts, creating patterns in time to the force of Billy’s hips slamming into him. 

Billy grunted, low and guttural, eyes hazed, mind gone, given over completely to animal lust.  Stu could feel him spasming in throes of pleasure against his obediently curled back, the rapid seizures of Billy’s ecstasy coming in waves once, twice, three times, and he knew Billy had buried his orgasm deep inside Stu. 

Where it belonged.

***

After, Billy welcomed Stu in his arms and they lay entwined, Stu aching, bleeding, burning.  Happy.  So fucked up.  What the fuck was wrong with him?

The cuts on his chest made every breath hurt.  But Billy’s fingers were in his hair, against his neck, absently caressing, eyes closed.  Holding him close.

Nothing.  There was nothing wrong with him.  And there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be. 

“Do you believe in heaven, Stu?”

Billy’s eyes were still closed, but he heard Stu’s scoffing snort.

“No.”

“Me neither.”  

Billy opened his eyes, bright and dark at the same time, pulling him in like they always did.  He propped himself up on one elbow, bending over Stu, gently stroking his hair.  Tenderly.  Like a true monster.

“What about hell?”

“I don’t know,” Stu said slowly.  “I guess I kind of figured we were already there.”

Billy burst out laughing, voice warm, before leaning down to kiss him.  

“Maybe we are.”  He paused, smirking.  “Want to find out?”

Stu stared at him.  He always said he’d die for Billy, and he meant it - every time - not really thinking he’d ever have to prove it.  But if that’s what Billy wanted…

“Sure, Billy,” he answered, shrugging, almost careless.  It’s not like his life mattered, not like he mattered. 

Billy’s face honed on his, like an animal staring down its prey, its prize, its favorite feast.  

“Really?”

He sounded hopeful.

Stu laughed, voice filled with bitterness, with loyalty.  “Do you really have to ask? ”

Billy kissed him deeply, possessively, catching him off guard.  When he leaned back, his eyes were already turning colder.

“No.  But not tonight.”  He smiled, fondly, genuinely, taking Stu’s breath away.  “I even forgot to cut you when I fucked you.”  He leaned forward, nuzzling Stu’s nose with his own, shockingly affectionate.  “Your fault.  What do I keep saying, Stu?  You’re fucking perfect.”

Stu smiled faintly. 

“Come on, Stu, let me clean up those cuts on your chest and then let’s get out of here.  We’ll go to my parents’ cabin, I don’t think anyone even knows about it.  My dad hasn’t been since mom left.”  He nuzzled Stu’s cheek.  “It can be ours now.  It’s nice, too.  I was just up last week to get it ready, for after the killings.”

He stood, paused, extended his hand.  Stu stared at it for a moment, high at the prospect of living in a cozy cabin with his beast.

Billy misread his fantasizing as reluctance and frowned.  “Come on, Stu, it’ll be nice.  I promise.  We’ll soak in the tub awhile.  I got your favorite ice cream.  And we can watch a movie.  Whatever you want.”

Stu smiled and took his hand, heart nearly bursting at the look of relief and satisfaction on Billy’s face when he closed his fingers around Billy’s.  But when he tried to get up, he cried out, hands and knees completely raw, his ass burning in protest and he stumbled in pain, fuck that hurt, so fucking much.  But then Billy’s arms were around him, lifting him, holding him close, shushing him gently, smoothing his hair. 

“It’s alright, Stu,” he said soothingly, body warm against Stu’s skin, making the pain fade to the back of Stu’s mind.  “I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you.

The words echoed in Stu’s mind, laughing at the injuries, making a mockery of his sickness.  Who cared if Billy was a monster?  Who cared that he loved to live at the edge of the abyss and see how close he could walk to the line?  As long as he let Stu walk there with him, nothing else mattered.

Not a goddamn thing.