Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If there was proper music to twerk to, it was Megan Thee Stallion, Will thought. Just not when Frederick fucking Chilton was watching.

The club was more or less full that night, and Will was trying out a new routine. On some level, he knew the routine didn’t matter, these men were just here to watch him shake his ass, but he always said he danced for himself anyway. Where was the fun and the challenge in stripping if he couldn’t try out new tricks?

So he was dancing to Megan tonight. He was trying some cool new inverts and perfecting his jade split. Not that it made any difference to his customers. Or to Chilton.

There were the regulars who were always enthusiastic and tipped generously. Of those regulars, there were maybe ten or so who always requested a private dance. Since they were regulars, they knew not to fuck with Will-- he was notorious for keeping a knife in his garter.

Will’s favorites were undoubtedly the shy guys, the first-timers, the “I’ve-never-been-to-a-strip-club-before”s. Will made sure to keep them coming back.

And then there were the guys who were too drunk to stand. There were the guys who were just drunk enough to holler and catcall and get handsy. Guys who sat right up front or sulked in the back. Guys who were obviously doing coke in the bathroom. Guys who were just there to cruise. Guys who had just been broken up with. (Will was no stranger to sympathy blowjobs if a really hot, sad guy wanted a private dance). The occasional bachelorette party, when Will took a backseat to the more, ahem, masculine dancers at the club (whomst Will had definitely not had a threesome with). But, if Will was honest with himself, most everyone came to Chilton’s to watch him.

And yet, it was incredible how the clientele managed, time and again, to be more respectful than his boss. Christ, why was he always just fucking there? Chilton seemed perpetually behind Will, always sneaking up when he wasn’t paying attention to cop a feel of his ass. Breathing down his ear. Telling him what a great dancer he was. 

Sure, it didn’t hurt that he’d waived all fees, meaning Will didn’t have to pay him or anyone else at the club to do private dances. It didn’t hurt that Chilton always slipped him a little extra cash at the end of each night for being “discreet.” Will didn’t even have to take off his clothes. He just had to stand there and let the man touch.

This night was no exception, and as the club was closing, Will tried desperately to think of something else, anything else, while his boss felt him up.

“You did spectacularly tonight, Will,” Even as Will’s back was turned, he could feel the man’s haughty, slimy smile, his upturned chin and air of self-importance. He squeezed Will’s ass too hard in the wrong way. “Such a supple, gorgeous body… You should let me touch you.”

You’re already touching me, asshole, Will thought. But he didn’t answer, so Chilton tried again.

The man sighed, put on that defeated-c’mon-I’m-a-nice-guy look that Will had seen all too often. As if not immediately pouncing on him showed great restraint and Will better be fucking grateful. “Will, please? I just want to make you feel good… I want to show you how beautiful you are.”

Yawn. Eye roll. “I know how beautiful I am.” Will tried desperately to repress the urge to snap Chilton’s neck as the man whispered in his ear.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Will’s boss clearly needed to brush up on the definition of consent . “Just let me… Fuck, Will, I want you so bad.” The sound of a fly unzipping. Oh FUCK no.

Bev was right. He was too much of a bad bitch for this shit. He’d only really taken the job because he enjoyed dancing; his OnlyFans was his real source of income. He’d been at the man’s club long enough, listened to his constant whining long enough, endured his too-frequent gropings with a smile long enough. It ended tonight.

And that’s when, for the first time probably ever in his life, Will found himself saying, “Stop.” Except it wasn’t really “stop” and more like “get your fucking hands off me.”

And that was when shit got real. 

Chilton slammed him up against his office wall, a hand clapped over his mouth as he wrestled with Will’s skimpy bedazzled thong. He yanked it down over Will’s asscheeks. No. Nonononono. Nope.

“C’mon, give me a turn,” His boss was muttering in his ear. “Fuck, your body’s perfect, Will. I promise you’ll like it.”

Will wriggled in Chilton’s surprisingly weak grip, and it only took seconds to whip himself around and shove him away.

“Fucking stop!” Will seethed, heart racing, mind turning to every depraved, humiliating way to end this man’s life.

He’d thought about it often enough, but didn’t think a few clumsy gropings was enough of an excuse to kill. Plenty of men would’ve been dead by now if that were the case. But now he definitely had an excuse.

He had to be smart. He might as well get a little something out of this. And he had been waiting to try a new trick…

He turned back to Chilton, a saccharine smile hiding a murderous glare.

He cocked a hip. “If you wanna fuck me so bad, I think I deserve a little something first.” Chilton’s eyes lit up, surprised at the change in Will’s attitude, but Will knew he would do anything if it came with the promise of getting to fuck him.

“Anything,” Chilton panted. Like a dog to a bone.

Will sauntered over to lay back on his boss’s desk, conveniently ruining his meticulous setup-- knocking over a pile of his books that no one would ever read, spilling a cup of pretentious ass fountain pens along with their ink, completely fucking up a neat stack of papers that were definitely important bills. Chilton said nothing, did nothing, just stared, mesmerized.

“I want you to eat me out,” Will purred, kicking his thong onto the floor, spreading his legs wide and watching Chilton’s eyes get wider. 

“Fuck.” The man was practically drooling. Will knew exactly what he was thinking-- he’d had enough men tell him his pussy was perfect, pink and fat and always wet, even in the dingy lights of a seedy club or the darkness of an alleyway. Will had a few key moves to seduce these men, luring them without a single word passing his lips; the quirk of an eyebrow, the lick of his lips, the uncrossing of his legs-- they’re all the same, he thought to himself as Chilton dropped to his knees, crawling between Will’s spread thighs. Will smirked, both at the sight of Chilton fighting to get his tongue in Will’s pussy, and at his total unawareness of exactly what was ahead.

As Chilton just stared at Will’s cunt, mouth dropped open with obvious desire, Will just cocked an eyebrow. Well ?

That was all Chilton needed, leaning in with his clammy hands spread wide over Will’s thighs. Will tried to suppress his shudder as Chilton’s mouth met his pussy, the lack of experience immediately obvious in the way his tongue clumsily slid around Will’s opening. He was moaning more than Will was, oblivious to anything but his own pleasure in the conquest of his most elusive employee.

Chilton moved up, and clearly this man had never bothered to eat anyone out before. “Less teeth,” Will said, jaw clenched as he endured the attack on his sensitive clit.

Chilton was already panting, needing air after five seconds. His head popped up. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “You taste amazing, Will.”

Yeah, yeah, get to it, Will thought. “Yeah? You like it?” He said instead, lifting his head to watch.

“Yes, Will, I do. Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Chilton sighed into his pussy, the warm air making his clit throb.

“Less talking,” Will teased, laying back once more, back arched in a false show of submission.

“Right, right, sorry,” Chilton blabbered, diving in to lap up Will’s growing slickness. His tongue game was improving, Will had to admit.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Will breathed as Chilton sucked his clit into his mouth. “Fuck, Frederick.” He was playing it up for the man’s ego, but goddamn he hadn’t gotten head in a long time.

In fact, Will was trying very hard to think about the last time he’d gotten his pussy eaten. Sometime in school? When he fucked that professor? No, no, there were a few after that. He wasn’t sure if he counted the guys who did it for about five minutes out of obligation, a necessary precursor to sticking their dick inside him.

Damn, that was sad. Where were the guys that would do it without Will having to ask? The guys that would do it without guarantee they’d get something after? Will thought about every single guy he’d given head to without the expectation of anything in return-- there were many . Zipping their flies and leaving Will to finish himself off and wipe the cum from his face. Which Will had had no problem with… until now?

Shit, Chilton was saying something. “Huh?”

“Is it good?” Frederick asked, a tinge of insecurity in his usually cocky voice, finally noticing Will’s silence.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s great, baby,” Will lied.

Will wasn’t sure why calling grown men “baby” drove them absolutely insane, but it worked every time. Chilton blushed, a newfound confidence in his eye, and continued to lavish Will’s pussy with licks that were sloppy in not a good way.

The show was almost over. Will let Chilton think he was rocking his world for a few more minutes, egging him on with calculated moans, sighs, and “oh yeahs.” Staring at the ceiling, trying to count the cracks and water stains.

It was time for the fun part. Will had never done this before, but had thought about it countless times. And now was the perfect opportunity.

Will’s thighs tightened around Chilton’s neck, strong muscles built from dancing working hard to squeeze until he saw the other man start to struggle. “Enjoying yourself?” Will purred, only slightly breathless with the exertion of choking the man. Damn, I’m strong, he thought to himself, grinning.

Chilton’s hands started to push against Will’s thighs, a desperate attempt to escape the suffocating grip around his neck. His eyes bulged like a cartoon character, his face got all red and puffy, and Will giggled as it turned a shade of purple. He held firm, putting all of his strength into squeezing around Chilton’s neck harder until the man went limp and crumpled to the floor.

Will rose from his prone position on the desk, and, for a second, relished in towering over the man who had irritated him for years with his pathetic desperation. He looked even more pathetic like this, pussy juice all over his red, motionless face, expression fixed into one of genuine shock. Will couldn’t help but grin. There was only one thing left to do.

He removed his knife from his thigh garter, leaned down, and slashed Chilton’s throat in one deft swipe. Blood sprayed onto Will’s face and bare chest, and he grinned wider, watching his boss sputter and choke. As life drained from the man’s body, Will found consolation in knowing that his feral expression as he choked him with his thighs would be the last thing his boss would ever see.

Will left him there, a bloody pile of bones on his office floor, and wiped his knife on Chilton’s suit, a final act of desecration.

He sauntered to his dressing room, put on his clothes, wiped the blood off his face, and got the fuck out.

“I need a fucking smoke,” he declared when he finally burst through the door of his and Bev’s apartment.

Chapter Text

After telling Bev what had happened, conveniently ending the story after Chilton’s attempted assault, she was livid. After a joint, she was calmly seething.

“Fuck that fucking asshole. I’m getting you a place at Lecter’s. Fuck Chilton,” Bev said, laying on Will’s chest as they ate popcorn, smoked a second joint and watched some true crime doc.

Will blew a few smoke rings, high from smoking, higher from the rush of a kill. He’d heard of Lecter’s-- one of those swanky places where you needed an ever-changing password to get past the door. “Isn’t that place, like, super fucking exclusive?”

Bev shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth and spoke as she ate. “Yep. Those are some fancy-ass motherfuckers over there. It’s great, you’ll love it.”

Will had heard only good things, but… “How’s the boss?” Translation: would Will have to act as a one-man HR department?

“You won’t have problems with him. He’s super chill. He really knows how to handle shit. Kicks motherfuckers out just for looking at the dancers wrong. Treats employees well. And I don’t have to tell you about the money. The shit I make, even as just the MC… it’s bonkers, Will.”

“What makes you think they’ll hire me?” It was a stupid question, but Will was skeptical. Will often found that, in life, things that sounded too good to be true consistently were.

That’s when Bev sat up. “Ummmmm, look at you.”

Well, Will couldn’t argue with that. What’d be the hurt in auditioning?

And now they were here, gazing at the red neon glow of a sign that read, in big bold letters, Lecter’s Lair. And it hung above… an art gallery?

The building was completely glass to make it easy to peer into the lobby, a pristine, white, well-lit room containing four evenly spaced floor-to-ceiling paintings. The art was basically pretentious porn-- classy pop-art of genitalia and butts.

Will’s face scrunched as he looked around for a door. “Wait, where’s the club? Is this the entrance? What the fuck?”

“Yep, this is it,” Bev chirped, sparking a new joint. “For nerves?”

“How do I get in? Wait, did you pull that from your bra? Yes please.”

“Don’t worry about it, princess.” She took a few puffs and passed the joint.

“Well, it certainly looks fancy,” Will said hesitantly, inhaling like his life depended on it.

“Are you nervous?” Bev asked, fiddling with her lighter.

“Well now I am, yes.” He passed the joint back.

“Aww, Will, you shouldn’t be. He’s probably seen your OnlyFans, honestly.”

“Oh yeah? Is he cute?” A look from Bev. “What? C’mon, you know I like dirty old men.”

She sighed. “I hate to say this, but he is absolutely exactly your type. Jesus, what have I done?”

They showed admirable restraint by leaving half the joint for later. When they were sufficiently high, Beverly opened the glass door to the lobby, approached a painting and knocked on it.

“Bev, what are you doing? You’re not supposed to touch art!” Will scolded in a whisper, anxious that some invisible state-of-the-art security system might be set off.

“Relax, Will,” Bev reassured him with a smirk. As she spoke, a square hatch in the painting opened from the inside, and a man’s face popped out.

“Hey Bev,” The man said with a warm smile. “Auditioning a friend, right?”

“Yep, thanks Matt. Is he here yet?”

“He’s at the bar waiting. Come on in.” The hatch slammed shut only for the entire painting to open, and Will and Bev were ushered into the club.

It was a smaller joint, dark and moody with one rectangular stage and two golden poles in the middle of the large room. There were two bars, one on either side of the stage, big mirrors behind the endless handles of alcohol. A neon sign behind one bar glowed VIP LOUNGE . Another hung above a black velvet curtain behind the stage and read PRIVATE ROOMS.

There were no sticky stains on the floor from alcohol sloshed over the years. The air was clear and smelled like expensive, musky cologne, not thick and humid and reeking of old man sweat. The paint on the walls wasn’t peeling and the poles onstage were squeaky clean, even shiny, not worn from so many years of hands and legs and asses spinning around and around.

Will had never even dreamed of dancing in a place this classy. He briefly considered how much dick he’d have to suck to get this job.

“I’ll wait in the VIP lounge, yeah?” Will nodded absently, trying to process everything that was happening, and Bev nudged him knowingly. “Break a leg, boo. You got this.”

Snap out of it, Will scolded himself. You can be fancy too, bitch. “Yeah. Yeah, it’ll be fun,” he replied, trying to hype himself up. “Thanks, beautiful.”

With a squeeze on the arm and a kiss on the cheek, Bev was off to the VIP lounge.

Will had changed from his musty combat boots to his best pair of platform heels in the lobby, and felt infinitely small as he clinked across the sparkly black marble floor to the man sitting at the bar.

He was perched on a barstool, a cigarette in his mouth while he counted a stack of hundreds. Will studied his face in the mirror behind the bar. He was a good few decades older in the most delicious way, all sharp lines and cheekbones and pouty lips. He wore a pale blue shirt with dogs on it and had a gold chain around his tattooed neck. His silver hair fell in his face. His knuckles looked bruised. His eyes looked empty. He was the most beautiful man Will had ever seen.

He wanted to fuck him.

“Hi there,” he said instead, trying to sound fancy and not at all insecure about his poor Southern upbringing . “Uh, Bev sent me, I’m here to audition?”

The man swiveled around and exhaled smoke. His eyes got wide. He looked Will up and down. “Fuck.”

Will cleared his throat. “My name’s--”

“You’re hired.”

“--Will Graham. Wait what?”

The man put his cigarette out. Will stared at the veins in his big hands. “I said, you’re hired, kid.”

Will shook his head. “No. What? What do you mean? You’re not gonna watch me dance? Are you even the owner?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m the owner. Don’t need to.” The man smirked, looking him up and down again, slower.

Predictable. But certainly not unwelcome.

Will smirked and cocked his hip. “Like what you see that much?”

The man sucked in a big breath. His hands seemed to be reaching for something. They landed in his hair instead. Oh, his arms. Fuck. “Fuck yes, gorgeous. Look at you.”

Hmm. Seemed like Will would have to take the initiative with this one. Which he was certainly not above doing. He stepped forward, bit his lip, conjured up his Louisiana drawl. “Y’know, you’re real handsome. Big and strong.”

The man huffed and rubbed his forehead. “Jesus Christ. Kid, I-- how old are you?”

It was almost too easy.

Will beamed and obviously studied the… very big… hard line of the man’s dick through his jeans. Oh, he wanted. He licked his lips and quirked an eyebrow (it never failed him). “Do you care?” he said, extra sweet.

The man cursed under his breath. His cock was probably aching, Will thought. “No, but I probably should.”

Honesty was a good sign. Will wanted to fuck him even more. He walked up to the man till he was practically slotted between his strong thighs where he sat.

Hook.

Will made his eyes go big, bit his lip, gave a coquettish smirk. He put one hand on the man’s big, heaving chest, the other tugging at the gold chain, twirling it around an index finger. “Well, don’t worry. I’m old enough.”

Line.

The man got a dangerous look in his eye. There you are, Will thought, carding through the tantalizing peek of chest hair that two open buttons revealed.

The man got all quiet, pulse quickening beneath the boy’s fingers. He swallowed, and Will watched his throat work. Then, gruffly, a single command.

“Turn around.”

Sinker.

So Will obeyed and … it… did most of the work for him. He wondered sometimes if people thought his ass was more beautiful than his face.

He looked back at the man like he was getting fucked from behind and the man clearly enjoyed that. Will wanted this man to fuck him from behind, right here, right now, against the bar.

So he decided, in that moment, to let him. “Wanna touch?” he asked with wide eyes and a soft voice.

The man growled , looking at Will’s ass like he wanted to devour him, and it went straight to Will’s pussy . “If I get my hands on you, I’m gonna do more than fuckin’ touch, baby.”

“Good. Don’t care if you’re my boss, want you to fuck me,” Will said, the glaring irony of this situation not lost on him, and having zero regrets.

The man pulled him back by the hips and got a closer look, chuckling as he said, “Yeah? You want it right now?” His fucking huge erection brushed between Will’s cheeks where he needed it most. Will rubbed up against it a little, muttered a long “Mhmmmm.”

“Fuck, God, your ass,” The man groaned, groping him. “Are you always this much of a slut?”

“Yep,” Will answered honestly, biting his lip, arching into the stranger’s touch. “But I’m picky. And you’re fucking hot.”

“Fuck. You’re the most gorgeous little fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen,” The man said insistently, whistling low and squeezing it, spanking it, jiggling it in his big warm palms. “Holy fucking shit. Jesus, look at that,” he swore, making Will’s cheeks clap together.

Will giggled. “Don’tcha wanna bounce it on your cock?”

And that was how Will Graham got fucked raw by his boss before the first day of work.

Chapter Text

Hands on my knees

Shakin' ass on my thot shit

Post me a pic

Finna make me a profit...

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Most of the time during sex, all Will had to do was lay there and take it from the man-- or men-- behind him. His ass was always, always the main attraction, but he couldn’t complain. Much less eye contact that way.

This time was no exception; Will, ass up, braced against the bar, leggings and thong pushed down to mid-thigh; the man, behind, undoing his fly, taking his dick out. His breath heavy with cigarettes as he muttered low curses into Will’s ear, light stubble brushing the younger man’s cheek as he kissed at his jaw. Stroking himself with one hand, exploring Will’s pussy with the other-- circling his entrance, flicking his clit with a thick, calloused finger. And Will could hear it.

The man sucked in a breath. “Goddamn, you’re wet as fuck,” he drawled, and Will moaned loud . He studied the man’s face in the mirror behind the bar-- he looked absolutely fucking delicious with a vein popping out of his forehead.

“Yeah,” Will agreed, the combination of the man’s touch with the low, accented timbre of his voice making him dizzy. He tilted his hips to make it easier for him to slide a finger inside. “Fuck,” he squeaked.

“Oh fuck, that’s tight,” the man groaned as his finger slipped all the way in. Will watched his expression in the mirror-- he looked like he’d just won the fucking lotto. He couldn’t quite see down to where the man was stroking himself, but he could tell it was getting more and more frantic-- the slapping sounds of his hand working up and down left little to the imagination. “Fuck, baby.”

He immediately started fucking his finger in and out, and God , Will was wet. And he was whimpering.

“Oh, oh fuck, o-oh Sir, yes, yes, yes!” Will cried out, shutting his eyes hard.

“Yeah, that’s it. Feels good, huh?” His pace picked up, and Will’s pussy was making the most lewd sounds it had in a very long time. Will knew it was thanks, in part, to the testosterone he was taking-- he was always wet, to the point where he had to use tampons to dance. But this man… he was no doubt the hottest man Will had ever fucked. Or was about to fuck. Will wasn’t sure he’d ever been this wet in his life.

“Yeah, oh God, yeah, it feels really good,” Will confirmed in a high-pitched tone he hadn’t ever heard himself use.

“Hmmm.” The man crooked his finger against Will’s g-spot, rubbing it.

“F-fuck, wow, you found that quick. Fuck! Oh my God!” Will gasped as the man slid another finger inside and resumed his relentless rubbing against that perfect spot.

“Mmmm, you’re a loud one,” the man chuckled, kissing and nuzzling Will’s neck as he started finger-fucking him once more, in and out, in and out. “I like that, baby.”

“O-oh!” Will cried as his pussy fluttered around the man’s fingers. “F-fuck, Sir, please, I’m gonna come…”

“I can feel it, baby, so soon. Go on, then.” When the man added yet another finger and targeted Will’s g-spot once more, rubbing it with absolute fucking precision, Will clenched and squirted.

“Oh my God, fuck! FUCK!” He screamed, coating the man’s entire hand with his cum. The man gasped, and there was a beat of silence. He looked shell-shocked, and Will felt his cheeks heat. “F-fuck, sorry…”

The man omitted a shaky exhale. “Are you kidding, baby? Fuck. That was so fucking hot.” He withdrew his hand and brought it to his lips, licking the wetness away as Will watched in the mirror, wide-eyed. “Tastes good.”

“Fuck me,” Will blurted, his usual cockiness exchanged for uncharacteristic desperation, and he somehow couldn’t bring himself to care. “Fuck me now.”

“I was getting to that.” The man snared him around the waist and kissed the head of his dick to Will’s entrance, and this time, when he grinned, it was with his teeth. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

“Oh God, yes, Sir,” Will confirmed, relishing in the copious wetness of the man’s head as it rubbed against his slick hole. Knowing full well no man could resist his begging, he whimpered, “Please, put it in!”

And that was it. He spread Will’s asscheeks, once more exposing his pussy to the open air, and pressed his massive cock inside. The ache of being filled to the brim with that huge thing between the man’s legs was fucking perfect. God, he was veiny, so thick and long that Will knew it would take some effort to get inside. Oh, he hadn’t had cock this good in a long time. Maybe ever.

And he made it known. The man seated himself halfway as Will adjusted to his girth, trying to relax as much as possible so he could slide in deeper, deeper, deeper, until his hips met Will’s plump ass. “Oh my fucking God. Holy shit,” Will swore, praying to God the walls were thick enough for Bev not to hear his shameless moaning.

“Ohhhhh fuck, baby, fuck.” Will watched the man’s expression in the mirror with glee. He was shaking. His dick was throbbing and felt warm when he pushed inside. He lifted his adorable fucking dog shirt, presumably to get a better view of where they conjoined, and his grip was bruising on Will’s luscious ass as he whispered huskily in his ear, “Fuck, you’ve really got a tight-ass pussy.”

Will knew it was tight. Most guys only took a few strokes until they lost it. Not this man, though-- this man knew how to fuck. He pumped in and out a few times and the squelch of his dick sliding deep inside made Will let out a big “Ohhhh my fucking GOD, YES!”

“Fuck, baby, yeah, take it for me.” He started to pound Will with deep, sharp thrusts as he held onto the bar for dear life, attempting to balance in his gigantic platforms. God, this man was making him feel every goddamn inch, from the wet, overly sensitive tip to his pubic hair and balls-- it had to be at least eight, maybe nine inches. The way the skin of his dick dragged inside of Will felt fucking incredible-- Fuck, he’s uncircumcised, Will realized, groaning way too loudly as he imagined what his cock must look like. He wanted to see it.

He was moaning like an absolute slut, which was fitting for the situation. “Ohhh, oh shit, fuck, that’s good, fuck it’s big!”

The man growled and fucked in harder, mumbling and biting Will’s earlobe all the while. Will met him thrust for thrust. Faint rap music playing through the club’s speakers underscored the wet slap of bodies. “Mmmmm, fuck. That’s it, push it back on me. Feel good?”

“Fuck yes!” For once, he didn’t have to play it up-- the man’s dick was just that good. And Will was embarrassingly wet. “Y-yeah, feels so good, sooo good Sir!”

Without slowing his pace one bit, the man laughed, and Will wanted to melt. “You’re a fuckin’ slut, darling, you know that?”

“Y-yes, Sir! I need it! Please don’t stop!”

This continued for a while; the man, grunting, fucking Will hard and fast, muttering pure filth in his ear. “Perfect little cunt… Sooooo fuckin’ wet… Better hang on to that counter, baby boy…”

And Will, trying desperately to do what he’d been told as he got the life fucked out of him. “G-god, f-fuck, Mister, feels so good! Yes! Yeah! Fuck me! Oh fuck! Yeah, like that! Just like that!”

The man groaned, spanking his ass bright red. “Fuck, look at that fucking ass, baby. You were made for this, weren’t you?”

“Yeah! Yes, Sir!” Will tried to tilt his hips up even more, and the man behind buried himself inside the boy, shuffling them forward until Will was flush with the bar counter. He swiped his hand in front of Will, and the boy gasped as he processed the shattering of the man’s whiskey glass onto the floor, as well as the stack of bills he’d been counting. He wrestled Will’s leggings off, grasped the back of his thigh and forced a leg up onto the counter, bending the boy in half with a big hand gripping the back of his neck. And then he resumed his snapping thrusts.

“Mmmm, oh, fuck yes.” His boss was clearly marveling at the new view. Will briefly went limp, the corpse on the autopsy table, slowly sinking into the sterile, freezing tile of the bar counter. If he closed his eyes, he could just… wade into the quiet of the stream. No. No. That’s not what this is. He’s good. He’s good. This is good. Stay here.

Will did his best to block out the response and replace it with pleasure. He arched into the man’s continued thrusts, focusing on how good the man’s cock felt inside his pussy at this angle. “Oh. Oh, that’s real good… Oh, fuck, that’s good!”

“Fuck. Yeah, you like that? Fucking slut .”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucken love it! Don’t stop, Mister, please don’t stop!” The way the man’s balls slapped against Will’s engorged clit with every thrust had him tipping over the edge. “Fuck, oh fuck, fuckfuckfuck I’m gonna come again!”

“Fuck yeah, c’mon then, baby.” The man squeezed Will’s neck ever so slightly, and that was it.

“Oh FUCK,” Will shouted as his orgasm overtook him, pussy tightening around the man and flooding them both with wetness. “FUCK, Mister!”

“Oooooh shit, that’s fuckin’ tight,” the man praised, laughing in disbelief as he stilled his hips to watch. “Fucking goddamn.”

Will was shaking like a leaf as his pussy gave one more valiant squirt. “F-Fuck! Fuck, your cock is so good…”

The man chuckled, peeling Will off the countertop and lifting him to stand once more while keeping his throbbing dick buried inside his cunt. He kissed his cheek in an inappropriately tender fashion, and Will wanted to goddamn blush. “That’s a good boy. Can you take more?” He whispered in the boy’s ear.

Will found himself in a familiar position as he braced his hands at the edge of the counter once more and stuck his ass out, wiggling it a little to send the man over the edge. “Fuck yeah I can, give it to me…”

“Slutty fuckin’ pussy…” the man mumbled, fucking into Will’s trembling body.

“Yes Sir, y-yes Sir, oh fuck fuck fucking fuck me,” Will blabbered, fucking himself back onto the cock inside him.

The man gave a few more thrusts before stilling his hips. “Fuck. I wanna film you, baby. Can I film?”

Will continued to rock back against him, chasing his cock. “Whatever you want, Sir…”

The record button sounded behind him, and Will arched his back a little more. A hand came down to rest on his ass, squeezing. “That’s it, baby, show it off for the camera,” the man encouraged, fucking into Will’s pussy once more.

And Christ, when Will tilted his hips like that, the man’s cock hit his g-spot on every. Single. Thrust. “O-oh my God, fuckfuckfuck!” Will blurted in between moans.

He could feel the man’s smug grin. “Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he responded amidst grunts and thrusts.

The man’s free hand came down on his ass with a harsh thwap and Will let out an embarrassing noise. “Ohhhhh myyyyy Godddd, fuck me!”

“Oh, you like that, huh,” it wasn’t a question. The man smacked his ass again three times fast and hard.

“FUCK. Y-yes, Sir, I do… Please, again…”

Another, harder spank that Will knew had left a handprint. The man stopped thrusting, and his voice was broken as he said, “Damn, look at that ass bounce. Fuck, baby.”

His dick throbbed inside of Will, and he groaned. “Again, Sir, again…”

“God, you’re a slut.” Another, and Will clenched hard . “Fuck. You get so tight when I do that.”

“Your hands feel amazing…” At this point, Will’s pussy was throbbing, so soaked and fucked open that he started queefing around the man’s cock. He blushed and shut his eyes. “Oh! S-sir, I-I’m sorry…”

The man leaned back and lifted Will’s asscheecks with one big hand to get a closer look, spreading him wide around his cock. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare apologize,” he groaned, watching the boy’s pussy twitch. “That pussy’s perfect, baby, fuckin’ perfect.”

Will whined, bending over to rest his head on his forearms as his sensitive cunt was exposed to the cold, open air of the empty club. “Yes, Sir… Love your cock…” Jesus, had he ever been this submissive before?

A low laugh rumbled in the man’s chest and Will shivered. “Yeah? I can tell, baby, you’re practically fuckin’ drooling. And your little cunt’s fuckin’ soaked.”

“Mhmmmm,” Will confirmed weakly.

He queefed again, and the man threw his head back. Will raised his eyes to study the veins in his neck, his sexy tattoo, the snarl on his face. “Fuuuck. That feels good on my dick. You’re close again, aren’t you, baby?”

Will let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding in. The man started touching his pussy, pulling his lips apart and thumbing at the spot they converged-- and goddamn, something about that was so fucking filthy. “Oh… y-yes, Sir, close, real close!”

Another growl from behind. “You gonna fuckin’ come for me, doll?”

The man started thumbing Will’s protruding clit, resuming his fast, relentless thrusts, and that was it. Oh Jesus fuck, Will thought. “OH, yes, yes, yes, FUCK, I’m gonna squirt!”

The man looked elated. “Yes, baby, c’mon, fuckin’ squirt on my cock.”

And Will did exactly that. He shook almost violently as he clamped down on the older man, liquid flooding out of him, once, twice, coating the man’s pelvis, his bare thighs, his jeans, his shoes, the floor. Fuck… Will wasn’t sure if he’d ever come this hard in his life. “F-FUCK FUCK FUCK!”

“FUCK,” the man repeated back, fully seated and barely able to pull out as Will’s pussy clenched around him. “Yeah, baby, that’s it. Oh FUCK. Holy shit, baby. Look at that.”

The man’s dick was pulsing inside him, and Will felt the pronouncement of every single vein. “Fuck, Mister… I-I can feel you, too… You’re close…”

“Yeah, baby.” The man bent himself over Will and stroked a shivering cheek, then pulled back and smacked his ass with one hand, using his other hand to film the action while he chased his own release in fast, shallow thrusts. “FUCK. Oh fuck. I’m gonna cum, baby. Where should I--”

“In me, in me, cum in me, cum in me!” Will demanded, doing his best to ignore how sensitive his pussy now was and meet the man’s thrusts.

“FUCK. OHHHH GOD. Jesus fucking Christ.” The man’s hot cum flooded Will’s insides, and there was a lot of it.

“Oh, wow, fuck. Fuck yeah, fill me up.” Will giggled, trying to remember the last time he was this excited about being cummed in. He clenched, and another wave of cum rushed out. “Mmmm, so warm,” he teased, trying to recover his typical brattiness.

And it definitely worked. Another squirt of cum coated Will’s insides. “FUCK, oh FUCK,” the man cursed, a sexy little snarl on his face.

Will gasped. “Oh shit, is that all for me?”

“FUCK. You know damn well it is. God, baby, fuck.” The man pulled out with a groan, ending the video with a perfect shot of his huge load dripping from Will’s fucked open pussy. “Wow. Look at that.”

Will reached behind himself to spread his pussy wide with his hands and giggled, clenching and unclenching so more of the man’s cum dribbled out. “Fuck. You came really hard.”

“I know, gorgeous.” The man tucked his phone into his back pocket. Returned his dick to his jeans and zipped them up, which Will realized was probably massively uncomfortable, between both men’s cum drying on his length. But the man didn’t seem to care. “Fuck, you’re incredible,” he crooned, giving Will’s bare ass a final smack.

Well, that was the easiest audition of my life, Will thought with a smirk. “Thank you, Sir,” he said, somewhat bashfully.

The man fixed himself up; wiped the sweat from his forehead, adjusted himself in his jeans, buckled his belt. “Fuck. That was…”

“Yeah, it was,” Will agreed with a smirk, trying to act like he got dicked down that good all the time as he shimmied his leggings up over his red asscheeks. He spun around and looped his arms around the older man’s neck.

God, the scent of them was everywhere. Will was sweaty and his lower half was completely covered in cum, and while the tackiness as it dried and stuck to his leggings was usually disgusting, this time he found himself not wanting to wash it off.

The man pecked his jaw, hands settling on the boy’s ass and giving a light squeeze. “You sure it’s okay that I, uh…”

Will raised his eyebrows. “Came in my pussy?” He could still feel it slowly leaking out, soiling his thong.

The man huffed. “Fuck. Um, yeah.”

“I wouldn’t have let you if it wasn’t okay.”

“Right. Of course.”

Will bit his lip. “It was more than okay.”

The man raised his head to gaze at Will, a naughty sparkle in his eye. “Yeah?”

Will blushed. “Yeah… it’s one of my favorite things.”

A flash of fangs as the man grinned. “Fucking noted.”

“Um… I didn’t get your name?”

“Shit.” The man laughed and rubbed his face. “Where are my fucking manners. Call me Nigel, darling.”

“Hmm. Well, Nigel,” Will purred, fiddling with his new boss’s gold chain and looking up at him from under thick lashes, “suppose I owe you a thank you. Haven’t had sex that great in… a long fucken time.”

“Mmm. I’ll give you dick anytime, gorgeous,” Nigel murmured in his ear, kissing and biting the lobe, then pulling a cigarette from his breast pocket and tucking it behind his ear. Why is that so fucking sexy? “I’ve seen you on OnlyFans, right? PrincessPeach? Your videos are fucking amazing, but the real thing… Goddamn, baby, you’re so fucking sexy, you know that?”

Will bit back a smirk. Fucking Beverly, that bitch. “Yep, that’s me. At least you know I’m eighteen.”

Nigel chuckled nervously. “But you’re older than that, right?”

“I’m twenty three,” Will reassured him.

Nigel rubbed his forehead. “Okay. Fuck. I guess that’s better?”

“How old are you?” Will asked, knowing the answer.

“Nearing fifty, gorgeous.”

“Oh shit.” Will bit his lip. “Does that make you my Daddy?”

He was beginning to learn that Nigel growling meant that he was really horny.

Chapter Text

Lights, camera, action

He didn’t know he’d have this much fun…

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

THE NIGHT BEFORE

Nigel’s nightly routine was simple. A beer (or five), a cigarette (or ten), and a wank session. And there was nothing better to get himself off to than PrincessPeach’s videos on OnlyFans.

Picture the most gorgeous, angelic, bratty little twenty-something (Nigel hoped) with the nicest, fattest, most spankable fucking ass on the planet and the tightest, pinkest, juiciest little cunt in existence. Big blue fucking eyes staring at the camera and plush pink lips pouting as he seemingly effortlessly took a dick into his mouth. Loose curly brown hair almost down to his shoulders-- what Nigel wouldn’t give to yank it. Bouncing on a cock so perfectly, taking whatever he was given with ease, and letting out the filthiest moans, showing off for the camera. Continually getting himself into the riskiest, most taboo situations, all in the name of a good fuck. Christ, Nigel was getting hard thinking about it now as he opened his laptop.

He went on Google Chrome and clicked on his bookmark for the young man’s website. When it loaded, he clicked on the link to his OnlyFans and searched for his favorite video.

“riding compilation, your POV<3 who’s next?” the caption read.

Nigel fished his very excited dick out of his boxers and pressed play.

The video began immediately with the boy sinking his plush pussy down onto a man’s cock in a reverse cowgirl position-- his ass was so big that he had to hold himself open with two dainty hands for the man to find his entrance-- and they both moaned as it slipped inside. “Oh, fuck,” the boy swore, taking it all the way down in one swift motion.

“Oh SHIT, wait, baby, go slow,” The faceless man holding the camera said breathlessly, as if he was about to cum already.

The subject of the video didn’t listen, immediately lifting his ass and smacking it back down. And Jesus fucking Christ, the way it effortlessly jiggled as he bounced-- the first time Nigel watched this video, he hadn’t made it ten seconds in. The man behind the camera let out a big, tense breath, similarly starstruck by the boy’s perfect little body.

It really was the most glorious ass he’d ever seen, Nigel thought as he licked his palm and pulled his foreskin back, beginning to stroke. God, the boy didn’t even have to try to make it move, to make his cheeks clap together, they just did. There was soft music edited over the video, and the song was extremely appropriate to the action on camera.

I make him grow like Pinnochio

I’m a freak like a Scorpio

Let’s go live, make a video

And imma ride you like a rodeo

“Fuck yeah, baby, ride that shit,” the man behind the camera said shakily, and Nigel tried to block his voice out, his choked inhales and guttural moans, imagined it was the boy moaning his name, bouncing on his lap, creaming on his dick.

“Oh fuck, it’s so big like this,” the boy said, almost giddily, as he seated himself fully and rolled his hips, reached under himself to knead the man’s balls. His ass looked fucking delicious like this, and the little peek of his pussy stuffed full every time he arched his back had Nigel’s head swimming.

“Fuck,” Nigel’s voice echoed around his large bedroom as his breathing picked up, becoming jagged, moans getting increasingly loud as he worked his hand up and down, faster and faster, using his free hand to tease his balls, imagining it was the boy’s instead. He shut his eyes and, in his mind’s eye, tried his best to exchange his rough palm for the tight, soaking heat of the young boy’s pussy.

The boy was moaning louder too, crying out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” with every delicious gyration of his hips. His pussy made the most obscene smacking noises as he began once more to bounce up and down, and his wetness was completely coating the man’s dick, his pubic hair, riding so thoroughly that pussy juice was sent flying, occasionally hitting the screen. The music continued, mingling with moans and slapping sounds.

He say he gon’ blow my back out

But imma ride that shit till he tap out, period

Ten more seconds of the boy shamelessly bouncing, and then another clip began, the boy pulling his mouth off a man’s cock, one excruciating inch at a time, letting it go with a wet pop, and promptly turning around to sit on his dick. He took it in hand and sank down onto the tip, letting out an “ooooh shit,” before he began to twerk. The head of the man’s dick slipped in and out of his dripping pussy, and the man who was being ridden grabbed a handful of ass, encouraging the boy with a gruff “yeah, baby, there you go.”

Nigel was barely a minute into the video and he was already losing it. His dick was turning a concerning shade of red as he continued to edge himself, shutting his eyes hard, staving off his orgasm for just five more seconds, wanting, needing, craving more of the boy on screen.

The man who was being ridden allowed the boy to twerk for a few more seconds before gripping his plentiful ass hard, flesh spilling between his fingers, and pulling him down onto his large cock. 

“Oh my God, yeah,” the boy moaned, sinking down a few inches and rising back up, leaving a trail of white on the man’s length.

“Oh fuck,” Nigel groaned, watching the boy get wetter, and wetter, and wetter, creaming all over the lucky fucking bastard. He was big, but not as big as Nigel-- none of the men in the boy’s videos were, Nigel thought smugly. He tilted his head against his bed’s headboard and imagined the beautiful boy trying his best to sink down onto his dick, how hard he would shake, how loud he would moan and mewl, how tight his little pussy would clamp down on him.

Shit, he was so close. On screen, the little thing twerked his ass faster on the man’s cock, setting a relentless pace, leaving increasing amounts of shiny slickness every time he lifted and dropped his hips, and yelling, “Oh my God, I’m coming!” And fuck, Nigel was coming too, he was coming, he was--

His phone was ringing, and it stopped the video on his laptop screen as the notification popped up on full blast. It was Bev Katz.

“Shit, fuck, goddammit,” Nigel muttered, abandoning his reddened, aching dick and wiping his hand with a tissue, wrestling with his phone to answer the call.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah?” He said gruffly.

Bev’s voice was chipper on the other line. “Hey Boss, just wanted to let you know that I found a new dancer for ya.”

Nigel’s brows furrowed. “We aren’t hiring new dancers.”

“Trust me, you’ll want to see this one,” Bev replied cryptically.

Nigel sighed, regretfully gazing down at his waning erection. “Fine. When can they come in?”

“We’ll be there tomorrow at five. You won’t regret it,” she said before hanging up.

…Picture Nigel’s surprise when said dancer turned out to be the boy on his laptop screen.

Chapter Text

Lights, camera, action

If he likes me, takes me home…

Come on, you know you like little girls

Come on, you know you like little girls

You can be my daddy…

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Back at Lecter’s Lair…

Will knew it was, in theory, a tired cliche. But theory was vastly different from practice.

He’d had enough men beg for him to call them Daddy, not realizing the title was something to be earned. And none of them had ever done anything to earn it.

Most of the time, even as Will usually bottomed, he knew he was in a position of power. His beauty, youth, and… ass ets… hypnotized even the smoothest players, the biggest talkers, and at the drop of a hat they’d do anything Will wanted them to-- all the while, thinking, mistakenly, that they had the upper hand.

Daddy was a title they did not deserve, a title that Will did not, would not grant them. In fact, as far back as he could remember, he’d never called any man Daddy, except for. Well. His dad.

But if Nigel wasn’t worthy of being called Daddy, Will wasn’t sure who was.

It wasn’t just his age-- the man was the definition of a Daddy. Who could blame Will? Those muscles, that voice, those hands, that dick . The way he had spun Will around and taken what he wanted. And, yes, okay, sure , his salt-and-pepper stubble and graying hair didn’t help Will’s daddy issues. Even people without Daddy issues-- although Will wasn’t sure they existed-- would have a new kink unlocked at the first sight of Nigel.

And Nigel definitely liked the new title. Will was slammed against the bar counter once more, leggings and panties yanked down over his red ass for another, more thorough spanking.

“You’re gonna get it for that, gorgeous,” the older man growled, squeezing both smooth cheeks with big, coarse palms.

“Oh fuck,” Will whimpered, arching his back and gripping the counter. He shut his eyes, hard, couldn’t bear to look at himself in the mirror this way-- desperate, wanting, whimpering. Willingly vulnerable for the very first time. He tried his best to focus instead on the feeling of Nigel’s hot breath in his ear, the stale smell of cigarettes combined with his clean, eucalyptus-scented cologne, the caress of his blue button-up against his back, his weathered, powerful hands worshiping the skin of his ass.

“Count,” was Nigel’s only warning before cracking his hand down.

“Oh my God, ONE!” Will screamed. It was sharp and clean and echoed throughout Will’s trembling body. He knew full well how his ass moved when it was spanked, and delighted in the man’s harsh intake of breath accompanied by a low “Fuck” in his ear.

Another thwack on his right cheek. “Two!” Will yelped.

Goddamn , Nigel knew what he was doing. His spanks were full-force, not the halfhearted bullshit Will was used to. The way he kneaded the soft cheeks between blows, clapping them together every once in a while for the sake of watching them bounce, had Will’s pussy extremely interested.

Then, an unexpected thwack on his left cheek. Will gasped. “Three, Daddy!”

A growl and a sharper thwack on the same cheek that concluded with a harsh squeeze. “Four!” A hum of approval from behind, and another palming of supple skin.

By ten spanks, Will was sniffling and quietly sobbing. His ass felt raw and throbbed in tandem with the pounding of his heart. His legs were shaking from the strain of trying to stay standing. His curls stuck to his forehead from where he had broken into a light sweat. And his pussy … God, he was dripping wet, and his clit was pulsing in anticipation. His voice broke as he whispered, just for the pleasure of saying it again, “Daddy…”

“That’s it,” Nigel cooed in Will’s ear, soothing the humming skin with his palms. His touch felt electric. “Did you like that, baby? Such a fuckin’ gorgeous ass.”

“Oh God. Yes, Daddy, I did. Your hands, they feel…” Perfect, Will wanted to say, but didn’t. Don’t jinx it.

“You’re fucking perfect,” Nigel said then, and Will melted. Can he read my mind? “If I was ten years younger, baby, I’d fuck you again, right here.”

“That’s okay, I’m a little sore,” Will said, letting Nigel continue to knead his quivering asscheeks.

“Yeah? Better get used to that, baby,” Nigel chuckled in his ear, kissing it. “I wonder how long you can go, huh?”

Will had been praised before on his infinite amount of stamina. Usually, he could go for hours if necessary, take dick in all three holes at the same time until he was wrecked and sobbing. But this time, between the sheer size of the man’s cock, the way he used it, and his never-ending stream of dirty talk, Will felt absolutely used up. Nigel’s style of fucking felt claiming, overwhelming, all-consuming. Will wanted to sleep for five days.

“Someday I’ll test it out,” the man continued, ruffling Will’s hair affectionately. “Maybe I’ll tie you up and use some toys on you, see how many times you can squirt. Would you like that, gorgeous?”

“Oh God.” The room spun as Will nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

Nigel sighed into his hair. “You’re such a good boy,” he whispered. “Where did you come from?”

Will could’ve asked the same thing.

“So fuckin’ good,” Nigel murmured as he carefully returned Will’s ass to his soaked thong and leggings. “Turn around for me, baby.”

It took some effort, but Will obeyed on shaking legs, smiling bashfully at the older man. “There you are,” Nigel said, tucking a curl behind his ear.

Then, Nigel stepped forward and, in a moment of unprecedented tenderness, kissed Will. It was surprisingly chaste, but hinted at the beginning of something-- gentle, delicate, yet firm, like a promise. Will tried to remember the last time he’d been kissed. High school? Will kissed back, slipped in a little tongue. Nigel hummed and Will’s entire body vibrated with it.

“You’re a good kisser,” Will pulled back to giggle against his lips.

“You are too, baby. God, you’re so fucking beautiful ,” he whispered, bottom lip brushing the younger man’s. “Like, on a fucking biblical level.” Nigel was gazing insistently at him, past his eyes, into his goddamn soul. From here, Will could see a possessive glint in his stare that he hadn’t seen before.

It was too much. Will ducked his head and stared at the sparkly tile floor. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Hey,” Nigel lifted Will’s chin with two big fingers, seeking eye contact. “You don’t get told that nearly fucking enough, do you?”

Will shrugged and avoided his eyes. They flickered over his rippling jawline instead. “Most guys are into more of a casual thing.”

Nigel, to his credit, backed off a little, tucked his hands into his jean pockets. Will immediately regretted his trepidation and wanted them back on his body, where they belonged.

Although his words immediately continued where his hands left off-- excruciatingly affectionate. “Well that’s just completely fucking unacceptable. Not sure how anyone could lay eyes on you and not want to keep you forever.”

“Nigel,” Will now focused on the gold chain around the man’s neck, how it glittered in the low light of the club’s bar. “That’s… quite the statement.”

But he felt Nigel’s eyes on him still, precise and dangerous as a laser beam. “Yeah, well, it’s fuckin’ true, baby. Bet you never had a real Daddy before, huh?”

“I don’t. I don’t know,” Will said dumbly. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

The older man continued, seemingly unbothered by Will’s obvious hesitance. “Well that’s what you deserve, gorgeous. Someone who takes care of you. Someone to love you, fuck you and feed you.”

Will raised his eyebrows. “Is that an offer? You wanna be my boyfriend?”

Nigel looked deadly serious. “It’s a fucking declaration. Yes. That was the best sex I’ve had in my fuckin’ life, and I want you to be mine.”

“Whoa, Nigel, this is… a lot…” Will didn’t know what to say.

His hand was grasped between two bigger ones and squeezed insistently. “I’ll be so good to you, gorgeous, give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“Slow down, please.” Will kept his hand where it was, though. “Shouldn’t we at least go on a date first?” That’s what normal people do, right?

Nigel grinned and caressed his palm with a very large thumb. “Alright, wanna go to dinner?”

Will’s eyes narrowed. “What, now?”

“Fuck yeah, now. There’s a great Italian place around the corner.”

Will couldn’t help but smirk. “Has anyone ever told you you’re really fucking intense?”

Nigel smirked back and retrieved the cigarette still waiting patiently behind his ear. “Yes, darling, they have. Is that a yes?”

Will giggled. Fucking. Giggled. “Okay. Let me just, um…” He picked up his discarded flannel from the floor and fished his phone out of the pocket, planning a text to Bev. But when he opened his phone, she had already texted him.

crazy science dyke: Hey, you ok? It’s been a while, I thought u were doing the thot shit routine

Oops. Will decided to ignore her question and stick to his planned text.

My iPhone: hey, you can leave without me, nigel and i are going to dinner. and before u ask yes i will bring back leftovers. ily

Within seconds, the whistle of his text tone sounded.

crazy science dyke: The FUCK?!?!?!?!? I’m guessing the audition went well… 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Will was just about to divulge more details as another text came in.

crazy science dyke: Nvm I don’t want to know. Have fun whore. love ya

But he felt like gloating a little, so…

My iPhone: he has a huge dick LMAO

crazy science dyke: WILL!!!!!!!!!! YOU SKANK!!!!!!! GROSS!!!!!!!!!!! You know he’s like eighty years old right?

My iPhone: actually he’s in his 40s so not that much older

crazy science dyke: 🥴Right whatever helps u sleep at night

My iPhone: he’s actually really sweet

crazy science dyke: Did you really fuck him while I was in the next room?!?!?!? You know I’m still here right?

My iPhone: byeeeee love youuuuuu😍

Will shrugged his flannel on, tucked his phone into the pocket, and looked up at Nigel’s patient, crinkled smile. “Sorry about that. Let me change into my boots and then we can go.”

“No need to apologize, gorgeous. Let me help you.” And then Nigel fucking knelt down and undid the straps of Will’s heels.

“Nigel, what are you doing? I can put my own shoes on,” Will protested. But the violent wobble of his legs as he tried to bend down said otherwise.

“Let me do it,” Nigel replied, kissing a calf.

Reluctantly and with a red face, Wills stepped out of his platforms and let Nigel help him into his boots in silence. He handed them to Will, who dumped them into his absolutely ancient Nirvana tote bag and slung it over his shoulder. Then Nigel stood up, and oh fuck , Will was so much shorter than him like this. Just tall enough to tuck his head into his chest. To test it, Will leaned up on his tiptoes to plant a kiss on him and felt like a goddamn child .

“Hi,” he said, bashful. Oh, he could get used to this.

“Hi there, baby,” Nigel replied with a smirk, placing the cigarette between his plush, pouting lips. Shit, Will wanted to kiss him again. “You ready?”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Will had never really been on a real date.

Even back in high school, it was always sneaking around-- fucking in the backseat of a car, sucking dick in a bathroom stall, picking up random older men at the clubs that would let him in for quickies behind the dance floor. This-- this was new. There was something so foreign about sitting across from a man he wanted to fuck and having an actual conversation.

No man had ever stuck around after he got what he wanted from Will. Sure, maybe he’d come back for pussy or ass or a snug throat to fuck, but that was about it. And Will had never complained-- he enjoyed being used and treated like a slut. But it had never occurred to him that he could have… this .

During dinner, Nigel was a gentleman. Opening the door for Will, pulling his chair out, telling him to “get whatever he wants, gorgeous, it’s on me.” Pouring Will’s wine for him, ordering for him, intertwining their fingers together and squeezing Will’s hand, kissing it occasionally. It was lovely. And mildly suffocating.

They ate and talked about almost everything. Will talked about dogs, about his work, about Beverly, about his days in school studying criminal psychology. Nigel talked about life in Bucharest (albeit in a really vague way), about moving to the States, about opening Lecter’s Lair (he’d used his family name in the club’s moniker to piss off his rich, fancy psychiatrist older brother, apparently).

And when dinner was over, Nigel knew exactly which buttons to push. “Spend the night with me?” He murmured in Will’s ear as they shared a cigarette outside the trattoria. “I want to eat you out, make you squirt that way. Then I’ll make you breakfast in the morning, whatever you fuckin’ want. Sound good?”

Will giggled, bringing a hand up to fiddle with the gold chain around Nigel’s neck. “I dunno, I don’t really fuck on the first date.”

“You’re funny, kid.” Nigel held the cigarette to Will’s lips, offering a drag. Will took it. “Come back to my place. Please.”

He pretended to think about it for about two seconds before he decided. The bottle of wine they’d split at dinner was going straight to his pussy, and he was eager to see Nigel naked for the first time. God, he’d be so muscular, hairy in just the right places, so big and bad and hard and his . He shut that stupid part of his brain off-- the one that had a single ounce of any critical thinking skills-- that said this was probably way too fast. All his fantasies had come to life in this one strange man, and Will was diving into the deep end, headfirst, regardless of the consequences. Besides, he was in his twenties, right?

“Okay, Daddy,” he teased, exhaling smoke.

“Mmmm, naughty.” Nigel took the cigarette from Will’s lips and put it out against the wall of the restaurant, fished a pen out of his pocket, scrawled something on it, then handed it back to him. “Make sure to keep that,” he said in his ear.

Nigel had written his goddamn phone number on the goddamn cigarette. Jesus Christ, this man was a walking Lana Del Rey song, wasn’t he? Will accepted it with a smirk and tucked it behind his ear like Daddy did, then took Nigel’s big hand in his as they walked the short distance to his place.

Will was completely unprepared for a fucking mansion.

It was imposing as hell and stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the other classy two-stories on the block. Modern, three stories visible on the street level, floor-to-ceiling glass windows that revealed its interior for all to see-- dark, sleek furniture, low lighting, almost atmospheric… it was a total fuckpad.

“This is your house ?” Will asked incredulously. “It’s fucking huge.”

“Technically, it’s my brother’s, that motherfucker,” Nigel mumbled, leading Will inside by the hand.

Nigel took his flannel and bag in the foyer-- yes, a goddamn foyer . It was just as dark and luxurious as the exterior and smelled faintly of pine. Will whistled, and the cavernous space seemed to echo with it. “Damn. Is he Bucharest royalty or some shit?”

“Or some shit. Lithuanian Count.”

“What in the actual fuck. Okay, I mean, I’m not complaining.”

“Don’t worry, he’s never here. Kills my vibe.”

“Hmmm. In that case, why don’tcha show me around, Nigel ?” Will purred.

That did the trick. Nigel snared him around the waist from behind and pushed him through the foyer, into the next room. “This is the kitchen,” he said huskily in Will’s ear, pressing him against the island’s black marble counter.

And Will pressed back, rubbing his asscheeks over the man’s swelling crotch. The kitchen faced the street, and Will glanced out the glass, into the darkness, wondering if anyone lingered. Secretly hoping they might. “Mmmm, fascinating.”

“Fuck, this fucking ass,” Nigel murmured, squeezing and spanking, then thumbing Will’s pulsing clit through his damp leggings. “Oh, you’re all wet, baby. Fuck.”

“Oh hell,” Will breathed, arching into Nigel’s touch, grinning like the cat who caught the canary. “I want you inside me again. Please.”

“Fuck, gorgeous,” Nigel groaned. “Aren’t you sore?”

Will delighted in the feeling of Nigel growing thicker beneath his jeans, pressing insistently against his ass. “Yeah, I, uh. I like it.”

“Mmmm. You like how I stretch your little pussy out?”

“Oh God. Yes Sir.”

“Bedroom, now.”

“Nooooo, right here,” Will protested, gripping the counter and rubbing each cheek over Nigel’s now fully formed erection. “Right now.”

The older man chuckled. “No foreplay?”

“No, I’m ready, I want it now, just put it in. Please, Daddy.”

That was the magic word. In a second, Nigel was unzipping his fly, pulling himself out, tearing Will’s leggings off, pulling his thong to the side, and sliding in. And Will’s eyes were rolling to the back of his head. “Oh my fucking GOD.”

Nigel grunted as his hips settled against Will’s ass. “Goddamn, baby, you’re soooo fucking tight.”

“FUCK, God.” Will shut his eyes and tried to even out his breathing as his clit brushed the man’s balls. “I’m not tight, your dick is fuckin’ huge.” His pussy clenched involuntarily, and Nigel groaned.

“You are tight, though.” Nigel gripped his raw, red asscheeks and jiggled them.

“Aw fuck,” Will groaned, bending over the counter to rest his head on his forearms.

Nigel brought a hand up to caress the dip in his back, the other planted firmly on his ass. “You’re such a good boy, Will, bending over for me so sweetly,” he said, fondly, almost reverently.

Will let out a shaky, warm breath, fogging up the counter. “I like it, Sir.”

Everything was blocked out that wasn’t Nigel’s low, soothing voice, and it echoed around the walls of Will’s mind as he asked, “Yeah? You like being my boy?”

“Y-yeah. Yes, Sir.” Will nodded against his arms.

“You want this dick, huh?”

Will’s pussy fluttered in response. “I need it, Sir, please!”

“Fuck. Please what?”

“Please fuck me, Sir!”

Nigel granted his wish, clearly too impatient to demand Will beg harder. He began to snap his hips fast and rough, pulling Will back by the ass.

“Yeah, ohhhh FUCK!” Will screamed, hands scrambling for leverage where they rested on the counter as he was jostled up and down.

“Fuck, you really are soaking wet. Fuckin’ slut.”

“Yeah, fuck yeah, Daddy, I am!”

“Just couldn’t wait, huh? Couldn’t even walk up a flight of stairs, you’re so cock-hungry.”

“Oh God. No, it’s too good, Daddy!” The thrusts were picking up, Nigel’s tight balls thwack thwack thwack ing against Will’s clit. “Fuck, yeah, like that…”

“Or maybe you just want everyone in the neighborhood to see me bend you over the kitchen counter like a goddamn whore.” Right on the fucking nose, again. How does he do that?

“Yes, Daddy, I do! Ooooooh, right there! Fuck!” Will’s mouth flung open as Nigel’s dick hit his g-spot, and at this point he was drooling all over his arms.

“Fuck, baby, that grip.” Nigel stopped thrusting and handed Will his phone, open to the camera app and already recording. “Put it in front of you.” When Will obeyed, Nigel smacked his ass and pulled him back by his thong as he plowed into him, preserving the angle of his cock to hit that sensitive spot inside Will on every. Single. Thrust.

“Oh my GOOOOOOD!” Will tossed his head back in pleasure and started pounding the counter with his fist. “YES, Daddy, give it to me!”

And Nigel gave it to him, alright. He somehow picked up the pace even more, and the smack smack smack of their bodies echoed around the spacious kitchen. Jesus, Nigel was a great fuck-- Will wanted his dick in every way possible, wanted to be fucked raw until he passed out, and then fucked some more. The way he grunted and moaned in Will’s ear while he fucked him-- God, Will didn’t think there was a hotter sound in the world. Every so often, those glints of violent possessiveness in his grip, in his speech, in his twinkling eyes-- Will decided finally that he wanted that, too. Wanted to be the one who stoked that fire and burnt up in it.

He didn’t think it was possible for Nigel to fuck him harder, but he was proven wrong. He must’ve been sweating from the strain of holding Will up, but he didn’t complain, just kept shoving his cock in and out like his life depended on it, determined, it seemed, to torture Will’s g-spot. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, baby, so fuckin’ sexy,” he was mumbling as his hips grew even more demanding, and Will wanted to respond, but could only let out little gasps as he got the breath knocked out of him with every plunge deep inside.

Nigel slowed down when Will inhaled too hard and choked on air. “You alright, angel? Too rough?”

“No, no, it’s perfect, I want it like this,” Will said, catching his breath, looking back at the man inside him. “I love how you fuck me.”

Nigel was panting and sweating, thin shirt clinging to his pecs, silver-blond hair falling into his dark eyes, and God, he was unbelievably sexy. He caressed Will’s backside as he commented lowly, “You look so fucking beautiful like this, you know that? You’re always beautiful, but like this… it’s too much, baby.”

“Oh God Daddy, please…” Will wasn’t sure what he was asking for-- he was sinking into that wonderful place, that mindless, carefree place, where nothing mattered, nothing existed beyond the pleasure of taking a dick fast and hard. Nigel’s sex voice-- raspy, smoky, accent just slightly thicker-- was doing things to Will’s brain and body that he felt unable to control, plunging him into a weird, floaty headspace where he was absolutely helpless to do anything other than submit. He’d never experienced anything like this before. It was almost… a high.

“Shake your ass for me, baby,” Nigel commanded next. Oh, Will was gonna make him lose his goddamn mind.

He giggled as he began to twerk on the man’s dick, and the obscenely wet noises his pussy was making only made it hotter. “Like this, Daddy?”

“Yeah, like that, oh fuck, just like that,” Nigel sounded hoarse, and it didn’t take an empathy disorder to imagine the overwhelmed look on his face. “God damn , Will.”

“Oh fuck,” Will moaned, shaking his ass up and down on Nigel’s cock harder than he would at the club. It was even better when Nigel started smacking it.

“Fucking,” Thwack. “Perfect,” Thwack. “Ass.” Thwack.  

“Oh FUCK!” Will gasped. Jesus Christ, Nigel really liked doing that, didn’t he? The sting of his earlier blows at the club had slowly retreated to a dull throb during dinner. And now that sting came back full force. Will wondered internally if his ass would ever return to its original color.

Something told him it would not. Nigel kept spanking him like it was an extreme sport. “That’s a fuckin’ sight.”

“Oh my God, fuck yeah, fuck, that’s good,” Will blabbered, throwing one cheek back, and then the other.

Nigel groaned. “Fuck, Will, don’t fucking stop.”

“Like the view?” Will asked with a giggle, switching up his movements to bounce insistently on Nigel.

There was that horny growl again. “You know I do, little fuckin’ tease. Fuck, God, I…” Will prayed to the Lord above that Nigel wouldn’t ask him to slow down. “You’re gonna make me come, baby.”

Will looked at the camera, watching his own raw ass smack against Nigel’s hips, stared at his wide-eyed, sweaty reflection. Fuck, I look like such a slut right now… “You feel amazing…”

Nigel looked goddamn magnificent behind him, staring at his ass like he’d ascended to heaven, a soft snarl on his face, strong arms flexed as he began to pull Will’s hips back. “Fucking beautiful. That’s my pussy, baby, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Daddy!” Will cried enthusiastically, continuing to throw his ass back in tandem with the man’s thrusts, delighting in the obnoxious sounds their slick bodies made.

Nigel grabbed a fistful of Will’s hair and tugged , forcing a cruel arch in the boy’s back. “Say it.”

Will could barely see straight, think straight, breathe correctly. He went limp, boneless, letting the other man completely control what was happening. His vision flitted uselessly between the ceiling and dark cabinets as he got pounded for all he was worth. “O-oh fuck! It’s your pussy, Daddy, it’s your pussy!” he screamed, his cunt clamping down rhythmically on the man’s cock, a telltale sign that he was about to--

A man cleared his throat from the kitchen doorway.

“Fuck!” Nigel abruptly pulled out.

“What the fuck?!” Will pulled his pants up.

He whipped around to see a man that looked exactly like Nigel staring back at him.

The only differences were that this man was a little taller, a little grayer, a little broader, and more brooding. He was wearing a black turtleneck that, quite frankly, looked itchy as hell, but Will could still see his rippling muscles, the scars on his hands and face. The intense, slightly menacing look in his eyes, shielded by thin glasses, a mask that Will was all too familiar with. A well-groomed mustache hovered over his pink, slightly chapped lips, and there was that famous Lecter snarl. He came a little closer, and his musk hit Will like a goddamn truck. He smelled like black coffee and cigarettes and fresh winter air. He looked like he would taste like whiskey and blood.

Will wanted to fuck him too.

Chapter Text

Remember we sipped from the same glass

Then she bit your neck and I liked that

We said some things we can’t take back

I’m happy it’s out in the open

Cuz you’re the one, you’re the one

Double the fun, triple the time for love

Cuz you’re the one, you’re the one

You sucked the words from my tongue

That’s when I knew

I only

I only

I only have eyes for two...

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

When Nigel said he had a brother, Will wasn’t expecting… this.

To be fair, he wasn’t sure exactly what he was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t a sexy-ass carbon-copy of Nigel. He had Nigel’s good looks, rogueish air, and imposing figure, but he was… there was no other way to describe it, he was a total fucking bear. His turtleneck, mustache, and glasses kind of made him look like an old man, and it shouldn’t have been turning Will on, but oh God it was. He willed his pussy to calm down, but it absolutely would not. His clit was fucking throbbing. There’s two of them, it screamed at him.

Will looked him up and down, trying to play it cool. Or as cool as he could possibly play it after being walked in on screaming It’s your pussy, Daddy. “You sure don’t look like a psychiatrist.” He turned to Nigel next, who was leaning against the counter opposite him, frantically buttoning his jeans. “I thought you said he was never here.”

Nigel just rubbed the back of his head and cleared his throat. “That’s my other brother. This is Duncan. We share the house.”

“Okay. Right. So you didn’t think to tell me about the brother that lives here before we fucked in the kitchen?”

“I’m sorry, gorgeous, I was distracted. You were the one that needed it right then and there--”

Duncan huffed out what Will guessed was his approximation of a laugh. Nigel cursed under his breath. Will was redder than his asscheeks at this point.

“I’m sorry, Will, it’s my fault,” Nigel continued.

“Yeah, it is,” Will agreed.

“Shit. Fuck, gorgeous. I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you--”

“Can one of you please pour me a bourbon?” Duncan piped up. His voice, slightly deeper and gruffer than Nigel’s, with an accent just as thick, made Will’s stomach flip.

All the alcohol was in the cabinet above where Will and Nigel were about to have their first argument. “Shit, sorry,” Will mumbled, reaching past his boyfriend and pulling the whiskey from its shelf to avoid eye contact with either brother.

“It’s okay, I can do it,” Duncan replied softly, striding over and taking the bottle from Will’s hands. They exchanged a brief smile. He stole a glance at the man’s crotch. He was hard. Oh. This’ll make things interesting.

“Whiskey’s my favorite, too,” Will said sweetly. “Pour me one?”

The only response he got was a raised eyebrow. But the man-- Duncan -- got two tumblers from the cabinet.

Nigel opted for an entire bottle of vodka. Will saw him take a swig out of the corner of his eye as he watched Duncan pour by the sink.

When his whiskey was handed to him, Will threw it back in one gulp and licked his lips. And goddamn, that bourbon was fancy. “Mmm, that’s nice. Thank you, Duncan ,” he purred.

Duncan looked startled. Nigel looked furious.

That wouldn’t do. Will leaned into his space, put a hand on his big chest. “Don’t stop touchin’ me, Daddy, please.”

So Nigel turned him around and pulled him in by the waist, rubbed his tented crotch over his ass, mumbled in his ear, “You want some vodka, too, baby?”

God, he was so possessive, in the hottest possible way. “Mmm. Sure.”

“Not quite, gorgeous. What do we say?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“That’s good. Good boy.” Nigel tilted the handle towards Will’s mouth, and he opened obediently, taking a swig.

And okay, wow, the vodka was really good too. The alcohol settled fiery in his belly, making him a little looser, a little more pliable, and he giggled. “Y’all tryna get me drunk?”

Nigel chuckled, setting the bottle down in favor of squeezing Will’s hip, hot breath caressing his jaw as he nuzzled the skin there. “Hmm, I’d like to see you like that, gorgeous. I wonder how loud you’d get.”

“Oh, I get loud.” Will smirked, tilting his head to allow Nigel to kiss his neck. “That’s nice, Daddy,” he sighed, maintaining eye contact with Duncan.

Duncan was quickly getting redder and redder. Or maybe he was just sweating from that dumb fucking turtleneck he was still wearing. He stepped a little closer and adjusted his glasses. Fuck, he’s so cute. “Uh. So. Your name’s Will?”

“That’s right. Mmmmm.” Will hummed and bit his lip as Nigel began to form a bruise on his neck, sucking and licking and biting.

Duncan’s gaze fell to the skin of his neck, almost yearning. “I’m a fan,” he said. No fucking way.

“Oh, yeah? You watch my videos too?” The hand that wasn’t busy gripping Will’s waist snaked up his shirt, petted his abs, roved over his chest, and Will arched into the touch, pushing his ass back against Nigel’s aching erection.

And Duncan was undressing him with his eyes. “Yeah. I bought you a few things off your wish list.”

Will was positive he was dreaming. “Mmm, like what? Oh, Daddy, fuck!” He jolted as his nipple was flicked, both hands flying up to squeeze Nigel’s forearm. Nigel groaned into his ear.

Duncan adjusted his glasses again. He’s nervous, Will thought. But he wasn’t leaving the kitchen. “Uh… the glow-in-the-dark bong. A few lingerie sets. That rainbow vibrator.”

“Well thank you kindly. I’m happy to see I have such handsome subscribers.” Nigel rolled Will’s left nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Oh fuck, Daddy, yes, keep doing that.” He kept his gaze on Duncan, wondering just how far he could take this.

Duncan blinked and cleared his throat. “Well, uh, thank you.”

Will bit his lip as Nigel continued to toy with his sensitive nipples. “Which video’s your favorite?”

“Um…” Duncan looked at Nigel, then Will, then Nigel again. Then the floor. “The professor one.”

“Oh yeah. He was hot.” Will relished the feeling of Nigel’s arm muscles flexing beneath his own hands. “What about you, Daddy?”

Nigel grinned against his neck. “That one is fucking great. But I’m partial to the riding compilation.”

Will wiggled his ass back against him. “Hmm, oh yeah? I’d love to ride you.”

“Fuck. Yeah, baby, I’d fuckin’ love that.”

“Hope your bed’s sturdy,” Will teased.

“Shit, baby, guess we’ll find out,” Nigel returned, snaking the hand on his waist beneath Will’s leggings and cupping his wet cunt.

“Oh my fucking God. Rub my clit. Yeah, Daddy, like that. Fuck.”

“You’re dripping now, baby,” Nigel murmured against the skin of his cheek, slicking his index finger in Will’s wetness and rubbing it over his clit.

“Y-yeah… Oh God, Nigel, I’m so close,” Will warned.

Duncan just watched with a wide-eyed, faintly amused expression, sipping his whiskey.

“You gonna show him how hot you are when you come?” Nigel’s finger picked up the pace, rubbing in fast little circles.

Will shut his eyes hard. “Yeah, oh, fuck, I’m gonna-- fuck!” His clit pulsed as cum flooded out of him, the pressure built up over the past half hour relieved by Nigel’s capable hand.

Nigel groaned. “Oh fuck, Will. That’s it. There’s a good boy.” A peck was planted on his cheek. Nigel’s hand stayed where it was for a few seconds, exploring his slickness, and then was withdrawn to be licked clean. “Mmmm,” he hummed, gazing at Will with a ferocious twinkle in his eyes.

As Will came down from his sudden orgasm, panting and red-faced, his eyes opened, flicking back and forth between Nigel, lips smacking as he savored his cum, and Duncan, sipping his whiskey, eyes roving over Will’s form with a ravenous expression. Jesus Christ, these men would be the death of him, wouldn’t they?

I wonder what his dick looks like, Will thought, tilting his head and gazing at it through Duncan’s tight jeans. It looked… big wasn’t the word for it. More like colossal. Will made a bet with himself that he could get him out of his pants in under five minutes.

“How long were you standing there watching us, before?” he asked him with a coy quirk of an eyebrow as Nigel’s hands settled on his waist once more.

Duncan swirled the mahogany liquid within its glass. Will watched his hand flex. “A minute or two.”

“Didya like what you saw?”

“What do you think?” Duncan retorted.

“Fair enough. Y’know, y’all could fuck me together, if you wanted,” he offered sweetly, addressing both men now. He glanced down at Duncan’s erection. Then back up into his eyes. “Take turns with my holes.”

Nigel groaned and bit Will’s ear, squeezed his hips. “Fucking hell, baby. You’re gonna give me a fuckin’ heart attack one day, you know that?”

Will giggled, bringing a hand up behind him to fiddle with Nigel’s gold chain. “I think it’d be fun, don’tcha think so, Daddy?”

“Fuck yeah, gorgeous, if you want us to.” Nigel spanked him playfully.

Duncan didn’t respond, so Will pushed on. He liked a bit of a challenge.

“I mean, I said I’d never fuck anyone older than my dad, but…”

Okay, maybe it wasn’t that much of a challenge. Duncan finally made eye contact.

Bingo. “Oh, you like that?” Will smirked. “You gonna be my Daddy too?”

Horny growling was another thing that Nigel and his brother had in common, apparently.

The next thing Will knew, he was sandwiched between the two Lecter brothers, pulled close and groped by newer, rougher hands. Duncan squeezed Will’s asscheeks like fucking stress balls, over, and over, and over again, kneading the soft skin and humming softly.

“Oh, you like my ass, huh?” Will grinned and wrapped his arms around Nigel’s neck, sighing. “Feels nice.”

“Of course he likes your ass, baby, he’d be a goddamn idiot not to.” Nigel was kissing the bruise he’d left on Will’s throat, palms squeezing his slim waist. “Fuck, Will, look at you.”

There were two sets of hands on him now-- big, rugged hands caressing, gripping, tugging. It was too fucking much, but Will soldiered on, trying his best to maintain his coy demeanor. “Is this turning you on, Daddy?” he asked Nigel.

Nigel kissed up his neck, over his jaw, on his lips. “Everything you fucking do turns me on, gorgeous.”

Will was pulled into a deeper kiss. And another. And another. He tasted cigarettes, vodka, and his own cum. When Nigel licked into Will’s mouth with his tongue, Will moaned and closed his lips around it, sucking for a few seconds, then letting it go with a wet pop.

The men nuzzled noses, and then Will turned around, flattening his palms on the elder brother’s sculpted, heaving chest, bunching the wool fabric of his turtleneck in his hand, and then they were kissing. And even though his mustache was tickling Will’s nose, he was incredible at it. Predictably, he tasted like whiskey and cigarettes, but also… pumpkin pie? Whatever it was, he tasted fucking good. He was still pawing at Will’s ass, and when he gave him an experimental spank, Will moaned into his mouth. He nipped at Duncan’s lower lip before pulling back. Duncan’s glasses were foggy, and it was fucking adorable. Fuck, he was wet.

And he was giggling. “I’ve never had a threesome with two brothers before,” he said against Duncan’s mouth.

Nigel’s breath was hot and his voice was gravelly as he licked the skin behind Will’s ear and asked, “Yeah? Think you can handle us?”

“Mmm, I think so, Daddy,” Will said, reaching for Duncan’s intimidating erection over his jeans. The man grunted. “Oh, fuck, it feels really big,” Will said, looking down to watch his hand squeeze up the… fucking enormous shaft. “I wanna see it.”

Duncan obeyed with a nod, one hand reluctantly leaving Will’s ass to wrestle with his belt buckle. Will craned his head towards Nigel next. “You too, Daddy, I wanna see it up close.” Nigel smirked and kissed his cheek, getting to work on removing his jeans.

If there was one thing Will knew he was spectacular at, it was sucking dick. He did it expertly, even furiously . More than that, it was honestly comforting, the warm weight of a cock in his mouth, focusing on something outside himself, something predictable, something easy. The sensation of taking a dick all the way down his throat left him dizzy and lightheaded, and it was like being high. Choking on a dick was quite literally Will’s happy place. He had yet to suck Nigel, and he couldn’t wait to show off his extensive skills.

He liked to start off slow, teasing the head and tasting his lover’s precum, swirling his tongue around on the tip before finally closing his mouth over it and sinking down a few inches at a time, pumping at the base and kneading the balls as he bobbed his head. He liked to arch his back and stick his ass up while he sucked, and he liked to keep eye contact with whoever was above him-- his empathy came in handy here, for fucking once, allowing Will to anticipate what his lover liked. When his throat opened enough for him to take every inch, Will did so with ease-- he’d never had a problem with a gag reflex. His eyes would water, and his throat would burn, but he’d just breathe through his nose and keep going. Will could literally suck dick all day.

But Duncan’s cock would certainly put those skills to the test. It flopped out of his briefs and Jesus fuck, it was huge -- so huge that it hung low from the weight of it. If Nigel was big, Duncan was ginormous. Will had only ever seen cocks this big in porn. He felt like a kid in a candy store as he dropped to his knees.

“Woooow, holy shit, you’re hung,” Will breathed, beginning to pump Duncan’s length and biting his lower lip at his soft grunt. “I’ve never sucked anyone this big before.”

“You don’t have to,” Duncan responded, clearly wanting him to.

“I know I don’t,” Will replied, grinning wickedly and leaning in close to dart out his tongue and lick up the shaft slowly, luxuriously while staring directly at Duncan.

The man above him was silent, but the shaky exhale he omitted said it all. Nigel shifted to stand next to him, leaning back against the counter, getting himself off, which was unacceptable to Will, a brilliant multitasker.

He batted Nigel’s hand away and replaced it with his own. “Uh-uh, let me,” he cooed, keeping Duncan held firmly and continuing to lavish his dick with wet kisses and licks. He gripped Nigel, rough and dry like he’d seen him do before, twisting his wrist on the upstroke.

Nigel groaned. “Fuck. God, baby, look at you. One isn’t enough, huh?”

Will confirmed this with an enthusiastic head shake as he held Duncan at the base, foreskin pulled back, and closed his mouth around the tip, hollowing his cheeks to create the perfect vacuum. Duncan grunted and a hand came down to grip Will’s curls.

Will started to sink down, then come back up, then sink down again a little further, repeating the process as he stroked Nigel faster, tighter.

“I need to film this,” Nigel muttered in between groans. “Fuck, Will, you look so fuckin’ good on your knees.”

Will moaned around Duncan, and the big, dangerous man actually shivered . A drop of bitter precum landed on Will’s tongue. He would never get over having this kind of power.

The record button sounded and that’s when Will got sloppy. He took Duncan as far as he could-- which was only barely halfway down-- and sucked from there, making himself choke and drool and let out the most obscene sucking noises.

“Wow. Good boy, Will,” Nigel encouraged. “Fuck, you’re good at that.” Duncan threw his head back with a groan and gripped Will’s curls tighter.

Will continued to do his absolute best to deepthroat the older man, pumping with his free hand whatever he couldn’t fit in his mouth. Spit and precum gurgled and accumulated on Duncan’s length, running over his balls and dripping onto the floor. At the same time, Will was still jerking Nigel off, using his increasing amount of precum to slick the way. Nigel was still recording.

“Fuck,” Duncan muttered softly, making intense eye contact with the boy going down on him. Will gazed back intently as he stopped sucking and held himself as far down as he could go, humming in response.

He pulled himself off in favor of sucking Duncan’s balls-- one, and then the other, letting out soft sighs.

“Yeah,” Duncan encouraged. He was quieter than Will had thought he’d be, but he liked it. A lot.

A few more seconds of rolling the man’s balls around in his mouth, teasing them with his tongue, before letting them go with a plop and licking over the pronounced vein on the underside of Duncan’s cock from root to tip. He did that a few more times, relishing in how long it took for him to get all the way down, then back up, back down, back up. Duncan let out another little grunt.

“You’re making us feel so good, baby,” Nigel praised, looking down at Will’s hand working insistently up and down on his dick. “Such a good fuckin’ boy, aren’t you?”

“Yes Daddy.” Will giggled and opened his mouth to take Duncan in once more. He sucked him down, down, down, until his cock hit the back of his throat. And then he swallowed.

Duncan made the loudest noise he’d heard out of him yet, a guttural moan that made Will’s pussy twitch. A wave of precum rushed out. Encouraged, he held himself there, throat closed, eyes boring into Duncan’s skull.

When his dick pulsed in Will’s mouth, hinting that he was close, he pulled off with a slick pop, and Duncan groaned at the loss. “Want a turn?” He asked the other man.

Nigel snarled and licked his lips in anticipation. “Yeah, baby, fuck, you know I do.”

Will shifted on his knees in order to service Nigel, who was by no means average-sized, but it was a nice reprieve from Duncan’s massive length. As he closed his mouth over the tip, he could taste his boyfriend’s precum combined with his own drying wetness from their earlier interrupted tryst, and he moaned, loud. Nigel moaned back.

He traced the sensitive slit with his tongue to coax more precum out. “I like how you taste, Daddy. Fuck, I… I like how we taste together.”

Nigel groaned. “Fuck, baby. Take your shirt off, let us see you.”

“You too. Both of you. Please.” Will grudgingly let go of both cocks and pulled his cropped t-shirt over his head, nipples hardening from being exposed to the cool air of the kitchen.

And the beautiful men above him did the same. Nigel’s phone was tossed onto the counter, forgotten, still recording. When all three were bare-chested, they looked their fill of each other.

Will never showed anyone his chest during sex-- he wasn’t insecure about his top surgery scars at all (in fact, he liked to show them off at the beach, or when he was dancing), but it was too intimate, and most men were not worthy of such intimacy. Most men. These two, yet again, were the exception.

And oh my fucking sweet Jesus, they were fucking delectable. Chiseled, scarred, tanned. Hairy in all the right places. They looked like Greek Gods.

Nigel had a delicious swatch of hair covering his beautiful pectorals, caressing his pink nipples, trailing down his abs, soft little tummy and the mouth-watering V of his hips, meeting the pubic hair at the base of his glorious cock. Duncan’s hair was darker and thicker, and his happy trail was similarly delicious-looking. He was slightly broader and more muscular than Nigel, and much more scarred-- frankly, he looked like he beat motherfuckers to death for a living. Which was probably not very far off. There was no way, with bodies like that, that these men sat around the house all day drinking whiskey.

Will put that thought aside for another day and focused on the two stunning men in front of him, waiting for him, his hands, his mouth, his anything. Mine, Will’s inner monster growled, rattling the bars of its cage. They’re all fucking mine.

Will had never been so horny in all his life. “Holy fucking fuck,” he breathed, tracing Duncan’s solid abs with one hand, and the jut of Nigel’s hips with the other. “You both look like sex gods.” Will was prepared to worship at the altar of their dicks all fucking day. He giggled.

Nigel stroked a thumb down his cheek. “Fuck. Look at you, gorgeous. You’re so fucking beautiful. Like a sculpture came to life.”

Will wanted to make a Pygmalion joke, but he thought it might go over Nigel’s head, so he just giggled again instead. “Gonna suck you both till you come all over my face. At the same time,” he added.

“Fuck, baby,” Nigel rasped, shutting his eyes and squeezing himself at the base of his dick, presumably to keep from coming right then and there.

“Jesus, Will,” Duncan growled, similarly affected by the boy’s declaration.

Nigel impatiently fisted his curls, tugging him closer to his dick. Will just grinned and let him guide the head of his cock into his mouth. He spent a minute just lapping there, broad strokes with his tongue and wet smacking kisses. He gripped Duncan roughly and began to jerk him off.

“Fuck.” Nigel tossed his head back. Will studied his bobbing Adam’s apple as he swallowed, the rise and fall of his gorgeous chest, aching to tug at the hair there. “Will, I’m so close.”

Will ignored his warning and took him fully into his mouth, giving a few enthusiastic sucks and then letting him go. He descended on Nigel’s balls next, kissing them, sucking them both into his mouth, moaning, feeling them draw tighter together.

“Yeah, baby, oh fuck, that’s great,” Nigel encouraged. “You’ve got fucking talent. I’m really not gonna last.”

“Mmm. Just a few more minutes, Daddy, I promise,” Will replied, biting his lip, taking both dicks in his hands and stroking. “I want you both to fuck my face.”

“Fucking Christ,” Nigel swore. “You want it rough, huh?”

Will nodded, scooting closer to rub both brothers’ dicks over his lips, occasionally catching one in his mouth and moaning like an absolute whore.

Then, Duncan and Nigel started taking turns slapping their dicks against Will’s tongue, his cheeks, his forehead, their precum getting fucking everywhere, and Will was wondering if this was heaven.

Nigel chuckled. “Look at that smile. So fuckin’ cute, baby.”

Duncan chimed in. “You like that, huh?”

Will nodded languidly.

“Yeah, he can’t get enough,” Nigel agreed, tapping the exposed head of his cock against Will’s outstretched tongue, then sliding inside. “Fuuuck, that mouth. You ready, baby?”

Will moaned around him and hollowed his cheeks in preparation, letting go of Duncan in favor of gripping Nigel’s thighs for leverage. Nigel’s grip in his hair got tighter, and Will let himself go limp as he started to fuck his cock in and out. “Ohhhhhhh fuck, fucking hell,” Nigel moaned, snapping his hips and really making Will choke on it.

It should’ve been illegal how good this man felt in his mouth. Duncan said something in another language (Lithuanian?) and both brothers laughed. Nigel’s balls were wet courtesy of Will’s copious sucking and smacking against his chin with each thrust, and the noises were downright pornographic. Fuck, Will was so beyond turned on, it was making him delirious. He was taking Nigel over, and over, and over, being claimed so thoroughly that it fucking hurt, but he didn’t care, wanted to swallow every inch of the older man’s fat cock.

A minute later (two? three?) Nigel pulled him off, and Will was panting and drooling, a fucking puppy at his feet. It should have been awful, degrading, like it usually was, but, like everything else, it was different with Nigel. He wanted to do this for him, desired being used for his pleasure. He wasn’t coerced or forced into it, but he had been before, fun and lighthearted sucking quickly turning to pain and humiliation. No, this was new; Nigel was doing this because Will had asked, not to hurt him. He sensed nothing but reverence from the older man, no spite, no cruelty. It was almost… healing.

Duncan took his turn next. He fucked Will’s mouth until spit gurgled and was sent flying with each harsh thrust. When the man pulled him down to the base of his enormous cock and held him there, the sensation was akin to someone sticking a quite girthy tube down his throat, and Will’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Oh, look at that, baby,” Nigel commented, slapping Will’s bulged cheek with his cock. “You look fucking perfect.”

Will’s mind was fuzzy as Duncan held the back of his head in place. Or was he just about to pass out? He couldn’t really be sure. Five, ten, fifteen seconds, and Duncan pulled him off, and Will felt ruined, inside and out, in the best fucking way. Precum and drool coated his entire face, his vision was blurred with tears, his mouth ached from use, his knees felt like jelly, and he’d never felt more alive in his life. This is better than killing, he thought.

He started jerking off both dicks into his mouth, sticking his tongue out and begging with his classic puppy eyes. It only took a few pumps until the Lecter brothers were coming all over his face.

“Fuuuuuck,” Nigel snarled and threw his head back.

“Hmmm,” Duncan hummed, shutting his eyes hard.

“Yes, please, yes,” Will pleaded with a wrecked voice as thick stripes of white coated him. “All over me,” he sighed. He caught some on his tongue, kept it there until they had finished.

“Fuck, baby, you sure make a pretty fuckin’ picture,” Nigel commented. He picked up his discarded phone, zoomed the camera in on Will’s soaked face.

Will smiled and waved at the camera, swallowing and licking his soaked lips. “God, you both taste amazing.”

He gazed up at Duncan, then. You’re beautiful like this , the man’s eyes seemed to say beneath his glasses.

Nigel brought a hand down and swept it over Will’s forehead, collecting cum on his thumb for Will to lap up. He repeated the process, and whatever didn’t end up in Will’s mouth was possessively rubbed into the skin of his face. It was disgusting. And completely fucking hot.

Nigel offered low praises as he did it. “Good boy, Will… That’s it, there’s a good slut… So fucking beautiful, aren’t you, baby doll?”

Will shivered at the new pet name, licking the last bit of cum from Nigel’s fingers.

“You like it when I call you that?”

Will just nodded, at a loss for words. He gazed at Duncan, who looked completely mesmerized by him. Shit… had Will caught another stray?

When the elder brother brought a hand up to pet Will’s curls, Will nuzzled his cheek into his palm and kissed it.

“You’re hypnotizing,” Duncan said.

Hypnotizing. That was a new one. But if the way Duncan was eyeing him was any indication, he meant it.

A minute more of caressing and doting, and the brothers pulled their pants up as Will watched, licking his lips, chasing the flavor of their cum. For a few moments, no one said anything. Will smiled up at them, and they smiled down at him.

Duncan broke the pleasant silence first. “Should we finish our drinks in the living room?” He suggested.

“Sounds good to me.” Nigel smirked, offering his hands for Will to grab and pull himself up. “C’mon, baby, I’ll carry you.”

Nigel scooped him up bridal style, and Will yelped, giggling and clinging onto his chest. As he was carried into the living room, a warm, fuzzy feeling settled over him, an ache in his chest that could only be described as fondness. Nigel sat them on the couch and arranged him on his lap, Duncan next to them, brushing Will’s curls from his face, and for once, for fucking once, there was no sense of dread or impending doom. Nothing was out to get him. Nothing could touch him, could touch them. He felt… safe.

These men were, no doubt, capable of inflicting great pain, and did inflict great pain; at the same time, they were capable of great love and tenderness. Others might look at them in fear, but Will didn’t look, he saw. He saw to the deepest parts of them, and, yes, he saw their monsters, ferocious and grisly and cruel. And he saw that they were hurting. They cried out for a void to be filled, an unending chasm of loneliness that had followed them like a shadow their entire lives to be plugged up with whatever felt closest to love, companionship. Drugs. Sex. Alcohol. Violence. Whatever it took to feel okay, or numb for a while. Whatever it took to feel less broken. Whatever it took.

Will’s monster had been crying out, too, and he hadn’t even known until now, when he peered into his mind palace and found it resting in its cage, quiet.

Chapter Text

Earlier that night…

Duncan folded his glasses and set them gently on his bedside table, reaching for his laptop and setting it on the bed. The sun had set outside the huge glass windows of his bedroom, and he drew the curtains. The thought of neighbors seeing what he was up to was less than desirable.

He polished off a slice of supermarket pumpkin pie and set it aside, next to his glasses. He’d take the plate to the kitchen in a few minutes. But first…

He opened his laptop, turning down the unbearable brightness of the screen. He typed in his password (BERETTA), opened up a browser, and navigated to his favorite website.

Yeah, okay, it was porn. What else would it be? Sure, he was getting older, but his libido wasn’t. It was all he could do to keep his dick calm each day until evening rolled around. But when evening finally did roll around…

He’d lock the door to his room, even though Nigel was never home until around four a.m. on any given night. He’d turn off the lights to create a more relaxing atmosphere. He’d turn on his laptop, pull out a bottle of lube, and beat one out.

It was always the same website, and usually the same video. Ever since he’d stumbled across the young man’s PornHub profile and discovered that his videos were censored to draw more attention to his OnlyFans, he’d paid the ten dollar a month fee without hesitation and became a loyal subscriber.

The man was more of a boy, really. Duncan was terrible at telling how old people were, but he’d done the math; the boy mentioned being nineteen in his favorite video, and it was four years old, which meant he was twenty-three now… unless he’d been lying about his age.

He had tousled dark brown curls, milky, freckled skin, and he was somehow lanky and muscular all at once. His lips were pink and pouty, his ass was perky and jiggly, and his pussy was plump and tight. If presented with the young man now, at this very moment, Duncan was unsure which of his three holes he’d most like to fuck first.

In his videos, he always had a naughty twinkle in his eye, a smirk on his face, like he knew exactly how attractive he was and exactly how much everyone wanted him. Something told Duncan that the boy was used to lying, conning, and seducing his way into obtaining whatever he desired. He was, in one word, a brat. And Duncan wanted to tame him.

The boy seemed to have a thing for authority figures. Every video was, in some way, a transgression of boundaries, and almost all the men he fucked were much, much older. Duncan had been, he had to admit, a little insecure about his age… before he’d discovered PrincessPeach.

His favorite video, which he pulled up now, was the perfect example of this preference for older men. It was old, and Duncan had seen it hundreds of times at this point, but he still had to go slow, shut his eyes sometimes, even take his hand away for fear of coming too quickly. Duncan prided himself on his stamina and ability to last during sex; almost all of his lovers had, historically, been much younger, and they would still ask for him to slow down, or to take a break, or to be less rough. But one certain nameless boy on his computer screen always made him finish in under a minute.

He pressed play on the video, palming himself roughly through his jeans, the way he liked it. He’d made the mistake before of taking himself out too early, touching himself while the boy spoke, coming before the video itself even began. Not this time.

The pretty thing came onto camera, tucking a curl behind his ear and grinning. “Hiya. This week I got something real special for y’all-- a gift to celebrate five hundred thousand subscribers! I can’t believe how much this has blown up. Thanks so much to all of you for supporting me, and for all your compliments and comments. Okay, now onto the video. Everyone who requested more public sex, this one’s for you.”

Duncan unzipped his jeans and turned up the brightness a few notches, gazing into the startling blue of the boy’s eyes as he continued his introduction.

“My professor’s been starin’ at my ass all semester, not that I can really blame him. Anyway, I decided to see if he’d fuck me, and… well… let’s just say my pussy’s sore as all hell. I set up a lipstick cam in the lecture hall a few hours before. He didn’t know I was recording, so don’t tell, okay? Also, hope you like my new panties as much as my professor did, and thanks to user StagMan69 for buyin’ them for me. I’ve linked my wishlist below if y’all wanna get me more stuff. Alright, that’s it. Enjoy, comment, and cum real hard for me.”

He winked at the camera, the screen faded to black, and then the show began.

A shot of the boy placing the tiny camera in the second row of the lecture hall, atop a desk, and a cute little wave. A zoom in on the desk. Then the camera cut to another clip.

An older man in a tweed suit and scarf sat at the front of the lecture hall, grading papers. He was handsome, in a rakish sort of way. Younger than Duncan, younger than Nigel, even, who was the baby of the three brothers. He looked to be in his early forties. There were footsteps, and he looked up at someone standing just out of shot.

“Hi, Professor,” came the young man’s voice as he walked into frame. The audio quality wasn’t amazing; the voices were a little distant from the camera, and Duncan always had to turn the volume all the way up to listen to their conversation. “Got a minute?”

The older man smiled warmly, like he knew the boy even though he taught hundreds of kids every day. He was either a really good student, or had just managed to distract the professor that much from doing his job. Or both. “Of course. Close the door, have a seat.”

The boy tucked a curl behind his ear. God, he was adorable, Duncan thought as he sat with his back to the camera. “Thanks.”

The professor stacked the papers he was grading and put them to the side. “What can I do for you?”

The boy’s head tilted. Although Duncan couldn’t see the boy’s face, he could hear the mischief in his voice. “I dunno, what do you wanna do?”

The professor's eyebrows went up. “Excuse me?”

The boy leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “I’ve seen you staring at me. My ass, to be more specific. Do you see something you like, Professor?”

The man laughed in disbelief. “I-- this is entirely inappropriate.”

“It is. Entirely inappropriate. A grown man objectifying his nineteen-year-old student. What’s to be done about that?”

The older man stood. “Nothing has to be done about anything, because I have not been staring at you, and we are not having this conversation. Leave, please.”

The boy stood too. “Awww, don’t kick me out. Don’tcha wanna have a little fun?”

“Are you serious? You could get me fired.”

His ass was right in the camera’s face. The boy knew it, and cocked his hip. Duncan groaned. “You think it’d be worth it, though, don’t you? To get your hands on what you’ve been wanting all semester. Why don’t you let me help you out, Professor?”

“Please don’t speak to me like that.”

“Hm. Are you gonna punish me, Sir?”

The professor scoffed. “This is an educational institution, young man, not a low-budget porn studio.”

“And yet you’re still hard, aren’t you?”

This kid was a little shit, but damn, he was hot. Duncan finally took his dick out.

“Let me see it,” the precocious boy on camera continued. “I’ve thought a lot about it. I bet you’re big, huh?”

There was an obscuring of audio for three seconds-- presumably the teacher had addressed his student by his first name. “You don’t have to do this. You know you’re already my best student.”

“I think there’s still a few things you could teach me.”

The man rubbed his face. “You’re not going to leave, are you?”

“You’re shyer than I thought. I’ll show you me first, then.” Without further ado, the young man lifted his t-shirt over his head and shoved his leggings down, baring himself to the older man. His ass was fucking beautiful, and his pussy was barely disguised by a tiny black thong. The first few times Duncan had watched this video, he’d only gotten this far before coming all over himself.

“Wait-- stop, I… Fuck.” The professor shut his eyes and put his face in his palms. It was a smart move; if he opened his eyes to the boy in front of him and saw how delicious his body was, it would be over.

And the boy knew it too. “Look at me, Sir. I know you want to.”

“I…” 

He turned around then, showing his panties to the camera. They were black, with white ink etched across the front that read It’s not gonna lick itself. “Do you think my ass looks good in this thong? I just got it.” Duncan internally thanked whoever StagMan69 was for blessing his eyes. He held himself at the base, not daring to stroke yet.

The professor peeked through his fingers, eyes widening as he took in the sight of his student’s bare ass. “Fucking-- I mean, uh. Your ass-- I mean, um. You’re… you’re beautiful. I can’t… I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to do anything. Just let me.” The young man crossed to the other side of the desk, crowded into his professor’s space, gave him a little shove on the chest to sit him down, and reached down where the camera couldn’t see. “Oh shit, you’re really hard.” The boy giggled.

The older man threw his head back with a groan. “We shouldn’t…”

“I know, right? Makes it so fuckin’ hot.” The boy got on his knees, and the desk blocked the view, but it was obvious what was happening. There was a zipper sound, a shuffling of fabric, a “Wow, you are big, Professor.”

Duncan grunted and squeezed himself, imagining the boy’s reaction to his own size. Would he want to take it into his mouth? Or would it be too much?

“Fuck.” The professor gripped the desk as wet smacking and sucking sounds began to dominate the video.

Duncan tried his best to hone in on the sounds, imagining that they echoed around his large room instead of a lecture hall. That the boy was on his hands and knees on the bed, going to town on him. He poured lube on his dick to mimic the slickness of saliva as he began to work his hand up and down, grunting softly.

Thirty more seconds of this-- choked sucking noises, groans and soft praises from the older man, hums and giggles from the boy. And then the video cut to another clip.

The young man was bent over the side of the desk, thong pulled down to his knees, his professor behind him, spreading his cheeks wide to eat him out. Wet kisses and licks over his clit, then up to his entrance to fuck his tongue in and out. And the boy was moaning like a cheap slut.

“O-oh, Professor!” He fucked himself back onto the man’s tongue. “Yeah, fuck, that’s good…”

He tossed his head back when the Professor hummed into his pussy, turning to give a small wave at the camera. Tempting thing.

Duncan wondered how the boy tasted. Sweet, I bet. The curve of his back as he lifted a leg onto the table… he wanted to eat him alive. He worked his hand a little faster.

The boy worked his hips more rapidly, pushing his ass back against his professor’s face, and the man spanked it lightly as he fucked him with his tongue.

“You can do it harder.” Oh, this poor, sweet boy. He’d never have to tell Duncan to do anything harder.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the man pulled back to say. Duncan scoffed. Fucking pathetic.

The boy rolled his eyes. “I’m asking you to. Please, Sir, spank me harder.”

Duncan chuckled. Demanding little thing, wasn’t he? Duncan could show him a thing or two about obedience.

The man spanked him harder, squeezed both his cheeks as he resumed his task of eating the boy out. His student moaned. “Yeah, that’s good.”

The professor introduced a finger, then two, as he circled his tongue over the boy’s clit. His fingers moved in and out with little to no precision, and the poor boy tried to arch his back to make the angle more pleasurable. His moans seemed planned, calculated, as if he was used to faking it on the rare occasion that someone wanted to bring him pleasure rather than use his body for their own. Many people who subscribed to his OnlyFans probably couldn’t tell the difference, but Duncan saw that he was performing. His eyes gave him away. They were unaffected, distant, almost… bored.

Another clip began. Same position, but this time, the boy was getting a cock shoved into him. It wasn’t that big, but the boy was moaning like it was. Another tell.

He had to give the man at least some credit; he was fucking the boy hard, but Duncan could fuck him much harder. He’d make him moan ten times as loud, and none of it would be a performance.

“Yeah, Professor, fuck me!” His ass jiggled as he got fucked. His curls, too, bounced with each thrust, and it was adorable.

“Shhh, baby, don’t want anyone to hear us.” The professor almost looked smug that his cock was making the boy practically yell. Stupid man. “Can you be quiet?”

“Yes, Sir, I can try,” the boy said, rocking back against him. “It feels so good.”

“Fuck. Look at that.” The man stared down between them like he was in a trance. “Your ass is amazing.”

The boy continued to smack it back against the professor. “Is this what you’ve been imagining, Sir?” he asked, like it wasn’t obvious.

“Yes, love, ever since that first day when you dropped a book at the front of the room and bent over. Fucking delicious ass.”

The boy smirked. “I did that on purpose, Sir. I wanted you to look. You’re so handsome.”

“Fuck…” Another blurring of the audio. The professor had addressed the boy by his first name again. “You’re driving me crazy.”

The boy continued to twerk, the same detached look on his face, like it took no effort. “Yeah? You like that?”

“Yeah… Shit,” the professor mumbled. “I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer.”

And that was, unfortunately, it. Three minutes of half-assed backshots. This poor boy. If Duncan had been his professor, he would’ve fucked him on every possible surface in sight, in every possible position-- yes, from behind against the desk, but also cowgirl on the desk chair, missionary on the floor, picking him up and slamming him against the window, against the whiteboard… the options were endless.

This boy was practically screaming for someone older, experienced, dominant, a man who knew how to make him moan and cry and then wrap him up in his arms. Duncan wanted to be that man more than he’d wanted anything in his life.

He needed it rough, no doubt. He needed to be fucked until he couldn’t remember his own name. But he also needed softness, Duncan thought. Someone to show him that sex could be an act of love, rather than a power play, or something to do when one was bored. Something meaningful. Something sacred.

“Where should I cum?” The man asked breathlessly.

“You can do it inside me, if you want. I won’t get pregnant.”

This was the part of the video that always confused Duncan. How did the boy know for certain he wouldn’t get pregnant? He said it with a twinge of… something in his voice, like it was a secret. Like it was shameful.

But the man on screen didn’t question it, just did what the boy told him to do. His hips stilled, and he shut his eyes. “Oh fuck, FUCK.”

The boy shook his ass while his professor came inside him. “Mmmm, yes, Professor, that feels ni--”

Duncan paused the video when he heard noise from downstairs. Why the hell was Nigel home this early?

As he descended the spiral staircase that led into the living room, just past the kitchen, he discovered why.

“Fuck, Will, don’t fucking stop,” he heard Nigel groan from the kitchen, followed by a giggle that sounded exactly like--

“Like the view?” A young voice asked, and it was him. It had to be.

Duncan stood near the wall next to the kitchen doorway and peered through.

Christ above, it was. It was him. It was the boy from the video. And he was shaking his ass up and down on his brother’s cock.

From this angle, Duncan could see Nigel’s backside flex and shift, which blocked the view of the boy. He couldn’t see his face, but he would recognize that voice, those bouncing curls, that beautiful ass anywhere. It was him.

“You know I do, little fuckin’ tease.” Duncan almost felt embarrassed to catch his brother like this. He was moaning loud. “Fuck, God, I… You’re gonna make me come, baby.”

“You feel amazing…” The boy replied, throwing his ass back on Nigel, the smack of it bouncing against his hips the most delightful sound Duncan had ever heard. His moans were different from the purposefully placed ones in his videos-- they were erratic, high-pitched, definitely genuine. It wasn’t a show; he didn’t seem concerned with anything other than taking Nigel’s cock.

Duncan weighed his options-- right now, it seemed like he had three. One: go back upstairs and put on his noise-canceling headphones. Two: stay here and watch from the next room, unnoticed. Or three: interrupt them.

The first option was safe. Pretend he’d seen nothing, heard nothing, and go on about his evening undisturbed. He had wanted to curl up in bed, watch a movie, have a smoke, and finish the rest of that pumpkin pie.

But the second option was almost irresistible. No one would know if he just stood here and touched himself. Although, the more he thought about it, the idea of masturbating to his brother fucking someone sounded really, really fucking weird.

The third option was risky, but might, just might, pay off. Here he was, the boy of Duncan’s fantasies, in his fucking kitchen, and he had the opportunity to do something, say something. Was he about to pass that opportunity up?

He chose option three.

He’d better do it soon, because both the boy’s noises and his brother’s were getting louder, breathier. Maybe, if he cut in now, before they both came, the boy would want him to join in. There was only one way to know.

He adjusted his glasses, stepped into the kitchen door frame, and cleared his throat.

Chapter Text

If you dance, I’ll dance

And if you don’t, I’ll dance anyway

Give peace a chance

Let the fear you have fall away

I’ve got my eye on you

I’ve got my eye on you

Say yes to heaven

Say yes to me…

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

If you’d told Will a week before that he’d be straddling his rich, sexy, European boyfriend’s lap, arms looped lazily around his neck, letting him tip vodka into his mouth while he flirted with his equally rich, equally sexy, equally European older brother after giving both of them the sloppiest head of their lives, he would’ve asked what you were smoking, and if he could please have some. And yet, here he was, doing exactly fucking that. Their cum was drying tacky on his face, and the harsh burn of alcohol was doing nothing to help Will’s abused throat, but he somehow couldn’t bring himself to care when Duncan’s scarred hand stroked his knee tentatively and Nigel kissed the skin behind his ear, one big hand on his waist, the other on his ass.

Duncan sipped his whiskey out of his glass while Nigel took aggressive swigs from the bottle of vodka. They took turns offering sips to Will, who was becoming progressively boneless. He was really more of a weed smoker than a drinker, and mixing liquor was already a terrible idea for anybody, so he took small sips. I want to remember this. Every detail.

Duncan lit up a cigarette, took a few puffs, and passed it to Nigel, who inhaled and grabbed Will’s face with one hand, tipping his mouth towards his and blowing the smoke into it. Will sucked it in and exhaled with a giggle, kissing him with an open mouth. God, I could do this every single night.

The cigarette ended up back in Duncan’s hand. He inhaled, sharp and quick, smoke furling from his mouth as he spoke. “So… You’re dating my brother.”

Will watched the smoke leave the eldest brother’s full, pink lips. “Yeah.”

Duncan ashed the cigarette on a tiny tray balanced on his knee. “How come I’ve never met you before? Is he trying to hide you from me?”

“Oh, uh…” Will blushed and turned his head to Nigel, who had a very smug look on his face. He tried to focus hard on not slurring his speech, but when Nigel gave him those bedroom eyes, he felt twice as drunk. “This’s our first date, actually.”

Duncan passed the cigarette to his brother, giving him a quizzical look. “Really? When did you guys meet?” He sipped his drink.

Will watched as Nigel took a drag. “Today.”

Duncan’s eyebrows went up, and he choked a little on his whiskey. “Wow. Well then. Can I ask how?”

The cigarette was placed between Will’s lips, and he inhaled, staring directly at Nigel as he blew the smoke out. “He hired me to work as a dancer at his club.”

“No shit. You’re a dancer too?”

He handed the cigarette to Duncan, deliberately brushing his fingers. “Yep.”

Inhale. “So… he’s your boss.” Exhale.

“Uh.” Shit. Will had kind of forgotten about that. “Yeah, uh, he is. But… he’s more than that.” Nice one, Will.

Duncan adjusted his glasses. “You know I’m head of security at the Lair, right?” 

“Oh.” Oh Jesus Christ…

Fuck. Yeah, that made sense… Will could see him there now. Sitting at a barstool with a menacing look, scars littering his face and hands, nursing a whiskey and watching potential prey like a hawk ready to strike. He probably didn’t even carry on the job; his presence alone would scare most people shitless, and no doubt intimidate most men into behaving themselves. And for the sorry idiots who didn’t… Will tried very hard not to imagine Duncan throwing them out on the street for getting too cozy with the dancers. Grabbing them by their shirt collars with big, strong hands, muscles tensed as he tossed them onto the pavement… Maybe even punching them unconscious, coming back with bloody knuckles…

Yeah, Will definitely was not imagining that, and it was definitely not making him wet. He cleared his throat, shaking himself from his fantasy. “Uh. No, I didn’t know that.”

Duncan smirked. “You’re going to be pretty distracting.” Yeah, fucking ditto.

“He’s going to be extremely fucking distracting,” Nigel agreed, giving Will a playful swat on the ass as he snatched the cigarette from his brother. Oh God… The fact that both these men would be at the club, bossing people around, threatening handsy patrons, following Will with their dark, intense eyes… Will suddenly wasn’t sure if he was cut out for this job.

“What do you usually wear when you dance, baby?” Nigel continued as he took a drag.

Will shrugged nonchalantly, secretly delighting in his ability to make the Lecters deliriously horny from just the thought of him dancing. “A thong and heels,” he said coyly.

Duncan huffed. “God. Yeah. I’m not going to be able to do my job properly. Sorry Nigel.”

“That makes two of us. Fuck.” Nigel spanked him again, a little more forcefully, then squeezed.

God. That makes three of us. Will wiggled on his lap and let out a giggle. “Y’know, I could give y’all a private show sometime.”

He delighted in the near identical groans that statement elicited from the brothers.

Yeah, he could see that… perform on the main stage, drive every man in the club absolutely insane with lust, rack up the tips, and then leave them all hanging in favor of pulling his two Daddies into a private room. It was almost too delicious to imagine… their possessive touches on his body like a stinging slap to the face to all other men at the club, the crestfallen looks on their faces when they saw that Will was spoken for, eyes following Nigel and Duncan’s movements with simmering jealousy. His Daddies would make sure that men who came to the Lair knew Will was theirs-- the ones who thought Will’s sinuous dancing, promiscuous speech, and twinkling eyes were for their benefit, the ones who liked to ogle and claw at him like animals, the ones who tried to buy his attention with booze or extravagant demonstrations of wealth . Those men were dirt beneath the Lecters’ feet; Will couldn’t even comprehend that those men existed in the same universe as Nigel and Duncan, that they breathed the same air.

Those men were not worthy, Will decided. Not worthy of the Lecters. Not worthy of Will. Not worthy of life.

Will would show them all, soon enough. He was theirs to touch. Theirs to fuck. Theirs to love. Theirs, and no one else’s.

Yeah, he could definitely see that. “Wouldya like that?” He smirked and bit his lip, stealing the cigarette from Nigel and sucking on it, tipsy and emboldened.

Duncan, looking very overwhelmed, rubbed his face. “Will…”

Nigel’s head fell against Will’s, similarly overcome. He huffed a laugh, warm breath tickling Will’s nose. “Fucking hell, baby, go easy on two old men.”

“Neither of you are old men.” Will rolled his eyes and kissed Nigel’s cheek, the man’s scruff brushing his smooth jaw.

Nigel sighed, almost wistfully. “You do make me feel young again.” He retrieved the handle of vodka from beside him, taking a gulp.

“Oh God, Nigel, that’s so corny.” Will took one more drag, then forfeited the cigarette to Duncan.

“No, it’s true, darling,” Nigel insisted a little louder than necessary, more than tipsy himself, and it was so fucking cute. “You make me feel… alive.”

“You’re sweet, Daddy.” Will kissed his cheek again, and the man grinned.

“Well, I can own up to being an old fuck.” Duncan took a drag of the cigarette and a sip of whiskey before exhaling.

Nigel snorted. “You’re eight years older, so yeah, you are an old fuck.”

Duncan, too resigned to fight back, took another sip of whiskey and muttered something in Lithuanian under his breath.

“What was that, brother? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Get your ears checked.”

“Watch it,” Nigel warned.

Duncan just looked amused, like a housecat had threatened a lion. He took one last puff of the cigarette, now a nub, and discarded it in the ashtray, placing it on the footrest. “Trying to look tough for your boy, huh?”

Nigel wrapped two possessive arms around Will’s waist, pulling him flush to him until they were chest to chest. “You are my boy, aren’t you, baby?”

Will gave him a stern look, placing a hand between his collarbones. He adopted a tone that he only used for talking to young children. “Uh uh, don’t weaponize me against him, Nigel. I’m his too.”

His boyfriend tucked a curl behind his ear, trailing an index finger down his cheek. “Shit, baby, I know that. But you were mine first.”

Will groaned. “Seriously? You’re really doing this right now? You shouldn’t have let me go down on him if you didn’t want this to happen.”

“You would’ve done it either way,” Nigel accused. “You were his from the moment you two laid eyes on each other. Am I right, or am I right?”

Well damn. Will blushed and stole a glance at Duncan, who smiled back at him. “You’re right.”

“And now here we fucking are. Of course I’d prefer to have you all to myself, angel, but you would resent me for it. Wouldn’t you?”

Will hated how right he was. “To be clear, I don’t want anyone else besides the two of you. But yes. I probably would.”

“You have us,” Duncan said softly, nuzzling his neck.

He started kissing under Will’s jaw, mustache and scruff caressing his throat, sending a shiver up his spine. And, oh no… Shit, I like this one too, Will thought.

Honestly, it was a revelation-- he’d never been curious about a man after they’d had sex, aside from these two brothers. Men, after all, were supremely fucking boring. Will, for the most part, was solely interested in what was between their legs. He’d never been interested in what they were thinking, or what their hair looked like when they woke up in the morning, or how they liked their coffee, or what their favorite brand of cigarettes were, or if they liked dogs, or how they’d gotten the scars on their faces… Oh God. You’re falling in love, you idiot.

No, that’s ridiculous. Get a fucking grip, he scolded himself. You’re being insane. And you’re drunk. You have known these men for less than a day. You’re not falling in love, you just need good dick.

But it wasn’t just that, was it? Yes, he was drunk, but he wasn’t delusional. Yes, he wanted to gobble both their dicks up, but he also… wanted them to hold him? Wanted to brush their hair from their eyes and kiss the cute little scowls from their faces? He couldn’t remember ever wanting that before. But now he suddenly felt like he might die if he couldn’t have it.

Nigel was stroking his hair, Duncan was still kissing his neck, his hand getting higher up Will’s thigh, and Will shifted on his knees slightly to accommodate. I want you to touch me. Please touch me.

“Do you want him to play with you?” Nigel murmured in his ear. Once again reading his goddamn mind. Was he that obvious?

“Yeah, I do,” Will sighed.

“Turn around and take your pants off.”

God, that voice… Will would do anything Nigel told him to. “M’kay Daddy,” he affirmed, standing on shaky legs to turn around, bend over, and shimmy his leggings and thong off, tossing them onto the footrest. He heard Duncan mutter a “fuck” behind him, and gasped as two big hands landed on his bare ass.

He gave Will a few harsh spanks and a few soothing squeezes. And Will was making very embarrassing noises.

“Fuck, OH!” he squealed and shut his eyes as one more blow landed on his right cheek. He stayed like that, bent over for the man’s perusal, hands scrambling to grip the footrest.

“This ass…” Duncan muttered, giving each cheek a jiggle. “It’s one thing to see it on video, but in person…”

Nigel chuckled. “You’re telling me. It’s so fucking perfect. And look at that little pussy peeking out,” he replied, tapping Will’s clit with a thumb.

“Fuck,” Will whined. The men talking about him like he wasn’t there, groping him, completely objectifying him should have made him recoil. He arched his back instead.

“You’ve already given it some love, huh?” Duncan’s hand explored the skin of his raw asscheeks, no doubt admiring Nigel’s handprints from earlier in the night.

“Yeah, he likes that a lot. Bet he’s wet already,” Nigel continued. “Aren’t you, babydoll?”

“Oh God.” It was as if Will’s entire body was buzzing; from the blows to his ass, or in anticipation of what was to happen next, he couldn’t tell. And his pussy… he was surprised his wetness wasn’t dripping down his thighs. “Yes, Sir. So wet.”

“Why don’t you shake it for him, gorgeous? Give us that show you were talking about.”

Oh, they want a show, huh? “Yes Daddy,” Will agreed, beginning to twerk, shaking both cheeks up and down.

His movements were a little more sloppy than if he had been sober, but they had the desired effect. “Goddamn, look at that shit move,” his boyfriend groaned.

“Fuck. Yeah, I’d throw money at you,” Duncan agreed, spanking his left cheek.

He left the right cheek to Nigel, who smacked him so hard the sound echoed through the big living room. “Shit, I’d give you my entire life savings,” he contributed.

“Oh God, fuck,” Will moaned, trying his best not to quiver as he got his ass smacked over, and over, and over.

He yelped as Duncan pulled him into his lap, legs spread to grind his half-hard dick up against his ass.

“Yeah, that’s it. Give him a dance, baby,” Nigel urged.

“Yes, Daddy.” Will rubbed his cheeks against Duncan’s clothed dick with a giggle, then shifted to twerk on it.

“Fuuuuck,” Duncan moaned, squeezing Will’s hips. Will grinned to himself as he felt the man grow beneath him.

“Fucking hell.” Nigel leaned over and continued to smack his ass. “Yeah, that’s a good fucking boy, Will.”

Will threw his ass back against Duncan, tilting his hips higher and higher, his torso lower and lower, until he was bent over like that, hands touching his toes, twerking against his length.

“Oh my God,” was the response from behind. He was awarded another spank to his left cheek.

And beside him, Nigel sucked in a huge breath. “Fuck, baby. Look at you. You’re so fucking good at that. Yeah, keep going.”

Will kept going, alright. He came back up, flicked his hair out of his face, and swung an arm over Duncan’s shoulder, grinding back against him and grinning at Nigel.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” Nigel praised, palming himself.

“Take it out, Daddy,” Will encouraged. “Touch yourself.”

Nigel didn’t have to be told twice. For the… third time that night, his jeans were shoved down past his red, rigid cock and tucked behind his balls.

“Mmmm. So hard for me,” Will murmured.

“Fuck. You know I am, gorgeous,” Nigel responded, beginning to stroke.

Will watched, biting his lip at the way Nigel’s rough palm slid against the velvet skin. He was wet at the tip, and his length began to glisten as he fisted himself.

The sight of that, combined with Duncan’s hot erection nudging between his asscheeks, only spurred Will on. He used all his ab strength to swing his legs up onto the couch, straddling Duncan in one go, hands settling on the man’s knees as he clapped his cheeks together. The sound of it, sharp flesh against flesh, rang throughout the room.

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ, Will, baby, I-- fuuuuuck.” To Will’s surprise and delight, Nigel came into his own hand.

“Mmmm, oh yeah Daddy.” Will giggled, continuing to shake his ass in Duncan’s face. He looked back at the man, and that was all it took.

Red-faced and with foggy glasses, Duncan groaned and bucked his hips against the air. Will hummed, sat down on his lap, and--

“Oh fuck yeah.” Will rubbed his pussy against the wet spot forming over Duncan’s jeans with a gasp. “You came for me.”

Duncan grunted and squeezed Will’s hips. “All for you.”

All for me, all for me… Will’s brain repeated. On an impulse, he got onto his sore knees between the two men and grabbed Nigel’s soiled hand, sucking the bitter cum away with his deft tongue.

He stared into Nigel’s dark, lovestruck eyes as he did it. “Fuck, baby. Good boy.”

Will moaned and, encouraged by the praise, leaned over to clean his dick next. He grabbed it at the base and licked up every last drop, maintaining eye contact with his Daddy.

“Oh Jesus,” was the response he got to that. “Such a good fucking boy, cleaning me up. Fuck, Will.”

Will licked his lips when he was done, and then it was Duncan’s turn. He yanked the man’s jeans down and took him in hand, interspersing cleaning licks with wet, smacking kisses.

Duncan watched and carded his hands through Will’s hair, an enamored look on his face. Perhaps seeing Will’s response to Nigel’s praise was what prompted him to say, “Good boy. So, so beautiful.”

Will leaned back on his heels and gathered the last remnants of cum from around his mouth with a thumb, tucking it between his lips to lick seductively as he stared between the Lecter brothers. He squealed as Nigel leaned over and scooped him up into his lap once more, this time with his scruffy chest pressed to Will’s back.

“Spread your legs. Right fucking now,” Nigel growled.

So Will spread his legs with a soft “yes Daddy,” slinging one over Duncan’s thigh.

“That’s it, baby. Just relax, let him make you feel good,” Nigel purred, stroking his jaw with a thumb.

“Oh, God, yes Daddy,” Will repeated. Duncan’s hand resumed its earlier exploration of Will’s inner thigh, rubbing and squeezing the skin there.

“Yeah, good boy. Does it feel nice?” Nigel asked. His breath in Will’s ear made his nipples prick up.

Will sighed, gazing at the soft snarl on Duncan’s face. “Yes, Sir. Are you gonna, um… touch me too?”

Nigel chuckled. “Yeah, baby, I am. Just be patient, yeah? Let him have a turn first.”

Will nodded. Duncan’s hand moved higher still, index finger brushing his clit, and Will shivered.

“So fuckin’ pretty, aren’t you, babydoll?” Nigel continued in his ear, rubbing his chest, kissing his fingers and pressing them to Will’s top surgery scars.

“Oh, Daddy…” Will suddenly felt like bursting into tears. He must’ve been Mother fucking Teresa in his past life, to deserve such soft treatment from not one, but two powerful, capable men. It was almost impossible for his alcohol-muddled, touch-starved brain to process.

“Is it okay that I’m touching you here?” Nigel asked quietly, stroking a thumb underneath Will’s right pectoral, over the sensitive skin of his scar.

Will nodded immediately. “Yes,” he choked out, tears welling up in his eyes. “No one’s ever-- uh. No one’s ever touched me there before.” No one’s ever touched me how I need to be touched, he wanted to say. No one’s ever cared.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Duncan reassured him softly, shifting closer on the couch, still petting his clit. “We’re going to take care of you, yeah?”

“Y-yes, Sir,” Will managed, tears falling freely now.

“Just Duncan,” the eldest brother said, giving Will a crinkled smile.

Will smiled back. “Duncan,” he repeated, swallowing the lump in his throat. “It feels good.”

“You’re very wet,” Duncan sighed.

“He’s a squirter, too,” Nigel contributed, brushing tears from Will’s cheeks with his thumb. Will didn’t have the heart to tell him that prior to that day, he’d never squirted in his life. “So fucking perfect, baby, aren’t you?”

“Oh God.” Will couldn’t bring himself to agree, so he tucked his face into Nigel’s neck instead, staring at his tattoo.

“Look at him while he touches you, baby,” Nigel commanded gently, and Will obeyed, lifting his head to focus on the adorably concentrated look on Duncan’s face, his glasses sitting slightly askew on the bridge of his nose. His breath hitched as Duncan moved down to his entrance and slipped a big finger inside.

“O-oh, God, yes please.” He tilted his hips to give the man better access, Nigel opened his legs wider to allow him more room, and Duncan’s knuckle met Will’s opening. “Oh fuck,” Will whined.

Duncan grunted. “Tight, huh?” Nigel asked him, and his elder brother nodded. “Just wait till you get inside. He feels like fucking heaven.”

“I bet,” Duncan replied, crooking his finger experimentally, delving deeper to land on his g-spot.

That earned a moan from Will. “Oh God, fuck!”

“Yeah,” Duncan said gruffly, rubbing over the sensitive little nub. At the same time, he circled his thumb over Will’s clit. Nigel kept teasing his nipples and whispering filth in his ear.

“Oh, baby, that’s it. Did he find your spot?”

“Yes, Daddy!” Will studied Duncan’s arm muscles flexing and tensing, sucking in shallow breaths.

A flick to the right nipple, and then the left. “Opening your legs for him so easily, like a shameless little fucking slut.”

“Oh, God, Nigel, please!” Will cried out.

Nigel didn’t let up. “You’re our little slut, aren’t you, baby doll?”

I am, I am… Yours, I’m all yours. “Yes, Daddy, I’m your slut…” He kept watching Duncan as he was penetrated with lidded eyes, and delighted in the shifting of his chest and torso muscles with each swift movement of his fingers. He gripped the hair over Duncan’s pecs to feel it rough and wiry against his palm. “Oh God…”

“Ask for another finger,” Nigel ordered.

Anything. Anything you want. “O-oh… Please, Duncan, can I have another…” When Duncan fulfilled his request, sliding his middle finger alongside his pointer and once more targeting Will’s g-spot, he let out another unabashed moan that echoed through the living room.

“That’s it, baby, let him know how good it feels,” Nigel encouraged, flicking each of his red nipples, and Will moaned again.

With two fingers inside him, the pressure against his spot was much more relentless, and wetness leaked out of him, further slicking the way for Duncan. He could hear squelching noises now as his fluid coated Duncan’s fingers, dripping down to dirty the cushion beneath Nigel’s jeans.

“H-holy fuck, that feels amazing, oh God,” Will rambled. He thought of all the times he’d been fingered-- most of the time, painfully hard, never precise, and sometimes the man would withdraw his hand to find it caked in blood. His g-spot was, for some reason, elusive to the men before, which now seemed completely fucking ridiculous as both Lecter brothers had navigated it with no effort. For a second, Will felt angry. Had he been cheated out of genuine pleasure his entire life?

Duncan leaned in, so Will did too, thoughts melting away. They kissed, and it was heated, sloppy, almost frantic. Will turned his head and kissed Nigel for good measure, and it was similarly messy.

“You feel so good,” Duncan mumbled against his face as Nigel kissed him. He was fingering him hard now, fucking both digits in and out, slamming his knuckles against Will’s pussy.

Will pulled away and gave one last peck to Nigel’s clenched jaw. “Oh God, I’m close,” he replied breathlessly.

The men said something to each other in Lithuanian, and suddenly, Will’s legs were being hoisted over his head, each brother gripping the crook of each knee. Nigel’s left thumb battled Duncan’s and won, flicking over his clit as Duncan slipped another finger inside, continuing his unforgiving pace, both brothers now working in tandem to bring Will to orgasm. And oh fuck, at this angle it took no effort for Duncan’s fingers to hit his g-spot. Will felt entirely exposed as his wetness mingled with the air of the living room, giving him the sensation of a slight breeze on his pussy, and Nigel was rubbing his clit faster, and faster, and faster. He clamped down on Duncan’s fingers, his clit was pulsing beneath Nigel’s thumb, and his thighs began to shake. It was all going to be over very, very soon.

“Come for us, baby, let us see,” Nigel growled.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m gonna squirt!” Will practically screamed, entire body tensing in preparation.

“Then squirt,” Duncan commanded, crooking his fingers to hit Will’s spot one final time.

“FUCK!” The force of Will’s orgasm almost unseated Duncan’s fingers; he clenched so tight that the elder Lecter had to be using some arm strength to stay inside.

Nigel kissed Will’s cheek and groaned, growling praises into his ear as he came. “Yeah, baby, fuck. Good boy. Let it out.” His thumb left his clit and his hand petted over Will’s stomach.

Meanwhile, Duncan grunted really loudly and let out a pained “Will…” like he’d just been stabbed in the gut. He kept his fingers inside for one, two bursts of liquid, and then pulled out to watch Will squirt into the open air, soiling the couch cushion, a little landing on the floor.

“Duncan, FUCK!” Will screamed, spasming like he was being fucking exorcised.

“Oh fuck,” the man responded, squeezing his leg hard. Will, through the haze of his tremendous orgasm, hoped he left bruises. 

Nigel was saying something too. “Holy fucking shit baby. Look at that. Fuck.”

“Fuck, oh FUCK!” Will repeated as one last gush of cum was expelled from his pulsating cunt, each brother gripping his legs to force them to remain open.

Nigel kissed his forehead, sticky from sweat and dried cum. “Good boy. Yeah, baby, good boy.”

As Will came down, more kisses and praises were lavished on him, the Lecters gently setting his legs down and enfolding him into their arms. Will shut his eyes and collapsed against them, racing heart slowing and ragged breathing evening out. He yawned and sighed into Duncan’s chest. That was the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, he thought distantly.

“We tire you out?” Nigel chuckled and kissed the top of his head, ruffling his hair.

Will nodded and yawned again, melting into the couch. He felt… liquid, like a puddle. Like a drunk, very sleepy puddle. “Stay with me,” he requested, feeling frail, vulnerable, needy, and not embarrassed in the least.

“Sweet little thing,” Nigel complimented as Duncan’s big palm once again landed on his knee and gave it a squeeze. “Where else would we go?”

One of them pulled a blanket over him, although Will wasn’t quite sure who. The three men breathed collectively, chests rising and falling like the ominous ebb and flow of waves just before high tide, and Will lost track of where he ended and where the Lecter brothers began. Sprawled out and interlaced in one another, sweat and shared body heat tainting the air, forming a protective canopy around them, they morphed into one fervid, magnificent, terrifying beast.

A promise uttered earlier, in the heat of the moment, lingered in the air like gunshot smoke.

We’re going to take care of you.

They all fell asleep like that; sweaty, weary, sex-drunk and tangled up on the couch, limbs heavy and heads full of the knowledge that whatever the hell this was, it had only just begun.

Chapter Text

Boy, I know you can’t help but to be yourself around me

Yourself around me

And I know nobody’s perfect so I’ll let you be

I’ll let you be

It’s the way you wear your emotions on both of your sleeves

To the face you make when I tell you that I have to leave

But I like it, baby…

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Post-nut clarity was a motherfucker.

When Will woke up, he could barely fucking move. His ass was throbbing. His thighs were shaking. And his pussy was so sore.

He hadn’t been this sore in a long time. Better get used to it, gorgeous, Nigel had said the night before, and he hadn’t been kidding… between Nigel’s massive dick and Duncan’s persistent fingers, he felt thoroughly used, and was pretty sure that if he tried to stand up right then, he’d fall flat on his face.

Not that he wanted to get up anyway. He was pressed against Nigel’s big, fuzzy chest, listening to his steady heartbeat and soft snores. He wiped away an embarrassing trail of his own drool between Nigel’s pecs and yawned, gazing up at him and snuggling closer.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling glass, warming Will’s skin and illuminating Nigel, who looked even more beautiful in the soft light of morning. He seemed so serene curled up on the couch, an arm slung over Will’s shoulders, lips slightly parted and eyelids flickering. Soft. Unguarded. Utterly stunning. Will wondered how many others had seen him like this.

Probably not many, if any. Like Will, he no doubt had frequent hookups, and not a lot of sleepovers. Like Will, he enjoyed a quick fuck, but preferred to keep people at a distance, and never invited them into his own space. Which was just as well, because Will might’ve had to murder anyone else who got to see Nigel this vulnerable.

Will pressed a lingering kiss to his collarbone, and the man stirred. A deep sigh rumbled in his big chest, and his eyes cracked open, adjusting to the light of early day.

His gaze landed on Will, a warmth in his eyes that rivaled the sunbeams hitting his face. “Morning, gorgeous,” he murmured, ruffling Will’s hair, and God… his morning voice was deliciously similar to his sex voice, deep, gravelly, accent thick. I want to spend every morning with you, Will thought.

“Mornin’,” he said instead, yawning. He turned to his side, expecting to find the other brother asleep next to him. But the couch was empty.

He frowned and sat up. “Where’s Duncan?”

Nigel just shrugged, like it was a regular occurrence for the man to disappear without a word. “He goes out of town for work a lot. He’ll be back, gorgeous, don’t worry.”

Will tried to hide his disappointment. He’d secretly been looking forward to spending the morning with both brothers, talking and drinking coffee and fooling around. He wondered distantly what could be so important that Duncan had to get up and rush off so early in the day, without even a kiss goodbye… and wait, didn’t he work at the club?

“He has another job on the side,” Nigel clarified when Will asked. “Kind of an on-call sort of thing.”

There was a beat of silence. Will squinted. “And you’re not gonna tell me what it is.”

Nigel, for some reason, looked reluctant to tell him. “You’re smart, baby, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Why was he being so cryptic? “What is he, a hitman or something?”

Nigel huffed a nervous laugh. “Shit. I didn’t think you’d get it on the first guess.”

Right. “Ha-ha, very funny. Seriously, though, I wanna know.”

Nigel just stared at him. Oh?

Oh my God. “You can’t be serious.”

Nigel looked serious. “I mean, he prefers the term assassin.” Oh my fucking GOD.

Will gave him the opportunity to deny it one more time. “You’re joking.” Don’t play with my emotions like that.

But Nigel insisted. “I’m not, darling.”

Will tried very hard to breathe regularly while he processed this new information. It had been obvious that Duncan had something going on, based on the scars that covered his body, not to mention his hard, ruthless exterior. But to hear, out loud, that he killed people on a regular basis, that he did it for a living, was beyond overwhelming. And arousing. Will wondered if he preferred to do it with guns or with his hands. Hands, I bet.

Yeah, fuck, Will could imagine him killing with his hands. Snapping necks. Breaking bones. Strangling his victims without so much as a flinch.

Will felt his heart rate pick up. Duncan hunted, like Will hunted. Delivered justice, like Will delivered justice. This was it; there was no going back after this. He was never going to let these brothers go.

Nigel cleared his throat, and Will realized that he’d been silent for a while. “Are you mad, baby?”

Will’s heart was going to leap out of his chest. “Mad? No, no, not at all.” I’m fucking turned on.

Nigel looked at him in hopeful disbelief. “Really?”

“Really.” Will climbed into his lap and looped his arms around his neck, kissing his cheek in reassurance. “I can’t say I’m surprised. He’s pretty banged up.”

“Yeah.” Nigel’s hands came to rest on his waist, and there was that soft, easy smile again. “He’s been doing it for a really long time, all over the world. Likes to tell people he’s ‘in the funeral business.’ Thinks he’s being cheeky.”

Will giggled. “That sounds like a line from a really shitty action movie.”

Nigel chuckled back, squeezing his hips. “Be sure to tell him that when he gets back, gorgeous, I’m sure he’ll get a kick out of it.”

“Y’know, if you… do something similar, you can tell me. I won’t be mad. Or scared.” Will nuzzled his nose in encouragement.

He felt Nigel stiffen under him, and his eyes went somewhere Will couldn’t follow. Come back. “Well… I used to move, back in Bucharest. Big time. I don’t anymore.”

“Move what?” Not unexpected, but there was something Nigel wasn’t revealing. Bad memories. Maybe there had been something, someone, and it had gone wrong? Was that why he’d moved here?

“Mostly blow. Sometimes smack.”

“Smack. That’s heroin, right?”

“That’s right. Look at you, baby.”

“And that’s it.”

Nigel swallowed. “That’s it.” You’re lying to me. Why are you lying to me?

That was okay. If Nigel wasn’t going to tell him, that was fine; whatever it was would come out, whether he wanted it to or not. Will would pry it from him eventually. “I’m glad you don’t do that anymore,” he said, content, for now, to let it lie.

Nigel seemed relieved and jumped at the chance to change the subject. “So Duncan killing people is fine, but drugs are where you draw the line? Sort of a fucked up moral compass, baby.”

Will wanted to laugh. If only you knew… “I assume the people Duncan kills have it coming. Drugs kill regardless.”

“I mean, he’s not exactly a vigilante. He’s killed innocent people before. On accident, but still.”

The fuck? “Sorry, but how the hell do you kill someone on accident?”

“Don’t ask me, gorgeous, that’s the only information he’s ever volunteered to me about it.”

Will sighed. “So I’m dating a former drug pusher and his brother, the hitman. Sorry, assassin.”

“Not just any assassin, baby, the best in the world. He even has a nickname.”

“Oh?”

“The Black Kaiser.”

Will snorted. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, I think it’s a little fruity too, but what are you gonna do.”

“Did you have a nickname, too?” Will teased.

“Nah, baby, I wasn’t that special. He’s the tops. He’s had clients that were presidents, diplomats, crime lords, you name it.”

He’s good at it. He’s really good at it. Oh God. “Hitman to the stars.”

“Exactly.”

“I think it’s pretty hot, honestly.” Fuck, did I really just say that? Will wanted to smack himself.

But Nigel seemed to be into it. His hands moved to Will’s ass and squeezed. “Yeah? Shit, baby. Maybe I should start killing people.”

Oh my God. Am I dreaming?  “Mmmm. Maybe you should.” Will giggled.

“I’ve done it before,” Nigel said in his ear.

Oh FUCK. Will’s pussy was becoming very interested in the conversation. He tried to act curious rather than over the fucking moon. “Yeah? I’d like to see that,” he purred. These men are your soulmates, his brain roared.

Nigel gave him a searching look, like he was seeing him for the first time. “Shit. You’re pretty wild, huh?”

“Yeah,” Will breathed. Hunt with me. Hunt with me. Hunt with me, his mind chanted.

“I like that,” Nigel admitted, squeezing his ass harder. “I like that a lot, baby. Fuck, I love--” he stopped himself, and the hands left Will’s ass. And just like that, the intensity of the moment was broken, like a burst balloon.

Oh shit. Was he about to say what Will thought he was about to say?

“Uh.” Nigel cleared his throat. His tone changed. “I promised you breakfast, didn’t I?”

Screw breakfast, Will meant to say. I want to talk about this. I want you to finish your sentence. I want you to tell me you love me, that you’d kill for me, and then fuck me into the couch.

“You did,” he said instead.

What was left unsaid hovered in the air between them, and Nigel had to look away from him. Why can’t you just let yourself go? Can’t you see how much I want you, all the damn time?

“What do you want?” Nigel asked.

Breakfast. Just focus on breakfast. “I could fuck up some pancakes right now.” Don’t push him. He’s not ready. The idea that someone could actually know him, see him, love him, fucking terrifies him. Will could definitely identify with that feeling.

A curl was brushed behind his ear. “Bacon? Eggs?”

Will leaned into his palm and smiled up at him. “Do you even gotta ask?”

And there was that wide grin again. I want you to always look at me like that. “How do you like ‘em?”

“Eggs over easy. Bacon extra crisp.”

“Coffee?”

“Black.”

“Done. Give me forty-five minutes, gorgeous.”

And of course the fucking pancakes were heart-shaped. Will destroyed his breakfast in five minutes, gulped down the rich, strong coffee with a moan while Nigel watched with a smug smile.

“Why was that so fucking good?” Will asked when he was done, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Goddamn.”

“I picked up a few tricks from my brother. The other one, not Duncan.”

“A doctor, a chef, and he’s royalty. No offense, but I’m starting to think you’re making him up.”

Nigel laughed at that. “Oh, he’s very real, and he’s very fucking weird, darling.”

Will shrugged. “It’s fine to be weird. I’m weird. You’re definitely weird.” He bopped his boyfriend’s nose with a finger. Nigel scrunched his face and bit at it playfully, then tickled Will’s ribs. Will screamed and swatted his hands away, laughing.

Nigel hummed and kissed him. “If I’m weird, baby, then he’s a fucking alien.”

Will giggled and settled into his embrace, pliant from the sudden tickle attack. “What’s his name?”

“Hannibal.”

And then he couldn’t stop laughing. “Yeah, okay, that’s fucking weird.”

“Told you.” Nigel tucked a curl behind Will’s ear and leaned in for a kiss.

Will kissed him back, letting Nigel cuddle him and feel him up, and now suddenly felt like the perfect time to ask the question that terrified him, the question that Will wouldn’t dare to ask any other man he’d been with. “Can I ask you something?”

Nigel bristled, and he looked a little wary, but he still said, “Of course, angel. You can always ask me anything. Always.”

Will took a deep breath. “Before me, have you ever fucked a trans guy? Sorry, I know this is kind of out of nowhere.”

He felt Nigel relax into the couch, and that smile was back. “Don’t be sorry, baby, it’s a valid question. And no, I haven’t.”

Okay… “Have you fucked a cis guy?”

“Plenty of those. Plenty of cis women too. A few trans women.”

So he’s been with another trans person, at least. Thank God. “Okay. Just wondering. Thanks for answering.”

“Of course, baby. Why, what’s up?”

How do I explain this to him without making it sound like I hate cis men? “Just, some cis guys are like… weirdly fetishy about it. Especially if they’ve only ever been with cis women before. Or, if they’ve only ever been with other cis men, they can be… degrading. Transphobic. That’s all.”

Nigel didn’t seem concerned about the potential generalization, and even encouraged it. “I’m sorry we’re so disgusting. It honestly fuckin’ appalls me, baby.”

Will laughed at that. “Wow. Yeah, uh, me too. You guys suck sometimes. A lot, actually.” This one is a keeper, though. “But I like you. You’re not disgusting.” He leaned in for a kiss.

Nigel accepted with a low hum. “I’m flattered, darling. I do have a fetish for you, though. You make me so fucking hot… Before I met you, I only ever beat off to your videos, and now… I haven’t fucked like this since I was a goddamn teenager.”

There was no way that was true. The man fucked like a goddamn pornstar. Will gave him a disbelieving look. “Really? I don’t believe that. You have amazing stamina. Like… amazing .”

His boyfriend, in response, kissed over the purple hickey he’d left on Will’s neck the night before. “You brought it out of me, baby. I don’t know where it came from.”

Will felt a stirring where his bare pussy rested against Nigel’s jeans, and suddenly he was very, very horny. “Shit.” He sighed, beginning to undulate his hips and biting his lip at Nigel’s soft grunt. “I really wanna ride you right now. Can I ride you?”

Nigel groaned and squeezed his hips, and Will knew the deal was sealed. “Fuck,” the man cursed, sucking in a sharp breath. “Sure, baby, go ahead. Just take it easy on me, yeah?”

Will did not take it easy on him.

Granted, he needed a few moments to adjust to the man’s sheer size-- he’d felt huge inside him last night, and he felt even bigger when Will sat on him, buried as deep as he possibly could be, stretching his walls wide and nudging his cervix. Yeah, it took a minute, but he breathed through it, reminded himself that he was a pro at this, and rolled his hips experimentally. That felt fucking great, so he did it faster, then faster, then faster, feeling thankful that the couch was bolted to the living room floor. The leather of its cushions squeaked as Will moved his hips, the sound of Nigel sliding in and out was fucking addictive, and sweat built between the two men as they panted and cursed and kissed. This continued for a few excruciating minutes; then, Will turned around, sank down onto Nigel, and did it like that, ass bouncing in his face as he moved up and down on his dick. And Nigel definitely appreciated the view, muttering low praises that only spurred Will on.

“Ohhhh fuck. Look at that ass. Beautiful, baby. Fucking gorgeous. God fucking damn.”

“So big,” Will moaned. He definitely had the hang of it now, and he began to twerk enthusiastically.

“Oh fuck, babydoll.” Nigel pulled out and smacked his wet cock against his ass, continuing to compliment him. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever fuckin’ seen in my life.”

“Fuck,” Will giggled. “Put it back in.”

Nigel obliged, and Will twerked on the tip, then took him all the way, rolling his hips at a brutal pace. “Mmmm, yeah.”

“Fuuuuuck. Tight little cunt,” he heard Nigel mumble behind him. “So fucking sexy, baby.”

In the end, it only took five minutes for Nigel to cum, right after holding Will through a shaky orgasm. He filled Will to the brim, only pulling out when he was done to watch his seed leak out of his boy’s well-fucked pussy.

Yeah, Will wanted every morning to be just like this.

Will didn’t bother to clean himself up, just turned around and straddled Nigel’s lap once again, kissing him on the cheek with a giggle. “That was great. Thanks for that.”

Cum leaked out of him and onto Nigel’s softening cock, and the older man groaned. “Are you kidding? Thank you, baby. God, you’re so fucking good at that. I could watch you shake your ass on me all fucking day.”

Will agreed wholeheartedly, thinking to himself that this was their best position yet. It was like every time they had sex, it got better, and better, and better. “God, I could do that all day, Daddy. You feel amazing like that, so fucking big inside me… I love it. I love having sex with you.”

“You know I love it too. God, you’re so perfect. Fucking perfect.” Nigel pulled him in for a kiss, slipping his tongue inside Will’s mouth with a moan, then whispering, “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

“Daddy,” Will responded, pulling him in for another kiss. And another. And another.

They made out on the couch for a few more minutes, tongues colliding and cum drying between them, and Will couldn’t remember ever being this happy. I love you, he sent telepathically to Nigel while they kissed. I love you.

They cuddled in blissful, companionable silence after that, and Will tucked the moment away in his mind palace, where it would be lovingly preserved forever.

Slowly, the day crept in, and when Will looked at the ticking clock on the mantelpiece, it was ten-thirty. He wanted to run away from every responsibility and stay in Nigel’s arms until he rotted and died, but he also wanted to go home and shower and put on fresh clothes, and-- fuck. Beverly.

“Shit, I should go. Bev is probably wondering where I am.”

Nigel looked absolutely deflated. “Do you have to?”

We both have abandonment issues. Great. He kissed the man’s cheek in reassurance, and he brightened a little. “Trust me, I really, really don’t want to. But yeah, I should go.”

Nigel sighed. “Alright, gorgeous. Suppose I owe her a big thank you for bringing you to me, don’t I?”

That brought a grin to Will’s face. “Suppose you do.”

Eventually, Will found his clothes, scattered in various states around the living room and kitchen. When he was dressed, Nigel walked him to the door, and they both lingered, reluctant to say goodbye.

“When can I see you again?” Nigel asked, handing Will his flannel and bag, snaking an arm around his waist.

Will tucked his head against the older man’s chest. “Wanna take me out Friday night?”

“That’s so far away,” Nigel complained.

“It’s two days away, Nigel.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

Jesus, he’s like a golden retriever. “Uh, sleeping in my own bed.”

Nigel sighed again, warm breath breezing through Will’s curls. “Okay, gorgeous. Friday it is.”

“Friday,” Will promised.

Nigel opened the door for him, and wind burst into the foyer. “It’s pretty cold. You want to borrow a jacket?”

Will grinned. “Smooth. Sure, Daddy.”

Nigel groaned and rubbed his face in frustration. “You wanna leave anytime soon, gorgeous, you better stop calling me that.”

“Sorry,” Will said with a giggle, not sorry in the least.

He let Nigel drape a big leather jacket over his shoulders. The sleeves went past his hands, the hem went past his hips, and Will was loving every moment of it. Beneath the smell of worn leather was Nigel’s familiar musk, and Will almost fainted.

“Thank you, Nigel,” Will said bashfully, stepping onto the porch before remembering there was one last question he had yet to ask. “When do you want me to start, by the way?”

Nigel squinted. “Start what?”

“Um. Work.”

“Shit. Right. That.” Nigel rubbed his face. “Whenever you want, doll. How many nights a week do you want?”

Damn, just like that? Well, if he could choose…

Will loved dancing. He really did. But it took so much out of him, mentally, physically, and emotionally, even when men weren’t complete fucking sleazeballs. At Chilton’s, he’d been dancing four nights a week, and that had definitely taken a toll. It might be nice to take it easy for a while, especially if he wanted to spend more time with Nigel and Duncan… “Maybe just one or two at first. Is that alright?”

“More than alright, baby. You can dance as little or as often as you want. Why don’t you start next week? Sound good?”

“Sounds good.” He stepped forward onto his tiptoes and kissed his boyfriend again.

Nigel squeezed his waist. “Put my number in your phone before you go.”

“I already have your number in my bag, remember?”

“I just… please.”

There’s no way this man was insecure, not after all that had happened between them. “You seriously think I’m not gonna call you? I’m not a heartless bitch.”

Nigel didn’t smile at his joke. “It’s not you, baby, I promise.” He’s been hurt before. He’s only ever been hurt.

Will squeezed his bicep, hand barely covering half of it. He didn’t ask him to explain, just smiled and nodded. He opened his phone, fished the half-smoked cigarette out of his tote bag, and copied the number on it into a new contact. “I’ll call you right now so you have me, okay?”

Nigel seemed appreciative. His cute smile was back. “Yeah, baby, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Sure.” Will called him, then hung up. “You got it?”

Nigel took out his phone. “Got it.” He pecked Will on the cheek. “Can I text you later?”

“‘Course you can. I love-- I mean, uh, bye, um, I’ll see you later.” Fuck. You fucking idiot.

Nigel looked thrilled that he’d almost let one slip, and Will blushed. I guess we’re even now, he thought before he gave Nigel one last parting kiss.

There was no greater joy in Will’s life than gossipping with Beverly Katz. He couldn’t wait to get home and tell her absolutely everything.

When he arrived, she was vacuuming the living room. As soon as he turned the lock and walked through the door, he was being bombarded with questions.

“Heeeey,” she sing-songed, turning off the vacuum and abandoning it on the floor. “How was your night? Was dinner good? Oh my God, is that his jacket? And is that a HICKEY???”

“Yes, yes and yes. And it was… Jesus, Bev, that man fucks like a horse. And did you know he lives in a fucking mansion?”

She whistled. “No, I did not know that. I mean, I knew he was rich, but damn.”

“It’s his older brother’s place, apparently. He’s a Duke or something, so he’s fucking loaded.”

“Damn. Is he single?”

“Beverly. You’re a lesbian.”

“I meant for you, duh.”

“Right.”

“You couldn’t pay me any amount of money to suck a dick. I’m sorry.”

“Not even a million dollars?”

“Okay, maybe for a million dollars. Anyway, I’m staying over at Margot’s tonight. Please, please don’t eat my garlic bread. Please, Will.”

“Oh my God, Bev, that was ONE TIME. Let it go.”

“I WILL NOT. It was clearly labeled!”

“And I was fucking hungry!”

She let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed her forehead. “Seriously, though, Will, are you alright? I can stay here tonight, if you need me to.”

“Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

“...What happened with Chilton.”

Fuck. That. “Oh. Yeah. I’m fine. I’m over it.”

“It’s been two days. You can’t possibly be over it.”

Jesus. It really only had been two days, hadn’t it? So much had happened since then, everything in Will’s life was different… And the police had no doubt found Chilton’s body by now. Shit. Shitshitshit. At least Bev hadn’t seen any news of the murder. Will silently thanked God for that. “It’s nothing compared to--” he cleared his throat. “You know. Actually being assaulted.”

“Will, attempted rape can be just as traumatizing. You know that.”

“Can you not say that word, please? Bev, I’m fine. Let’s drop it.”

“I’m just worried about you, okay? You can’t blame me for that. I’m your best friend.”

“I’m not blaming you for anything. I just really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Listen, I talked to my old friend Alana on the phone yesterday, do you remember her?”

Oh no. Where the hell was this going? “I remember your old fuck buddy Alana, yes.”

“Well she has a slot open for a new patient.”

Fucking therapy? “Bev. No fucking way.”

“She’s really sweet, Will, I think you’d really like her. She wouldn’t try to pick you apart, I promise.”

She was serious, wasn’t she? Maybe she didn’t know him as well as he’d thought. “No.”

She was nothing if not fucking persistent. “You need to talk to someone about what happened, Will.”

Will laughed mirthlessly. “No, I really don’t.”

“Well I already told her you were coming in Saturday morning. And before you make some bullshit excuse about not wanting to pay for it, I took care of it. So be nice. Okay?”

Fuck my life. “Are you serious? Bev, why the fuck would you do that?”

“Because I want you to be okay, you fucking idiot. Actually okay. Not I-don’t-need-anyone-to-take-care-of-me okay.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me. And you know how I feel about therapists.”

“She’s a psychiatrist, actually.”

“Oh great. Even fucking better. I’m not going, Bev, I’m sorry. I love you, and I appreciate the concern, I really do, but no. Fuck no.”

“Okay, I didn’t want to have to do this, but. Fire Island.”

Fuck. Is she serious? “No.”

“Yes.”

“NO, Bev.”

“YES, Will. FIRE ISLAND. You fucking owe me.”

…He did owe her, didn’t he?

He recalled that week in New York. The two of them had gone for Will’s twenty-first birthday… and what a birthday it had been. He’d met a hot older guy at a gay bar in the Village, and he’d whisked Will off to Fire Island for a weekend of clubbing, drugs, drunk beach sex, and orgies with other random men. One night in particular was one of Will’s best memories-- getting gangbanged by a group of guys (he could never pin down an exact number) inside the island’s orgy house; tied up, blindfolded, and fucked by cock after cock until he’d passed out. He’d woken up hours later, and he was still being fucked, in his pussy and his ass at the same time by two men he didn’t know.

Yeah, it was definitely the best time of his life, before Nigel and Duncan. But he’d completely abandoned Beverly, and, in retrospect, been a really shitty friend. He’d done the walk of shame all the way back to Manhattan-- well, first the ferry ride of shame, then the Long Island Railroad ride of shame, then the subway ride of shame, and then the walk of shame-- and when he’d gotten back to their AirBnb, all she’d said was, “You owe me. Big time.”

That was two years ago. She’d never threatened him with it before. And now, apparently, this was the favor she wanted from him. Going to therapy. “You’re using it now?”

“Yes. Yes I am. And you’re going.”

She really was worried about him, wasn’t she? “Well fuck. I guess I am.”

“Do it for my sake, alright?”

She’s right. Just do it for her peace of mind. You don’t even have to talk to Alana, just show up and tell her you went. “Fine. Whatever,” he grumbled.

Bev looked very grateful, and Will felt a little guilty. She was such a good friend to him, and he was always keeping shit from her. It was hard, but he’d hidden his quirky little habit of murdering men for so long, and he wasn’t about to give up now. Not for Frederick fucking Chilton.

“Thank you thank you thank you,” she said, giving him a suffocating hug. “And I’m glad you had a good night. You deserve it.”

Will was glad they were talking about this again. He needed to vent about everything that had happened with Nigel… and Duncan. “He asked me to be his boyfriend.”

Bev looked completely taken aback. “He what? On the first date? What did you say?”

“Uh.”

“Oh, Will!” she squealed, grabbing his hands and spinning him around. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do… it’s weird.”

“Weird? It’s wonderful! Will Graham has a boyfriend. Oooh, we should go on double dates!”

“I’m also kind of, uh…” Oh God, here it comes. “Seeing his brother too.”

“WHAT? The Duke?!?”

“No, he has a second brother.”

She gasped dramatically. “Wait. Oh my God. Are you talking about Duncan? From the club?”

“Shit. I forgot you know him. Yeah, he was there last night and… uh… well…” Will made a waving gesture with his hand.

“Will, you WHORE!” She screamed. “Did you FUCK HIM?”

“No, I just sorta… sucked them both off at the same time. And then they both… y’know, did some stuff for me.” Oh God, I am a whore.

“Damn, that’s even nastier than sex. Was it good?”

Will sighed, trying very hard not to give in to the flashbacks… Nigel fucking him in the kitchen, holding him by the hair; Will on his knees between him and Duncan, their cum all over his face; dancing for them and getting fingered on the couch, squirting on Duncan’s hand… “Yeah, um, it was… incredible. Like, really, really, really good.”

“Oh yeah? Was it really really really good?” Bev teased.

Will blushed. “Shut up.”

She just snickered. “How the hell did this all happen since five p.m. last night? Like, I literally just saw you, and now you have two boyfriends.”

Will wasn’t sure what to say to that, besides I don’t know how this happened either. He settled on, “We were up pretty late.”

Bev shook her head and crossed her arms. “Yeah. Wow. Alright. Like, as used as I am to your crazy sexcapades, this kind of takes the cake.”

“It’s not just sex this time. I think it’s… more. A lot more.”

“With both of them?”

“With both of them.”

She beamed at him and elbowed him in the side playfully. “Well shit, Will. I’m happy for you.”

Will smiled back, almost giddy. “Thanks, beautiful. You and Margot have anything fun planned tonight? You bringing the sex backpack?”

“Ugh, SHUT UP! It’s a lesbian thing. Alright, I’m gonna go. Byeeeee. And--”

“Don’t eat your garlic bread. Yup, got it.”

After Bev left, a few hours passed quietly. Will made a new video of himself, bored and hoping to catch Nigel’s attention. It was him, in his room, on his bed, twerking to a Megan song, his red, well-spanked ass in the camera’s face, a black g-string barely covering his pussy. He posted it to his OnlyFans, deciding on the perfect caption to rile his boyfriend up.

Daddy got me real good… Who wants to spank it next?

He smirked at the likes and comments that immediately flooded in, opening a bag of chips and scrolling through them.

Shit moves like water…

God you make me so fucking hard

ME ME ME ME ME

TAKE THE THONG OFF 😩😩😩💦💦💦

I’m literally in love with you holy shit

Wanna see you take a bbc

DM me pls, I’ll spank u so hard

I want to use a paddle on u

Just busted to this

I can’t believe you’re real

This would be even better with a butt plug 🤤🤤

GYATTTTTTT DAMN 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Your pussy is perfect

Whoever got his hands on that ass is so fucking lucky

Please DM me I have an 8 inch

Do u like Italian guys

Those handprints are so sexy baby

🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Please do another gangbang

Fuck look at that ass, please message me I want to spank you and torture you with a vibrator

I came in ten seconds

Daddy???? Please don’t say you have a boyfriend now I’ll kms

Wanna nut all over that fat ass

😵💫😵💫😵💫

Do you want a sugar daddy I can fly you out to NYC

Damn baby that ass 😮💨

I thought I was straight before you

DM me my bf and I want you as our third

PING! $10 donation!

PING! $50 donation!

PING! Someone purchased something from your wishlist!

PING! $100 donation!

Will turned the notifications off and tossed his phone onto his bed, beginning his bedtime routine of getting absolutely stupidly high.

His smoking habit had started out as just that; a way to curb his frequent nightmares, the ones that featured blood and gore and corpses and men writhing on top of him. And then it had slowly morphed into a way to tolerate being awake as well. He wasn’t sure he’d gone even a day without smoking since before he became friends with Bev… and that was five years ago.

But, shit, who could blame him? Weed was basically a cure-all. When he had nightmares, he smoked. When he was anxious, he smoked. When he was sad, he smoked. When he was bored, he smoked. On the rare occasions when he was happy, he smoked. And when he was freaking out because he was falling in love with two men twice his age? He smoked. He smoked until he was numb again.

He watched TV for a while, a cold case documentary that would’ve been interesting if he hadn’t been able to guess the murderer within the first five minutes. When he checked his phone again, there was a text from Nigel.

nigel🖤: Hey gorgeous. Just saw your new video. You trying to fucking kill me?

Will giggled, heart rate picking up as he composed a text back.

My iPhone: hiii daddy. yep that’s the goal ;)

nigel🖤: You don’t actually talk to these idiots in the comments, right?

My iPhone: no don’t worry i disabled dms a long time ago

nigel🖤: Ok good. I came all over myself in case you were fucking wondering.

My iPhone: oh yeah? pics or it didn’t happen

A picture message immediately popped up; Nigel’s delicious bare chest on display, spent cock curved against his stomach, semen running down his length and onto his balls. Oh my fucking God.

nigel🖤: This is what you do to me, baby.

My iPhone: 😍😍😍😍😍😍

My iPhone: god you’re so fucking hot… wish i was there to lick it all up

nigel🖤: Come over baby, I want to hear your cute little moans again

nigel🖤: Let Daddy eat you out and then fucking pound that pussy

nigel🖤: Been thinking about what you taste like all fucking day, want to bury my face in that sweet little cunt

My iPhone: oh god daddy yes i want it so b--

There was a sharp knock at the apartment door. What the hell? Why? It was almost eleven. Who the fuck could it be?

My iPhone: ughhhhh there’s someone knocking at my door, brb

nigel🖤: Fucking cockblock

nigel🖤: Don’t be long, gorgeous.

My iPhone: i won’t daddy💓💋

Will threw on a robe and shuffled out into the hallway, bracing himself for unexpected human interaction. You are fine, he told himself. You are SOBER. He opened the door.

And of course it was a fucking cop.

“Will Graham?”

Oh no. Shit. Shit. Shitshitshit. “That’s me.”

He flashed his badge. “Detective Bobby Bronson. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Please God no. “What is this about, Officer?”

“I’m investigating the murder of a local strip club owner. Frederick Chilton. You were one of his dancers, correct?” FUCK. FUCK MY FUCKING LIFE.

ACT SURPRISED, YOU IDIOT. “What? I’m sorry, he was murdered?”

The cop nodded. “Yes. His throat was slashed.”

Nice one, you fucking dumbass. “What the fuck? Oh my God.”

He looked skeptical, to say the least. Will wished he didn’t reek of weed. “I just have a few questions for you about that night. Can I come in?” His eyes roved over Will’s form, lingering on the peeks of bare skin from beneath his robe.

Well, there was no way out of this one. But he was shamelessly checking Will out, and he could definitely bank on that. He didn’t really want to, but it was his most reliable tactic… Distract him. CHARM HIM.

Like a reflex, Will looked up at the man from under his lashes, bit his lip, and turned on his sex voice. “Of course, Officer,” he purred. “Anything to help.”

Chapter Text

Everybody knows that I'm a good girl, officer

No, I wouldn't do a thing like that, that's for sure

The house was already on fire, I swear I'm not a liar

Well, I'm a little shaken, but I'm fine, thanks for asking

Tell me, do you always work alone so late?

Gosh, I'm a little shy standing here in my nightgown

Do you really have to put those tight handcuffs on?

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Detective Bronson sauntered into Will’s apartment like he owned the place, and like he owned Will, eyeing him up with a ferocious glint in his eye. “Got a beer?” he asked, and his voice was lower than it had been in the doorway.

Will batted his eyelashes a little, pitched his voice higher, acted younger than he was. “Yes, Sir.”

He rushed to the kitchen, opened a beer, fished his phone from the pocket of his robe, and composed a necessary text to Nigel. He’d never really felt one way or the other about lying to anyone before, save Bev on occasion, but right now it was the absolute last thing in the world he wanted to do. Nigel didn’t deserve deception and half-truths, didn’t deserve the version of Will everybody else saw.

If he didn’t text Nigel, though, he knew what would happen. It would be too easy for him to find Will’s address if he wanted to. And Will could not risk him stumbling in on something he shouldn’t.

So he used Bev as an excuse not to come over, citing relationship problems with Margot, saying she needed his support, that he was really sorry, that he’d make it up to him. After reassuring Nigel a few times that yes, he was alright, Bev had just ordered pizza and that was who was at the door, he seemed to buy it. They said goodnight, and Will sent him ten kissy face emojis.

“That beer in fuckin’ Antarctica or somethin’?” The detective said, a tinge of irritation in his voice as he strolled into Will’s kitchen.

Will slipped his phone back into his robe pocket. “Sorry. Here you go, Detective,” he said sweetly, handing over the opened bottle.

The man took it and brushed Will’s fingers, gazing at him with that hardened, tortured look on his face. Will bit his lip. It’s annoying that you’re actually kind of attractive. Really fucking attractive.

“Thanks, kid. You wanna sit in the living room?” He took a swig of beer, and his jean jacket opened a little to reveal a gun sitting snug in the holster at his hip. Fuck, he’s sexy. I feel like I’ve watched at least ten pornos like this.

Tease him. “I should change into some clothes first, sorry, I, um… wasn’t expectin’ company tonight.”

“Don’t,” Detective Bronson blurted immediately, then caught himself and cleared his throat. “I mean, uh… What you have on is fine.”

Oh, he wants it bad. Will smiled. “Okay, Sir.”

They sat on opposite ends of the couch, and Will gave himself five minutes to close the gap.

Detective Bronson was still looking him up and down, drinking slowly. “Mmm, this is good,” he said, and Will wasn’t entirely sure he was talking about the beer. When he caught the man eyeing the bare skin of his thigh, he cleared his throat again and put on a voice that told Will he meant business. “So, about Chilton--”

“I just can’t believe he’s dead. It’s so sad. And murder? Who would go and do somethin’ like that? It don’t make no sense.” If there was one thing Will knew how to do, it was play up the whole ditzy Southern belle thing for a guy.

The detective, however, did not look convinced. “Uh huh. Listen, kid, I’ll cut straight to the point. Your… DNA… was all over the crime scene, so there’s no point in trying to deny it. We know you killed your boss. Normally, I’d just bring you down to the station, but since I’m a nice guy, I thought I’d extend you the courtesy of having the opportunity to explain yourself.”

Well that was just great. He had left the crime scene a mess, in his cathartic euphoria at finally getting his revenge on Chilton. And now he was paying for it. DNA doesn’t lie.

But wait a minute. Detectives have partners. Where’s his?

There was a split second where Will thought the guy may have planned this. Get Will alone, catch him off guard, and take advantage of him. Which was a little worrying but also very funny. Will sighed. There was only one way to know.

He reluctantly used his empathy to see into Bobby’s mind, closing his eyes and taking him in, the events of the past five minutes whirring by like a movie, only this time, he was Bobby. He felt shock, arousal, and the fog of alcohol wash over him. When it was over, he opened his eyes.

His partner’s out following a lead on another case. He has no idea what he was walking into coming here, hasn’t even done any research on you, certainly never bothered to look up a picture, and he can’t believe his luck. And that beer is his seventh drink of the day.

He hadn’t planned this. He was going to the top suspect’s apartment with no information on him, late at night, alone and clearly drunk. He wasn’t a cunning predator, he was just a shitty detective. It was all going to be very simple.

Will decided to cook up a self-defense plea. Chilton had tried to assault him, after all, and it would take no effort to portray himself as a naive, defenseless victim who had miraculously gained the upper hand over his potential rapist. People loved a sob story like that, especially if it came from a dainty, effeminate white guy, and this detective probably thought he was just some bimbo stripper who couldn’t defend himself. He knew what he looked like; on the outside, he was the perfect victim, and he’d be damned if he didn’t have the foresight to use it to his advantage.

“I didn’t plan to do it. He was gonna rape me,” Will said, deliberately demure and soft-spoken. “I choked him when he was… you know. Down there.”

The detective sipped from his beer again, unaffected. Callous. “If you’re going the self-defense route, it won’t hold up in court. You choked him and then slit his throat when he was unconscious.” Great bedside manner there, Bronson.

Will furrowed his brows and made his eyes go big like he was a confused little boy. “I’m sorry, Officer, I didn’t know,” he said, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. “He was gonna hurt me, I tried to fight him off, but I couldn’t, he was so much bigger, and then he started, y’know, puttin’ his mouth on me, and I… I didn’t know what else to do…” The fake tears came then, easy as breathing. A few soft whimpers for good measure, and the detective caved.

He scooted closer, put a big hand on Will’s shoulder, and squeezed, a need to placate colliding with a glaringly obvious desire to touch him. He rubbed his hand in small little circles, made a shushing noise with his mouth. “Shhhh. Hey, kid, it’s okay, it’s okay. You’re okay. I believe you.”

Sucker.

“I didn’t know I’d get in trouble. I’m not gonna go to jail, am I?” Will pitched his voice a little higher, wiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands. “I’d do anything, Sir… Anything .”

He basically had no other choice. And Nigel and Duncan didn’t have to know, right? Besides, the man was pretty handsome… He wouldn’t let the guy fuck him, he’d just blow him or something. Quick and easy.

The detective took another swig, giving Will a final slow, lingering once-over. Contemplating. And then, he scooted even closer, resting his free hand on Will’s upper thigh. “Call me Bobby, sweetheart,” he said, low and smoky.

Will scooted closer in turn. “Bobby,” he tested in his mouth. It didn’t do anything for him, wasn’t Duncan or Nigel, it was just another name. Stop thinking about them. “Is there anything I can do?”

The cop licked his lips and squeezed Will’s thigh. “What are you thinking?”

Will bit his lower lip and furrowed his brows like he was thinking really hard. “I don’t know, Sir… I could get on my knees, if you want?”

“Fuck.” Bobby rubbed his face. “I don’t know, baby, you could get me in a lot of trouble.”

“No one’s gonna know,” Will reassured him, looking at his swelling crotch with big, hungry eyes. “You’re getting hard, Sir, let me help you,” he said, kneeling between Bobby’s legs and sliding his hands up strong thighs.

“I’m married,” Detective Bronson said, stopping Will’s hands. He’s not married, he’s divorced, and he’s still in love with her. He shows up at her house almost every night, drunk out of his mind and begging for her to take him back.

Deny him anyway. See what he does. Will took his hands away, sat back on his heels and pouted. “So you don’t want me to?”

Bobby huffed and rubbed his face again, looking sad that Will had stopped. “I didn’t say that. Fuck, of course I want you to, baby. You’re super fucking hot.”

So Will took the beer from his hand, set it on the floor, and gripped a powerful thigh while he felt the man’s erection over his jeans, and if he was slightly disappointed when his girth didn’t fill his palm the way Nigel and Duncan both did, he didn’t show it. “Mmm, you’re so hard,” he coaxed, squeezing up the shaft.

“Oh fuck,” Bobby cursed, head lolling back. “Wait, wait.”

“Please, Officer?” Will leaned in and mouthed over his dick, humming softly.

“Oh my fucking God, you’re so pretty,” Bobby licked his lips, and a strand of hair fell over his forehead. Yeah, you’re not bad either. “Yeah, fuck, why not. She won’t know.”

So Will unzipped the Detective’s jeans and took it out. He was somewhat sizeable, but definitely not as long or girthy as Nigel, and nowhere near as large as Duncan, so if he did end up getting rough and fucking Will’s face, it wouldn’t be too difficult to take. He thanked God for that.

Besides, he was almost fully hard, and it would hopefully take less than ten minutes to make him come. Will was calm. He could do this.

He leaned in, gathered saliva onto his tongue, and spat on Bobby’s shaft. Looking up at the man with bright, innocent eyes, he spread the saliva up and down with his mouth, tongue running along the underside, making altogether unnecessary slurping sounds as he did so.

“Oh fuck. Yeah baby, that’s nice,” Bobby praised, threading his fingers through Will’s hair.

It fucking better be, Will thought somewhat bitterly as he took Bobby in hand and licked up his shaft. Yeah, he was sexy as fuck, and yeah, the hot weight of a cock in his mouth felt good, but even doing a simple act like this for a man who wasn’t Duncan or Nigel produced a wave of anxious nausea in Will’s gut. It’s either this, or life in prison. Just suck him as hard as you can. Close your eyes and imagine Nigel, if you have to. Get it done, and then it’ll be over.

But it was hard to imagine anyone else when Bobby continued his stream of filth. “God fucking damn baby, that’s good. You like a big cock in your mouth, huh?”

It’s not all that big, Will thought to himself, but Bobby didn’t need to know that. He focused on the crown of his dick next; he was circumcised, so he was a lot less sensitive than Nigel or Duncan here, which was disappointing, but he still seemed to be having a great time. At least one of us is.

On some level, it made Will sad. He knew he would’ve enjoyed this so much more if he’d met Bobby before the Lecter brothers. Just look at him, Will thought. He’s confident, handsome, muscular, and he’s got a nice dick. Before Duncan and Nigel, Will would have been slobbering all over him. More than he already was.

This was proof that there was no going back to Will’s old slutty way of life. If he couldn’t find pleasure in giving a blowjob to a man as delicious as Bobby, he’d never find pleasure in doing the same for any man whose last name wasn’t Lecter.

STOP FUCKING THINKING. Will started sucking in earnest, using both hands to pump as he slid his mouth up and down, cheeks hollowed and eyes focused on the detective’s face.

He looked like he was concentrating very hard on not blowing his load. “Fuuuuuck, yeah, that’s a good fucking mouth.” He was starting to leak at the tip, and Will missed the taste of Nigel on his tongue.

It was getting sloppy now, Will continuously expelling saliva from his mouth to slick the way, his exaggerated slurping noises filling the room. And Bobby kept talking.

“Sexy as hell. Fuck, you’re really fucking good at that. Bet you do it a lot, huh? Getting on your knees every chance you get. Little fuckin’ slut.”

His voice was shaky when he spoke, and he was breathing heavily. That was good. He was so close already. Will endured the degradation with little reaction, besides making the suction of his mouth tighter and working up and down faster.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. So fucking hot. God, fuck, your tongue…”

Will took a wet hand away from Bobby’s aching length and brought it down to knead his balls, cupping them and rolling them around in his palms, squeezing them. Please hurry the fuck up and come.

They got tighter in his hands, and Bobby threw his head back. “Oh fuck, Will, baby, I’m so close.”

YES. Will slid himself all the way down onto Bobby, taking his full length into his throat and making a big show of gagging on it.

That did the trick. “Oh my fucking God, baby, fuck, stop, stop, stop, I’m gonna come.” Bobby’s grip in Will’s hair turned harsh as he tried his best to pry him off his cock.

Will would not be moved. He latched onto Bobby with the suction of his mouth and stayed right where he was, elated that it was all going to be over so quickly.

“I said get the fuck off,” Bobby growled, yanking at Will’s curls.

It’s fine, just let him do it. He probably wants to come on your face. Will allowed himself to be pulled off of the older man in favor of jerking it with a free hand and tipping his head back to wait for the first splash to hit his outstretched tongue.

It didn’t come. Bobby swatted his hand and pushed his face away from the tip of his dick. It bobbed in the air, spit-slick, red, and angry.

The man squeezed himself once, attempting to stave off his orgasm. Oh no.

“Take your robe off. I want to fuck you,” he said, a smirk on his face that Will could only describe as slimy .

Fuck. Well this is just great. Better come up with something, genius. Will scrambled for an alternative. “You can fuck my face, or between my thighs, Sir,” he offered.

“Uh uh, I’m going to fuck you. Take it off, right fucking now.”

“I’m trans,” Will blurted, hoping by the grace of God that the man was deterred. “Pre-op.”

But Bobby’s grin only got wider. “Mmm. I know that, sweetheart, you got your pussy juice all over Chilton’s lucky fuckin’ face. Bet you got a pretty one, huh? Never fucked a tranny before.”

Will’s entire body went rigid. No. No. No.

He fucking hated that word. He hated it, and suddenly, he hated Bobby. He hated him for saying it. He hated him for making him do this. Most of all, though, he hated himself for getting him into this situation. 

This was not how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to be in control, not Bobby. Oh God, why hadn’t he just ignored the man’s commands to stop the blowjob? How did you not see this coming? Fucking idiot.

He really hoped Bobby’s bark was worse than his bite. “Please, Sir, can I keep sucking? You can cum down my throat, or on my face, or wherever you want.” Please. Please. Please.

“Aw, you gettin’ shy on me?” Bobby tsk ed like Will used to at his childhood dogs. “I thought you’d do anything .”

I did say that, didn’t I?

Will was silent.

“Stand up,” Bobby demanded.

Will stood up.

“Let’s get this off now.” The detective pulled at the drawstring of Will’s robe. Will stood very still.

His only article of clothing fell to the floor and he let Bobby look his fill. Although it was really more like leering. Will thanked God that he was at least wearing a thong, although it barely covered anything. It’ll probably be gone soon, too, he thought with mild horror.

The detective gave a low whistle, looking very, very pleased with himself. “You’re a fucking knockout. Holy shit.”

Will forced himself to continue playing his part. He thinks you’re a victim. Give him a victim. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Why would you ever wanna hide this body, baby? C’mere.”

Will took a tentative step closer and was snared around the waist, pulled between Bobby’s open legs.

“I’m gonna cuff you and fuck you,” Bobby decided. “Get this off too.” He snapped the waistband of Will’s thong with a smirk.

Will’s hands reached to remove it before his brain caught up with them. His subconscious was screaming at him to not let this happen. Will ignored it. You don’t want to go to prison, do you? Better do what he fucking says.

Bobby tilted his head, gazing at his lower half. “Turn around.”

Will heard the man choke on a breath as he obeyed. “Fucking fuck, your ass is goddamn incredible. Hands and knees.”

He glanced down at the shag living room carpet, then behind himself at Bobby. “Right here?”

Bobby stood up behind him and yanked his arms together behind his back. “Yes, right here. I don’t like repeating myself.”

Will struggled in his grip, but it was tight, and suddenly he couldn’t tell if he was acting anymore when he pleaded, “Sir, please, can we do something else? Anything you want.”

That was a mistake. Bobby, clearly done talking, kicked Will’s knees out from under him, forcing him to the floor and following soon after to trap Will underneath him, one big palm still gripping both his arms. It happened in a second, and suddenly, Will was on his hands and knees on the living room rug, the detective’s bare erection pressing insistently against his ass.

And that’s when he leaned over and started growling in Will’s ear. “What’s your fuckin’ deal? Two minutes ago you were an eager little slut, sucking my cock like you were born to do it, and now you’re being a prude? I gotta say, kid, you’re fuckin’ blueballing me. Or maybe you just like to tease, is that it? You like to be forced into it?”

You motherfucker, I don’t fucking want this. “N-no, I just--” Bobby unceremoniously shoved Will’s face into the rug with a big hand, using the other to slap the cuffs on him, so tight that it was painful.

“Yeah, I think that’s it. You want to push me, see how far I bend before I break. Those fucking mind games don’t work on me, Graham. I don’t give in to little sluts, little sluts give in to me. Now stay fucking still.”

No. No. No. Not again. Please, not again. Will tried one more time. “Sir, please, I don’t want to. I promise I’m not teasing. Please, please don’t.”

But Bobby wasn’t listening. “Stop fucking whining. It’ll be good for you, yeah? Whores like you love to take it like this.”

Don’t fucking call me that, Will wanted to scream. Get the fuck off me. I don’t want it. I don’t want it. I don’t want it. Instead he went limp.

He could probably fight back and win. Will was smaller, but he was faster, and muscular from dancing. Thanks to his profession, he knew how to get out of handcuffs. Plus, Bobby wasn’t hiding his whiskey breath from anyone. It would take a bit of a struggle, but Will could overpower him. He entertained the fantasy for a minute… slipping free of the cuffs, flipping himself over, kneeing him in the balls, straddling him when he went down and beating the shit out of him until he went slack. It was feasible.

At the same time, he knew there was no way he’d get away with killing a police officer, much less the lead detective on Chilton’s case. If he didn’t go to prison now, he would certainly go to prison for that, and all that effort he’d gone through to give Bobby a blowjob would be for nothing. He just had to… let this happen. You always just let it happen, don’t you?

He cursed himself for underestimating Bobby’s capacity for impulsive cruelty. He saw it now. He wasn’t a mastermind, but he was a world-class asshole. He gets mad when he doesn’t get what he wants. He lashes out on whoever he can. And he wants you.

Will was fucked. Literally, he thought with a pained laugh.

Bobby, unfortunately, mistook that for encouragement. “I knew you were having fun. You want it so bad, don’t you, baby?”

Just pretend until it’s over. You’ll be fine. It doesn’t make a difference anyway, you’re already ruined. What’s one more?

“Yes, Sir,” Will said flatly. Look at you, lying there like a dead fish. Fucking pathetic.

That seemed to please him. “There we go. Call me Officer, baby, I like that.”

Jesus. These men really were all the same. “Yes, Officer.”

“Mmm. Good. That’s a good boy.” And without any warning, he pressed his cock inside.

“O-oh! No…” Will wasn’t as wet as usual, and Bobby had to shove his way in. When he was fully seated, he laughed, and Will trembled.

“Fuck,” he cursed above him, holding onto the chain between Will’s bound wrists. He grabbed an asscheek and squeezed it, then spanked it, and laughed again in disbelief. “Holy shit, your ass is fucking amazing. And your pussy’s so goddamn tight. Fuckin’ Christ, you’re perfect.”

I’m tight because I don’t fucking want you inside me. “Thank you, Officer,” Will said into the rug, tracing the pattern with his eyes.

What right do you have to feel sorry for yourself? You did this, he reminded himself. If you’d just let it the fuck go with Chilton, none of this would be happening right now. But you had to kill him and fuck it all up, didn’t you? Just like everything else in your goddamn life. And for no good goddamn reason. You were always gonna get fucked, one way or another. At least Chilton would’ve been gentle, if you’d asked him to be.

Bobby started thrusting, and Will was sure he was going to get rug burn on his knees, his chest, his face.

He blocked that out. No tears. Pain isn’t real. Your brain is tricking you. You’re fine. You were made for this.

The thrusts picked up, and it fucking hurt. Will tried to focus on the sharp pain of the cuffs digging into his wrists rather than the one between his legs. It didn’t really work.

Bobby was saying something behind him. “Yeah, sluts like you were made to take it raw, huh? Look at that, your pussy loves it.”

Listen to him. He knows it. Everyone knows it. This is all you’re good at. This is all you’re good for.

“Fuck, look at that ass bounce.” He tugged on the cuffs, then spanked him with a harsh thwack, and Will flinched.

Nothing has changed. There’s no use trying to run from it. The only thing anyone will ever like about you is your body.

The thrusts stopped. “Why are you so fucking quiet?”

He wants you to moan. He wants you to tell him how much you love it. He wants you to cry. He wants you to beg him to stop. Do something. DO SOMETHING.

“Sorry, Sir, I--”

“Officer.”

“Officer.” God, fuck my life.

“You’re really quiet.”

“Sorry. Sometimes I space out.” You fucking idiot.

“Well, fuck, pay attention.”

Just don’t think about it. “Yes, Officer.”

Bobby started fucking him again, and Will made sure to moan. “Yes, Officer!” That’s it. It’s okay. Let yourself go on autopilot. He won’t notice.

Bobby growled and fucked in harder. “That’s more like it, baby. Knew you wanted it. Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Fuck me, Officer!” Give him what he wants.

And at this point Will was getting fucking pounded. “Oh SHIT. Fuck yeah, baby.”

“Stretch my pussy out.” Talk to him. Make him come. Do what you were made for.

“Oh FUCK. Yeah, baby, I’m gonna stretch you real nice,” Bobby said, spanking his ass again.

A flash of something, then. A football game on TV. An itchy couch. A big hand on Will’s thigh. A beer bottle clinking. A low voice. Be a good girl, baby. Be a good girl. Make me happy, baby. Make me feel good.

“Yes Daddy,” Will blurted.

Oh no.

“Oh FUCK.” The thrusts came to a halt, presumably while Bobby collected himself, and then started again, twice as harsh. “I like that. Yeah, baby, Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good.”

Oh no. Oh God. No. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

“No,” Will said weakly. “No, wait, stop.”

“Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you.” Real good care of you, Will, oh, you feel so good.

“NO!” Will screamed, wriggling in Bobby’s grasp. “NO! STOP!”

“What the fuck? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bobby pulled him up by the hair and struck him across the face. The angle at which he was buried inside was awkward and painful.

No tears. No tears. No tears. “S-sorry, I, uh, I’m sorry.”

“Let’s try that again.” His breath was in Will’s ear. He wanted to crawl out of his skin.

“I’m sorry, Officer.”

“Again.” Why. Why. Why.

“I’m sorry… Daddy,” Will said quietly. He was still staring at the rug, focusing on the pattern. Scared to look anywhere else.

Bobby smacked him again. “Louder.” Fucking asshole.

Will’s cheek throbbed. He tasted blood. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” he said to the carpet.

“Better.” He was shoved back down and fucked once more. It was burning now, and he registered, somewhere, in the back of his mind, that he was bleeding down there, too. It only made it easier for the man to penetrate him.

He was thrusting faster, and faster, and faster, but it was erratic, rhythmless, frantic. “Holding out on me, and then calling me Daddy like a cheap little whore once I get inside you. You need it rough, huh?”

Will shut his eyes and endured the onslaught. At this point, he didn’t really feel much of anything, besides a bone-deep numbness. “Yes, Sir,” he said for the upteenth time that night, and suddenly, he felt like laughing. You’re a fucking dickhead.

Bobby grunted. “Say it, slut.”

“Yes, Sir, I need it rough.” Is your stroke game this weak when you’re sober?

“Say ‘I need it rough, Daddy.’” He sounded annoyed.

“I need it rough, Daddy.” I bet you’ve never made a woman come in your fucking life.

His voice was getting breathier. “Good boy. Oh yeah, fuck. Such a good fucking boy.” I have heels bigger than your dick.

“Yes, Daddy.” Detective Tiny Dick. Will giggled.

Bobby chuckled back. “Having fun, baby? Keep talking. Tell me how much you want it.” God, you’re such a fucking idiot.

Yawn. “I want it so bad, Daddy.” Can’t you tell how fucking bored I am?

“More.” This is actually really fucking funny.

“Please fuck me, Offic-- I mean, Daddy, please, I need it bad.” I can’t even keep track of all these goddamn kinks.

Another tug on the cuffs. “Say you’re a naughty boy.”

Oh Jesus Christ. Is he serious? Will actually had to hold himself back. What the fuck is wrong with you? He’s raping you, and you’re laughing. Be serious. “I’m a naughty boy, Daddy.”

Bobby let out a big moan. “Oh FUCK. Yeah, you are, such a naughty little fuckin’ boy.”

He’s so close. Just end it. “I’m Daddy’s naughty little boy.” You fucking wish. My real Daddy’s gonna fucking kill you.

The dick inside him pulsed. “Oh yeah, God, fuck. Gonna cum in you, baby, fill you up like a good little slut.”

No. No. No. That was only for Nigel. And potentially Duncan. “Wait, don’t--”

Too late. “OHHHHH FUCK. FUCK, baby. Mmmmmm.”

Will cringed as Bobby filled him, hot and sticky, then pulled out and left him empty, raw. At least it was quick, he thought with a bit of relief.

But Bronson wasn’t done being a douchebag. “Push it out. Wanna see it drip down that juicy fucking pussy.”

Oh God, I hate my fucking life. Will clenched and felt cum trickle from inside him. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

Bobby clearly didn’t care that he was bleeding. He spanked him again. If you leave handprints I will actually fucking murder you. “Yeah, fuck, look at that. C’mon, shake your ass a little.”

Will twerked unenthusiastically, Bobby’s cum dripping out and onto the rug beneath him.

The man pawed at his ass. “Fuuuuck. You look so good doing that. No wonder Chilton wanted a turn.”

I FUCKING HATE YOU, Will screamed inside his mind. He said nothing.

That was wrong. Bobby smacked his ass hard, a warning. “Thank me, slut.”

They always wanted Will to thank them after. “Thank you, Sir,” he said through gritted teeth.

Bobby chuckled. “You’re welcome, baby.” You’re going to fucking pay for this.

When it was over, Bobby undid the handcuffs and helped Will to his feet, tenderly, like he gave a shit about being gentle with him. There were no kisses or cuddles or soft words in his ear, just more filth as he got his ass fondled.

“Fucking fat ass bouncing on my dick, God, I love it. So goddamn sexy, fuck, I’m sorry if things got a little out of hand there, baby, but I can’t help it… Your body, it drives me fucking crazy.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Will responded, stiff and robotic, trying to look anywhere but Bobby’s face.

“When can I see you again?” He bit Will’s ear, still squeezing his ass. “I wanna dress you up like a little Playboy bunny next time.”

And Will should have been given a fucking Oscar right then and there for not bursting into laughter. Jesus, is this what my tax dollars are going towards? “I dunno, Sir, I don’t wanna cause you any trouble with your… wife.”

“Fuck that bitch.” And a misogynist, too. Lovely. “How’s Saturday night?”

God, no. Please, just let it be this one time. His last-ditch effort was to mention Nigel. “Sir, I… I have a boyfriend. He really doesn’t fuck around. He’s real big and strong and he’d do anything to protect me. If he ever found out…” He’s going to fucking kill you, you pile of dogshit.

Bobby scoffed. “I don’t give a fuck about your limp dick boyfriend.” Don’t you dare fucking talk about him like that. You could never be him. You could never come close. You’re not even fucking worthy of his fists. “If you want to stay out of prison, Will, you’re gonna let me fuck you wherever, whenever, however I want. Do I make myself clear?”

I just want this to be fucking over. I wish I’d never seen your face. “Please, Sir, I already did what you asked…”

He only chuckled and shook his head. “You shouldn’t have said you’d do anything, then, baby. Saturday night, yeah?”

Well. Will had done this to himself, hadn’t he? “Yes, Sir,” he grumbled, jaw clenched.

“Good.” Bobby smacked his ass. 

When he left and Will bolted the door behind him, he still couldn’t cry, or really react much at all. He filed the experience away along with the extensive list of things he would never, ever, ever tell anyone about, setting it neatly on a shelf in the room of his mind palace that he always kept locked.

He tossed his robe and soiled thong into the washing machine. He took a shower and washed the cum and blood from between his thighs, scrubbing until it burned. He still felt dirty.

He checked himself in the mirror for marks. Aside from rug burn on his cheeks and knees, he looked okay. His wrists were red. His ass was red, too, and it would be tomorrow, but there were no handprints.

It didn’t matter, anyway. He still burned in all the places Bobby had touched him. 

He rubbed some salve into his sore knees and wrists. He put on pajamas. He lit up a joint with shaky hands.

You were doing so well. How the fuck could you let something like this happen again? Two years. Two years for fucking nothing. And Nigel’s gonna find out. He won’t even have to look at your body. You smell ripe.

He smoked another joint, and another joint, and when that didn’t work, he took some edibles, melting into the mattress.

He went to bed with a pillow between his legs. He felt like a child again.

He woke up three times in the night, panting and sweaty, crying out for Nigel.

Chapter Text

Open me up

Tell me you like it

Fuck me to death

Love me until I love myself…

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

On Thursday, Beverly stayed at Margot’s again, and Will stayed in bed all day, numbing himself with weed, getting so high he could barely form a coherent thought. The events of the night before hung over him like a fog, threatening to take him with it and make him nothing.

The day after is always the hardest, he reminded himself. You’ll be fine tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow was Friday.

Nigel.

Will wanted to tell him. He really, really did. He wanted to call the man right now, ask him to come over, and cry in his arms until his eyes were puffy. But he was still incapable of tears, and, besides, there was no fucking point.

If Will told Nigel, he would be absolutely fucking livid. He would hunt Bobby down and do God knows what to him, maybe even kill him. And then Will would go to prison for killing Chilton, and Nigel would go to prison for murdering a police officer.

Even if Nigel did somehow, miraculously, get away with killing Bobby, the Chilton case would be assigned to somebody else, and then Will would be back where he started when the detective had knocked on his apartment door.

So he really had no choice but to lie. Again. God. Was his entire life just going to be marked by keeping things from the people he loved? The answer to that question seemed to be a definitive and resounding yes.

By Friday, the physical reminders of Bobby were almost gone, besides the soreness between his legs. It still hurt to sit down, and wearing jeans was massively uncomfortable, but that was about it. No rug burn marks, no handprints, no bruises, only red rings around his wrists that could certainly be covered up with long sleeves.

The mental reminders of Bobby remained, though. The man’s beer breath in his ear, all the filthy things he’d said. The noise of handcuffs clinking as he was thrusted into. The sting of slaps on his ass and face. The taste of blood in his mouth and the memory of it between his legs. Most of all, the fucking pattern of the living room carpet. The flashbacks were debilitating, and Will could barely set foot in that room. When he had to get something from the kitchen, he speed-walked, not daring his eyes to land on that rug.

What really loomed over him, though, was the ever-present threat of whatever the man would do to him on Saturday night. He smoked that away too, packing bowl after bowl, taking bong rip after bong rip, and all before he’d even had his morning cup of coffee.

Around midday, he slid a dildo into himself to test whether or not he was ready to have sex again, because Nigel would certainly want it, and Will wanted to please him. He used copious amounts of lube to slick the way, but it still really fucking burned and the stretch felt like too much to handle, even though the dildo was nowhere near as big as Nigel; he could barely get it halfway in. Great. You can’t even do the one fucking thing you’re good at.

He’d just wear a tampon and tell Nigel that he was on his period. Easy fix. Hopefully his boyfriend would still want his company without the expectation of sex, although that seemed unlikely, as no man ever had before.

He agonized all day over what to wear for their date. In the end, he settled on black leggings, a crop top, Nigel’s leather jacket, and a new pair of lace panties that a fan had bought off his wishlist, just in case. He shaved all over his body, the way he preferred. He put on some lotion from an expensive bottle he barely ever touched. He sprayed on some cologne that made him smell like a baby prostitute, but it had pheromones in it, so with any luck, Nigel would jump him the second he saw him rather than ask him how his week was.

When Nigel texted him that he was outside, Will took three deep, centering breaths-- and about a hundred and fifty milligrams of weed in the form of gummies-- before walking out the door.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Nigel said when Will got past the lobby of his apartment complex and onto the street.

And God, seeing him again was like a breath of fresh air. It all came rushing back to Will, then; how much he’d missed his boyfriend, how he loved him, how he’d die for him, how he’d kill for him. How he’d never felt so happy in his life than when they were together. How nothing else mattered unless Nigel looked at him.

He looked even more delicious than Will remembered, clad in a navy polo shirt that clung to him, snug against the muscles of his upper arms and chest, and his reliable blue jeans were tight in all the right places, showing off his powerful thighs and impressive bulge. He was leaning against his car, there was a cigarette in his mouth, a satisfied smirk on his face, and he looked like he’d walked straight from Will’s fantasies to his doorstep.

Will felt like his heart was going to burst. He wanted to climb Nigel like a tree, but he thought that might be inappropriate to do in a parking lot, so he decided to tease him instead. “Hiya, Nigel,” he said, enjoying the way the man’s name felt on his tongue, and enjoying Nigel’s reaction to it more.

He was immediately scooped up into the man’s embrace, slammed against the car, and attacked with fierce kisses. Clearly, Nigel had no qualms whatsoever about intense PDA.

Will giggled and moaned into Nigel’s kiss, his hands firmly kneading Will’s ass. I guess the pheromones worked… Their mouths collided again and again, desperate, like they hadn’t seen each other in weeks instead of two days.

For Will, though, at least, it had been a lifetime. It was surreal, almost like whiplash, to go from such a deep fog of despair to this completely unmitigated feeling of joy and safety. It was terrifying to feel this happy, like falling from a cliff at high tide and getting swept under the waves, and the despair almost felt safer. Will wished there were more in-betweens in his life, that instead of flip-flopping between depressed and deliriously carefree, he could just feel… okay. Stable.

“I missed you so much,” Nigel said when he got a breath, peppering kisses all over Will’s face. “How was the rest of your week--”

Will kissed him again to cut off his sentence. “Mmmmh,” he said into the kiss, tilting his head and slipping his tongue into Nigel’s mouth.

That was a sufficient distraction. They made out for a minute more, and then Nigel pulled away with a chuckle. “Eager, are we?”

“Yeah. Missed you too, Sir.” They both knew what Sir meant.

“Mmmm.” Nigel set him down with a small grunt, still holding the cigarette between his fingers. He was half-hard from their makeout session, and Will wanted nothing more than to kneel on the concrete and give the whole parking compound a show. “As much as I’d fucking love to carry you back up to your apartment right this second, darling, we do have a reservation.”

That’s okay, I’ll just suck your dick in the car. “Ooooh, where are we going?”

Nigel took one last drag and flicked the cigarette onto the ground. God, you’re sexy. “This place my brother recommended to me. The menu looks really fucking good. You ready?”

“Yes, Sir.”

When Will had the opportunity to take in a single thing from his surroundings other than Nigel, he stared down at the glittering gray exterior of his boyfriend’s sports car with wide eyes. Of course he has a fucking Ferrari.

“Nice ride,” he said, hopping in when Nigel held open the passenger door and fiddling with the seat warmer knob.

“Thanks, gorgeous.” Nigel turned the engine on and revved it a few times, and goddamn was that mouthwatering.

Will bit his lip as his boyfriend put the car into reverse, watching his bicep flex. He gazed at his lap next, admiring his semi.

He let out a sigh, running a hand over Nigel’s big arm. “You look so sexy in that shirt, Daddy…”

Nigel grinned. “Yeah? You like it?”

“Yeah…” Will reached over and gave his crotch a playful squeeze.

Nigel groaned and the car jolted as he put a little too much pressure on the gas pedal. “Fuck, baby, oh my God. Now?”

“Now,” Will affirmed, unzipping his jeans and taking his dick out. Fuck, you’re delicious… “Keep your eyes on the road, okay?”

Nigel said something in Lithuanian then, and Will made a mental note to start learning the language. “Christ. You little shit,” his boyfriend said fondly, laughing.

Will giggled back, unbuckling his seatbelt and shifting to sit on his knees, and Nigel kept one hand on the wheel as he carded the other through Will’s hair.

The first lick was heaven, and taking him into his mouth was manna. He started to leak, and he tasted like divinity, salty and pearly-white on Will’s tongue. They were moaning in equal measure, and every so often, Nigel glanced down from the road at him, looking like he never wanted Will to stop.

Will, too, never wanted to stop, never wanted his mouth empty, wanted to feel the man gliding in and out until he dropped dead. He felt so fucking good-- Will knew that he probably had an oral fixation, but fuck, it was incredible with Nigel. How veiny he was, how sensitive he was at the tip. The way his girth was difficult to fit past his lips. The way it jumped in Will’s mouth when he played with his balls. His pubic hair, the smell of his body odor, the way he moaned, the way he tasted… Will was becoming goddamn addicted to it.

He wanted to draw it out as long as possible. He sucked him as they drove through the neighborhood, long and slow, torturing Nigel as the man panted and cursed and tried not to speed. He’d never given road head before-- well, he’d given plenty of guys head in cars, but never like this, never with the guy flying down the highway. It was risky, irresponsible, and fucking thrilling. Damn, this might be my new favorite thing, he thought as he took Nigel to the back of his throat and swallowed.

“Fuuuuck. Jesus, Will, you’re gonna make me crash. I just got this shit detailed.”

Will pulled off of him and licked the tip, playful. “So pull over.”

Nigel took the closest exit, parallel parked on a very busy street, then threaded his hands through Will’s hair and fucked up into his mouth until he shot his load down his throat.

It was quick and rough and lasted about two minutes, and after both men had wiped themselves clean with tissues from the glovebox, they were back on the road.

Will’s brain felt pleasant and fuzzy, and it had nothing to do with the edibles. Best two minutes of my damn life, he thought, and for once, the thought of Bobby never crossed his mind.

By the time they got to the restaurant, Will was high as a kite and really hoped the food was as good as Nigel said it would be. The older man held his hand as they walked in, and Will suddenly felt like they were both severely underdressed.

The restaurant’s interior was atmospheric, romantic, lit solely by candles peppered around the dining room and at each table. Most of the other diners were couples (albeit straight couples… breeders everywhere, Will noted sourly), and everyone was in fancy getup, suits and dresses. Even though Will did very well for himself now, he felt too poor to even set foot in the place. He just squeezed Nigel’s hand, steeling his nerves. Nigel brought you here. Nigel thinks you belong here.

The hostess greeted them, a woman who was probably around Will’s age with a blond ponytail pulled so tight that it looked painful. “Welcome to Carnassier, a surf-and-turf fine dining experience in the heart of Baltim-- wait, oh my God. You’re Doctor Lecter’s brother, aren’t you? No way! He’s mentioned you, but, wow. You look just like him, it’s uncanny. We all love him here. Gosh, he’s just the best. He knows so much about food! Are you two twins? Oh jeez, look at me, just rambling on. I apologize, Sir. Do you and your…” She looked Will up and down, as if seeing him there for the first time, assessing him. “... Companion have a reservation?” She thinks you’re a sex worker. Which I guess isn’t too far off?

“My boyfriend and I do have a reservation, yes. For eight o’clock,” Nigel said, his grip on Will’s hand getting tighter, like he wanted to clench his fist. “And I don’t fucking appreciate what you’re implying.”

The hostess looked completely shocked, but, to her credit, backtracked immediately. “Oh! I apologize, Sir… It was my mistake.”

Will could tell Nigel was about five seconds away from punching her in the face. It was a good look on him… “Don’t fucking apologize to me, apologize to him.”

“Nigel, it’s fine…” There’s no shame in sex work, he wanted to say, but wasn’t sure that he was sober enough for that conversation.

“No it’s not, baby,” he said, continuing to glare at the poor woman.

She was red in the face. It took all of Will’s strength not to laugh. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say, I… I’m so embarrassed.”

“Just show us to our fucking seats,” Nigel growled, his tone giving no room for discussion. Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re mad.

“Right, of course, right away, Sir.”

She sat them at a two-person table across from a straight couple who looked horrified at their existence, although whether it was because they were two men being openly affectionate or both wearing casual clothing was anybody’s guess.

Still, Nigel didn’t take kindly to this, and he glared right back at them. “Fuck you looking at?” he barked, and the couple didn’t so much as glance in their direction once for the rest of the night. Will was so turned on he thought he might pass out, and entertained the idea of crawling under the table to take the man into his mouth again.

It was one of those uber-fancy places with no pricing on the menu, so he let Nigel order, unsure of what he was allowed. When the waiter came to their table, Nigel ordered almost all the appetizers, a bottle of very expensive-sounding wine, and two steak entrees.

They were holding hands across the table, and Will traced a vein with his thumb, admiring just how manly he was here, how strong. “This is gonna be a lot of food, Nigel.” And very fucking expensive… He wants to fuck you tonight. Why else would he be spending all this money on you?

No, Will told himself, no, it’s not like that with him. He’ll understand if I tell him no. He’s not going to hurt me. He loves me. He loves me. He loves me. Suddenly, he felt like he might have a panic attack. Oh God, maybe the edibles had been a bad idea. His brain was moving a mile a minute, and his heart was beating really fucking fast. CALM THE FUCK DOWN.

Nigel squeezed his hand. “Hey, babydoll, are you alright? You’re shaking.”

“Y-yeah,” Will said, his voice quivering a little. Oh my God, are you seriously going to fucking lose it in the middle of a restaurant? Get it together. “I’m fine.”

Nigel searched his face, seeking answers to questions Will hoped he’d never ask. “You don’t look it, darling. I’m sorry, fuck, did I overwhelm you? Do you want to go home?”

Home. Not “to my house.” Home. Will thought he might actually be losing it because for a second that sounded so, so good. He doesn’t mean it like that.

He tried hard to speak, but his breath was a little shallow. “N-no, no, it’s not you. It’s okay, I’m okay, I’m hungry, we should eat.”

He couldn’t really bring himself to look at Nigel, but it was soothing to hear his voice. He stared at the tattoo on his neck instead, watching it shift as the man spoke. “I’ll make you something. I’m serious, we don’t have to be here.”

“No, let’s stay. You planned such a nice date and I--” Will shut his eyes. I’m ruining it. I ruin everything.

“Hey, hey hey hey. Breathe, darling, can you breathe for me?”

He took deep breaths, in and out. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. Everything’s okay. It’s just Nigel.

“That’s it, baby. Can you look at me?”

Rich amber eyes met his, crashing over him like a wave, and suddenly, everything else was swept away. Daddy’s here. Daddy’s gonna take care of me.

Nigel brushed his hair from his face, then cupped his cheek, stroking his cheekbone with a thumb. “That’s it. There’s a good boy.”

“Oh…” Will leaned into his palm. I love you so much. I’d do anything to have you look at me like that for the rest of my life.

“I’ll tell the valet to bring the car around, yeah?”

He shook his head. “No, don’t, I. I’m sorry. I want to be here with you. I just… I think I freaked myself out a little bit, I, um…” At least he could use weed as an excuse for the sudden episode. “I took some edibles before I left, and I think I got too high.”

Nigel chuckled, squeezing the hand in his. “Oh, baby. Are you alright? Are you going to be sick?”

Will smiled softly and nuzzled the hand still holding his cheek. “No, no, I’m fine, I think I just got anxious. People just make me anxious.”

Nigel worried the skin of his earlobe, rolling it around between a thumb and forefinger. “Okay. You sure you want to stay?”

“Yes, I want to stay.” Never stop touching me.

“Well, whatever happens, know I’ll take care of it, yeah? You don’t ever need to worry when we’re together. I’ll always take care of you.”

Desire pooled low in Will’s gut. Mine. My Daddy. Mine, his monster screamed.

He bit his lip, inhibitions lowered and tongue loose from the weed, knowing it was dangerous to tempt Nigel in public and deciding to do it anyway. He kissed Nigel’s palm, then bit his thumb and sucked on it lightly. “Yes, Daddy.”

Nigel snarled, a jungle cat ready to pounce on its prey. “Fuck, Will. Good fucking boy.”

To Will’s dismay, the waiter arrived then, presenting their wine to them and pouring Nigel a nip to see if it was satisfactory, probably because he made Will look about five years old. Nigel reluctantly let go of Will’s face, gulped it down like he couldn’t care less as long as it was alcohol, and nodded at the waiter, who poured full glasses for both of them while Nigel stared at Will like he wanted to climb over the table and rip his clothes off.

When the waiter left, neither of them wanted the moment to end. “What are you thinking about?” Will asked, swirling the wine around in its glass and taking a sip.

Nigel grinned, flashing his fangs. Those teeth… Will wanted them on his neck.

“I’m thinking about you sitting on my face,” he said matter-of-factly, at a normal speaking volume, and the uptight straight people across from them definitely heard, which was probably intentional. He heard the woman let out a gasp.

Will almost choked on his drink. “Nigel!”

He didn’t stop. “You like that, baby? Little slut.”

“Oh my God.” Will went beet red. He didn’t even want to see the other couple in his peripheral vision.

Nigel was still grinning that sharklike grin, eyeing him over the rim of his wine glass as he took a sip. “Can’t stop thinking about the car earlier, those beautiful lips wrapped around my cock…”

And if Will had a dick, it would’ve been getting hard. “Fuck, Nigel, please. Can we at least wait until the food gets here?” I mean, you literally asked for it…

Nigel leaned in. “You look so fucking good wearing my jacket. You know, I’m not above taking you to the bathroom, right fucking now.”

Fuck. Will shifted in his chair. At this rate, he was going to get the seat wet, and it was probably imported leather from Italy or some shit like that. “Quit it.”

Nigel’s dark eyes glittered in the candlelight, shadows flickering across his face and making him ten times as menacing, and ten times as beautiful. “I know you like it, gorgeous. Bet you’re pussy’s so fuckin’ wet. Isn’t it, baby?”

“Alright, gentlemen, here we are!” The waiter came out of fucking nowhere. Will almost yelped. “The oyster and caviar plate, the pickled quail eggs with cranberry apple fennel sauerkraut, the scallop crudo, the ostrich tartar, the rolled lamb breast stuffed with herbs de Provance, and, finally, the cockles and prawns au jus.”

Will made a mental note to look up what half those words meant, gazing at the fancy food with wide eyes.

“Looks great,” Nigel said, very clearly staring at him and not the food.

“Thank you so much,” he said to the waiter, pointedly ignoring Nigel, not sure which dish he should start with.

“It’s our pleasure, young man. And I must say, it is a treat to have you dine with us, Mr. Lecter. We are all very fond of your brother here, and the Chef would like us to inform you that tonight’s meal is free of charge.” The fuck? Seriously? Why is everyone so far up this man’s asshole? Will was stunned.

Nigel looked like he was used to it, though. “Uh… Okay. Tell the Chef that is extremely fucking generous of him.”

“Her,” the waiter corrected.

Nigel’s cool demeanor was gone, and in its place was a cloying need to impress, to be correct, like his brother was in the room. It was kind of cute. “Her. Fuck. Right. Of course. Uh, sorry, I’m terrible at all the shit my brother’s good at. Manners, and all that. But, uh, the food looks good. And thank you. That’s… really fucking nice of you.”

The waiter smiled a patient smile. “Quite alright, Sir. We hope to make your dining experience as comfortable as possible. And yours too, Sir,” he said to Will. At least he wasn’t acting like he wasn’t there.

Nigel scoffed, and, in a flash, was back to his unapologetically surly self. “You should fire the bitch up front, then.”

“Nigel!”

The waiter went bug-eyed. “I beg your pardon?”

“She fucking insinuated that my boyfriend was a hooker.”

“No, it’s okay, I mean, sex work is real work and--”

The man turned to Will, an expression of apologetic horror on his face. “Oh, Sir, I am so, so sorry. That is unacceptable. No need to fret, we will address the situation immediately.”

“Thank you,” Nigel responded as the waiter scampered away, no doubt to rip the hostess a new asshole.

Will sighed and rubbed his face. “Great. That girl’s gonna lose her job now.”

“I don’t give a fuck. Fuck that cunt.”

“Nigel! You can’t say that word, especially towards a woman. That’s so misogynist.”

Nigel took a cigarette from his pocket and rolled it between his fingers like he was itching to smoke it. “I call everyone cunts. If she was a dude, I would’ve called him a cunt too. Fucking cunts everywhere.”

“That doesn’t make it better. Maybe in Europe it’s different, but Americans take great offense to that word.”

“So bitch and whore are fine things to call women, but cunt is off limits? That doesn’t make any fucking sense.” The cigarette was placed gingerly behind his ear for later.

If Will was a lot less high, he’d be a lot more eloquent, but he hoped he was getting his point across anyway. “Misogyny doesn’t make any fucking sense to begin with. And you shouldn’t say hooker, either, it’s disrespectful. Say sex worker.”

Nigel let go of his hand and threw his up in assent. “Hey, I’m not knocking the profession. You know I support what you do, right? I just didn’t appreciate her fucking attitude. She was rude to you, making assumptions about our relationship, talking about you like you weren’t even fucking there.” His voice grated while he talked, still furious and trying to tamp it down for Will’s sake.

And was it bad that Will wanted to see him angry all the time? The way his jaw clenched, the way his muscles rippled like he was aching to punch someone… Jesus Christ, you’re sexy. “Well… I appreciate you standin’ up for me. I can stand up for myself, though, yunno.”

Nigel, once again, read his goddamn mind. “I see your face when I get angry, baby. It gets you going, doesn’t it?”

Fucking fuck. Will felt all the air escape his chest, like someone had kneed him in the gut. “Yeah… It does.”

There was that shark smile, fiery, severe, stunning. He motioned at the food, inclining his head towards it and then back up to Will’s gaze. “Well, eat up, babydoll. You’ll need your energy.”

Thank God for that, because Will was fucking starving.

He devoured the appetizers, much to Nigel’s amusement, and when their entrees came, the first bite had him moaning.

“Goddamn, this is fucking good,” Will said between mouthfuls. “This is the best steak I’ve ever had in my life.”

Nigel sucked on an oyster, his pink pouty lips wrapped around it in an extremely delicious and tempting way. “You deserve the best. And stop fucking making those sounds, baby, you’re making my fucking dick hard.”

After reassuring Nigel that yes, he was fine to drink, he had the waiter bring them two bottles of champagne. They had dessert and drank until they were drunk, talking and laughing and playing footsie, no doubt to the shock of the couple beside them. A few times, Will almost caved and said I love you.

Nigel took him home, but not before showing him a few tricks in his Ferrari, doing donuts in the parking lot of the restaurant until Will’s sides hurt from laughing.

When they got to Nigel’s place, he was scooped up for the second time that night, carried up to the man’s bedroom, and plopped down onto the bed.

Nigel climbed on top of him, and they writhed together drunkenly, moaning and kissing and pressing their crotches together. The friction of their clothes felt a little painful, but it was muddled by the weed and alcohol, and Will couldn’t give less of a fuck about it.

“You smell really fucking good,” the man said in his ear, sniffing him. “Mmmm.”

Will grinned and wrapped his legs around Nigel’s back, rolling his hips against his erection. “Thank you, Daddy.” I need to wear this cologne more often, he thought. And because he was in the mood to tease, he said next, “Wanna know a secret?”

Nigel growled and took hold of his waist, encouraging Will’s movements and sucking a bruise into his neck, the same exact spot he’d done it on Tuesday night in the kitchen. “I do, gorgeous.”

“I’m really fuckin’ drunk,” Will said in his ear, bursting into laughter.

Nigel snickered back. “I know you are, babydoll. You still coherent?”

“Yessir,” Will affirmed with a giggle, words slurring as he asked, “D’ya wanna fuck me?”

His boyfriend pinned his wrists to the bed, and Will writhed under him, impatient. “Mmmmm. Yeah, baby, been waiting all night. You’re so fuckin’ cute like this.”

Will thought petulantly to himself that it was a little unfair. Besides being slightly off-balance when he’d carried Will up the stairs, Nigel seemed fine. “How’re you still the same? We drank sooooo much.”

Nigel kissed his nose. “I have a much higher tolerance for booze and a much higher body mass than you, my darling. You’re just a little thing, after all. Although, I’ll admit, I am a tad fucking drunk.”

Will giggled again. “I am not little,” he insisted.

Nigel rolled them over so Will was on top, laying back on the bed and squeezing his waist. “You are to me. My very sweet, very fucking naughty little boy.”

Will sat up, Nigel’s erection undeniable now as it pressed against his clothed cunt. “O-oh, Daddy…”

One hand was still on his waist, and the other came to rest behind Nigel’s head as he admired Will, eyes lidded and a soft smile on his lips. “That’s my boy. You gonna be good for me, baby?”

Fuck… “Yes Daddy, always gonna be good for you,” Will said, rolling his hips lazily.

Nigel sucked in a breath, tightening his hold on Will’s waist. “Oh Jesus. Fucking hell, baby.”

“Mmmm, yeah…” Will worked his hips faster, resting his hands on Nigel’s chest and wishing there was less fabric between them. Nigel’s hands came down to his ass, squeezing and tugging him forward in time with the undulations. “Spank me, Daddy,” Will demanded, suddenly craving nothing other than Nigel’s wrath.

Nigel growled, spanked him, and the pain felt like love. “Oh! Harder…” Please. Yes. Hurt me.

It was amazing how something normally so degrading and agonizing was a source of comfort with Nigel. Another spank, and Will felt like he was floating. “Yes, Daddy, harder, more…” Please. Use me up. Hurt me. I love you so much.

Five more spanks, and he was high, higher than he’d been at dinner, higher than he’d ever been before, higher than any drug could ever get him. He begged for more, and more, and more, until his ass was raw again, this time in the best way, and Nigel shushed him softly.

He just rubbed the skin now, back and forth, back and forth. “No more, baby, that’s enough.”

“More…” Will pleaded hoarsely against Nigel’s chest, where he’d collapsed and clung to about three spanks in.

Nigel flipped them again, setting Will gently on his back as he protested. “No more. Just lie back and relax now, darling.”

When Nigel started taking his clothes off, Will did his best to help him. It was dark enough in the room now that, hopefully, he wouldn’t see the marks on his wrists from Bobby’s handcuffs. And if he saw them in the morning, well, that was a problem for future, sober Will.

He spread his legs, and Nigel saw the tampon string. Please don’t be mad… “I’m on my period, I’m sorry…”

But Nigel smiled, actually smiled, like it was okay, like Will had done nothing wrong. “That’s okay, baby, don’t apologize. Why don’t I go down on you?” Oh my God.

“Really? I mean, yeah, okay,” Will said, too drunk to hide his surprise, grinning up at the older man and running his hands up his strong arms, admiring the tensed muscles.

His boyfriend settled between his legs, sitting back on his heels and caressing the skin of his thighs. “You really do have the cutest fucking pussy,” he said, staring at it in awe. “Cutest little pussy I’ve ever seen.”

“Nigel, oh my God,” Will covered his face with his hands.

Nigel squeezed his inner thigh. “No hiding, baby.”

He spread Will open, exposing him fully, leaned in, and spat on his cunt.

“Oh! Oh fuck,” Will whined, gripping the sheets.

Nigel started spreading the saliva around with a thumb, paying extra attention to his clit. “Yeah. You like that, baby?”

Will thrashed around like he was getting strapped to a hospital bed. “Oh God. Daddy, please, just do it.”

Nigel’s voice was low and velvet-smooth. “So impatient. Needy little fuckin’ thing. I’m gonna make you scream.”

He dove down, the warm wetness of his mouth lavishing its attention on Will’s pussy, tongue dipping down to tease his entrance and back up to flick over his clit.

And Will was losing his goddamn sanity. “Oh fuck, FUCK! Oh my God, that feels good,” he said in disbelief, shifting his hips closer to Nigel’s face.

The man moaned into his cunt and doubled down on his efforts. Jesus Christ, this man’s tongue… Will was going to die, it felt so fucking good. The chasm between Bobby’s brutality and this was too much for Will’s traumatized, inebriated brain to process, so he just let the sensations wash over him and tried not to think too hard about why he was so sensitive when Nigel touched him.

A minute later, he was pulling Nigel’s hair and practically yelling while the man sucked on his clit. “Nigel! Fuck, yeah, oh my God, like that!”

Nigel’s hands slid under his body to squeeze his tingling ass, and he let go of Will’s clit in favor of tonguefucking his entrance. Will held his head there and rocked his hips into each thrust of the wet tongue inside him. It burned a little, but no way in hell was Will going to tell him to stop.

Will was moaning louder than he ever had in his life, and for once, none of it was exaggerated. He wasn’t staring at the ceiling, he wasn’t imagining anyone else between his legs, he wasn’t pretending to come, he wasn’t thinking about what to get at the grocery store tomorrow, he wasn’t worried about doing laundry or the dishes. He was in this moment, with Nigel, and his mind was blissfully blank.

He’d only been doing this for a few minutes, and Will already felt an orgasm creeping up. Nigel moaned when he felt Will tighten and fucked his tongue in harder, bringing a hand up to circle a thumb around his clit.

“Fuck! Yeah, oh, holy shit, you’re gonna make me cum!”

He ended up squirting in Nigel’s face, and the man looked fucking delighted by it. When Will was done, he didn’t even wipe his mouth, just licked his lips and leaned in to give his pussy a wet kiss.

He stayed between his legs, gaze flickering between Will’s face and his swollen cunt, caressing and kissing his thighs, giving them little hickeys. “So sensitive, baby… I wonder how many times I can make you cum like this.”

The insinuation that Nigel wasn’t going to stop had Will’s head swimming. “Oh God…” If I died right now, I’d die happy.

He looked so disheveled, his hair falling in his face and wild from Will’s tugging, his lips slick and red, his eyes black as ink. It was fucking unbearable. “Do you want me to keep going? I really fucking want to.” Yes, give me everything, give me all of you. Anything you want. Anything.

It took all of Will’s strength to string words together into sentences. “Are you kidding? Fuck, I… I never knew it could be good like this.”

Nigel grinned and dove back down.

Will lost track of how long this went on for, and how many orgasms he had, but by the time it was over, his voice was hoarse from moaning, his thighs were trembling, his pussy was throbbing, and the sheets were soaked with his cum.

Nigel frantically jacked off and finished on his pussy after, spreading his cum around with his dick, tapping the head on Will’s clit, telling him what a good boy he was, how incredible he felt in his arms, how good he tasted.

He was getting pleasure from this. He didn’t think it was disgusting or weird, like so many other men Will had been with. He liked it.

And that was just as well, because Will was seriously considering making him do it every single day. He felt boneless, like he was melting down, down, down, past the mattress, past the floor, plunging through to the center of the earth, clothed in the molten embers of his boyfriend’s embrace, never to see the light of day. It was intoxicating.

“Fuck,” he said with a sigh as Nigel once more settled on top of him, sticky and sweaty. “That was the best head I’ve ever gotten in my life. Are you just good at everything?”

“I try.” Nigel dove for his neck next, covering it with more kisses and marks as the younger man giggled.

Nigel lit up a cigarette after, and Will laid on his chest, a leg slung over his boyfriend as the man clutched his ass. He watched smoke leave his lips and furl in the air of his bedroom, tracing the pinup girl on his neck with a finger. You’re a fucking badass. And you’re all mine.

Nigel caught him staring and arched a brow at him. “Like what you see?”

“Mhm, Daddy,” Will replied playfully, kissing the tattoo.

The older man took another drag, smoke puffing as he spoke. “Can you believe it, gorgeous? We finally fucking made it to the bed.”

Will giggled, planted his lips on Nigel’s, and mentally gave Detective Bobby Bronson the middle fucking finger.

Chapter Text

There’s things I want to say to you

But I’ll just let you live

Like if you hold me without hurting me

You’ll be the first who ever did

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

When Will woke up, the last thing he wanted to be was sober.

It was a bright, sunny morning, harsh and unforgiving on his eyes, like the sun was mocking him. His head fucking ached and his stomach roiled, but even though he was hungover, there was nothing he wanted more than to numb himself all over again.

Nigel, once again, looked gorgeous in the morning light, slumbering peacefully, an arm slung across Will’s side, a soft smile on his face and a small patch of drool on the pillow. Before slinking out of bed, Will spent a few minutes just watching him and carding his hands through the silver-blond hair that fell over his forehead. I love you so much, he thought, feeling the man’s stubble scratch his palm. Nobody else gets you like this. You’re fucking mine.

He internally thanked God or whatever was up there that he was awake before Nigel. Before he stirred, Will untangled himself from his warm embrace and retrieved one of his long-sleeve shirts from the bedroom closet; partly because he wanted to have the physical reminder of belonging to Nigel, partly to cover the faded red rings around his wrists. He hugged the button-up tight around himself and inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of cigarettes and eucalyptus washing over his senses and slightly lessening the pounding in his head.

He fished his dab pen out of his overnight bag and took three hits, slowly but surely becoming less nauseous and more floaty. He went into the ensuite bathroom and changed his tampon, wincing as he shoved it inside, but thanks to the weed, the pain was dulled.

He shuffled back into Nigel’s bedroom and snooped around, picking up shit (a pack of cigarettes, half-empty beer cans, briefs that had missed the laundry hamper, a collection of lighters in a small box), looking in drawers (unfolded clothes, underwear, extremely weathered Playboys, a stash of coke) and rifling through the walk in closet (suits, iron-pressed button ups, cufflinks, dress shoes, a massive array of cologne). Nigel’s world was the perfect combination of class and carelessness, and Will wanted to immerse himself fully. Each item he studied seemed mundane on their own, but because they belonged to the man he loved, he was suddenly overcome with such blinding affection for them that he was about to break down in tears over a crumpled fucking can of beer.

Suddenly, a pair of arms looped around his waist from behind. Nigel’s touch was red-hot, enveloping, and Will surrendered his full body weight to the older man, convinced that his boyfriend would never let him fall, and if he did, he would catch him.

Nigel nuzzled and kissed his cheek, his stubble tickling the soft skin. “Good morning, gorgeous,” he mumbled into the boy’s ear, scratchy morning voice in full effect, yawning softly. “You gonna steal all my fucking clothes?”

“Mornin’, sorry Daddy,” Will giggled, melting into the man’s touch, letting him explore his body in soft sweeps, mapping out the dips and curves of his flesh.

His possessive hands roved all over Will’s torso, opening the shirt to brush over his nipples. He continued to pepper little kisses behind his ear and down his neck as he spoke, voice velvet-smooth and raspy, feather-light against his boy’s skin. “Mmm. Don’t be. You look fucking scrumptious in that shirt.”

If this was Nigel’s reaction to seeing Will in his shirt, then yes, he would probably steal all of the man’s clothes, flaunt each article in his face one by one until they were all ruined with sweat and cum. Will arched his back, exposing his chest further, tilted his head with a sigh, and pressed his ass against the older man’s crotch. He craned his neck to look up at his boyfriend with coy, mischievous eyes, wiggling his backside. “Yeah? You wanna eat me up?”

He shrieked as Nigel slung him over his shoulder and carried him back to bed.

He ate him up all right, this time from the back while Will moaned into a pillow, and he squirted in Nigel’s face when he brought a dry thumb to the boy’s hole. They cuddled after, Nigel spooning him and whispering soft praises in his ear, stroking his hair and caressing his body in between gentle kisses. It was nothing short of absolutely perfect. Will wanted to be content, but his brain would not cooperate; he wished they could stay in this world they had built, this world of companionship, of comfort, of love, for all eternity, even after they were dead; that their souls could remain bound to one another in the afterlife, leaving their bones mangled together in a grotesque show of intimacy.

These were big, intense thoughts for a Saturday morning, and Will felt helpless to them, like he was more than hyper fixated, he was addicted. He couldn’t seem to enjoy the man’s company without his brain making sweeping declarations concerning life and death, and he repeatedly had to remind himself that toxic attachment was not love. Just let him hold you and kiss you. Isn’t that enough? Do you have to be so fucking dramatic about everything?

Even though Will made everything harder for himself than it had to be, it could be easy with Nigel. Didn’t he want it easy? Didn’t he want a quiet life, something uncomplicated, something that didn’t involve manipulation and murder and visions of blood? They didn’t have to go on a rampage, they weren’t Bonnie and Clyde, they didn’t have to throw themselves off a cliff to be together. They could just be here, in this moment, in bed, holding each other close. Will sighed, turned to face the love of his life, giving him a sloppy, prolonged kiss, and his overcrowded brain settled. Yes. Life could be so easy, if only he could stay out of his head and focus on the man in front of him; something real, something tangible.

And on a dime, Nigel’s compliments turned from innocent to naughty. “You know, I fucking love eating your pussy,” he growled in Will’s ear.

That certainly pulled Will from his thoughts. Nigel didn’t have to say so; Will had never met any man in his life who was so… enthusiastic about it… still, it was nice to hear. “O-oh, Daddy…” Will whined, that fuzzy, faraway feeling taking over his limbs, his throbbing, sensitive cunt growing slick once more.

Nigel caressed his ass, his ribcage, his chest, his face, anything he could get his hands on as he continued to speak, and it grew impossible to pay attention to anything else. “You seemed to like having your hole played with, too. You ever had your ass eaten, angel? Maybe we should try it next time.”

Oh fuck. The man’s deep, raspy voice in his ear was unbearable, and Will was putty in his hands. “O-oh… No, I haven’t. But I’ll let you if you want to…”

Nigel brushed over a nipple, and Will let out a choked little moan. “Hmm. Do you want me to? I’d never force you to do anything, darling. I hope you know that.”

I know. You’d never hurt me. I love you so much. “Yes, I want you to, I want to try it,” Will rephrased, somewhat breathily.

“Mmmm,” Nigel hummed, and it sent shivers through Will’s entire body, peaking his nipples. “Good boy.”

And when the man shifted his hips closer and pressed his erection against Will’s ass, there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to climb on his dick and ride him until the bed broke.

He gave him a voracious blowjob instead. By the end of it, his face was covered in spit and jizz, and he took a long, hot shower while Nigel cooked breakfast. It was intensely domestic, and it felt natural, almost routine, like they’d been doing this every morning for ages. Like fate had dictated that they’d spend their lives together, just like this.

When Will was done in the bathroom, he slipped back into Nigel’s button up and padded into the kitchen, watching Nigel cook. He was still mostly naked, scrambling eggs with a cigarette between his lips and a concentrated look, clad in only a pair of boxer briefs with little bottles of beer on them. It was the perfect angle for Will to gaze at his sculpted back and toned ass while he worked at the stove.

He was overcome with memories of the first time they were in this room, and blushed as his eyes fixated on the countertop where he’d gotten fucked, fingered and given thorough blowjobs to both Lecter brothers. He hoped Duncan would come home soon so Will could show him what he’d been missing.

Nigel sat Will on his lap in the breakfast nook, brushed a curl behind his ear and kissed his nose while they shared a morning blunt, the food left to warm in the oven. He was staring up at Will, smiling so wide it looked like it hurt. And Will was doing the same.

“Do you smoke weed a lot?” the older man asked, letting Will bring the blunt to his mouth.

The boy on his lap watched his cheeks hollow as he inhaled, then exhaled a puff of thick smoke, and he wanted to swoon. I’ve never seen anyone make smoking look so goddamn sexy… “Pretty much every day. Not at work, though, if that concerns you.”

The blunt was passed to Will, who took a long hit. “I don’t give a flying fuck what you do at my club, babydoll, honestly. Half the time I’m doing fuckin’ lines in my office.”

Will had guessed as much, based on the stash he’d found in the man’s underwear drawer, but for him to admit that it was a habit was slightly concerning. “Um, okay, that’s not super reassuring,” he said, exhaling.

“I-- Fuck.”

“What?”

“Can I say something?”

Will took another hit. “Um. That depends on what it is.”

Nigel looked deadly serious, like he was about to propose marriage. And what he did propose was almost more romantic. “I wanna do coke off your ass.”

Will coughed out the smoke. Nigel was just full of surprises, wasn’t he? At least I know I’ll never get bored. “Alrighty then.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I was not expecting that.”

Nigel patted his back to soothe him as he continued to cough, taking the blunt from his fingers and ashing it in a small tray. “Not now, just, you know. Someday.” He sounded almost wistful.

Will wiped his eyes, cracking a grin. What a sweet, goofy man his Daddy was… “Well shit. Romance ain’t dead.”

“Fuck.” Nigel laughed, a little more freely than he usually did. Will laughed back, elated at how relaxed his boyfriend was like this. We should smoke together more.

But coke? Will had never done that before. He’d been offered on many occasions, but had always politely refused. He didn’t need to increase the chemical imbalance in his brain with any hard drugs, thank you very much. Besides, the rush he got from killing was basically the same thing as snorting five lines, except the high was longer and no doubt more satisfying. Although… doing it with Nigel actually sounded really fun. Maybe they’d go out to a party one night and do it; Will spread out on a table, taking care not to move while Nigel inhaled the white powder off his bare skin. He’d make a tiny line for Will to do, and then they’d grind together on the dance floor, moving together like they were already fucking as everyone watched. And God, the sex… the sex would be insane… Jesus Christ. Maybe that explained why he fucked like a goddamn animal. Was he doing it all the time?

“You’re not, like. Addicted to it, right?” Please don’t be a cokehead. Please don’t be a cokehead. Please don’t be a cokehead.

Nigel laughed. “No, baby, nothing like that. Once in a while, you know.”

Will narrowed his eyes, skeptical. “You said half the time.”

“I was exaggerating.”

“Uh huh.”

Nigel amended his statement, taking a hit and exhaling as he spoke. “I only do it at the club. Just makes it easier to do the job, sometimes. I’ll stop if it bothers you.”

“You will?”

“Of course.” A little smoke came out of his nose. God, you’re so fucking hot. If I wasn’t sore right now…

“I mean, I’m not saying never do it. Just, you know. Actually once in a while.”

“Done.” And thank God for that, because if anything ever, ever happened to Nigel, Will would drop dead right then and there.

He gave his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek as a thank you. “How often do you smoke weed?” he asked, curious. Nigel didn’t cough much, and it was clear from the way he handled the blunt that he’d done it many times before. That would be a much better alternative to cocaine. Will hoped he could encourage the man to do it regularly with him.

“Shit, not for a long time, baby. I used to sit around and do it all day, back when I was living with Hannibal, and he did not fucking care for it, to say the least. Said it stank up the house, that it ruined his palate.”

When Will was offered the blunt, he inhaled deeply, blowing out a few smoke rings. Nigel’s grin got wider, impressed, and Will giggled. “You used to live with him? Why’d you move out?”

Nigel took the blunt from him and blew a few smoke rings at the ceiling to match Will, then licked his lips. God, your mouth… “He didn’t agree with my lifestyle, as he so lovingly put it. I’d always embarrass him in front of his dinner guests. And Duncan was living in this place, so I decided to move here.”

Will frowned. “I’m sorry he treats you like that. That’s not okay. He sounds like a real piece of work.”

Nigel took one more hit and left the blunt to burn in the ashtray. “He can be a stuck up little bitch. But I try not to hold it against him. He’s been through… a whole fuckin’ lot, darling.”

Don’t make excuses for him. You’re better than he is. “And you haven’t?”

Nigel sighed. Will wanted to kiss him until the furrow in his brow went away. “Yeah, shit, I guess I have, too, in my own way.”

“Well I’m here now,” Will said, as if it solved all of the man’s problems. He wiggled on his lap.

“Mmmm, yes you are.” Nigel began to feel him up, grabbing handfuls of his ass to knead and squeeze as Will let out a soft hum. “Do you know how incredible you are, baby? You’ve changed my life-- God, it was so fucking dull and pathetic before I met you.”

Will’s thoughts were growing dangerous again. “Tell me more about it. I want to know.” Please. Tell me everything.

Nigel shrugged. He stopped making eye contact. No. Don’t hide. Not from me. “Drinking. Drugs. Strippers. Whores. Beating motherfuckers up. That’s basically it.”

Will’s monster wanted him to scream, to punch the wall and cry. You’re still lying to me. There’s something else. There was somebody else. Why won’t you tell me? Don’t you love me?

You’re being toxic again. You don’t own his thoughts. You don’t own his past, Will scolded himself, trying to continue to do what he did best, living in denial. But God, he wasn’t sure it was working anymore. With each passing moment, he grew more restless, feral, itching for a partnership that was deeper than just dates and sex. There were always undercurrents of violence when they fucked, like they wanted to rip each other apart, and Will just wanted to give in, wanted to give up all sense of self-preservation, wanted to follow that instinct until he ended up a bloody mess in Nigel’s bed. He wanted all of Nigel, not bits and pieces, and he wanted Nigel to see all of him, even the parts that might scare him away.

Fuck it, there was no use anymore in denying what he wanted; he wanted easy days with Nigel, and he also wanted guts and gore, to lick blood off the man’s face and fuck over the corpses of their victims. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. What was so wrong with that?

He prodded still, using all the subtlety of an icepick lobotomy. “Did you own a club in Romania?”

And Nigel seemed amenable to telling Will as much as he could without really saying anything. “Yeah, with my buddy Darko. Crazy son of a bitch.”

“Do you ever go back to visit?”

There was a sour look on Nigel’s face, like he’d had a thought that he wanted to squash down. Tell meeeeeeeeeeeee. “Never.”

Will wanted to pout. Pleaseeeee, Daddy. “Why not?”

“I’m not allowed to, darling. The Romanian government would lock me up for good.”

Fine. You win. I give up. Will changed the subject, determined to get something out of him. Anything. “What about Lithuania? Do y’all ever go back?”

That seemed to prod at something deeper, a very old wound that was somehow still fresh, open and festering, oozing blood. Nigel was suddenly stiff under him, tense, distant, gazing at something Will couldn’t see. And he felt like he shouldn’t have asked. “Not Lithuania either. Doesn’t exactly hold great fucking childhood memories.”

It made sense that they would’ve had similar childhoods. Neglect, empty promises, and when anybody bothered to be there, abuse. If that was the case, Will could understand completely why Nigel didn’t want to talk about anything from back then. If anyone ever asked Will about his childhood, he’d punch them in the fucking face. The fact that his boyfriend was willing to even discuss the subject spoke volumes about his trust for Will.

It was evident in the way the men clung as tightly to Will as Will clung to them, unconcerned with the intensity of their bond or how fast they were all spiraling into codependency, that Nigel and Duncan had both been through their fair share of trauma. They didn’t speak about it, but it was there, an invisible force that drove them to extremes. Will saw himself in both of them.

None of the three men were well-adjusted, but they could be perfect together in their chaos. Will thought that maybe, one day, they’d all get up the guts to tell each other the things they’d never told anyone.

But not today. If Nigel wasn’t ready, Will didn’t want to know. He ruffled the man’s hair affectionately, bringing him back to here, to now, to the only thing that mattered; their newfound love for one another. I’m sorry for pushing you. I know I’m intense. Thank you for tolerating that.

“I get it,” he said, stroking Nigel’s stubble and kissing his nose. “I’ve never been back to Nawlins either. Not since I graduated high school.”

Nigel brushed a curl behind his ear, his features softening into an expression of temporary serenity. “I’ve heard it’s a beautiful city.”

When memories of beer bottles breaking against the wall, itchy couches on bare skin, and riotous drunken laughter emerged, Will shoved them back down. “It is. I wish it was still beautiful for me.”

Nigel didn’t pry further. They lit up the blunt again and smoked in companionable silence until it was done, their past lives getting farther and farther away until they faded into the background completely, until the only thing they could think of was how fucking hungry they were.

They finally drank coffee and wolfed down some sausage and eggs, occasionally feeding each other whilst maintaining very horny eye contact. Eventually it escalated to Nigel bending Will over the breakfast nook table and making good on his promise to give him a rimjob. Will had severely underestimated the erotic power of a well-cooked meal.

And he’d also severely underestimated how pleasurable it would be to get his ass eaten. He felt so sensitive, unable to control the clenching of his muscles, like he could come from this alone. Especially when Nigel once again took up his favorite activity of spanking the shit out of him.

Will’s cries were getting louder with each blow to his ass. He let out small yelps that cascaded into long, wanton moans. “Oh! Oh fuck! Ohhhhh my Goooood, FUCK!”

And Nigel, in between licks to his hole, mumbled a string of praises all concerning one subject-- Will’s “Fucking juicy ass. I dream about this ass every goddamn night.”

Will’s fingers were digging into the tabletop, resting his cheek on the cold wood and groaning as Nigel jiggled his red, burning asscheeks together. “Nigel! Oh God…”

The dirty praises continued. “You know you have the most gorgeous ass I’ve seen in my fucking life, right? Fucking goddamn. If I ever saw you walking down the street with this…” he squeezed for emphasis, and Will mewled. “I wouldn’t be able to control myself, baby.” And God, that should not have been arousing…

Will thought of all the times he’d been groped in public by strange hands, turning around only to see the man fleeing as fast as he could; at the club, in bars, at the gym, at water fountains, in lines… really anywhere he went, he attracted unwanted attention. It often seemed that men couldn’t help themselves around him, couldn’t see him without reaching out to touch. And while somewhat flattering, it was humiliating, and Will hated it, hated that he lived in a world where men like that could get away with whatever they wanted while Will had to dwell on those awkward moments for the rest of his life.

But the thought of Nigel being a stranger on the street, sidling up behind him and feeling him up, maybe clapping a big hand over his mouth and gripping him tight with those strong arms so he’d have nowhere to go… It was turning him on. Maybe he’d pull Will into an alleyway, hold a gun to his head, yank down his pants, and…

Oh. This was new. Will had never had… those sorts of fantasies before. He’d been in that situation too many times to count, been touched and violated by strangers, friends, and family members alike, but had never considered that it might be hot as fuck, with the right person. Oh my God, stop it. What is going on in your brain today? Are you really getting off thinking about him raping you? That’s DISGUSTING. He would never fucking want that. You’re seriously fucking twisted. You need to be locked up in the goddamn loony bin.

These self-flagellating thoughts, fortunately, slipped away as Nigel brought his tongue to his hole again, licking over the little clenched muscle. “Oh! Oh fuck!” Will exclaimed, doing his best to stay still and take what the man gave.

Nigel moaned and continued to feast on him, giving his ass a spank every once in a while, and when Will’s muscles had loosened enough for him to do so, he dipped his tongue inside the furled entrance.

And that was-- “Oh fuck, oh my God, I’m gonna cum!” Will banged on the tabletop with a fist and tossed his head back, mouth agape.

Nigel fucked his tongue in and out and slipped a large finger inside Will’s wet pussy, holding the dangling tampon string in his other hand, taking care that it didn’t get stuck inside. And Will, for the third time in twenty-four hours, squirted in the man’s face.

“FUCK! Oh my God, NIGEL! Fuck!” he screamed, banging on the table again, briefly wondering if the neighbors could hear his whorish sounds. (Sort of wanting them to.)

Nigel moved his mouth down to swallow each gush of cum, lapping at his pussy like it was water, then stood behind him, tapping his bare erection on Will’s backside with a grunt. Similar to the night before, he desperately tugged on his dick a few times and finished on Will’s red ass, and the sensation of his hot cum splashing onto his stinging cheeks made Will yelp.

“Oh! Oh fuck, Daddy, yeah, all over me,” he encouraged, wiggling a little.

“FUCK, fuck fuck fuck,” Nigel repeated over and over, groaning and smacking his wet cock on Will’s plump cheeks with more intensity when the boy started to twerk. “Jesus, baby, you’re fucking killing me.”

Will giggled and rubbed his now sticky ass under Nigel’s waning erection. “I wonder how you’ll cope when I’m onstage, Daddy.”

There was that sexy growl. It was becoming Will’s favorite sound. “Fuck, baby. Naughty fucking boy. I’ll probably have to jerk it behind the bar while you dance.”

Oh Jesus Lord. God, that was more of an incentive than tips. Will turned around to face his boyfriend, going up on his tiptoes for a kiss. “Looking forward to it,” he teased.

He let out a tiny screech as Nigel effortlessly picked him up and held him by the ass. Will clung onto him, arms around his shoulders, ankles locked around his back, and they made out for what seemed like simultaneously forever and no time at all. Will wondered to himself, briefly, if they’d ever feel satisfied after sex, if they’d ever not crave more, more, more of each other, if their passion would ever fizzle and settle into something more tranquil. He didn’t think it would. He never wanted it to.

Nigel broke their kisses first, although it was less like kissing and more like eating each other’s faces. He caught his breath for a few seconds, seeking eye contact, and Will gave it to him. When did looking him in the eye turn from scary to comforting? he thought.

He almost didn’t hear what Nigel said. Or maybe his brain was in denial.

“Move in with me.”

Will thought, for a second, that he was just really high and had imagined it. “Huh?”

Nigel repeated himself, determined. “Move in with me, darling. I want you here with me, always. And Duncan too, if you want, I don’t give a fuck, I just want you to be happy… I want to make you happy.”

Will was caught off guard completely. This was not a dream, not a hallucination; this was very, very real. Nigel wanted this just as badly as Will did. Even though they didn’t know absolutely everything about each other, Nigel was ready to take the plunge. Nigel was ready to make a commitment to him. Nigel wanted to take care of him, protect him. Nigel wanted to spend their lives together.

He wanted to scream YES, YESYESYES! Yes, Daddy, please, please take care of me. I want to be with you forever. I want to sleep in the same bed, I want to wake up next to you, I want to spend every day with you until we’re old and ugly and geriatric. They were made for each other, after all, weren’t they? Didn’t matter that they’d barely known each other for a week; it was glaringly obvious to Will that they were meant to be. They were bound together now, body, mind, and soul. They’d begun to blur, and neither one of them would survive separation.

And that was really fucking scary. If Will said yes, he was potentially opening himself up to a world of hurt. If it didn’t work out with Nigel, if Nigel found out about Bobby and kicked him to the curb, that would quite literally be it for Will, and he’d end up in a mental hospital. Again.

He could’ve had an intense mental debate with himself until he was crushed under the weight of making a decision, but he decided to externalize his thoughts instead, for once. “You already make me happy,” he said, stroking Nigel’s jaw, feeling it tense up as soon as the words left his mouth. “Isn’t this a little fast?”

Nigel carefully set him down on the breakfast nook table, mindful of Will’s stinging asscheeks, and continued to hold him close, looking more nervous than Will had ever seen him. “I know when I’ve got something good, angel, and I’ve never had it as good as this.”

Will leaned up and kissed his cheek, a tiny act of reassurance. He rubbed a bicep, enjoying the way the defined muscle felt under his hand. “You’re not going to lose me, Nigel. You know that, right? I’m not going to leave, I’m right here. You don’t have to keep me on a leash.”

“That’s not what this is about, Will, I-- fuck.” Nigel shut his eyes hard, scrunched his face and clenched his fists like he wanted to hit himself. “I’m fucking this up. As usual.”

“Hey, look at me,” Will commanded gently. When Nigel obeyed, he gave him a little peck on the nose. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. I don’t like it.”

He nodded once, and his soft smile was back. The poor guy, he’d probably fucking kill himself if Will told him to. Whoever else had been in his past, they’d clearly treated him like shit. Will wished they would’ve met sooner, that in another universe he could have spared Nigel all that pain, the heartbreak, the abandonment. And he also wished Nigel could see himself how Will saw him; compassionate, loyal, and beautiful, so, so beautiful that it hurt to look at him.

“Okay. Sorry, baby. I just… I really want to do this with you,” Nigel urged, playing with the collar of his button-up on Will’s slighter frame.

Just say yes. You want to say yes, don’t you? SAY YES. “I just… I don’t know.” Oh my God, you idiot.

And God bless Nigel, who knew without Will having to tell him that he was a chronic overthinker. “What are you scared of, my love?” he asked, cupping Will’s cheek.

Will bit his lip and leaned into the touch. You’re okay. You’re fine. It’s just Nigel. It all came up then, all of Will’s anxieties and insecurities, like bile rising in the back of his throat. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if I make a mistake, or you get bored of me? I don’t want to lose you. I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

Nigel did a double take at him, and the hand on his cheek squeezed softly. “Are you fucking joking, darling? Do you know what you do to me?” the man asked quietly, intently, almost threateningly, staring at Will like he truly had no fucking idea what he’d just said. “I could never, in any universe, get fucking bored of you, gorgeous. I’ve never met anyone as special as you, as smart, and talented, and fucking stunning, and I lo--” he stopped himself there, to Will’s dismay. I love you too, his mind screamed, and Will hoped that Nigel heard it. Please, say it. Say it. SAY IT.

But he didn’t. He ran a hand through his hair to center himself, and fuck, why did every little idiosyncrasy of Nigel’s make Will insane with lust? He tried to focus on what he was saying instead of staring at his arms. “I’m crazy about you, and I’m always going to be. I’ve never been so sure about anything in my fucking life. And you could never, ever, ever fuck this up, darling. The only way it wouldn’t work out between us is if you decided to leave, and even then I might not let you.”

He’s scared to say it. He thinks you’ll run away. Show him. Show him you’re ready, that you love him back. “Y’know you can say it, if you want to,” Will blurted, taking a deep breath. Be brave.

“I love you too, Daddy,” he said, and nothing had ever felt more right. “I knew it from the moment I saw you sitting at the bar. And I’m not going to leave you, ever. I’m here to stay.”

“Oh… Will, I…” Tears welled up in Nigel’s eyes, and when he began to cry, it was very obvious in the way he sniffled and cleared his throat that he’d cried about twice in his life. “I’m sorry, I just… this is the happiest moment of my fucking life. I love you so much. More than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. I really, really do. I love you. Will you say it again to me?”

“I love you. I’m in love with you, Nigel.” That didn’t really begin to cover the depth of feeling he held for his Daddy, but it was a good start.

Nigel looked about three seconds away from breaking down completely. It’s okay, Daddy, you can cry in front of me. Let yourself go, Will encouraged, not really sure if the words were for Nigel or for himself.

“I’m in love with you, too, I…” the dam broke, and Nigel burst into hiccupy sobs. He gripped Will’s shoulders tight, like he was afraid he might vanish into thin air. “You really want to live with me?”

Will brushed his tears away, shushing him softly and resting his head against the man’s chest, pressing his lips to the rabbiting heartbeat. “Yes, Daddy, I do. I want it more than anything.” He felt tears prickle in his own eyes too, and for the first time in a long time, he let himself cry.

They held each other and sobbed for a few minutes. It was bone-deep, cathartic, and Will got the sense that they were both crying for many, many reasons. Will cried for the little girl he’d been, then the boy he’d been, and the man he’d become, knowing with certainty that Nigel would take care of all three of them.

Eventually, the crying stopped, and after using an entire box of Kleenex, they settled into the living room with refills of coffee, bombarding each other with frantic little kisses.

“Fuck, I’m so excited… God, you’re gonna breathe so much life into this place. Look at this shit,” Nigel said, waving a hand in reference to the house he and Duncan shared. “It’s too big for just two people. Fucking dark and creepy, but with you… with you, it’ll be home. Fill it up with dogs, repaint and redecorate, I don’t give a shit, as long as I’m right there when you do it. I just want to be by your side every single fucking day. I really don’t give a fuck about anything else.”

Will’s vivid imagination filled in the gaps, and he saw it before his eyes: him, Nigel, Duncan, maybe a dog or seven, curled up by the fire, swimming naked in the pool, cooking dinner together, fucking hard until they fell asleep and woke up to do it all over again. Watching movies between the two men, going shopping together, going to the club, going to the shooting range… Maybe even hunting together, choosing their prey methodically and striking when the time suited… it was all right there in front of him, just waiting for Will to reach out and take. It was no longer a fantasy, no longer something Will desired but ultimately repressed. This could be his life. This could be their life.

He set his coffee cup on the footrest, climbed into his rightful spot on Nigel’s lap, and nuzzled his neck, feeling sheltered by the man’s body heat. “Yes. I want to do that. I want to be with you, Daddy. I need you to take care of me.”

“I need it too, baby.” And it was true. Nigel needed this just as much as Will did. In taking care of Will, Will took care of Nigel, and they were both fucked without each other. “You’ll always be safe with me,” the man promised. “Yeah?”

Safe. Safe. Safe. Will thought, for once, it might actually be true. He looked deep into his Daddy’s amber eyes, finding nothing there but overwhelming ardor. “Yes, Sir.”

Nigel gave him an approving nod and a fierce kiss, gripping his face with both hands. “Good boy. I love you, Will.”

“I love you, Nigel…” He couldn’t stop saying it. He wished Nigel had a fire escape like in West Side Story so he could yell it out to the neighborhood. “I love you so much.”

After lots more coffee-flavored kisses, they agreed to let Will spend one last weekend with Bev while they got things in order. Nigel arranged to get the keys to the house copied, and Will arranged to get his stuff moved on Monday.

On some level, Will was sad to leave Bev, but the apartment was tainted for him now, anyway. It was fucking unfair, how one terrible memory undid all the good ones. Watching TV together, smoking weed and shoving popcorn into their mouths. Making coffee for her and Margot in the morning, sitting on the couch and shooting the shit. Playing unnecessarily competitive rounds of Uno on the rug with old college friends. In the span of the thirty minutes Bobby had been inside the apartment, he’d erased it all, leaving flashbacks of terror in his wake. Now, instead of the apartment being a beacon of comfort and friendship, the one fucking place in the world he felt safe, it was yet another source of fear and shame.

He genuinely wanted to live with Nigel, but he also had to get out of that fucking building. It was a two-for-one.

So fuck it. He was leaving that chapter of his life, and he wouldn’t look back. He was ready to venture into the dark, winding catacombs of his future, Nigel’s love a burning torch illuminating the way, guiding him into the vast, terrifying, wonderful unknown.

Chapter Text

Bobby Bronson was not a religious man, in any way, shape or form.

In fact, he had frequent arguments with his partner about how stupid religion and religious people were-- partly because he thought this was true, and partly because it was fun to see Durst get mad. He’d get all red in the face, and he’d start pointing, getting all righteous, calling Bobby all sorts of names (primarily asshole). This banter usually ended in either a verbal altercation or a halfhearted fistfight, but that was okay, it got their energy out, and they always eventually made up. Bronson’s hatred for religion probably had something to do with his dead Catholic alcoholic father, but he tried not to read too far into it.

Never had he considered that God, or the universe, or fate, or whatever the fuck was up there might be looking out for him. But that all changed Friday afternoon.

Suddenly, Bobby wanted to get down on his knees and thank the heavens for blessing him. Because Will Graham had a fucking OnlyFans.

He had stumbled upon it as he sat at the computer for a necessary jerk-off session. His little tryst with Will on Wednesday night had been replaying somewhat involuntarily in his head over and over and over, ever since he’d left the boy’s apartment; Will, on his knees, slurping on his dick, playing with his balls and staring up at him with those stormy blue eyes; Will, taking his robe off shyly, revealing to Bobby the most magnificent body he’d ever seen; Will, face down, ass up on the rug, getting pounded, letting out choked little breaths and crying out Daddy, Daddy; Will’s swollen little pussy dripping with cum, that beautiful fat ass shaking in Bobby’s face… Fuck, the kid made him so fucking hot and bothered he could barely clock into work on time or focus on any other case.

Of course, nothing got past Durst, the fucker, and he’d commented several times about Bobby getting his head out of his ass to focus on a more pressing case-- some girl found dead on the Jones Falls Trail, tied to a tree, in a bunny costume, with a whip around her neck. He’d analyzed the crime scene the day before meeting Will, and at the time, the cheap, hot pink costume had inspired nothing other than mild amusement and arousal. But now, when he thought back on the blue, lifeless corpse of the once-beautiful girl, clad in the sexy (if slightly degrading) outfit, he couldn’t focus on anything substantial; suspects, potential witnesses, motive; it all flew out the window. Instead, the only thing Bobby could focus on was one thought: Imagine Will wearing something like that…

Normally, this case would take up all his mental energy, and he’d obsess, and obsess, and drink, and drink, and agonize over solving the girl’s murder, spiral into self-destruction through bar fights and DUIs and wild, late-night professions of love for his ex-wife. But now, thanks to Will, he wasn’t even thinking about her, or about the murdered girl at all. His thoughts were like a broken record, skipping over the one fucking thing in his life he had going for him, and not even weed or whiskey could banish the thought of Will Graham from his head.

He had to find something to keep himself satiated before tomorrow night. It was like his dick was perpetually hard, his brain hyper fixated on all the things he wanted to do to the boy. He’d masturbate furiously, and it still wouldn’t go away, all his perverted thoughts about Will prodding at him like a needle trying to find a vein, and making room in his brain for anything else was virtually impossible.

He was trying very hard not to think about Will’s alleged “boyfriend,” too. The thought of Will submitting to another man, letting another man touch him and feel how tight he was inside, calling another man Daddy… it was eating away at Bobby. He tried to convince himself that nobody could ever satisfy Will like he could, nobody could fuck him as roughly as he needed to be fucked like he could.

The kid was probably lying about having a boyfriend anyway. Those red handprints on his ass had been worrisome, but realistically, with the way the kid acted, parading himself around like a little slut, they could have been from any man off the street. He was trying to rile Bobby up, intimidate him, make him insane with jealousy. But even if the “boyfriend” didn’t exist, it was fucking working. Bobby was practically itching to punch somebody, anybody, and the first person to mildly inconvenience him would be very, very fucking sorry.

He was fucking mad at himself. As much as he tried to tell himself that he didn’t have feelings for Will, that it was just sex, he knew that was a lie. He was falling for the kid. He was vulnerable, and he hated feeling vulnerable. And on top of it all, he was fucking confused, because he’d never had sexual thoughts about another dude in his life.

Although… was it really gay if Will had a pussy? He was still straight, right? I mean, the kid was basically a deep-voiced girl. He was almost hairless, with an hourglass figure; a tiny waist, wide hips, and a meaty ass, just like a woman would have. His curls were down to his shoulders, his eyelashes were long, and even his bone structure was feminine. He had thick thighs and a pink pussy between them. Shit, now that Bobby thought about it, the only thing he was missing was a pair of tits. No, Bobby wasn’t a fucking queer. That was ridiculous. Nobody could blame him for wanting to feel a tight cunt around his dick.

He wondered what Will would’ve looked like when he was younger, before he transitioned, a cute, shy little girl… long brown hair to her plump ass and perky little tits bouncing as she walked… fuck. How big would they have been? What did her voice sound like? Did she wear makeup? Dresses? Cute little panties with the days of the week written on the front? What he wouldn’t give to have met her then, before she’d even touched a cock, and corrupted her; fucking her face and between her tits and that tight, pink, virginal little cunt. Would she be shy? Would she try to fight back? Or would she lie there and take it like a good little girl?

All these emotions were swirling around in his head and produced a simmering tension in his limbs that needed to be diffused, although whether through sex, violence, or some combination of both, Bobby wasn’t sure. But if he couldn’t make the thoughts go away, maybe he could find a sufficient doppleganger on the internet to help his dick calm down. Brunette twink with pussy, he’d searched on PornHub, and to his shock and delight, found the kid himself staring right back at him.

Annoyingly, the boy’s uncensored content was behind a paywall, but it turned out to be more than worth it. Bobby bitterly typed in his credit card information, unlocked his OnlyFans profile, and clicked on the many posts.

The most recent one had been posted the same day he knocked on the kid’s door. It was a video, the cover photo a delicious view of Will’s fat, perky ass. He was wearing that same black thong Bobby had made him take off, and there were those goddamn red handprints that had fueled Bobby’s rage. The caption was fucking tantalizing-- Daddy got me real good… who wants to spank it next?

Oh, this was too fucking much. He scrolled through every single post, filtering them from oldest to newest, reading the captions, eyes getting wider, and wider, and wider.

first post, kinda shy… which thong do u like on me?

do u like it when i twerk for u?

riding my new dildo 😈

deepthroat & facial compilation!!!!!!

would you pull out or fill me up?

met a fan, rode him in his car until he came inside me…

REAL: fucked my prof! let him creampie me 🙊

sucking & fucking a random guy at a party while his friends watch…

backshots with me sound like a gunfight 😂

REAL: fucked the pizza delivery guy

ass compilation 🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑

GANGBANG ALERT!!!!!!

threesome with my hot stud coworkers!

REAL: fucked my sexy uber driver, he had a huge cock 😍😍😍🍆🍑

got tied up and fucked by a bunch of random dudes on vacation… i passed the fuck out lol

riding compilation, your pov<3 who’s next?

REAL: the plumber came to fix my dishwasher, but ended up bending me over the sink instead…

gloryhole mayhem… i think i sucked at least five dicks 😭😭😭

got fucked in the bathroom of the bar by a cute bear and his friends

sucked the soul out of a hot guy from tinder and swallowed his cum!!!!

They continued, on and on, a treasure trove of Bobby’s most depraved fantasies concerning Will Graham. Only they were fucking real. Right here, at his fingertips. I knew it, Bobby thought, jaw clenching in fury. He’s a regular fucking whore.

To begin with, the boy had two million subscribers, which meant that not only had Bobby seen his pussy, so had a very small percentage of people on Earth. And at ten dollars per month to subscribe, it also meant that, before taxes, he was making at least twenty million a month.

Not only that, but these videos were real. It wasn’t roleplay, like most porn was. These were real videos of Will letting strangers fuck him, most of the time in public. He seduced men on a regular fucking basis. He did it like it was nothing. He did it for fucking work.

The stripping was bad enough, and Bobby would’ve made him quit eventually, once they were officially together, but this. He was literally showing his pussy, his beautiful, exceptional, mouthwatering pussy, to anybody willing to pay ten dollars a month. This was… Bobby was deliriously angry, and deliriously horny.

This boy was not as pure as he had made himself out to be. He had been pretending.

He wasn’t necessarily a liar, just a really good actor. Bobby still believed some of the kid’s sob story; no doubt Chilton had probably tried to hit that, because who wouldn’t? Will Graham invited such behavior, with his boyish promiscuity and body that was made to be fucked. Didn’t matter if he wanted it; it was glaringly obvious to Bobby that he needed it. His OnlyFans was prime evidence. Bronson knew, and Chilton had known, that it was for his own good.

There was more proof in the way Will had let Bobby do it, even encouraged it by calling him Officer, by calling him Daddy, by dirty talking his ear off, by staying still and not fidgeting. Shit, he hadn’t even cried (which Bobby had to admit was slightly disappointing). He’d been the most perfect little fucktoy; pliant, obedient-- if a little hostile at first, a little feisty. But the fight had been half the fun for Bobby, anyway. 

Such behavior, however, would not be tolerated next time. Not to worry, though; that fierceness could be trained out of him. It would only take a bit of a push. By Sunday morning, Will Graham was going to be the most dutiful little pet. Bobby would fuck him a little rougher this time, maybe slap him around a bit, threaten him until he deleted his OnlyFans profile. After emailing Bobby every single video.

Yeah, the fact that he was a pornstar was less than ideal, but Bobby consoled himself with the knowledge that none of these subscribers knew his real name, and that his career would be over soon. Will would atone for his mistakes, plead for Bobby to forgive him, maybe put on a little show to make up for it. And Bobby would exonerate him of Chilton’s murder, and profess his feelings, and they’d move in together, and Will would be his, completely. No work to distract him, no other men waiting in the wings. Soon, he’d rely on Bobby for everything-- food, shelter, money, sex. Bobby was calm. It would all be okay. It had to be.

He couldn’t wait to dress Will up. He’d procured a bunny costume from his local lingerie shop, and it was laid out on his bed now, waiting patiently for a certain curly-haired, blue-eyed minx. It didn’t really look like the one the murdered girl had been wearing; it was black as opposed to pink, but Bobby thought that a darker aesthetic would suit Will better. By the end of tomorrow night, it would probably be ruined, ripped and soiled with cum, but that was alright. He’d just buy a new one for next time.

It was hard to choose, but in the end, Bobby settled on one video. The cover photo caught his eye-- Will in a skimpy little lingerie set that read stoner baby in gothic lettering, smiling at the camera with a few different toys scattered around him on the bed. And the caption nearly made Bobby come in his pants.

trying out some new toys, riding sex dolls while i have a plug in my ass, DOUBLE PENETRATION<3

This was ideal. He could still watch the kid take a dick-- or two-- without going into an envious rage at whoever was fucking him. And the last two words… Bobby actually had to close his laptop for a minute and take a few deep, tense breaths.

How would he do it? One in his pussy and one in his ass, or both stuffed into his tight cunt? Either way, Bobby was ecstatic. He sprinted to the bedside table for tissues and lube, then sat once more at his desk and pressed play.

A fade in to Will, on his bed, sitting up on his knees, which inadvertently emphasized his thick thighs and the curve of his ass. And that little bra and panty set looked fucking amazing on him… Shit, Bobby was already fucking losing it. He decided to torture himself for a while, at least until the actual video started. His dick was straining against his jeans, but he didn’t take it out, or even palm himself through the fabric. He sat there, wide-eyed and horny beyond belief, paralyzed by Will’s beauty.

“Hiiii, y’all,” the boy’s beautiful voice came, playful, teasing. Slightly bashful, a little secretive, staring coyly into the camera, which gave the illusion that, even as his words reached millions of men, he was speaking directly to Bobby. Damn, this kid was good.

“It’s gonna be a fun one today,” Will continued, a big smile on his face, eyes slightly lidded. “Solo video, since I haven’t done one in a while. I have a few new toys with me here that some fans bought for me, but first…” the boy rubbed his hands up and down his own torso, adjusting the tiny green bra, digging underneath the waistband of his tiny panties with both thumbs and letting it go with a sharp snap. “Do y’all like this set? I just bought it. Let me know in the comments,” he said with a precocious giggle.

Bobby wanted to rip that damn thing off. You little tease. Flaunting your body to anyone with ten dollars in their pocket. Fucking asking for it, aren’t you?

Will giggled again, seemingly at nothing, and he was so fucking cute when he laughed. Happiness was a side of Will that Bobby had yet to see, and it looked good on him. Although Will wore nothing as well as he wore pain.

He brushed his curls from his face, the little apples of his cheeks prominent as he smiled even wider. Bobby wondered what they might feel like against his palms, or his fists, or the barrel of his gun. Fuck. He twitched in his jeans.

Bobby turned the volume all the way up, leaned back into his chair, and closed his eyes, imagining Will was here, in his room, practically naked and waiting for him on the bed. The boy spoke again, and that little Southern lilt had Bobby’s dick sprung every. Fucking. Time.

“Not gonna lie, I took some edibles and I’m high as shit right now, so this should be really fun.” He giggled again, loose and uninhibited, and Bobby suddenly wanted him like this. He’d be so pliant, so eager, so easy to maneuver… It wasn’t a bad idea to get him high, especially if the boy continued to fight him. And if he still insisted on being a little shit, Bobby would drug him with something stronger. He tucked the idea into his back pocket for later.

“Also…” The boy turned around to show his ass, then pulled his panties aside to reveal an emerald green heart-shaped plug nestled snugly in his hole. It was the perfect shade of green for Will’s milky, slightly tanned skin. “This is new, too… You can thank user ItsThatKindOfParty for gettin’ me this one. I love how it sparkles!” He wiggled his ass side to side to demonstrate how the plug winked in the light, and Bobby groaned.

His dick was like a second person, screaming at him. TAKE ME OUT. STROKE ME. PLEASE. I’M DYING.

SHUT THE FUCK UP, he yelled at it. Oh my God, am I seriously talking to my dick? Jesus. Will Graham was turning Bobby into a fucking caveman.

The boy on screen pulled his cheeks apart to reveal his pink pussy, looking even tighter than usual thanks to the plug, and Bobby almost passed out. “Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing his face to distract from how badly he wanted to rub something else.

Will turned around to face the camera once more, sitting back on his heels and pulling two boxes closer to him. “Should we check out these toys? I haven’t used ‘em yet, so y’all get a little unboxing! Let’s start with this one.”

He waved a box in front of the camera, then ripped it open to reveal a lavender phallic-shaped vibrator with little marijuana leaves patterned on it. “Aww, it’s so cute! I love it. Thank you so much to user ShatteredTeacup. Y’all wanna see me use it?”

Of course we do. Please hurry the fuck up before I come in my pants. Bobby palmed himself once for some relief, then reluctantly took his hand away with a sigh and a “Fuck.”

The video cut to a new clip; Will, sitting up against the headboard, panties off, legs wide, exposing his pussy and cute little plugged hole. He rubbed the vibrator over his clit, shiny with wetness, mouth falling open and eyelids fluttering. “Oh, mmm, it feels nice… my clit is really sensitive, and it’s not too overwhelming, which is good.”

He flicked it from side to side, rubbed it in little circles, letting out little sighs and moans. “Fuck, yeah, it feels so nice… Should I put it inside me?”

“Fuck,” Bobby muttered under his breath, unzipping his jeans and shoving them past his hips, taking ahold of his dick. Finally, we’re getting to the good part.

With the vibrator still on, Will slipped it down to his slick entrance and began to push it inside. It wasn’t too girthy or long, and the glide was easy. “Mmm, ohhh… yeah…” the boy let out a little giggle. “Feels good… I-it’s, wow, the vibration feels good inside. Fuck.”

“Oh Jesus.” Bobby frantically pumped some lube into his hand, then started sliding his palm up and down his length, groaning very, very loudly at the contact. He was already leaking precum, and the coldness of the lube was jarring on the hot, sensitive skin. His head lolled back as he fucked up into the tightness of his fist.

Meanwhile, Will started to fuck himself with the toy, vibrations becoming audible to the camera as it slid out, and muffled as he pumped it back in. The plug shifted as well, poking out a little every time the vibrator was buried inside, and Bobby was literally biting his knuckles to distract from his aching dick.

He took his hand away, because if he kept going like this, he’d last about ten more seconds. WHYYYYYY, his dick screamed at him, throbbing and red at the tip. BECAUSE I SAID SO, Bobby retorted, too far gone to be embarrassed about having a conversation with his cock.

Will started rubbing his clit with an index finger, still fucking the toy in and out, and his eyes got wide. “Oh shit, I’m gonna cum…”

“Oh, fuck yeah, baby, c’mon…” Bobby said, as if the boy could hear him.

He studied Will’s pussy, quivering around the toy as he got closer, and closer, and closer, clamping down on it and moaning as he came on it. “Mmmmmm, ohhh, fuck!” He giggled again, letting out a long sigh. He took his finger from his protruding clit, pumping the toy in and out slower, and slower, and Bobby focused on the slight stretch of his cunt, and the gloss of Will’s cum on the vibrator, practically drooling on the keyboard of his computer. Jesus.

“Wow,” Will breathed, turning the knob on the toy until its vibrations stopped. “Goddamn, that felt good.”

New clip. Will was sitting cross-legged on the bed, which, from the way he shifted around and let out soft gasps, had to increase the pressure of the plug. “That was so-- oh-- nice! O-okay, onto the next one.” He ripped open another box, eyes widening as he revealed the toy-- a hot pink rabbit vibrator with a cannabis leaf meant to stimulate the clit. Oh fuck, this was gonna be good. Bobby took three deep, centering breaths.

“Oh my God, this one is so adorable! I love the little leaf so much. And it has ten different vibration settings! Oh, I can’t wait to try it. Thank you so much to user Stagman_Fucker, it’s literally perfect. Let’s do it!” Yeah, fucking thank God for Stagman_Fucker, Bobby thought with a grin.

The video cut to a clip of Will on his back, sliding the lube-slick dildo part of the toy into his pussy. He moaned as it went in and pumped it in and out a few times, giving the camera a view of how his cunt stretched around it, and how wet he was from his earlier orgasm.

His head hit the pillows, curls splaying out and framing his face, and he looked like some cherubic angel from a Renaissance painting. Bobby didn’t know much about art, but he knew that all those painters back then were fucking faggots, and every single subject of every single painting looked like this kid, pale and chiseled and slightly tragic, in a sexy way. He was the type of boy that men painted, and wrote poetry about, and composed songs for, and Bobby suddenly wished that he was talented in any way, that he could capture Will’s wild beauty in a piece of art, control it, tame it, wrap it up neatly with a bow and for once feel satisfied. But he couldn’t, and felt for certain that the only way he’d possess the boy’s beauty was to possess the boy himself; to lock him up in a cage and throw away the key.

This kid was really fucking him up. He’d never desired anyone this much before, not like this. He’d never had the urge to take, to coerce, to intentionally hurt anyone he loved, but with Will, pain and pleasure seemed to go hand in hand. It brought Bobby as much satisfaction to hear him moan and whine as it did to hear him plead for it to stop. The kid made his dick hard no matter what he did, and Bobby felt like he was the victim, helpless and exposed, even when he forced himself on the boy and made him bleed.

Will looked completely blissed out with the toy inside him, eyes heavy with pleasure and the effects of the edibles. He slid the toy all the way in until the little vibrator brushed his clit. It wasn’t on, but the boy shivered, still sensitive from his last orgasm. “Ohhh. Wow, the curve of this dildo is great, fuck, it’s right against my g-spot. Should I turn it on now? Let’s see, where’s the button…”

His body visibly jumped as the vibrations started, the little leaf buzzing and flicking side to side over his clit. The dildo inside him vibrated too, making his pussy twitch around it. His eyes flew wide open, and so did his mouth, like he couldn’t believe how good it felt. “Oh wow, FUCK, that’s strong! Oh! Oh my GOD!”

Oh my God was right. “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” Bobby swore, beginning to pump himself again, dick leaking more than it ever had before.

Will laughed in disbelief, giving the camera a view of his cute little dimples. He bit his lower lip in concentration, and while Bobby could tell his expressions were genuine, the boy knew exactly what the fuck he was doing. “Fuck, it’s right on my clit, and on my spot, fuck fuck fuck…”

He clicked on the button again, and the vibrations increased in intensity. He was going red in the face, flushed down his torso, nipples peaked under the flimsy bralette, and he was visibly shaking now. His clit was red as it was tortured with the vibrator, and his entrance wouldn’t stop dripping wetness, running over the plug in his ass and soaking the sheets under him. “I-I’m gonna cum, oh God, I… FUCK! OH! FUCK!”

His entire body tensed up as he orgasmed, pussy clenching around the toy, coating it in cum. Bobby paused the video and ran to the bathroom to splash some water on his face.

When his heart rate slowed, he sat at his desk once more, letting out a deep sigh and pressing play.

“FUCK FUCK FUCK! OH FUCK!” Will was still coming, trembling, heaving, gushing from his cunt, and practically screaming, holding the toy in place until he was done. He was the most breathtaking thing Bobby had ever seen. I wonder if I can make him cum like that.

One last pulse, one last wave of slickness, and then Will turned the toy off, catching his breath. “Fuckin’ a. Holy shit, I came so hard…” he pulled it out with a giggle, and it was audible, wetness squelching, covering his fucked-open pussy and the silicone dildo. Is it possible to die of horniness? Bobby wondered, glancing down at his rock hard, twinging dick.

A new clip began. “So that was… intense,” the boy said, laughing. “I’d recommend that one for anyone who has a hard time achieving orgasm. It’s really, really strong. Like, Jesus Christ. Okay. Onto the next toy…” God, there’s MORE?

Bobby remembered the caption. Sex dolls. Double penetration. Fuck. He put his head in his hands. There was no way he’d make it through.

“So y’all know I’m sponsoring a new product, and here it is…” Will leaned over the side of the bed and revealed two male sex dolls. He propped one up against the pillows, the other he brought in front of him. It was just a torso and cock, sculpted beyond belief and entirely unrealistic, pecs so defined they looked like boobs. Is this what Will wanted in a guy? Did Bobby really have to live up to such ridiculous body standards? Maybe he should lay off on the beer and go to the gym more. He frowned, sucking in his stomach a little.

The boy got on all fours facing the camera, sticking his ass out and arching his back, lips hovering just above the head of the doll’s cock. “Say hi to Tonny. If you’re into tattoos, he’s your guy. The cocks are super realistic and feel amazing, whether you’re putting him inside you or you just want to suck. And the nipples too, they feel like real nipples! These dolls are really a treat, for when a dildo just won’t do.”

To demonstrate, he tweaked the nipples a little, then gripped the cock at its base and spat on it. He sucked the head into his mouth and got to work, moaning and staring into the camera lens with those big fucking blue eyes.

“Oh Jesus,” Bobby swore, letting out a groan of relief as he stroked himself once more. God, the boy’s lips wrapped around that thing, and the view of that fat ass behind him wiggling deliberately as he sucked… 

He continued to bob up and down, taking the doll deeper, and deeper, and deeper, and then stopped when it was all the way down his throat, brows furrowing as he gagged on it.

“Fuck, fuck me, oh God…” Bobby remembered how that throat had felt around his dick, how he’d gagged and choked around it, staring at him with that same faux-innocent expression he gave the camera now. There was no way he was going to fucking last. He took his hand away from his dick, yet again, twitching and groaning as he eased himself from the brink of orgasm.

Will pulled himself off the dildo and coughed once, wiping spit from his mouth and beaming at the camera. “Should I put him inside me?”

Bobby’s cock jumped. “Son of a fucking bitch. Oh my fucking God.” You little goddamn whore.

A new clip. Will, crouching and gripping the cock, sinking down onto it, immediately beginning to bounce, hands reaching behind him to grip the sheets. His hips tilted as he worked himself up and down, giving the camera a gorgeous view of how his pussy stretched around the toy. “Ohhhh… yeah, these dolls feel amazing… fuck, he feels so fucking good.”

A minute more of this; Will, riding that thing like his life depended on it, curls bouncing and head tossed back in pleasure, biting his lip and swiveling his hips, leaving wetness on the doll with each plunge of the dildo inside him.

This was like torture. This was like being tied to a chair and getting his cock and balls thwacked with a rope. Actually, that would probably hurt less. Just fucking kill me now.

A new clip began; the video was nowhere near done. There was still another doll to be ridden. This one was even brawnier, built like the fucking Terminator, and the dick was longer, thicker, veinier. “This is Markus. He’s good for when you want a little extra girth.” 

Facing the camera, on his knees this time, Will sank down onto the doll’s large cock, rolling his hips and gripping the pecs for leverage. “Mmmm. Link below in the description, use my discount code PrincessPeach for twenty percent off! Oh my fucking God, he feels good.” He bounced, and bounced, and bounced, circled his hips, circled his hips, circled his hips, and Bobby was going to have a stroke.

Of course, the kid saved the best shot for last. He turned around and gave the camera a view of his ass as he rode the doll, holding himself open to expose his pussy. And fuck, the way it gripped that silicone cock had to be the world’s eighth wonder. He looked so goddamn tight, sliding up and down on that thing with such determination it was adorable, letting out such slutty moans…

He kept a deep arch in his back as he rode, flaunting his glorious plugged ass for the camera, twerking occasionally, and Bobby was in serious danger of coming before the double penetration scene. He wasn’t even jerking off anymore, just squeezing at the base and watching the screen with wide eyes, holding off until the head of his dick was turning fucking purple and threatening to burst, and his balls felt like two fucking boulders. Fuck, Will looked so good like that, the plug inside him glistening in the light, and his riding was… vigorous, to say the least. Bobby was definitely going to make him do it tomorrow.

He was moaning like he was the one getting fucked, barely even touching himself, and Will, of course, looked perfectly fucking composed. He stilled his hips after a minute or so, and he hadn’t even broken a sweat. It was clear that he was no fucking amateur when it came to sitting and bouncing on a big dick, even when his ass was being stimulated. Interesting information.

Will pulled himself off the doll very, very slowly, emphasizing both the length of the dildo and the vice grip of his pussy, and it flopped out, shiny with Will’s juices. It sprang up against his ass, and Will twerked on it, keeping it between his plush cheeks and looking back to make eye contact with the camera.

He let out the naughtiest giggle Bobby had ever heard. “You like that? Bet you wish that was you, huh?”

Bobby let out a pained sound, like a caged beast. Fuck. Yes, God, yes. Little cockslut.

The boy’s features turned from sultry to eager, and Bobby saw the exact moment the idea popped into the kid’s head. “Oooh, I wonder if I can fit both of them inside me! Waddaya say, Tonny? Wanna fuck my ass? I think he wants to.”

“Oh my fucking God,” Bobby groaned, watching with intense focus as Will gripped the plug in his ass, testing the stretch, pulling it out to the thickest part of the metal bulb before dipping it back inside, repeating the process several times, moaning and giggling like he was having the time of his life. He finally pulled it all the way out, and his little hole gaped before closing entirely.

Bobby was uttering a string of pseudoreligious epithets, including, but not limited to, “Jesus fucking Christ, holy shit, Lord almighty…” Fuck, what he wouldn’t give to ruin that ass and see it dripping with his cum.

Thankfully, the scene skipped past prep and immediately into Will readying himself to take two cocks. He was on top of one doll, Markus, and its cock was buried inside his cunt. The other doll, Tonny, was strapped to the headboard to keep it still, dick jutting out and brushing Will’s hole. There were two camera angles now; one from the front to capture Will’s facial expressions, and one from the side so the viewer could clearly see the act of penetration.

Will, predictably, twerked against Tonny, squeezing lube onto his hand and reaching behind him to stroke the doll as he rode Markus. A few seconds of this, getting them both ready, and he shifted up onto his knees, beginning to press Tonny inside his asshole.

“Oh my God oh my God oh my God,” Will said shakily, taking a few inches before stopping to adjust. A few deep breaths, a tiny, breathless giggle, and then he kept going, sliding down, down, down, until it was nearly all the way in. “Fuck, FUCK. I’m so fucking full, oh my God…”

Bobby was in love. In love with his little quivers and moans. In love with the little beads of sweat above his brow. In love with the flush of his cheeks, his neck, his heaving chest, still covered by that godawful bra. In love with his sinuous hips and the way he worked them down onto the dolls. In love with the way his pussy twitched and his ass clenched in anticipation. Bobby Bronson was in love with Will Graham.

One wrong move, and he’d come. He kept his hands at his sides, bunching them up into fists, completely abandoning his dick. For now.

He focused on Will-- bratty, hedonistic, beautiful Will. The poor boy was trembling, his tiny body struggling to take the two big cocks, and Bobby knew he’d never be able to watch his regular circulation of porn ever again. It was only Will from now on; everything was about Will.

The boy finally got Tonny in all the way, letting out a broken wail as the doll’s hips met his ass, like a dying animal. “Oh my fucking GOD…” His ass quivered, and he looked absolutely stuffed to the fucking brim. “It’s h-hard, they’re both so big… Just… Give me a minute…”

When he started to move, his moans were more like screams. He looked somewhat practiced in this, too, although not with dicks so big, and his first movements were erratic. He tried his best to keep a rhythm, hips moving from tentative glides to confident smacks up and down, mouth hanging open and eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Mmmm, FUCK! FUCK, OH MY GOD, YES! OH FUCK!”

“FUCK. Fuck, Will, you fucking…” Bobby was breathing like he was having a goddamn asthma attack. He watched as the boy continued to fuck himself on the dolls, sweat forming on Bobby’s brow and upper lip, stroking every once in a while until he inevitably worked himself into a frenzy, then stopped. At this point, he lost track of how many times he’d edged himself, and his entire body was trembling, more so than the boy’s.

He couldn’t take much more of this. He couldn’t hold himself off anymore. Fuck it, he’d still watch the rest of the video after he came. He stroked his dick one final time and fucking spilled everywhere.

“Fuck fuck FUCK,” he groaned, blowing such a huge load that some hit his laptop screen. He continued to stroke his way through his orgasm, shutting his eyes, squeezing up the shaft to milk the last of it out, listening to the boy’s wails.

When he was done, he paused the video to catch his breath, and to wipe away cum from his dick-- and laptop-- with a tissue. He was determined to finish the video, though, desperate to see the boy cream all over the cock inside his pussy as he got his ass fucked.

He played the video once more. Will couldn’t shut the fuck up, and he was so fucking precious Bobby thought his heart might burst. He didn’t know which camera angle was more satisfying to look at; Will’s cock-hungry, ruined expression, eyes wet with tears, or both his holes swallowing all that dick. Bobby’s gaze flickered between both, not wanting to miss a second. “IT’S SO FUCKING GOOD! OH MY GOD, YEAH! FUCK ME, TONNY, YES! FUCK, I’M GONNA CUM!”

And that’s exactly what he did. He shook like he was in the fucking electric chair, bursting messily all over Markus, hole flailing around Tonny, and Bobby wanted nothing more to be a piece of fucking plastic for the boy to fuck himself on and come all over. It was the most intense orgasm he’d ever seen, in porn or in real life, and by the end of it, Will collapsed, limp, trembling, sobbing.

The camera angles faded to black, and there was a final shot of Will’s ass. He wiggled a little, spread his cheeks apart to reveal his red, cum-soaked pussy and his fucked open, gaping hole, slick with lube and fluttering around nothing. Yeah, Bobby was definitely using that ass tomorrow night.

And, to conclude, a shot of Will, calm and collected, clean of cum and tears and sweat, kneeling on his bed naked between Markus and Tonny, grinning and looking delightfully sleepy. “So, I hope that encourages you to buy these dolls. They’re an investment, but trust me, they’re worth every inch. Don’t forget about my discount code, PrincessPeach for twenty percent off!” He giggled and blew a kiss at the camera. “Okay, see y’all next time, and be sure to comment and leave tips if you enjoyed this one! Bye now!”

Bobby left a massive tip, lit up a joint, and cracked open a beer, feeling satisfied for the first time in two days. And when thoughts of Will inevitably made him hard again, he watched another video.

Chapter Text

Will almost skipped into the apartment Saturday morning, feeling absolutely on top of the world. His date night with Nigel had far surpassed his expectations, even without the man’s proposal that they live together. He hadn’t demanded sex, or forced Will to do anything; instead, he’d held his hand, taken him to the most amazing restaurant, and eaten his pussy like it was his death row meal. And in the morning, he’d done it again, even treating Will to his very first rimjob… Was this a fairytale? Because goddamn, everything with Nigel was beyond magical. Especially sex.

God, sex with Nigel… It was like someone finally, finally understood his body, his mind, his heart, his soul… Like he’d been sleeping his entire life, and someone had stormed in and flicked the lights on. He was wide awake now, and discovering new ways to receive pleasure with each new sexual foray. He was no longer just lying there and taking it, like he always had before; he was sensitive to everything now. Each word, each little touch, each shift of the man’s body against him, on him, in him.

Will had never known that sex could be meaningful, private, special, something that made him feel fulfilled instead of empty. But now… Each time they did it, Will discovered something new about his own body and about what turned him on. And wasn’t that how it should be? Shouldn’t sex be an exploration of pleasure for all parties involved, instead of one? Didn’t he deserve someone who wanted to familiarize himself with Will’s anatomy instead of just sticking his dick in him? Didn’t he deserve to feel good in his body, rather than just have it used?

His entire worldview was changing, and in one week, Nigel had managed to undo Will’s own warped perception of himself. For the first time in his life, he felt… worthy. Worthy of something better. Worthy of good things. Worthy of real love.

He couldn’t wait to wake up every day next to Nigel-- until Duncan came home, and then he’d sleep between the two brothers, have himself a little Lecter sandwich. Mmm, yummy…

Will felt like a fucking prince in a Disney movie, about to be whisked off to his Beast’s castle, where they’d live happily ever after. He bit his lower lip to keep from grinning like a maniac, fumbling with his house keys, and he had to turn them three times in the lock to get the damn door to open. He was wobbly, unmoored, almost drunk, both on the amazing sex he’d just had and on the anticipation of telling Bev his big news.

He was happy, and she’d see that, and be happy in turn. She’d see how devoted he was to the Lecters, and give him her blessing. After all, the only thing Will wanted from now on was Nigel and Duncan’s attention, their affection, their loyalty, and he’d kill whoever he had to kill to get it. He’d fight for what they had, always-- even if it meant doing away with every other man on Earth.

This is what he was currently trying to tell a very surprised Bev, but that was a little intense, and he didn’t really know where to begin.

Or how to end his sentence. “I know it’s fast, but…” he trailed off, pursing his lips and giving her a shrug and a look that said I don’t know what to tell you, dude.

“Well, that’s the understatement of the century,” Beverly quipped, looking entirely skeptical, sitting at the kitchen counter with her arms crossed like a disappointed parent. “I mean, I’ve met lesbian couples who moved slower than you two, for fuck’s sake.”

Fuck her. You don’t owe her an explanation, was his knee jerk reaction, which he immediately corrected. God, these men were giving him tunnel vision. Since when had he become so callous, even towards his best friend? Since when had he not told her everything? Well, almost everything.

“It’s right. I know it’s right. I’m sure about this.” Just trust me.

“I guess his dick really is gigantic.” She smirked and took a sip from her coffee mug.

You don’t fucking get it. “Beverly.”

“Good for you, Will, I’m happy for you.”

“It’s not about his dick.”

Bev gave him The Look.

Alright, maybe she had a bit of a point. “Okay, it’s not just about his dick,” Will amended. “He’s really good to me. He’s sweet. I like talking to him. He makes me laugh. And, yeah, it doesn’t hurt that he’s rich and hot with a massive dick, but it’s not about that. When have I ever rushed into a relationship in my life, Bev? Or even had a relationship? I can feel it. He’s it. He’s it for me.”

Bev cocked an eyebrow. “What about Duncan?”

Duncan. God, that man… his cute little mustache, his dumb glasses, the taste of pumpkin pie on his lips… It was impossible to explain, but even though the man was God knows where, probably in another country, kicking ass and taking names, Will still felt… connected to him. Tethered. Like they were conjoined. Sometimes, he felt like they were doing the same things at different times of day… Like Will was eating, or showering, or sleeping at the same time Duncan was. If that wasn’t love, then what the fuck was it?

Screw it, Bev could handle the truth. “Duncan too. The night we shared, it was… special. I’ve never been so… intimate, with anyone in my entire life. It felt like we’d all known each other for years, like they both just… knew. How to handle me. How to touch me.”

She waved her hand to cut him off. “Okay, okay, I get the picture.” She got a serious look on her face and reached for his hand across the island countertop. “Just promise me you won’t get hurt. They’re good guys, but they’re dangerous, Will.”

Dangerous? Are you fucking kidding me? They’re the least dangerous men I’ve ever met in my life. He suddenly felt the urge to snap at her, which, for all her ignorance about the double life he was living, he had never, ever done before-- not with Bev. But goddamn, she was really getting under his skin. It was like every human interaction that wasn’t with Duncan and Nigel was… to put it simply, annoying. She was irritating him, and he had to take a deep breath and think about his next words, lest he accidentally raise his voice at her. “They’re not dangerous to me. They’d never, ever hurt me. Ever. They protect me, and I protect them.”

Bev squeezed his hand and sighed. “Promise me, alright?”

Will squeezed back, willing his monkey brain to calm the fuck down. She’s your best friend. She’s worried about you, that’s all. She wants you to be safe. He schooled his voice into something resembling neutral. “I promise. I love you.”

“I love you too.” She sighed again. “I’m gonna miss you.”

God, you’re such an asshole. She’s clearly broken up about this, and you’re waiting for the first lull in the conversation to go hop on Nigel’s dick. This was the most important friendship in his life, and he scolded himself for not acting like it. He came around the counter and pulled Bev into a tight hug. “I’m only moving a mile away, yeah? Plus, you and Margot can have the apartment to yourselves finally.”

She nodded against his chest while he brushed his fingers through her long, silky hair. When she pulled back from the hug, her eyes were red, tears pricking at the corners. “Promise we’ll still have movie nights?”

Will smiled at her and brushed away a tear, and inside, he felt like a huge dick. Is it possible to feel guilty about not feeling guilty? “I promise . There’s literally a fucking movie theater in his house. Nothing between us is gonna change. We just won’t share a bathroom anymore.”

“Yeah, that’ll be nice.” She smiled. “You’re really happy, aren’t you?”

He nodded, spotting a box of tissues and blotting her face. “I am, Bev. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”

She sniffled and gave Will that familiar smirk, jabbing him playfully in the arm. “He’s really fucking you good, huh?”

Will giggled. Fucking. Giggled. God, what was happening to him? “He makes me squirt like a fucking hose.”

Bev burst into similar giggles. “I love that for you. Damn, Nigel.”

“This morning, he ate me out for, like, a full hour,” Will divulged.

She seemed mostly unaffected by that. “As a friend, I am extremely happy for you. As a lesbian, I am unimpressed.”

Will rolled his eyes, happy that they were back to their usual banter. “What’s your record?”

“She did it for three hours just last night,” Margot said matter-of-factly, sauntering into their living room in only Beverly’s Science, Bitch! T-shirt and a pair of underwear.

“Oh! Hey, you!” Will gave her a hug, praying that she hadn’t heard too much of their conversation. “Well, in terms of eating pussy, an hour in cis guy time is like. At least five or six hours in lesbian time.”

Margot hugged him back, that sarcastic aloofness that he loved about her rearing its head. “Five or six hours is pretty standard, actually. We were both just so tired last night.”

Will shook his head and took a mug out of the cabinet, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Goddamn lesbians. Why am I talking to you about this shit? I need to make friends with a straight girl.”

Margot tutted, sitting herself on Bev’s lap. “Have fun with that.”

He gave the two of them an exasperated look, then gulped down his coffee, conscious that, if he didn’t leave now, he’d be late for a very important session with Doctor Alana Bloom. “Anyway, I gotta go. I have therapy. I’ll be back soon.”

Bev kissed Margot’s cheek, giving her a sultry look, and it was obvious that they both wanted him to get the fuck out so they could screw around all morning. “Sounds good. Hey, I’m proud of you for going, Willy baby. Will you be fine if I stay at Margot’s tonight?”

Will groaned. “Stop calling me that. And sure. Have fun, you two!”

“We always do. Hope it goes well with Alana, and say hi for me.” She gave him a wink and squeezed his cheek affectionately, like her and Margot were his moms and it was his first day of kindergarten.

Before leaving, Will changed into fresh clothes-- although he still wore Nigel’s leather jacket-- fluffed his hair, took out his contacts and threw on glasses. An effective barrier to hide behind. He hopped into his old ass Volvo, filled to the brim with platform heels and perfume and glitter and baby powder and one dollar bills and old Wendy’s cups, and zoomed off. The car was reliable, even if it was a decade old and reeked of weed no matter what he did. It was a shitpile, but it was his shitpile.

The drive was nice, and her practice wasn’t far from Nigel and Duncan’s neighborhood, which he had mixed feelings about. If he kept seeing her, it was convenient, but he’d most likely storm out after a few minutes, wanting nothing to do with her. If that was the case, he didn’t want to risk ever running into her on the street. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Just go and see what she’s like.

One thing was for sure-- her wrap dress was ugly.

She was really, really pretty, though. Long wavy brown hair, full lips, severe bone structure and wide blue eyes. Will wondered if, had he not transitioned, he would’ve resembled her as he’d grown into adulthood. She had a flat ass and no sense of style, but besides that.

Her practice was nice, too. Slightly clinical, with its white walls and minimalist furniture, but there were windows, and plants, and soft lighting, so it didn’t remind Will too much of a mental hospital. He still surveyed her office like a skittish dog surveying his surroundings for threats, anxious and suspicious.

But she didn’t seem to mind. She just stared at him, watching his eyes dart this way and that, avoiding her face. And she sounded entirely too chipper when she greeted him. “Good morning, Will. How are you?”

“Fine,” Will grumbled, staring at the painting above the beige couch from the doorway, stiff and unmoving.

Doctor Bloom sat in her chair and smoothed her dress. “How is Beverly? I haven’t seen her in ages.”

Will couldn’t help but smirk at that. “Yeah, I was in the next room the last time you two saw each other.” He was way too familiar with Doctor Bloom’s annoyingly high-pitched moans.

She looked embarrassed, which was funny. “I apologize for that.”

She’s doing her best. Don’t be a dick. “Well. Apology accepted. And she’s good. She says hi.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Yes, tell her I say hi too. Why don’t you have a seat?”

So Will sat on the couch, cross-legged, and then with one leg up, and then with both legs on the floor, unsure of how to get comfortable.

That seemed slightly amusing to her. “Would you like a fidget toy?”

He adjusted his glasses so they sat on the bridge of his nose, hiding his eyes. “Uh… Sure. Thanks.”

She handed him a small rubber Bambi plushie, and he squeezed it, over and over, watching the eyes bulge.

Doctor Bloom reached for a notebook and pen, leaning back into her chair and crossing her long, perfectly moisturized legs, like she was right at home. “So, how are you doing?”

God, that was a loaded question, and one he never answered honestly. He squeezed the toy again. “Uh. Fine, I guess. I’m about to move, so that’s exciting.”

It was the first time since he’d entered her practice that he sounded remotely interested in anything, and she, predictably, latched onto the information. “That’s great. Can I ask where you’re moving to?”

“Into my boyfriend’s house.” He smiled, despite attempting to maintain the detached, disinterested demeanor he used with therapists. Dammit.

She smiled back. Don’t fucking smile at me, Will thought. Fuck you, we aren’t friends. You’re not getting shit from me.

She opened her notebook, clicked her pen, and it resounded in Will’s ears like a gunshot. “Good for you, Will. How long have you been together?”

“A while,” Will lied, having absolutely no desire to hear this woman’s opinion on his relationship, or how fast it was moving.

“I’m glad you have someone besides Beverly in your corner.”

God, why did everything out of her mouth sound like a backhanded compliment? This woman was already getting on Will’s fucking nerves. In place of an answer, he mumbled an “Uh huh.”

She brought her pen to the paper, like she was poised to write. Don’t you fucking dare. “How do you feel, moving apart from her?”

Will squeezed the toy again, attempting to stop himself from lunging for Doctor Bloom’s neck. Be. Fucking. Normal.

Make her think she’s winning. “I mean, yunno, it’ll be weird, for sure. We’ve lived together since freshman year of college. I’m going to miss that. It’s like… a new era of my life is starting, I guess.”

“Change can be difficult. Beverly told me that you’re on the spectrum?”

Oh great, here we fucking go. Fucking neurotypicals. Why were they always so goddamn fascinated by him? On top of the fact that this woman wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she was studying him, scrutinizing his every move with her watchful, hawklike eyes, she was asking him these weird, invasive questions. She clearly had a professional curiosity, and it was making Will extremely uncomfortable.

“Yeah, I probably have autism but have never been diagnosed.” He didn’t say a word about his empathy disorder. Doctor Bloom would take it and run, and next thing he knew, he’d be evidence in her next academic paper.

“Would you like to get tested?” Jesus, what is it with you people?

Will shrugged. “I’m fine. I don’t really see the need for all that.” The only thing being tested was Will’s patience. And even though it might be nice to get an official diagnosis, he fucking. Hated. Doctors. He hated being poked and prodded, treated like an experiment, and there was no way he’d willingly put himself in a room with one. Besides right now.

“You were never tested as a child?”

Will laughed. “Fuck no.” Good one, Doctor.

“Say more about that.”

Shit. He’d let something slip past his unaffected attitude again. Whatever, he thought. Just show her that she doesn’t know shit about you, and never possibly could.

“Uh, well, my mom died when I was a baby, and my father wasn’t exactly concerned for my well-being.” You don’t know fuck all about what I’ve been through, and you never will. And fuck you, Beau, he sent telepathically to his father, wherever the fuck he might be (hopefully dead in a ditch).

Her voice was dripping with pity as she said, “I’m sorry to hear that, Will. Did anyone else advocate for you, as a child?”

This. This is exactly why Will fucking hated therapy. Therapists were nothing but condescending shitheads who wanted to know every single detail about his life and fucked up cocktail of neurological conditions, only to act shocked and upset once they knew. And why was his childhood even fucking important, anyway? Why did Bloom have to beat a dead horse?

“My next door neighbor, Jack. He basically raised me.”

Alana scribbled something onto her notebook. Will wanted to smash it over her head. What the fuck are you writing down? 

Realistically, it could be a million things. Distant and vague when talking about childhood. Lack of father figure. Possible childhood abuse. Whatever it was, it wasn’t positive, and Will wanted to chuck Bambi at her smug fucking face.

Her next question was insane, and she asked with such nonchalance that Will almost didn’t register her words. “Did you experience any adverse childhood trauma?”

Is she fucking serious? “Excuse me?”

Bloom continued, like she’d been perfectly justified in asking something so outrageous in the first five minutes of their session. “Our experiences as children can often shed light onto our personalities and attachment styles as adults.” Oh my God, a bird shitting on my head would be more subtle than you.

Will scoffed in disbelief. The cold, clinical way psychiatrists discussed major trauma was fucking beyond him. “I’d rather not go there, thanks.” Lazy ass psychiatry, Doctor Bloom.

“I understand. I’m just trying to get a more complete picture.”

Oh my God, you’re unbearable. “I’m not a fucking paint-by-numbers.”

She smiled, seemingly unaffected by Will’s prickliness. It was beyond irritating. “I’m sorry, Will. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

And there it was. God, all psychiatrists were the same. It was never, Will, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was always Will, I’m sorry you feel that way.

He hated her, and his hands squeezed Bambi until his knuckles went white. “Yeah, well, here we are.”

“What would you like to talk about?”

Literally anything else. He shrugged, tossing Bambi aside in favor of picking at a loose thread in the couch cushion. “I dunno.” Isn’t that your job?

Her eyes watched his hand. “Would you like another fidget toy?”

No amount of fidget toys could get him to stop being so antsy, but it was something to do with his hands, so he shrugged, indifferent. She brought him a squishy pig this time. Fitting.

Bloom was determined, it seemed, to get something out of him. “What about work? Bev told me she got you a new job at the club she works at. Have you started yet?”

“Not yet.” I’ve been too busy with my boss’s dick in my mouth, he thought with a smug grin.

“Well, how do you like dancing? I’ve heard you’re incredible at it.”

Finally, something he wanted to talk about. He perked up a little, squeezed the toy a little less harshly. “I love it. It’s so fun, and it makes me feel… strong. Powerful.”

“Do you often feel weak or powerless outside of dancing?”

Oh my GOD. This woman was not only annoying as hell, but painfully obvious in her attempts to get Will to open up. “Fucking really? Is every little tidbit I tell you about myself going to be used against me, in the hopes that I’ll share information about Chilton?”

She, of course, immediately absolved herself of any responsibility, like Will was being unreasonable, like his accusation had come out of left field. “We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to, Will.” Gaslighting motherfucker.

“Seems like you really want to talk about it.” I see through your bullshit, he thought, wringing the little pig’s stubby neck, wishing it was a voodoo doll (although everyone in Louisiana knew that voodoo dolls were bullshit, but that was a whole other can of worms).

“Beverly is very worried about you.”

“She can tell me that herself.”

She closed her notebook and scooted to the edge of her seat, smiling warmly, a false show of comradery. “I’d simply like to begin the work of unpacking this trauma with you, Will.”

Will scoffed. He was finally beginning to understand why Nigel liked the word cunt so much. He was done holding her fucking hand, filtering his thoughts to appease her, entertaining her nosiness.

He decided to give it to her straight. He set the toy pig down beside him on the couch and leaned in, elbows on his knees, giving her the eye contact she so desperately desired. And then he laid it down.

“You’re fucking inept. The whole point of being a therapist is to hint at things that might help and make the patient think healing was their own idea, not to beat them over the head with intrusive ass questions.”

Doctor Bloom sighed, as if to say, Well, I tried. “I thought you might appreciate bluntness, rather than dancing around what we’re really here for.”

We? Who the fuck is we? Oh, Will was starting to get really angry. He began to think of every single method to dispose of this woman. “I’m not here for this.”

“What are you here for?” Slitting her throat would be easy. But, as he’d learned with Chilton, messy. Maybe he’d choke her instead.

“To appease Bev.” Duh.

“Well, I appreciate your honesty.” God, why was every word out of her mouth oozing with fake sympathy? How did she manage to sound-- and dress-- like a second grade teacher? He felt bad for her other patients.

“Uh huh,” he responded, jaw clenched. Would he strangle her with a rope, or with his hands?

She barreled on, unaware that she was poking a sleeping dragon. “So you do not believe that you need therapy.”

“Therapy doesn’t work on me. I know all the tricks.” A handgun and silencer wasn’t a terrible idea, either.

“When was the last time you saw a therapist?”

“Two years ago.” He could just push her out a window. The shock on her face would be priceless. But there was no guarantee that she’d actually die…

“And how did that go?”

“About as well as this is going.” Poison seemed too easy, too passive. And he wasn’t sure how he’d go about slipping her something. His head began to hurt with all the possibilities, and he tucked his murderous fantasies away for later.

“I can refer you to another psychiatrist, if you’d like. My old mentor at Johns Hopkins never has appointments open, but he’d make an exception for me if I asked him to.”

She’s definitely fucking him. And is Johns Hopkins just accepting anyone now? Go figure. Maybe I should apply.

Alana tried to hand him a business card, and Will refused it without even looking. “No thanks, I’m good.”

“You should really talk to somebody about what happened, Will. Why don’t you take it with you, just in case? He’s at the top of his field, and he occasionally consults for the FBI. He’s the best.” Oh my God, why don’t you go suck his dick, then? Like I give a flying fuck.

Will didn’t use the word bitch lightly, but in this situation, it applied. She was a dumb, meddling bitch, and he wanted to fucking kill her, right here, right now, defile her like he’d defiled Chilton, use her fucking bones as his next fidget toy. But the police were watching him, very, very, very closely now, and he couldn’t slip up. One wrong move, and Detective Tiny Dick would send him straight to prison.

He had to leave before he did something he’d regret. Besides, although it was fun to fantasize, the woman was just a shitty therapist, not an abuser, and she didn’t deserve to die.

Will took a very deep breath. Maybe he should invest in a punching bag. “If I want to see another psychiatrist, then that’s my decision to make, not yours. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have shit to do.”

She checked her watch and frowned like Will was inconveniencing her. “There’s still forty minutes left in our session.”

“Perfect, that gives you plenty of time to brush up on the definition of tact. Goodbye, Doctor Bloom.” He picked up the tiny pig, threw it onto the floor in a rage, and it bounced with a squeak. Mic drop, bitch.

He stormed out of her office, through the waiting room, through the lobby, and out onto the street, in the small parking lot reserved for patients. He hopped in his car, fumbled around in the glovebox for his stash, and lit up right there, taking a few puffs that lasted longer than that cursed goddamn therapy session. He opened his phone, sifted through his music library, turning the volume knob up on the dashboard until he couldn’t anymore.

Everybody cares, everybody understands

Yes, everybody cares about you

And whether or not you want them to…

He smoked the blunt until it was gone, then stared into the rearview mirror at his reflection, transfixed by the quiet fury he saw there.

He’d known that he’d regret going to therapy, and he did. Every single fucking time, it only reminded him of exactly how broken he was, how he was never enough. How he could never measure up to what any doctor expected of him. How he could never say the right thing, or get the right reaction. How he wasn’t anywhere close to normal, and how he never would be.

This session with Doctor Bloom only confirmed what Will had known to be true all his life; no psychiatrist could ever understand him or his brain, could ever come close to understanding. He was alone in his darkness, and he’d always be a mystery, an enigma, a specimen, someone that people studied and wrote papers about rather than empathized with.

He didn’t need a therapist to get over this shit with Chilton or Bobby. He’d done just fine on his own through it all, thank you very much. Plus, historically, whenever Will had had any interaction with any kind of doctor, they’d only managed to make it worse. Especially psychiatrists. Psychiatrists were patronizing, uncompassionate, and fucking useless. It was an inherently corrupt and out of touch profession, anyway, based on bullshit invented by neurotypicals to make him feel awful, on medical racism and eugenics, on pill-peddling and profiting from people’s pain.

Will decided to denounce them for good. He’d never set foot in a therapist’s office ever again. Fuck them all.

You say you mean well

You don’t know what you mean

Fucking oughta stay the hell away

From things you know nothing about…

He sped through the neighborhood, melting into his seat, barely registering the other cars whizzing by. When his stomach grumbled, he looked up the nearest grocery store, skipping over the Whole Foods that was a minute away because he refused to give those motherfuckers a cent. He found a small, family-owned store that was a five minute drive, and stopped in.

And of course something else had to fucking happen, because that was just Will’s luck. As he stood in the chip aisle debating between Limón and regular Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, he felt a presence behind him and whipped around.

There was a man standing entirely too close to him, gazing at his body with obvious lust. He was an older guy, mid-30s, tall, bulky, and Will couldn’t place him, but it was clear, from the knowing smirk on the man’s face, that they had probably fucked before.

“Hi, baby, long time no see. How’s that ass doing?”

This was the absolute last thing he needed, after all that bullshit with Doctor Bloom. The last shred of patience left his body, and he turned a harsh, cruel gaze on the man. “Excuse me? Who the fuck are you?”

The man looked sad that Will didn’t recognize him, and usually, that would’ve been entertaining, but right now, all Will wanted to do was rage. “Oh, c’mon, you don’t remember me?”

He was positive he’d never seen this man in his life. “Clearly I don’t.”

“My friends and I spitroasted you in the bathroom at Stag’s. You couldn’t keep quiet, you loved my dick so much. Little freak.” The man smirked like he was reliving the memory. Oh Jesus, that was him? Well, at least Will finally had an answer to a long-repressed question.

This particular incident had taken place around a year and a half earlier. Will had gone out alone to Stag’s, a local gay bar, gotten blackout drunk, and woken up at home with no memory of the night before, sore in all three of his holes, regretting his entire life and forever wondering who had fucked him.

And this was the guy who’d done it. Well… it tracked. He liked his men big and hairy, after all, and he looked like he was pretty experienced in tossing boys around… Will had probably drunkenly hit on him and gotten dragged to the bathroom. Well, at least he isn’t ugly… God, why is this my life?

“Oh. Yeah, you. I remember you now,” he lied, instead of saying, Actually, I was incoherent and remember nothing, so nice to meet you.

The guy grinned, leaning into Will’s space. “I had a lot of fun that night.”

Yeah, no shit you had fun. Will wanted to roll his eyes, but he kept his expression neutral. “Okay.”

The man tried a different approach. “We should do it again sometime. Let me get your number, baby.”

Yawn. Was that the best he could do? Was Will supposed to be swooning or something? “I have a boyfriend.”

The man scoffed and got closer, resting his arm on the shelf above Will, towering over him. “Don’t lie. A little slut like you? You aren’t the boyfriend type.”

Will suddenly felt very small. Sometimes, he wished he was invisible, or that he could curl up on himself like a rolly polly and escape any uncomfortable situation. But he wasn’t, and he couldn’t, and nobody was coming to save him. Nigel and Duncan weren’t about to burst through the doors of the grocery store and beat the man to death. Will had to save himself. He’d done it before, and he could do it again. Remember who the fuck you are.

He made eye contact with the man, giving him a look that said You don’t know who the fuck you’re dealing with. “Leave me the fuck alone. He’ll beat your ass.” I’ll beat your ass, he wanted to say, but didn’t feel like getting laughed at.

The man made a show of looking up and down the aisle, clearly not taking him seriously. “I don’t see him here now, do you? Why don’t you follow me out to my car, hmm? Make my day, baby.”

Ew. Ew. Ew. Will reached into the pocket of Nigel’s-- his-- leather jacket, bunching his fist to make it look like he had a weapon. “I have a taser, and I’ll fucking use it.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie; he did have a taser… that he’d left at home. He hadn’t seen a reason to bring it with him, which he now regretted, but usually, simple threats did the trick.

It did the trick this time, too. Will found that, nine times out of ten, men were looking for an easy target, and at the first sign of a weapon, or even the suggestion of one, they ran. Fucking cowards, all of them.

The man threw his hands up, furrowed his brows like he’d done nothing to warrant such behavior, like Will was crazy. “Alright, alright, fuck. Loosen up a little, will you? Jesus.”

Yeah, like you loosened me up that night? Fuck you, you fucking asshole. Seeing as the conversation was over, Will grabbed a pack of Cheetos off the shelf, shoving past the dude and bolting for the till.

The man stopped him with a firm grip to his arm. “You sure you don’t want my number? I’ll make it worth your while. He doesn’t have to know.”

“I said no. Just let go of me, please.” God, he was persistent, and, quite simply, rude. Will squirmed, attempting to free himself, but the guy was built like the Hulk, and he kept his grip on Will, trying one last time.

“At least let me buy your… Cheetos. And whatever else you want.” Wow, what a fucking gentleman.

Will knew that tactic. One little favor, and he’d demand pussy in return. Men loved to make him feel like he owed them something. “I’m perfectly capable of paying for my own shit. Now get the fuck away from me.”

The man let go of his arm, looking entirely miffed, and Will practically ran out to his car, locking all four doors just in case the dude decided to follow him. He took a few deep breaths, looked down at his shaking hands, still gripping the bag of Cheetos that he hadn’t paid for. Shit.

He suddenly felt bad. He should go back in there and pay. But he didn’t see the guy in the parking lot… What if he was still there? God, it was all too much, and he wasn’t brave enough. Still, it wasn’t good to steal from small businesses… Oh my God, you’re literally a murderer, and you’re worried about a fucking bag of Cheetos? Get a grip.

He was about to drive off when his phone buzzed. It was a text, and Will’s heart rate picked up, hoping to God it was Nigel. Instead, it was the one fucking person he never, ever wanted to hear from.

bobby: I’m coming at 8. Shave before I get there.

Fuck fuck fuck. Between making plans to move, talking to Bev, “therapy” with Doctor Bloom, and that fucking douchebag in the grocery store, he’d completely forgotten about Bobby. As if this day couldn’t get any fucking worse.

At least Bev would be out of the house tonight. Although he wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

He finally drove back to the apartment, occasionally shoving Cheetos into his mouth, that familiar feeling of numbness taking over, his body preparing him for what was to come. He couldn’t tell if Bobby had ruined the progress he’d made, or if he hadn’t made any progress at all. Maybe he wasn’t coping. Maybe he never had. Maybe he’d just been distracting himself his entire life.

He turned on his angry emo playlist, electric guitar screeching so loud he could barely think, and listened to Kathleen Hanna screaming all the way home.

He said he wanted to

Just touch you

HE SAID HE WANTED TO

JUST TOUCH YOU…

Chapter Text

Bobby was nothing if not a man of his word.

Will had sincerely hoped that the detective’s desire to dress him up had been another one of his drunken ramblings-- much like Beau, who, when Will was a child, frequently made sweeping statements whilst drunk that he completely forgot once he woke up in the morning-- and internally cussed the man out for remembering his promise. As he looked down at the bunny costume in his hands with contempt, thrown at him the minute the detective had walked through the door, it was supremely obvious that he wouldn’t be able to get himself out of the situation.

Bobby looked even more jaded than he had last time. It wasn’t just the prominent bags under his eyes, indicating that he hadn’t slept well in a few days-- his behavior resembled that of an addict going through withdrawal; restless, volatile, itching for that fix, storming into the apartment and flinging the costume at Will like he’d die if the boy refused to put it on. And, to make matters worse, Will didn’t have to smell the bourbon on his breath to know that he was drunk again. It was the perfect cocktail for Will to be abused further, and he stood in his now infamous living room, facing Bobby, arguing somewhat halfheartedly against the costume, reluctant but in no mood to endure the detective’s wrath.

“Please don’t make me wear this,” he said, trying to keep a level of calm in his voice.

Bobby sighed like he’d gone through heaps of trouble to secure the lingerie and Will was being an ungrateful little shit. “Is this really what you wanna do? You wanna argue about it? C’mon, baby, put it on for Daddy.”

You’re the fucking worst, Will seethed, walking to the bathroom to change at a glacial pace.

It wasn’t even classy, just a cheap, scratchy black lace bra and matching panties complete with a bunny tail, a plastic mask that covered half his face and made him look like some weird, kinky version of Batman. There were some itchy black stockings with cheap vinyl garters that Will tugged over his legs. He didn’t bother looking in the mirror, just curled up into a ball on the floor and stayed there. Fuck my life. Fuck my life. Fuck my life.

He was more than used to wearing skimpy outfits-- calling them outfits was generous-- for work. He was more than used to parading around clad in almost nothing in front of complete strangers, feeling their eyes and, sometimes, their hands. But he got to choose what he wore when he danced-- sometimes it seemed like the only thing he could control. And now Bobby had taken that from him too. Instead of feeling sexy and emboldened, he felt dejected, degraded, like some sex doll for Bobby to project his desires onto. A broken, recalled toy for him to dress up and break again.

A rapid, thundering knock resounded on the bathroom door.

“Let me see,” Bobby demanded from the other side.

“No,” Will insisted.

God, this was fucking humiliating. His hands were shaking a little, and his heart was pounding in nervous anticipation. Fuck, he should’ve smoked before this.

The doorknob was being fiddled with, but Will had at least had the foresight to lock the door.

“The fuck?” he heard from the other side. Bobby pounded on the door again. “C’mon, baby, let me see.”

The sooner you open the door, the sooner you get this over with, and the sooner he’ll leave. So Will stood up on shaky legs, unlocked the door, turned the knob, and took a tentative step into the doorway.

He avoided Bobby’s gaze like the plague, staring down at the floor instead, but it was pretty much useless; he still felt Bobby’s eyes roving over his body the second he was fully in view, and he still heard the man’s sharp intake of breath.

Bobby stepped closer, his detective’s badge catching the light, glinting like an ever-present warning. “Wow, baby, fuck. That fucking body… you’re so goddamn sexy.”

Will didn’t answer, just tugged at the panties like he wanted to shed his skin. Did Bobby really have to find the most uncomfortable bunny costume in all of fucking Maryland?

When Will was silent for a beat too long, Bobby stepped forward again, bringing an index finger under the boy’s chin to guide his gaze up. “What do we say?”

Will looked into Bobby’s dark eyes, swimming with a deviancy he’d never seen there before. “Thank you,” he said softly.

The detective raised an eyebrow, his expression still expectant, and Will’s stomach dropped even further as he realized what Bobby wanted him to say.

The words were forced through a clenched jaw. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Bobby nodded once in approval, even granting Will a tiny smile. “Good boy, baby. C’mere, let me get a good look at you.”

Will stepped out of the doorway, trying to access his usual endless supply of confidence. He knew he looked good-- his body filled out the shitty costume perfectly. The stockings emphasized his thick thighs; the panties showed off his generous ass and small waist; the bra cupped his pecs nicely; the mask highlighted his cheekbones and milky skin. There was no denying that he looked great-- but, then again, he pretty much looked great in everything (and nothing). Will loved his figure, loved the way whatever he wore hugged his curves, and he often found that when he looked good, he felt good. But not here, and not now. It only took one disgusting pervert like Bobby to make him wish he was invisible. 

The detective licked his lips and tilted his head, admiring the boy before him. “Do a spin, baby. Yeah, that’s it, damn, look at your ass in that thing…”

He wolf whistled like men always did when they watched him dance, but it had the opposite effect that it usually did-- onstage, the whistles were encouraging, flattering, empowering; when Bobby whistled, it made Will’s stomach churn with queasiness.

And when Bronson started touching him, Will had to swallow bile. The man groped his ass with his large, calloused hands, snapped the waistband of his panties and jiggled his cheeks together.

“Fuck, baby,” he said into Will’s ear, keeping a firm grip on his butt. “You’re so fucking hot I can’t stand it. Sexy little bunny with a fat ass.”

Jesus. The lewd way he spoke to Will made his fucking skin crawl. Truth be told, the only person he’d really ever liked dirty talk with was Nigel, and he was sure that the same words out of his boyfriend’s mouth would’ve turned him on.

But there was no room for thoughts about Nigel here. It would crush him to think about soft touches and words of encouragement now. It was easier to compartmentalize, to keep that part of his life completely separate from this one.

“Thank you, Daddy,” he said to the wall.

Bobby spanked him, and Will flinched. “Damn, baby,” the man said with a chuckle, spinning him around by the hips. “Where’s your bedroom? Gonna get comfortable with me?”

“It’s just through there,” Will said, gesturing at the long hallway that separated Bev’s space from his. Normally, he would never have let the man into his sanctuary, but as he was literally moving out in the next two days, he didn’t see a point in trying to convince Bobby to stay in the living room. It would only make it harder for himself than it had to be.

The man patted his face with a smile. “Great. Got any weed?”

That caught Will off guard. Can’t we just get on with it? “Uh… yeah?”

“Why don’t you roll me a joint, baby. And bring me a whiskey while you’re at it.”

Will frowned. “Why can’t you get it?” I’m not your bitch.

That was a mistake. Bobby backhanded him across the face, almost toppling him over, and when he spoke again, his tone was harsh and cold. “Excuse me? Is that how you speak to me?”

Will brought a hand up to his cheek to soothe some of the sting, gripping the wall for support as the room spun. “No, Daddy, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

The detective smiled like a boy-king who delighted in tormenting his servants, conniving and wicked. “That’s much better. Good bunny.” Oh God, if Bobby was going to call him that for the rest of the night, Will was quite literally going to kill himself.

His hands were shaky as he poured Bobby’s drink, and it took him three tries to roll when he could usually do it in his sleep. He took his time in the kitchen, taking some deep breaths before creeping into his bedroom.

Bobby didn’t seem to notice how nervous he was, or if he did, he didn’t care. He’d taken his clothes off and was splayed out on the bed, a sly grin on his face, erection jutting out from under his boxers. Whether or not he got cum on the sheets, Will was definitely changing them later.

When Will offered the joint to him, he lit up, alternating hits with sips of whiskey. God, what Will wouldn’t give to smoke right now. It would numb some of the pain, make it easier to take, make it easier to dissociate if it got bad again.

“Can I have a hit?” he asked tentatively.

“Don’t you want to put something else in that mouth?” Bobby blew the smoke in his face, tormenting him. “You can smoke after you’ve done your job.”

Just give me a fucking hit, you asshole. “Bobby, please… Just one hit?”

Bobby flicked ash onto the floor, staring at him with those fierce, cruel eyes. “Stop fucking talking and get to work.”

He downed half his whiskey in one go, keeping the tumbler in his hand as he watched Will climb onto the bed. Wordlessly, the boy sat back on his heels between the man’s legs.

⧫⧫⧫

Bobby waved the joint around, stopping him. “Ah ah ah, all fours. Stick your ass up.”

Will obeyed, his face hovering over the man’s crotch, awaiting further instruction lest he do something to get himself slapped again.

Bobby took a hit, blew out smoke, then another swig of whiskey, balancing both the joint and his glass in one hand. With his other, he reached over Will to smack his ass, once, twice, three times. “Yeah, that’s it, baby. You look so fuckin’ good like that. You make me so goddamn hard, you know that? Feel.”

Will felt the front of his boxers, firm and wet. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

The man groaned and covered Will’s tiny hand with his, encouraging him to rub along the shaft. “Take it out and put it in your mouth, baby.”

Will did exactly that. He pulled Bobby’s dick out and took it inside, swirling his tongue around on the tip and pumping with both hands, praying to God that the man had showered before coming over. His musk and arousal were undeniable, the tip of his dick already leaking, and Will tried to plug his nose so he couldn’t smell it, but, seeing as his mouth was occupied, it was impossible. The smell and taste of him were absolutely nauseating, and combined with the itchiness from the flimsy fabric of the lingerie, Will was more than uncomfortable, he was miserable.

It was fucking annoying that Bobby insisted on Will shaving from head to toe, like a baby or some breed of hairless cat, whilst Bobby himself let the hair in his pubic region run wild. It was hard not to get them in his mouth, and with Duncan or Nigel, it would’ve turned him on, but with Bobby, it was fucking disgusting. Once again, the Lecters were the exception to the rule-- everything that Will loved about sex with the brothers was repulsive with Detective Bronson.

He made a concerted effort to not throw up on Bobby’s dick, swallowing bile, although at least the taste of vomit was a reprieve from the taste of Bronson’s precum. He closed his eyes in an attempt to avoid Bobby’s, having no desire to glimpse the undoubtedly perverted thoughts in the man’s head.

That earned him another harsh slap. “Look at me,” Bobby barked.

Will tried to look at him without making eye contact. He stared at Bobby’s nose, sucking harder.

The man slapped him again, and it cracked through the room like a lightning bolt. His voice was hard and soft all at once as he growled, “I. Said. Look. At. Me.”

How the fuck did Will get himself into these situations? God, he had been such a fucking idiot , killing Chilton like that. What did he think was gonna happen? That he’d just get away with it and move on, like he’d done with the others? He’d been so fucking naive that it hurt his brain to think about.

And now, here he was, on his hands and knees for a man who, under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. Wearing a motherfucking bunny costume . Will wanted to think that it couldn’t get any worse than this, but he didn’t want to jinx it.

He looked up into Bobby’s eyes, and, just as he’d predicted, the man’s internal monologue hit him like a truck. Such a good little boy, isn’t he? The way he works that dick, you’d think he was getting paid. Look at that cute little mouth, oh my God…

Will almost gagged, and it had nothing to do with the cock down his throat. There was no way that Bobby could’ve known the impact that eye contact had on him, but Will blamed him anyway, cursing at him in his brain, sucking a little less vigorously. You motherfucker. You fucking asshole. If I was a sex worker I wouldn’t suck you off for a million fucking dollars.

Bobby gripped the back of his head and forced Will down further onto him. “C’mon, all the way in. Suck me like you mean it.”

Will wanted to bite his dick off. But he (very graciously) did not. He resumed sucking with the intensity from earlier, sinking down inch by inch, tightening the suction of his mouth, teasing the underside of Bobby’s dick with his tongue.

Bobby touched his cheek and squeezed, probably wanting to feel it stuffed full of his cock. “Good bunny. Good bunny. Fuck, oh yeah,” he said huskily, no doubt overcome by the boy’s talented mouth. He took a slurp of whiskey that seemed altogether louder than necessary, as well as a long hit of the joint, like he was mocking Will.

A minute more of this, and then Bobby began to fuck his face, thrusting up and yanking Will’s head down to meet his pelvis, letting out huge moans and predictable comments about how tight his throat was, how pretty he looked, how Bobby wanted to ruin him with his cock. And with each plunge of the man into his mouth, Will had the same thought, over and over. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

But there was no way this was going to end in Will washing cum from his face. No, the man would want sex, despite Will’s pleas to the heavens to spare him, just this once. More proof that there was fucking nothing up there.

Bobby pulled Will off his cock by the hair, and Will recovered himself, clearing his throat and wiping the spit from his face with the back of an arm.

The man’s erection was still in his face, slick with spit and bobbing in the air, ready for more. Bobby petted the cheek he’d slapped in a false show of compassion, issuing another command. “Ride me. I wanna watch that ass bounce.”

This one was tricky. Will didn’t want to argue with Bobby, but he simply wasn’t ready to take anything down there. The detective had made sure of that last time. Even a finger from Nigel the night before had been painful, and it had taken effort to get that tampon in.

So Will settled on playing up the whole defenseless victim thing. Maybe Bobby would take pity on him (although, admittedly, it was unlikely). “Daddy, please… I’m still really sore.” You know, from when you raped me? Remember that?

Bobby sighed, and it seemed to echo through the room. “Oh c’mon. I went through all that trouble to dress you up in this damn thing, and you won’t even let me fuck you?” Fucking great.

Will yelped when Bobby pressed the joint into his shoulder, twisting cruelly so it singed his skin. He brought a hand to cover the burn, but that only made it more painful, so he just sat there uselessly, shivering, trying his hardest to fight back tears.

And he saw Bobby’s erection physically jump. You fucking sadist.

The man brought a hand down to stroke himself a few times, gazing at Will through lidded eyes and biting his lip. “Stop acting like a fucking twerp and ride me or I’ll arrest you and take you down to the station right now,” he warned, setting his whiskey down on the bedside table, next to Will’s phone.

It was obvious that Bobby wanted to see his ass, not his face, and Will was just fine with that arrangement. He shucked his panties off, turned around, straddled Detective Bronson, sank down onto his dick, and started mindlessly bouncing, trying to block out Bobby’s moans and awful comments, imagining the cock he sat on belonged to literally anyone else. It was painful-- his pussy was raw, being stretched further than its current limits, and he hoped to God he didn’t tear again; the stockings created friction with Bobby’s thighs as he rode, chafing Will’s skin; not to mention the burn throbbing on his shoulder, impossible to ignore-- but at least he was in control this way. He set the pace, gripping Bobby’s thighs and relying on his usual tricks to get the job done. Arching his back, sticking his ass in the man’s face, twerking occasionally to hopefully distract Bobby from thrusting up into him. Yes, he was in control, and everything was okay.

Or maybe not. Bobby tried to shove a dry finger in his ass, and Will clenched, forcing the tip of it out. Fucking excuse me?

This particular violation, attempting to force a finger in with no warning and no lube, told Will that Bobby had never been with another guy before, and hadn’t the slightest inclination of how to take care of a queer partner during sex. Either that, or he just didn’t give a fuck if Will tore and bled. Regardless, Will really did not feel like having his hole touched at all, much less penetrated. Most of the time, anal stimulation made him feel bitter and sad about his lack of a prostate, and he really only did it to show off for his subscribers, or if he was forced into it.

He was about to open his mouth to protest. But was there any use in complaining? No. Not with Bobby. Once he wanted something, that was it, and he would get it, one way or another. The man was going to get a finger in his ass, whether Will consented to it or not-- it was just a question of how painful it was going to be.

He tried to hide the disdain in his voice as he gritted out, “Do you have lube?”

Thankfully, he couldn’t see Bobby’s face, but he could imagine his put-out expression as he complained, “It’s too far away. C’mon, baby, let me in.”

Will craned his neck to look back at the man, giving him those desperate puppy eyes that men like Bobby loved. “Please?”

The detective lifted his head off the pillow to gaze at the boy on his lap, licked his lips, clearly relishing in his power over him. He took a long hit, suspending the moment of tension, before asking, “Please who?” 

Oh, so Bobby wanted him to beg for lube. Great. Will clenched his jaw, doing his best to keep his voice sweet and submissive. “Please, Daddy, it’ll feel much better that way.”

Bobby sighed in assent, tossing the joint, now a burnt little nub, onto the floor. “Well go get it then,” he snapped, a surly look on his face.

Will hopped off his lap and scurried to the shelf of sex toys in his closet, thankful that Bobby couldn’t see it from the angle at which he laid on the bed. He didn’t need the man getting any more ideas about different ways to use him.

He grabbed some CBD lube, which had a slightly numbing effect and would ease some of the burn. He sat on top of Bobby once more, guided the man’s dick inside his pussy, and began to roll his hips, letting the man prod at his hole with a slick thumb. When the detective finally got it in his ass, it wasn’t pleasant, but Will consoled himself with thoughts of how painful it would’ve been without lube.

Bobby groaned, and Will was, once again, grateful he couldn’t see the man’s face. He kept his thumb plugged in Will’s tiny hole, swirling it around inside, testing the stretch.

And he sounded over the fucking moon. “Damn, look at your greedy hole swallowing that shit. That’s a fucking sight. That feel good, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Will lied.

“Yeah? You like my thumb up your ass?”

“Yes, Daddy,” he repeated, monotonous and detached, like some sort of weird sex robot. He kept riding, headboard slamming against the wall as he picked up the pace, and Bobby began to shove his thumb in and out, continuing his stream of filth.

The repetitive smack of the boy’s ass against the man’s pelvis had him losing it, just as Will had predicted it would. Bobby’s voice was breathy and strained as he continued to degrade him. “Yeah, that’s right, slut. Bounce that shit. Whew, goddamn, baby, you’re a fucking natural. I’m so fucking close…” his words cut off on a huge intake of breath, and it was seconds away from being over.

There was no doubt he was going to finish inside, so Will shut his eyes hard and tried his hardest to imagine it was Nigel beneath him. Nigel’s body heat, Nigel’s musk, Nigel’s grunts, Nigel’s hands, Nigel’s snarl… fuck…

He might as well make it bearable for himself, right? If he just concentrated, his active imagination could exchange Nigel for Bobby, as long as Bobby didn’t talk. And oh God, it suddenly became a lot less painful when he convinced himself it was Nigel. It actually kind of felt good…

Will tossed his head back, a little too deep into his fantasy, and blurted, “Yeah, Nigel, fuck, come in me…”

And as soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he’d fucked up. It wasn’t Nigel underneath him, it wasn’t Duncan; it was a spiteful, insecure alcoholic who was deluded enough to believe his abuse was love. An evil man who would do whatever it took to make Will his, even if it meant destroying everything and everybody around him. Will included.

Bobby sat up, hands tightening around Will’s waist, like he wanted to squeeze the life out of him. “Huh? Who the fuck is Nigel?” he barked.

In a second, the fantasy was shattered by Bobby’s rough voice, and Will was back to being a timid, scared, burned little boy. “I-- I mean, uh, Bobby…” Shitshitshit. He could feel his muscles tense in panic, and his breaths were getting shallow. Fucking keep it together, Graham. Don’t let him see you weak.

His last ditch effort was to lay it on thick to distract from his misstep. “Fill me up, Daddy, your cock feels so good…” He bounced up and down on Bobby’s dick, letting out a near-constant stream of breathy moans in hopes that Bobby would once again be hypnotized by the movement of his body.

But Bobby saw right through him. He tackled Will to the floor and began to beat him, punching and slapping whatever skin was available to him, ripping the bunny mask off to land blows on Will’s face, pummeling his chest until he was bloody, lightheaded, and on the verge of passing out.

And while he did it, he used the one tactic he had up his sleeve to get the boy to listen to him, to submit to him, to love him-- blackmail. “When you’re with me, you’re.” Punch.

“With.” Punch.

“Me.” Punch.

“Nobody.” Punch.

“Else.” Punch.

“Not any other man, and certainly not your little boyfriend.” Punch.

“You think anybody can fuck you better than I can? You think anyone’s gonna love you more than me? You think he could love a murderer? ” Punch.

“That’s what you are, and you’ll never be anything else.” Punch.

“I’m the one who sees you.” Slap. “I’m the one who accepts you.” Slap. “I’m the one who loves you.” Slap. Slap. Slap.

Bobby gripped his chin as Will sputtered and coughed up blood. His ears rang, but he could still faintly make out the end of Bobby’s speech. “Let’s face it, Graham, you’re not gonna get that anywhere else, so if you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut the fuck up and take what I have to give you.”

The last thought in Will’s mind before everything faded to black was that Bobby was right. He was a criminal, a dirty whore, and everyone knew it. He didn’t deserve Nigel’s love. He didn’t deserve anything at all.

There was a stream by his childhood house that Will liked to fish and skip rocks on. Summer nights, staying out as long as possible to avoid Beau, running through fields with his strays, and returning to wash their feet. Having picnics there, alone, with whatever he could salvage from the kitchen cupboards or steal from the supermarket. Reading tattered classics that had been pocketed from the school library on the grassy bank, picking berries and bundles of native plants, drinking whiskey out of a mason jar-- most times Beau was too drunk to notice that any of it was gone. Swimming naked, floating on the surface, listening to the cicadas chirp, squinting against the harsh, beating glare of the Louisiana sun.

If he closed his eyes and put his head back, he could be there now. He could ignore the bruising grip on his body, the sting of his cheeks, the throb of his shoulder, the ache between his legs, if he wanted to. He could make it all go away.

Just wade into the quiet of the stream, Will repeated to himself, letting his vision blur and fuzz as Bobby landed one more punch to his lip. Wade into the quiet of the stream.

He passed out, bloody and bruised on his own bedroom floor, and for a few minutes, the world was blissfully dark.

When he came to, the detective was inside him again, and it took him a few moments to process, from the sharp pain in his spine, that he was fucking his ass.

It burned like hell-- no matter how many times Will found himself in this situation, it always hurt like it was the first time. He hadn’t trained himself to take anything in his hole for a while, and the way it stretched excruciatingly around the man’s girth told Will that he hadn’t been prepped further than that fucking thumb. Although Bobby had used lube, it was probably for his comfort, not Will’s; it made the act of penetration as easy as possible for Bobby without requiring him to do any work to prepare the boy beneath him. Still, each thrust took tremendous effort-- Will’s body did not agree with what was happening, and tried to push the foreign object out each time it was forced inside.

Bobby was groaning in his ear, uttering all sorts of fucked up shit-- fuck, you’re so tight; been dreaming about using you like this; stop fighting; damn, baby, don’t know which hole I love more; tilt your hips a little; stop shaking, you’re only making it harder; yeah, fuck, that’s good, you like that dick, baby?-- and Will wanted to shove him away, but his wrists were pinned above his head, and he couldn’t move. His voice was stuck in his throat, and he could only let out little wheezes and gasps. Don’t you dare fucking cry, he told himself. He doesn’t deserve your tears. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

Will’s hole wouldn’t let Bobby pick up the pace, so his thrusts remained slow, deep, forceful. He grinned down at Will, deriving pleasure from Will’s obvious pain and whines of protest. “Yeah, take it, baby. Good little bunny, fuck, such a tight ass…”

Will finally found his voice. It was hoarse and distorted and far away, his lips barely able to move from being beaten, and he felt so small, so unbelievably fucking small.

“No, please, stop, it hurts…” Please kill me. Kill me instead. Just fucking kill me.

Bobby, of course, didn’t listen, and the thrusts continued, the CBD lube doing absolutely fuck-all to soothe the burn. He shushed Will, bringing a finger to his lips like he was a kindergarten teacher and it was naptime. “Be quiet, baby, stay still or Daddy’s gonna make you.”

Will had no desire to find out what that meant, so he listened, stiff as a board and taking sharp, pained little breaths as Bobby fucked into him.

There was another noise besides Bobby’s grunts of effort and Will’s little cries of pain, something low, humming. He looked dizzily around his dark room, struggling to make out anything besides the man’s weight on top of him, spotting a little flash of light from above and focusing on that. His phone lay on the bedside table, faceup, screen lit and vibrating incessantly. Someone was calling him, and Will wondered distantly if it was Nigel. Please. Please come find me. Please.

Bobby tore the bra from Will’s chest, leant down, and sank his teeth into the meat of his pectoral, deep enough to break skin, and, at the same time, finished inside him with a long groan.

Will screamed in surprise, struggling against the grip on his wrists as his chest throbbed and oozed with blood. And that was the final indignity, the thing that bent Will back until he snapped in half. He was definitely crying now, so hard he was wailing and shivering. It had been so long since someone had broken him, and now that the floodgates had opened, he couldn’t stop. 

Bobby seemed pleased that he’d finally managed to make Will cry, or have any sort of reaction to his brutality. If a final spurt of cum into his hole was anything to go by, the man was getting off on it. “Ohhh FUCK. Awww, hey, baby, shhhh, it’s okay. You made me feel so good. You’re Daddy’s good little boy, yeah?”

Pull out. Pull out. Pull out. “That really hurt… You really hurt me, Bobby… Please, just stop, pull out…”

“Give me a second, will you? You’re so goddamn warm, fucking tight… made me come so quick, fuck.”

Will shook his head, over and over, like his distress would draw the man’s sympathy, although it never did. “Please, Bobby, no, I can’t…”

To add insult to injury, Bobby pushed in further, seating himself fully as if to spite Will. His face seemed to say, Look, that’s not so bad, now is it?

He continued to talk to Will in that same condescending tone of voice, as if he was disciplining a small child. “I know you can, baby. I’ve seen your little videos. You think you can hide from me? I know what a little cockwhore you are and how much you love it up the ass, so save the bullshit.”

⧫⧫⧫

Suddenly, there was a hammering knock on the apartment door.

“Will?” Came Nigel’s thundering voice, dripping with anxiety. “Will, are you in there? Please don’t ignore me. Why aren’t you taking my calls?”

“NIGEL!” Will bucked up in a weak attempt to knock Bobby off him, but the man was too strong, and his wounds sang with pain. He collapsed and used his voice instead. “Please, I’m in here, ple--”

Bobby covered his mouth with a hand, looking down at him with such ferocity that Will was genuinely afraid he might kill him. “The fuck you think you’re doing?”

The knocking got louder. “WILL! Will, baby, are you alright?”

Bobby’s hand was clammy, and Will wanted to bite it, but it was difficult to move his jaw. He squirmed around while the older man threatened him. “Not a fucking peep from you, or next time you aren’t getting any lube,” he growled, a vicious edge to his voice that sent a shiver up Will’s spine. 

Will stayed silent, hearing the door creak on its hinges as Nigel continued to slam it with his fists. “I’m breaking down the door unless you answer in ten seconds, baby.”

Bobby wasn’t budging, and his cock was still inside him. “Stay. Fucking. Still.”

Will allowed himself to go limp. It’s okay. Nigel’s here. He’s going to save me .

“I’m going to answer the door, and I want to hear a fucking pin drop. Is that clear?”

Will nodded, and Bobby released him from his grip. He pulled out of his ass with a long groan, and Will winced, empty and raw and bloody from the inside out.

Bobby tucked himself into his jeans, stood up, gave Will one last look of warning, and walked out of the room.

The walls were thin, and both men were quite loud, so Will heard the door as it flew open, as well as their entire conversation. Bobby’s voice came first, calm, lackadaisical. “Fucking relax, will you? Jesus.”

Then Nigel’s booming voice, practically rattling the entire apartment. “Who the fuck are you? Where the fuck is Will? What did you do with him?”

Will let out a sigh of relief, wincing when the movement caused the wound on his chest to throb. Now that Nigel was inside the apartment, everything was going to be okay. He would find him. He had to.

Bobby’s voice was a little closer to the bedroom than it was before. “Whoa whoa whoa, buddy, calm the fuck down. It was nothing he didn’t want.”

Compared to Nigel, Bobby was a puny little weasel, and there was no chance he’d get to Will again. Fuck it. He screamed bloody murder to alert Nigel of his presence. “NIGEL! NIGEL! I’M IN HERE! IN THE BEDROOM!”

Will blinked, and suddenly, Nigel was in the room, staring at his prone form on the floor, the blood on his face, chest, and between his legs with the most heartbroken expression Will had ever seen. And from there, it all happened in a second.

He lunged at Bobby, tackled him down, pinning him with his full body weight and clocking him in the face, over, and over, and over, and over, and over. With each punch Nigel landed, Will heard the crunch of bones and saw the spatter of blood, speckling the floor and the front of Nigel’s navy polo shirt. Bobby struggled, to no avail, and got his ass handed to him until he choked on his own blood and passed out. And still Nigel didn’t stop, continuing to land blow after blow to the detective’s slack, bloody face.

Will attempted to sit up, and that didn’t work, so he just hollered at his boyfriend, hoping he’d listen. “Nigel! Stop, wait, please, you can’t!”

But Nigel was in a trance, punching the same spot on Bobby’s nose like he’d been programmed to do it. “You son of a fucking bitch, you fucking piece of shit, you fucking piece of fucking shit, you keep your filthy goddamn hands off him,” he was mumbling in between blows.

Will tried again. “NIGEL! Nigel, listen to me, please!”

Punch. “You put your fucking hands on him, you fucking die.” Punch.

“NIGEL! You have to stop!”

Punch. “You don’t know who the fuck you just fucked with, you goddamn fucking scum.” Punch.

“Nigel, please, I could go to prison!”

That’s when Nigel stopped. His fist halted midair, softening as he gazed at his bloody hands, then wiped them on his shirt. He turned towards Will, the petrifying ferocity in his eyes shifting to overwhelming distress, as if just now remembering he was also in the room. 

He rushed over to Will’s side, kneeling on the floor next to him, and Will could see now that he was crying. Nigel held out his right hand, shaky, knuckles split, reaching for Will’s, flitting listlessly on the floor. He gripped it in his, stroking the boy’s palm with a thumb like he always did. 

Will had to look away from him. He stared at the wood floor instead, his own blood splattered across like some Jackson Pollock painting.

Nigel squeezed his hand. His voice was broken when he spoke next. “Baby, fuck, I’m sorry. Come here, are you okay? Can you tell me what happened?”

Will tried to push himself up, wanting nothing more than to crawl into the warm, safe embrace of Nigel’s arms. As he did, another stabbing pain in his lower back forced him down again. “I-I can’t… get up…”

Nigel’s free hand was shaking as he reached out to Will, as if unsure where to touch him without making the pain from his injuries worse. “Fuck… Just relax, it’s okay, alright? I’m here now, he’s out like a light, it’s okay. I’m here.”

His eyes scanned the burn on Will’s shoulder, the dried blood where Bobby’s fists had collided with his collarbones, the bite mark on his chest, his split lip and bruised face, before finally landing on his open legs and the blood between them. “Oh, baby. What the fuck did he do to you?” 

Will just shook his head. Don’t look at me. I’m filthy.

His throat was scratchy from screaming, and his eyes hurt from crying, and he was completely fucking broken. As much as he wanted Nigel to hold him, the idea of intimacy when he was covered in Bobby’s filth made the bile rise in his throat all over again. No, that man, that awful, awful man didn’t get to taint their love more than he already had.

Will tried to speak, but all he managed was a shaky sob, so he swallowed the massive lump in his throat and tried again. He stared at Nigel’s polo shirt, his thoughts spilling out and jumbling together, spiraling into one big ball of self-hatred. “I’m sorry, I fucked up, I fucked it all up… It was my own fault, I’m stupid, I’m so unbelievably fucking stupid,” he said a little louder than he intended to as his eyes welled up with tears. He could feel himself barrelling towards a panic attack, breathing faster and louder as his heart pounded in his ears.

“You’re so good to me, you’re so patient with me, and all I do it fuck up. You don’t want anything to do with me, Nigel, you really don’t. I’m no good. I’m not clean. I’m--”

“Whoa whoa whoa, Will, STOP. Look at me. Can you look at me?”

Will tilted his head to gaze at Nigel’s rippling jaw, knowing eye contact would quite literally shatter him into a thousand pieces. Nigel seemed to sense this, and didn’t force the boy to look into his eyes; instead, he squeezed his hand in reassurance.

There was a firm, harsh edge to his voice when he spoke next-- if Will didn’t know any better, he’d think his boyfriend was upset with him. But he was still squeezing his hand tight, whispering to him with that possessive, secretive tone he always used. No, he wasn’t upset at Will-- he was upset that Bobby had the power to destroy Will’s self-esteem.

“Nobody talks about my baby like that. Yeah? You better not say anything fucking like that ever again. He’s the one that’s no good. He’s the fuckup. You did nothing wrong, Will. Nothing.”

If Nigel only knew the half of it.

Will shook his head against the floor, gaze still fixated on Nigel’s strong jaw. “That’s not true… Please, don’t kill him… It’s all a really long story, but if you kill him we’ll both get locked up.”

“He hurt you, baby. He fucking beat you, he… he raped you.” Oh God, did he really have to say it out loud?

Nigel’s thumb continued to form little circles on Will’s palm as he continued. “I can’t let him fucking breathe another breath.”

“You won’t get away with it. Please, Nigel, don’t.”

Nigel sighed, no doubt itching to end Bobby once and for all, but seemingly resigned to let it be, for Will’s sake. For now.

“Well, most of these are superficial, I think,” he assessed, eyes scanning his wounds with tiny nods, like a doctor would. “There’ll be bruising, but nothing’s broken or fractured. Thank fucking God. How are you feeling?”

Will wanted to shrug, but he couldn’t, so he just pursed his lips. “I used to take beatings a lot as a kid at school. I’m not great, but I’m fine.”

“Okay, fuck.” Nigel grimaced and rubbed his face with a bloody hand, then gestured to his lower half. “Can I see down there?”

Will shook his head. Please, God, no.

“I’m sorry, baby, but I have to see, okay? I just need to make sure you’re alright.”

Will tried to lift his legs, but the pain made it impossible. He shook his head again in frustration at himself. “I can’t really move…”

“Hey, baby, it’s okay.” Nigel’s hand squeezed his one last time before retreating from Will’s grip altogether. “Can I flip you around?”

“You can try. I’m pretty much dead weight right now.” 

Nigel’s strong arms gripped his waist, gently turning him over, and Will rested his head against the floor, grateful he couldn’t see his boyfriend’s no doubt devastated expression. He still heard the slight catch in Nigel’s breath as the man took in what Bobby had done to his ass. 

He sounded absolutely crushed, sobs audible as he studied the damage. “Okay. Okay. Fuck. There’s a lot of blood, but it’s going to be okay, alright? You’re okay, baby. Fuck. I love you so much. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

If Nigel kept going like this, Will was going to cry again too, and now was not the time nor the place. Bobby was still unconscious on the floor, and the last thing Will wanted was for him to wake up and catch Nigel off guard.

He was resolute. He’d have time to feel his feelings later. “Not right now, okay? Just please, what if he wakes up? What are we gonna do?” He briefly glanced over at Bobby’s body, lying prone and bleeding across the room.

“He won’t wake up. It’s going to be okay, baby, I promise. I always keep my promises, don’t I?”

Will nodded weakly. I trust you with my life, he thought, but didn’t say.

“Good boy,” Nigel said, low and smooth.

Will shook his head against the floor in protest. After Bobby’s brutality, praise from Nigel felt like yet another slap in the face. “Please don’t…”

Nigel smoothed his chaotic, disarrayed curls, ignoring his objections. “You’re my good boy,” he insisted.

No I’m not. “Nigel, I…”

“Shhh. It’s alright. Can I touch you?”

“What?” Will bristled, every muscle in his body tensing. Please, not again… “No, I don’t want to…”

Nigel’s voice was apologetic, his speech hurried. “Fuck, I’m sorry, shit. Can I cuddle you, is what I meant. Nothing else, yeah?”

“Oh.” Will felt himself relax, melting into the floor. It’s okay. It’s just Nigel. Even though he felt disgusting, caked from head to toe in blood and sweat and lube and spit and cum, he nodded before he could think it through, body and mind succumbing to Nigel’s influence. “Okay, yes.”

Nigel scooped him up onto the bed and arranged him on his lap, using a pillow as a buffer so it wasn’t more painful for Will. He brushed Will’s curls, mangled with blood, from his face, and the anguished look in the man’s eyes made Will really think about, for the first time, what had been done to him.

His voice was quieter and meeker than it had ever been. “Can you tell me what happened, baby?”

Will sighed. His head hurt thinking about how he’d explain the circumstance he’d found himself in. “...It’s bad, Nigel. It’s really bad.”

Nigel stroked a bloody, tear-stained cheek with a thumb. “No matter what it is, we’ll deal with it together, yeah?”

Together. Together. Together, Will’s brain repeated, in tandem with the steady beat of his heart. Nigel wasn’t upset. Nigel understood. Nigel wouldn’t abandon him. He could confide in Nigel without fear-- nothing was off-limits, no matter how ugly or unthinkable. They would face everything together.

Might as well start from the very beginning. None of what had happened with Bobby made sense out of context, so despite Will’s reluctance to talk about Frederick, he took a deep breath and began.

“You know I danced at Chilton’s before we met,” he started.

Nigel nodded and kissed his jaw, prompting Will to continue.

“He was… He paid me extra. To touch me. Just over the clothes, he wanted more, but I never gave it to him. I just had to let him feel me up after my shifts ended. I didn’t like it, but I let him do it. I thought he was ultimately harmless.” Will sighed and shut his eyes. Compared to Bobby, and to most other men that had violated him, Chilton really had been harmless.

Nigel’s hold on Will’s hip tightened, like he wanted to clench his fists. Will watched his jaw work as he whispered, “Baby. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s really fucking not.”

“No, it’s not,” Will repeated, “but it’s something I’m used to, so it was nice to at least get some money out of it.” His stupid fucking brain reconstructed the memory as he spoke, and Will slipped into it, like a familiar, worn out pair of boots. He could hear Frederick’s breath, panting and whispering in his ear; see the old oak desk of Frederick’s office, creaky with the weight of Will bent over it; feel Frederick’s hands, groping him and handing him wads of twenty dollar bills so he’d stay quiet.

Nigel pulled Will from his thoughts with another tiny kiss to his cheek, and Will blinked a few times, grounding himself in the present with a shake of the head.

He let out a small, uncomfortable chuckle, trying to remember where he’d left off in his story. “Anyway, uh… The last night of working there, the night before we met, he… tried. Again. To fuck me. He would try every once in a while, you know, and I’d sort of playfully shove him away, and that would be the end of it. But not that time, he… I shoved him away, but he kept trying… He wasn’t listening, men never fucking listen… Something in me just snapped, and I took my knife and slit his throat with it. It was a little, um… messy. I just left him there, on the floor of his office.”

He looked at Nigel to gauge his reaction. The man just nodded and smiled brightly, like Will had just told him he’d picked up groceries rather than murdered a man in cold blood. In fact, he almost looked… impressed.

So Will kept going, finally getting to the least desirable part of his tale. “That guy…” he said, gesturing to Bobby’s lifeless, bloody figure, splayed across his bedroom floor. “He’s the lead detective on the murder case. He knew. He knew that I did it. I had to give him something so he’d redirect the investigation. I…” he pursed his lips, looked away from Nigel, not prepared for the hurt in his face when he told him what he’d done.

“I could tell he was attracted to me, so I… went down on him. But he wanted me instead. I said no, of course, I would never do that to you. But he didn’t listen, and he… yeah, he just shoved me onto the floor and fucked me. I thought it was just gonna be once, but he threatened to send me to prison unless I kept letting him, and he’s… he’s not gentle. This time, I didn’t know if… I thought he might kill me. I thought he might kill me.”

Will burst into tears for the second (third? Fourth?) time that night, collapsing into Nigel’s chest and crying into his no doubt expensive shirt. “I’m sorry, I know this is… more than a lot.”

“Hey, baby, shhhh,” Nigel soothed, running a warm, reassuring hand up and down Will’s quivering back. “Look at me, Will, can you do that?”

Will nodded and sniffled as he looked into Nigel’s eyes, reflecting a deep sadness, barely smothered by a fierce need to take care of his boy.

“First of all, under no fucking circumstance was any of this your fault. Okay? Can you say it back to me?” He brushed a curl behind Will’s ear.

“It wasn’t my fault,” the boy repeated, the words sitting unnaturally on his tongue. “It wasn’t my fault.”

Nigel nodded once in approval. “That’s right. There’s a good boy. It wasn’t your fault. You did fucking nothing wrong. Okay?”

Will didn’t believe it, so he kept saying it, hoping it would click. “It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault.”

“That’s it. I know you think it’s bullshit, baby, but it’s true. Both these men were in positions of power and were allowed to abuse you because of it.” Yeah, story of my fucking life, Will thought bitterly.

Nigel continued to justify the boy’s actions, and, to be fair, he made some pretty good points. “You were taken advantage of, and of course you lashed out. Chilton deserved to die, and so does this one. What’s his name?”

“Bobby. Detective Bobby Bronson.” The name left a foul taste in Will’s mouth.

“Dumb fucking name,” Nigel sneered, scrunching his nose like he’d gotten a whiff of dogshit. “One way or another, I’m going to fucking kill him. I would’ve killed Chilton myself, with my fucking fists. Nobody, fucking nobody lays a finger on my boy. I’d do fucking anything for you. You know that, right?”

Will nodded again, tucking his head into the crook of Nigel’s neck and inhaling his comforting musk. Cigarettes, beer, eucalyptus. He clung to his boyfriend, gripping the gold chain around his neck like a lifeline and not wanting to ever let go again.

Nigel kissed the top of his head. “He’s not gonna get away with this shit, baby.”

“What should we do?”

Will gazed up at Nigel, his brows furrowed, lips pursed in thought. You’re so beautiful…

The man cracked his knuckles, then resumed petting Will’s hair. “Okay. Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m going to clean up here, dress your wounds, give you something for the pain, alright? As for him… we’re going to drug him, put him in my car and take him home. I have a basement we can lock him in. When he wakes up, I’ll threaten him, torture him a little, make him close the Chilton case, tell work that he’ll be away for a while. We’ll keep him there until Duncan gets back, and then we can see what he wants to do with the fucker. How does that sound?”

Will sat in silence for a few seconds, processing. The plan sounded great, but was it too good to be true?

“I’m just… scared,” he said, chewing his lip. “I’ve never killed an officer before. What if we don’t get away with it?”

“You leave that to me to worry about, okay? Trust me, baby, I’ve gotten rid of people before and I’m not afraid to do it again. Including pigs.”

Will took a moment to reply, mentally appreciating the delicious image of Nigel killing a cop. After taking a moment to indulge, he set that aside to focus on the task at hand.

“...Okay. I trust you. What are we gonna drug him with?”

“I have some Xanax in my car. And some Oxy for you.” Nigel stood with a grunt and carefully moved Will onto the bed, lower back still carefully supported by the pillow.

Will gave him a questioning look and an amused, closed-mouth smile. “Should I even ask?”

“Hannibal has a whole pharmacy in his house and he basically prescribed them to me.”

He definitely stole them. Will squinted. “Uh huh.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back. You know how to shoot?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Nigel reached behind himself, pulled a handgun from his waistband, took a clip out of his pocket, and loaded it. “Take this. He won’t wake up, but just in case.”

Will took the firearm when it was offered to him, chuckling fondly at his boyfriend. “You just have this on you?”

Nigel gave him that shark smile back. “I usually have it on me, or in my car. Plus, I knew when you didn’t text or call me back that something was wrong, gorgeous. You always respond quick.”

Will couldn’t help but smile with his teeth at that, even though it really fucking hurt his lip and would probably reopen the wound.

“I love you, Nigel,” he declared, having missed how the words felt on his tongue. Even though it had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d said it last, it felt like a lifetime.

And Nigel returned the sentiment. “I love you so fucking much, baby. More than anything. He’s not going to get away with it, okay? Duncan and I are gonna grind his bones to fucking dust.”

With a smile and a gentle pat on Will’s cheek, Nigel was off to get the drugs. As he left the bedroom, Will’s eyes settled on the detective lying at his feet, calling after his boyfriend. “Wait, how are we gonna get him into the car?”

The man grinned from the doorway. “Do you have a duffel bag?”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Nigel slung the bag over his shoulder like it actually contained gym stuff and not the limp body of a grown man. From the way he tossed Will around during sex, he knew he was strong, but this… Bobby was much older and much bigger than Will, and Nigel still handled his body like a sack of beans. Will’s thoughts were completely inappropriate, considering his current situation-- he should not have been turned on by watching Nigel carry the beaten body of his rapist, but God he was.

Thanks to Oxy and a shower where Nigel had scrubbed him down vigorously like a dog, Will was clean of blood, his wounds were dressed and patched up properly, and he actually felt alright. As for his ass, Nigel had carefully cleaned around and inside, which had been extremely unpleasant, but necessary, and by the time he was done, Will felt like a walking tub of antiseptic and ointment. And even though the Oxy was in full effect and Will was now able to move, Nigel still carried him out of the apartment and into his car.

The car ride was rough. Each bump in the road was like a fucking hot poker being shoved up his ass. He’d experienced this type of pain before, but never so acutely-- he had never been raped quite this brutally. Most guys preferred coercion and emotional manipulation rather than Bobby’s crude, old-fashioned method of beating him into submission and taking him aggressively. Guess there’s a first for everything, huh?

When they got home, Nigel dumped the duffel bag on the floor of the basement, and Will couldn’t help but enjoy the dull thump of the detective’s body on the concrete. Another small duffel was pulled from under a workbench in the corner, and Nigel unzipped it in front of Will with a stoic, determined expression. Inside the bag were a variety of weapons, knives and guns and knuckle dusters and some other things Will wasn’t entirely sure he could identify.

He whistled, impressed. “Wow, this is… quite the collection.”

Nigel gave him a tiny grin and a light kiss on the cheek. “Why don’t you pick a few you like the look of, baby? I’m gonna get this motherfucker tied up.”

While Will sorted through the contents of the bag, Nigel dragged Bobby’s body towards a chair in the center of the room. Will pulled out a small, sleek pocket knife-- always his weapon of choice-- opened the blade, and twirled it around in his hand, admiring the way it glistened in the dimly lit basement. He waved it at Nigel, and the man nodded. Will wondered what he would do with it.

When Bobby was tied up, Nigel placed a speaker on the table close to him, giving Will a wink as he did so. And then he poured a bucket of ice water over the man’s head.

Bobby’s eyes flew open, and he thrashed around, choking and gurgling on water. Nigel had definitely broken his nose past the point of fixing earlier, and Will watched as he groaned, registering the pain. The chair creaked and skidded along the concrete as he fought to move his bound limbs. “What the fuck? Where the fuck am I?”

Will studied his eyes attempting to adjust to the new environment, squinting into the abyss in front of him. Nigel-- or whoever had constructed this bunker-- had installed one overhead lamp in the center of the room, simultaneously illuminating Bobby in harsh fluorescent light and obstructing his view of the two figures lurking in the dark. His voice quivered as he yelled, “Will? Hello? HELLO?”

Nigel hit a button, and the speaker came to life with a short chime. Will opened his Kill Your Rapist playlist, selected a song, turned the volume up as loud as it would go, and pressed play. It was a metal song, the singer screaming at the top of her lungs, underscored by a pulsing synth.

Today I killed you in my head

I’m a brand new fucking bitch

Fuck you and fuck all your friends

They all know you’re a piece of shit…

Bobby jerked in his seat, almost tipping the chair back. “SHIT, THAT’S LOUD, FUCK. WILL! WILL! WILL! WILL, WHERE ARE YOU?”

Nigel rolled his eyes and turned the volume on the speaker louder so Bobby’s voice was inaudible to Will. He stepped into the light, giving Bobby a steely look before slapping him hard across the face. The detective almost fell back again, but Nigel caught the sides of the chair at the last second, then slapped him on the other cheek.

I used to let men like you get to me

Now I fill my lungs with weed

To forget every memory of you

And fucking breathe…

The slapping continued for a while, and Will watched the muscles in Nigel’s back shift with each movement of his powerful arms. He did it so gracefully, almost effortlessly, and he was transfixed, the man’s motions flickering by him in slow motion.

Nigel looked so sure, so solid, so completely in his element that Will was almost taken aback. It was like watching an artist paint. His skilled hands darted this way and that, leaving brushstrokes of blood in their wake. Will was his muse, and Bobby’s mangled figure was merely a canvas for Nigel’s masterpiece.

His boyfriend really was an artist, a virtuoso of violence and destruction, Will thought, as the man took Bobby’s left hand in his and bent all five fingers back in one swift motion.

The detective started screaming and crying, and even though Will couldn’t hear it over the music, the terror and pain on his face was enough to make him giggle. Despite the fact that he could never hurt Bobby as much as Bobby had hurt him, and their pain wasn’t even comparable, it was still highly satisfying to watch him go all red in the face as Nigel beat the shit out of him. I need some popcorn for this… The song continued, and he nodded his head along to the beat, a small, devilish smile on his face.

You will never own me

I took back my reality

My body is mine and my mind is free

I was never yours and you could never be me…

The music faded out, and Will paused the beginning of the next song as Nigel began to speak to Bobby.

“You’re the scum of the fucking Earth. You deserve fucking everything that’s coming to you. You seriously thought you could get away with touching my boy? My fucking boy?”

Bobby wailed in pain, his broken hands falling limp at his sides, but the rest of his body actively shifted back and forth, still determined, it seemed, to escape the confines of the chair. He screamed in Nigel’s face, pleading desperately for release, as if he could talk his way out of this.

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! HE CAME ONTO ME, HE FUCKING SEDUCED ME! HE CHEATED ON YOU!”

“Are you fucking serious?” Nigel scoffed in disbelief and contempt. “You’re such a goddamn fucking idiot. Protect and serve my ass.”

He turned to Will, tone of voice changing on a dime to soft and reverent as he asked, “Baby, can you hand me that gag over there?”

“Sure thing.” Will picked up the gag and stepped into the light, Bobby’s eyes widening in shock as he did. He genuinely thought Will was some demure little boy, didn’t he? A murderer by circumstance, not by choice. Joke’s on you, motherfucker. I’m you’re worst fucking nightmare. He grinned down at the man, the Oxy working wonders to dull the pain of his split lip. Who’s fucking laughing now?

Nigel stepped between them, blocking Bobby’s view of Will. Protective. Possessive. He leaned into the detective’s space, forcing the gag into his mouth and tying it around the back of his head, voice so laced with venom and passion that spit flew as he spoke.

“I don’t fucking care what Will said or did, that doesn’t give you the fucking right to fucking rape him. You raped him. Do you even understand that? Can you get that through your thick fucking skull? He wasn’t cheating. He. Did. Not. Fucking. Consent. If you seriously think that you were having sex, you’re the most deluded motherfucker I’ve ever met in my life.”

He gave Bobby’s right hand the same treatment he had given the left, and the harsh snap of bones sent a chill up Will’s spine. He flicked his silver-blond hair from his face, smoothed his shirt, and God, he was so fucking sexy; his strides towards the chair, calculated, deliberate; the ruthless expression he leveraged at Bobby, and the way it softened when he looked at Will; his gold chain swinging in the air with each blow; the veins in his hands and arms tensing and shifting with the strength of his every move… Will fantasized about Nigel finishing the job and then fucking him on the cold concrete floor of their basement.

Nigel fixed Bobby with a murderous glare, looming over him, a predator cornering its prey. “You’re never going to fucking touch him or anyone else ever again. Baby, can you hand me my knife?”

“Here ya go, Daddy.” Will looked up through his eyelashes at Nigel seductively, a silent promise of more later. When the knife changed hands, Will brushed his palm with an index finger. Thank you for taking care of me, Sir. I’m gonna make sure you’re taken care of too…

Nigel certainly picked up what he was putting down. He took a moment to gaze at the boy, a dark, lustful glint in his eye, wrapping an arm around Will’s waist and speaking low in his ear. “Mmm. Thank you, angel. You doing okay? Do you need anything? You can always go upstairs if you don’t want to watch.”

“Oh, I want to watch,” Will replied, giving Bobby-- or what was left of him-- a small, taunting wink. 

Nigel kissed his forehead. “You sure? It’s about to get a little messy.”

Will rested a palm on his boyfriend’s chest. “Nigel. I want to stay.” I want to see him suffer went unsaid. This wasn’t justice, but it was the closest thing to it Will could possibly think of.

“Alright, gorgeous, by all means. I’m almost done.” With a final kiss to the top of Will’s head, he took the knife and turned back to Bobby, groaning from anguish and fading fast.

He leaned into the man’s space, flicking open the blade of the pocket knife and pointing it at Bobby’s nose. “Shut the fuck up, idiot. Do I need to fucking drug you again?”

Bobby shook his head, a desperate expression in his teary eyes, biting down hard on the gag between his teeth, in so much pain that he was heaving and sweating.

Nigel unzipped Bobby’s jeans and rummaged around for his cock, taking it out and gripping the shaft firmly, caked in Will’s blood and Bobby’s dried cum. He gave it a harsh squeeze, and Bobby let out a wounded screech.

Nigel brought his knife down, just above the base of his cock, making his intentions clear. Oh, this is gonna be good.

“You stick your dick where it doesn’t belong, you pay the fucking price.” Yes. Yes. Yes. Do it. Will stepped a bit closer, wanting a front row seat.

Nigel was about to make the first incision when he stopped and looked at Will. “Actually, do you want to do it?”

Will jumped to action with as much enthusiasm as his injuries and the lingering effects of the Oxy would allow. “Hell yeah. Give me that,” he said, snatching the knife from his boyfriend with a devious smile. 

Will clicked on a new song and turned the speaker back up as he moved in front of Bobby.

This has happened too many times

I survived but I am dead inside

But I can’t cry, that’s what they like

So I just carry my knife and wait…

It wasn’t one clean chop, like you’d see in movies. Will had to saw the knife back and forth, almost like he was slicing a very small, long loaf of bread. It didn’t help that Bobby was screaming in his ear and thrashing around, but Will just focused on how right it felt to hold a knife in his hands, and the heavy electronic beat that pounded throughout the room, the singer’s distorted voice feeding into his bone-deep fury. 

Never let them see me cry

I’ll spit the pain back in their eyes

I’ll carve my name out with my knife

They’ll never know what it feels like…

By the time Will had sliced through Bobby’s dick and tossed it onto the floor in front of him, the short song had ended. The detective stared at the piece of his own flesh with wide eyes, looking absolutely horrified and powerless to do anything about it. Like getting a taste of your own medicine, asshole?

Will’s work was done, so he wiped Nigel’s knife on Bobby’s jeans, then handed it back to his boyfriend, retreating into darkness. Nigel took his place, gripping Bobby’s chin in one hand and forcing eye contact.

They had to be quick, as Bobby was losing an excessive amount of blood and would be unconscious again soon. Nigel spoke rapidly, but with no less intention and vigor than before.

“Here’s what you’re going to do, fuckhead. You’re going to call into work and tell them that you’ll be on leave for a few weeks. I’d say to call your loved ones, too, but something fucking tells me you don’t have any of those. Clear?”

Bobby nodded, and it looked like it took more than a little bit of effort. Will couldn’t help but bark a laugh at the detective’s pained expression, feeling an overwhelming sense of pride that he had been the one to put it there.

“Good. Then you’re going to find someone else to pin Chilton’s murder on, and you’re going to close the case for good,” Nigel continued. “And if I get even a fucking peep that Will is still a suspect, I’ll start with your arms next, and then your legs.”

He retrieved Bobby’s phone and held it up to the man, since his hands were currently out of use, then yanked the gag from Bobby’s mouth and discarded it onto the floor.

“Now hurry the fuck up and tell me what number to dial.”

Meanwhile, Will stared at Bobby’s limp, lifeless dick, shimmering with blood and lying pathetically on the sterile tile floor of Nigel’s basement, and it all suddenly seemed so trivial. That little thing had given him so much trouble, held so much power over him, and now, there it was, a tiny hunk of meat on the ground, nothing more.

Bobby, too, was nothing now, barely even a person, just a husk of skin and bone. It was over-- his short reign of torment had ended, swiftly and violently, and nothing would ever come between Will and Nigel again. Will would make sure of it.

He thought back to Wednesday night, when the detective had first knocked on his door, and rewrote the ending in his memory palace. Instead of inviting him in, pouring him a drink, sitting on the couch next to him, this time, Will grabbed his hunting knife, the same one he’d killed Chilton with, and stabbed the man over, and over, and over again, right through the heart.

Chapter Text

Just because I feel the devil in your bed

Don’t mean it’s you

When you winced and turned your head and wept

That’s when I knew

That it’s not enough 

To run the dog out of this town

My weapon’s cold in the backseat

Hunt that monster down

I want to be the one who kills the man who hurt you, darling…

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Nigel unceremoniously tossed Bobby’s phone onto the floor. It swam amongst a sea of blood which, to Will, in the lamplight, almost appeared black.

Without a word, he took Nigel’s bloody hand in his, squeezed it, and tugged him up the stairs. Their footfalls echoed in the eerie silence, and the heavy wooden door creaked open.

Nigel pulled a tiny silver key from his jean pocket, locking Bobby in as Will watched with a smile. His head was too full of adrenaline to question why Nigel’s brother had built a secret basement on the estate, or why it was concealed by a false pantry in the kitchen.

The past four days had been a fucking whirlwind of emotions, a complete shitshow, and now that it was over, Will’s body was slowly retreating from its state of shock and dissociation. The person he was with Nigel and the person he had been with Bobby moved as one, breathed as one, merged into one. And both of them had gotten their revenge.

He’d put himself back together before, multiple times. He’d wiped his own tears, cleaned his own wounds, comforted himself and cradled himself to sleep. He’d beaten, killed, mutilated, taken revenge on almost all of the men who’d thought his body was theirs. He’d already been through his own personal version of hell, and he’d come out the other side. He wasn’t unscathed, but he’d survived.

All of his previous kills had been a demonstration of his fierce independence, his ability to fend for himself, to deliver justice himself. They’d been heavy with the weight of something deeper-- like he was twelve years old again, with that old, familiar twist in his stomach as he was touched in all the wrong places.

But he wasn’t alone now. He didn’t have to be independent, he didn’t have to fend for himself, and he didn’t have to just survive anymore. With Nigel, he could finally thrive.

Nigel had protected him. Honored him. Stood by his side and had proven himself as Will’s companion in all things. This kill would be different.

Bobby’s hands were broken, his nose was broken, his face was beaten to a pulp, his dick was no longer attached to his body. And soon, Duncan would be home, and Will would get to watch the little bit of life that was left drain from the detective’s eyes.

This kill was a consummation. This kill would seal their love in blood.

God, he was high, and it had nothing to do with the Oxy in his system. It was complete fucking catharsis. He had all this extraneous energy, and it was bursting out, in giggles and little pokes to Nigel’s big arm. The repetition was beyond satisfying, and he let out a little squeal, expressing his uncontrollable delight at the mutilation of his abuser.

Nigel quirked an eyebrow, an amused expression on his face as he tolerated the rapid tapping of Will’s fingers against his bicep. “Baby? You good?”

“Yeah, just stimming,” he said with a giggle and a little jab to Nigel’s shoulder.

Nigel pulled him close, an arm around his waist, a hand in his hair. He kissed the top of Will’s head with a small chuckle. “My precious baby. You’re fucking adorable. Let’s get cleaned up, yeah?”

“Okay,” Will said, giving Nigel’s arm one last tap.

Nigel took a shower to wash the detective’s blood from his body, and Will cleaned the pocket knife, as well as his hands, humming a tune to himself and scrubbing with all the determination of Lady Macbeth. She’d gone completely batshit by that part of the play, but he was anything but-- he was assured, composed. He recalled that quote from Act I, when she attempted to convince Macbeth of her scheme to kill the king:

Look like th’innocent flower, But be the serpent under’t.

She should’ve taken her own advice.

Will smiled and wiped his clean hands with a kitchen towel, closing the pocket knife and setting it gingerly on the counter. He padded upstairs to Nigel’s bedroom, changed into a large flannel and a pair of cheeky panties, peering into the bathroom to watch soap cascade down his boyfriend’s muscular form in the shower, silently congratulating himself on his excellent taste in men. He studied him for a few minutes, unnoticed, then slinked down to the kitchen, where he made himself a cup of tea, sipping it under the light of the moon.

Nigel met him in the living room, where Will dressed the man’s split knuckles with gauze on the couch. They cuddled after-- Will on his boyfriend’s lap, snuggled up to his chest, hand once more fiddling with his gold chain.

For a while, they were silent. Nigel was the first to speak.

“How are you feeling, babydoll?”

Will nuzzled his neck, inhaling the familiar scent. Cigarettes. Beer. Eucalyptus. Safety.

“I’m good. Might take some more Oxy in a bit, my ass kinda hurts. Are you okay?”

“Let me get you some.”

Nigel picked him up and carefully set him down on the couch, ran upstairs and came back with two pills. Will swallowed them dry, studying his boyfriend’s troubled expression as he sat next to him.

Will put a hand on his knee and squeezed. “Nigel? What’s wrong?”

The man’s eyes welled up with tears, and instead of trying to conceal them, he let them fall freely, exhaling hoarsely, voice shaky as he spoke. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. It’s my fucking fault. I should’ve known. I should’ve fucking known.”

Will shook his head profusely and scooted closer to his boyfriend, catching his tears with a thumb and wiping them away. “No, Nigel, no.”

Nigel shut his eyes hard, went rigid under Will’s touch, and Will knew that look. There was no doubt that the man’s brain was punishing him.

“I knew something was off last night on our date, I fucking knew it, and I convinced myself that I was paranoid. I should’ve known something had happened to you, and I should’ve gotten there quicker. Fuck, if I had gotten to your place ten minutes earlier…”

This poor, tortured, noble, beautiful man. This man who would do anything for love, even if it meant self-destruction and rejection. This man who would put himself in harm’s way-- better yet, stare harm in the face-- for the sake of his boy. Will could stomach what had happened, but Nigel… Nigel didn’t deserve to be mixed up in any of this. 

“It’s not your fault at all, okay? I’m pretty good at shoving things like this down, convincing myself it didn’t happen. There’s no way you could’ve known.”

Nigel’s eyes flew open, seeking contact with Will’s. “So something like this has happened to you before.”

Will was silent.

Nigel put his head in his hands. “Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.” He punched his knee with his newly bandaged fist.

Will stopped him with a firm grip to his wrist. “NIGEL. Look, it was all a long time ago, and I’ve taken care of most of it, okay? You can’t fix my past, and even if you could, there’s a long ass list of men that would need to go in order to do that.”

“I don’t fucking care. I’ll kill them all. Nobody gets to fucking touch you. Nobody gets to even look at you the wrong way. Nobody.”

Will sighed. As much as he appreciated Nigel’s dedication, he couldn’t enable the man to spiral out of control and go on a homicidal rampage. His anger was righteous, but Will needed it to be calculated, controlled, focused. “Can we just deal with the guy bleeding out in our basement first?”

Nigel’s nostrils flared at the reminder of Bobby’s existence. “That runty cunt. Fuck, Duncan better come home soon before I kill him myself.”

“You can’t get in touch with him?”

He shook his head. “He goes off the grid when he works. Doesn’t want anyone to track him.”

“He’ll be home soon. I can feel it.” It sounded absolutely batshit insane, and Will wasn’t sure why, but he sensed that the man was already on his way. He was certain that, come tomorrow, Duncan would return.

“He better hurry the fuck up. I’m getting antsy.” Nigel took a cigarette from a pack lying on the footrest and pulled a lighter from his pocket. Will watched the flame burn as he inhaled.

He thought about the last time the two of them had sat on this couch, before Bobby had really broken him. How they’d each talked about their pasts almost comically vaguely. How they’d smoked to forget. How Nigel had looked nostalgic for something he’d never had.

Now, the time felt… right. With all that had happened tonight, and now that Will had seen Nigel… in his element, maybe he’d be more amenable to opening up. About Bucharest. About Lithuania. About anything. He waited for his boyfriend to take his first drag before taking his hand.

“You’ve done this before,” he commented softly, rubbing Nigel’s bandaged knuckles with a thumb.

Nigel sniffed. “I’ve beat up a lot of assholes, babydoll.”

Will shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. You’ve done this before. Hurt, for love’s sake.”

He watched Nigel’s jaw clench. His next inhale was sharp.

Will snuggled up to the man once more, and Nigel somewhat absently put an arm around his waist to bring him closer. The younger man shifted to rest his head on his boyfriend’s chest, gazing at him as he smoked. 

“Who were they?” he asked carefully.

Nigel swallowed, staring at the cigarette in his hand like it was the saddest thing in the entire world. “Her name was Gabi.”

Gabi. Seeing the pain in Nigel’s eyes, he was already imagining how he would make the woman pay for what she had done to him. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter; it had fucked his man up, bad, and Will wanted her fucking dead.

He willed his voice to remain even, at least until he got the full story. “What happened?” he asked, pressing a kiss to Nigel’s neck.

The man squeezed his waist in response, then sighed, smoke furling out of his nose. “We were living in Bucharest. We were married, and she didn’t exactly approve of my lifestyle. Her father found a… videotape… with some… compromising evidence… It was me and Darko killing a bunch of pigs. He threatened me with it, and I had to leave the city. And then she shacked up with some ratfuck American. No offense.”

Nigel had been married? And she’d cheated? Oh, Will was going to find this bitch Gabi, and she was going to fucking die.

He tucked his hands under his thighs so he wouldn’t take his anger out on Nigel’s couch. He took a deep breath before he spoke next. “It’s okay, we are ratfucks. Did you kill him?”

“Shit, baby, I fucking tried. Let me tell you, gorgeous, that son of a bitch was like a cat. Nine lives and all that. I nearly got myself killed chasing that motherfucker. Darko got the videotape, and I had him, I fucking had him, but then the fucking police came, and he got away. He fucking got away, and he took her with him.” Nigel took another long drag of the cigarette, exhaling as he spoke. “I wanted to die, right then, I wanted to fucking die. Let the cops shoot me and just fucking get it over with. But, I don’t know, maybe it was some weird sense of self-preservation… I bolted. Thank God for Doctor iPad-- sorry, that’s my nickname for Hannibal. Resourceful bitch. Flew me out of the country the minute I called him.”

Will kissed his jaw, feeling the tension there, the weight of all the things he couldn’t fix and would always regret. “So that’s why you moved here.”

Nigel nodded once. “Yeah.”

Well shit. No fucking wonder he had abandonment issues. The more Will learned about Nigel’s past, the more he understood that he wore his heart on his fucking sleeve-- he always had, and it had been stomped on, ever since he was a small child. He would try to shove it down, to hide it, lock it in his chest where it belonged, snug between his lungs and beating steadily. It would take control of him, though, make his decisions for him, drive others away. He would attempt to ease his own pain, but, sometimes, that meant hurting himself even more. He was more like Will than either of them had realized.

Will pressed himself closer to his boyfriend and began to rub his chest. “Wow. That’s, uh. Quite the story.”

“It’s the truth, baby. The terrible fucking truth.”

Will’s empathy had never steered him wrong, and it read the signs of Nigel’s body, confirming his account. Yes, he was telling the entire truth, and it was all out in the open now. Finally, there were no secrets between them-- well, almost none, if you didn’t count Will’s fucking disaster of a childhood.

But that could be saved for another day, far, far into the future. Right now, he was overwhelmingly relieved.

He leaned into Nigel’s space and kissed him tenderly on the lips. “If all that had never happened, we never woulda met,” he said with a tiny smile. I’m so, so, so fucking beyond grateful that you didn’t die, he didn’t say, but Nigel seemed to hear it anyway.

The man smiled back, and it was genuine, not forced. His shoulders sagged, the last gasp of long-held tension unwinding itself from his body, and relaxed into Will’s embrace. He gazed at his boy, eyes misty and no longer in quiet anguish, and his past seemed to dissipate, another wisp of cigarette smoke. That’s it, Will thought. I see you. I love you. You can always relax with me.

“My baby. I love you,” Nigel whispered, tucking a curl behind Will’s ear.

“I love you too,” Will said back, tears of gratitude welling up in his eyes. “And thank you.”

“For what, gorgeous?”

“For telling me about her. I know how much courage that took. You don’t ever deserve to be tossed aside and abandoned. I’d never, ever, ever treat you like she did. Do you believe me?” Please believe me.

Nigel nodded, cupping Will’s cheek. “Of course I do, baby. It’s just… you’re so amazing, so beautiful, you could have any guy you want, and sometimes… It’s not you, I believe that you love me, but my stupid fucking brain convinces me that you’ll leave, because everyone has always left.”

Will covered Nigel’s hand with his, nuzzling into his palm, then kissed it. “I get it. My brain is… not a great place to be either. But I know you know that you’re the only guy I want. You and your brother. You protected me tonight. Nobody’s ever done that before. No one’s ever loved me like you before, Nigel. I could never, ever let go of what we have, not for anything or anyone.”

Nigel beamed, and he looked like he was about to fucking propose. “You’re the love of my fucking life, you know that?” he whispered into Will’s ear, tugging him close with an arm around his waist.

And Lord almighty, the man’s throaty voice against his skin never failed to send Will’s body into overdrive. A shiver went down his spine, and his heart rate picked up.

“Yeah,” he giggled. “You’re mine too. My big, strong Daddy.”

There was that horny growl, right on cue, a gentle snarl on Nigel’s face and that dark, smoldering look in his eyes as he rasped, “Baby…”

He grabbed Will’s face with a big hand, and they started making out, tongues colliding clumsily, yet with intention. Will closed the distance between them by climbing onto his lap, pressing himself to his chest, carding a hand through his silver-blond hair, still slightly damp from the shower. Nigel’s hands, predictably, roved down to his ass, squeezing and spanking somewhat tentatively as Will let out tiny moans.

“Is that okay? Does it hurt?” Nigel whispered against him.

“No, it feels good, oh,” Will responded, moaning as Nigel gripped his cheeks firmly and jiggled them.

The older man let out a shaky sigh, continuing to explore the soft curves of Will’s body. “Fuck, baby…” he swore, low and gruff, inspiring another little moan from the boy on his lap.

They shared a few more heated kisses before Will pulled back, one hand on Nigel’s gold chain, the other over his heart. He looked into the man’s eyes, lidded and heavy with desire.

“I want to have sex, but I…” he swallowed. He wanted it, God he wanted it, but the ache in his lower half was making the choice for him. He prayed Nigel wouldn’t be disappointed. “I’m not sure that I can… I’m s--”

Nigel cut him off, his voice becoming stern, authoritative. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry, Will. Just keep giving Daddy kisses and cuddles, yeah?”

Will couldn’t argue with that. “Yes, Sir,” he said with a giggle, locking lips with his boyfriend once more.

Nigel’s arms encircled him, tugging him even closer, caressing his back, his waist, his ass as they continued to kiss messily. He held Will so gently against his solid, powerful form, but the insistent press of his dick against the boy’s ass and the tension in his splayed fingers were unmistakable. 

“You’re so hard,” Will whispered into Nigel’s ear as he kissed up and down his jaw, then ducked to kiss the pinup girl on his neck. He tried to grind his ass against Nigel’s cock, but he felt Nigel stiffen, likely afraid of hurting him further.

“It’s fine, baby, really,” the man dismissed.

Will pulled back to look him in the eyes, biting his lower lip in anticipation. “Do you want me to blow you?”

Nigel shut his eyes, and Will felt his cock twitch beneath him. “Fuck. Baby, I think you should take it easy.”

Will frowned. No man had ever turned down an opportunity to use his mouth, and it was an unfamiliar feeling. Usually, he was being convinced, not doing the convincing.

It was sweet that Nigel wanted to be gentle with him, but, for some reason, being refused only made Will want to do it more. He pressed on, the desire to please his man winning out over every other muddled emotion in his brain. “I am taking it easy. I just want to feel your cock in my mouth while I do that.”

Nigel huffed. “Jesus. I mean… if you want to, fuck… you’ll be okay?”

Will gave him another little kiss. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to, Daddy.”

He slid out of Nigel’s lap, descending to his knees between the man’s open thighs. He arched his back a little, making sure Nigel could see his ass as his hands took hostage of his fly, yanking down the zipper. Nigel’s eyes were wide, and he groaned in relief when Will pulled his cock out of his pants.

“Fuck, Will. I’m not going to last that long,” he said huskily, letting out a ragged sigh as Will pressed kisses to the length of his rigid dick.

The boy smiled, pulling back to rub it against his face in reverence. “I don’t care, cum whenever and wherever you want.” He tapped it on his tongue a few times for good measure, sampling his taste.

“Oh Jesus.” Nigel exhaled harshly and rubbed his face with his bandaged hand. “Fucking fuck.”

Yeah, that was more like it. Will’s voice turned coy, teasing, gazing up at his overwhelmed boyfriend. “Just let me make you feel good, Sir…” He pulled back Nigel’s foreskin and darted his tongue out, swirling it over his head once.

Nigel gripped the couch cushion, his other hand clutching at Will’s curls. “Will, oh my God, FUCK.”

The boy grinned, leaning in and kissing the head, spitting on it, then sucking it into his mouth and moaning like it was the most delicious lollipop.

This. This was healing. This was a reclamation of his body, of pleasure. This was therapy. Nigel’s hands, Nigel’s voice, Nigel’s dick, Nigel’s everything.

Will was growing wet beneath his panties as he sucked, getting Nigel even harder, thicker, wetter, spitting and slobbering on him, taking him all the way down his throat and keeping it stuffed for a good thirty seconds before pulling off to tease him not with his mouth, but with his words.

“You taste so fucking good, Daddy. Fuck, I needed this,” he said with a sigh, spitting on him again, pumping a hand up and down and watching his saliva dribble down the man’s enormous length.

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. Purvina kekše,” Nigel mumbled, and Will once again wished he’d had the foresight to pick up a Lithuanian dictionary.

He nodded and giggled. “I am, Daddy, I love sucking you and getting you all thick and hard and throbbing in my mouth.”

That earned him a very loud groan. “Will, oh my God, vargsta mažoji gaidžio kekšelė…”

Will giggled with the knowledge that whatever Nigel was saying to him, it was beyond filthy. His sex voice alone was enough to make Will’s pussy throb in his panties, and he wanted to encourage his boyfriend to keep talking. 

“Do you have any fantasies, Daddy? I wanna hear ‘em.” He lifted Nigel’s dick and sucked a testicle into his mouth on a moan, tracing the weight of it with his tongue.

Nigel’s dick jumped in Will’s hand. “Fuuuuck, baby, that’s good. I-- there’s something I have been thinking about.” His gaze flickered between Will’s face and his ass, presented for his benefit.

Will let the ball he was sucking on fall out of his mouth with a plop. “Mmm, oh yeah?” he teased, giving Nigel’s other testicle the same treatment.

“I-- fuuuuck,” Nigel groaned, and the hand in his hair tightened. “I want to fuck my dick between your asscheeks.”

Oh my fucking GOD. Will moaned around him at the thought, imagining Nigel’s large hands squeezing him together, the teasing pressure of that huge cock grazing his hole. He hadn’t thought about it before, but God, that sounded amazing…

Screw it. He didn’t give a fuck if it hurt; he wanted it now, and he wanted it more than anything.

He sucked both balls into his mouth, then let them go, slick and gloriously shiny with spit. Nigel’s dick, too, was glistening and red, beginning to leak, and Will stroked it once more, kneading the man’s balls with the other to rile him up.

“That sounds fucking great,” he said, grinning up at his boyfriend. “Wanna do it now?”

Nigel petted his head affectionately, groaning in frustration. “Baby, fuck, you’re super sensitive down there, right? We can’t let it get infected.” He sounded almost as disappointed as Will felt hearing the words, the throbbing of his cock in his hand giving away entirely just how desperate he was to enact his fantasy.

The boy pouted, taking his hands away from his boyfriend’s cock and crossing his arms, petulant. “You’re no fun, Daddy.”

That did the trick. Nigel growled and lifted Will onto the couch, flipping him onto his belly as the boy squealed. “I’ll show you fun. Little slut.”

Yes. Yes. Yes. Will giggled, allowing himself to go limp as Nigel impatiently wrestled his panties over his ass, practically ripping the delicate lace. He yanked them down to Will’s knees, forcing his legs together, and kneeled to straddle Will’s thighs.

And God, the man’s weight atop him was comforting, relaxing. Even when Nigel dominated him, it was never scary, and it never turned bad-- Will always had the power to make it stop. Nigel respected Will. Loved Will. Cherished Will. Even when he was fucking the shit out of him, Will was his equal.

Nigel squeezed Will’s asscheeks together and gave them a few spanks, then tapped his dick on his right cheek. “Mano mažoji paleistuve…”

Even though Will had no idea what the man was saying, it was a huge fucking turn on to hear him speak in his native tongue. “Mmm, yeah,” he agreed, wiggling against him.

Nigel continued to praise him in Lithuanian, giving his cheeks a final smack with his cock before sliding in between them with a groan. He kept two big palms on the flesh of the boy’s ass to squeeze it tight around him-- although, Will’s ass, after all, was generous, and it didn’t take much pressure to make his boyfriend a channel to fuck into.

The first thrust made both men gasp. “Ohh, damn, baby, that looks good,” Nigel commented. “Wow. Gražus didelis asilas… so fucking sexy.”

“Keep going, Sir,” Will urged, gripping a pillow, bracing himself.

He started thrusting in earnest, and, thanks to Will’s sloppy blowjob, his dick was wet enough to slip back and forth effortlessly between the boy’s plush cheeks. The opiates dulled the pain between his legs, and it actually felt better than he’d expected it to. The sensation of the thick, warm, wet head of Nigel’s cock against his hole made Will moan and mewl, and his wet balls slapped against his pussy with each targeted glide. He ground up as hard as he could with Nigel’s weight on his legs, causing the man’s hips to buck harder against him.

“Oooh… That feel good, Daddy?” he asked breathlessly, pressing his cheek against the couch as he was jostled slightly up and down.

“You know damn well it does. All this beautiful ass for me to fuck,” Nigel growled, jiggling Will’s cheeks around his cock to emphasize his point. 

“Oh God…” His boyfriend’s relentless strokes over his hole were making Will insanely wet, and he wished he was able to take Nigel’s cock right now. To press it inside his pussy, or his ass, and bounce on it until he squirted… Fuck, he missed doing that more than anything. The smooth, silky skin of his dick sliding up and down, up and down between his cheeks activated the memory of exactly how good it felt to have Nigel inside him, how wide it stretched him, how it was the best dick he’d ever had in his fucking life.

And he made it known to Nigel. “Can’t wait for you to fuck my pussy again, Sir, stretch it out with your big cock…”

He felt the glide become faster and easier as the big cock in question leaked at his words. Nigel’s pace was becoming frantic, and he was throbbing between Will’s asscheeks. “Will, babydoll, oh my fucking God. If you keep talking like that, I’ll fucking come.”

Yes. Yes. Yes. “Do it on my pussy, Daddy, I want to feel it.” Claim me. Fuck me. Come on me. I’m yours.

Will turned his head to look over his shoulder at Nigel, smiling at the surprise on the older man’s face at his lewd request. Nigel gripped his cock at the last second, spreading the boy’s cheeks to aim it at his cunt, and tossed his head back as he came unexpectedly.

“Ohhhhh my God, baby, FUCK… Neklaužada berniukas.”

Thick, warm ropes of white coated Will’s most sensitive areas, shooting over both his pussy and hole, and it felt fucking fantastic. He was drunk on Nigel, and he wiggled his ass in encouragement, letting out little moans of surprise. “Oh! Oh, yes! Yes Daddy, mmm, make me feel it. Wow, that’s a lot.”

“God fucking damn, baby,” Nigel responded, milking the last of his cum out with a firm grip, then tapping the head of his dick on Will’s soaked clit, clearly relishing in the filthy sounds it made.

“Look at that,” he continued, reaching for his discarded jeans and rummaging for his phone, then snapping a picture of his load dripping down the boy’s pussy. “Mano pūlingas.”

Will giggled and rolled his eyes. “You’re such a pervert.”

Nigel gave him a toothy grin, tugging Will’s panties back over his ass and trapping his cum inside. “Is that a complaint?”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought, baby,” he said, giving Will’s ass a final smack before collapsing back against the couch.

Will sat up with a tiny oof, returning to his former position in Nigel’s lap, his soiled panties brushing against the man’s oversensitive dick. Nigel let out a groan at the contact, then kissed Will’s cheek, one hand on his ass, the other doing something on his phone.

Will kissed Nigel’s collarbone, craning his neck to see what his boyfriend was preoccupied with, and-- “Nigel, are you serious? You can’t make that your wallpaper.”

“Nobody else looks at this phone besides me, babydoll.”

“I-- you can’t just--” Will sputtered. “What if someone else sees it?”

Nigel shrugged. “Then they’ll know that I’m the luckiest man in the world, now won’t they, gorgeous?”

Will sighed. “Can you at least make it your home screen?”

“My lock screen’s already a picture of your ass, baby.”

“You know what, fine,” Will grumbled, shaking his head with a tiny smile, embarrassed but oddly aroused.

They fell asleep on the couch, Will splayed out on top of Nigel, ear pressed to the man’s steady heartbeat. And for once, the boy slept soundly through the night.

In the morning, Nigel greeted him with a cup of coffee, a fresh plate of waffles, a sloppy kiss, and three little pills.

His grin was wide as he settled on the couch next to his boy, urging him to “Turn on the news, baby.”

Will gave him a questioning glance, but flicked on the TV and scrolled to WBAL-TV 11. While he watched, he swallowed the pills with some coffee, then popped a waffle into his mouth.

A stern-looking news anchor adjusted her earpiece as she addressed the viewers. “And we have some breaking news in the murder case of Doctor Frederick Chilton, former surgeon, psychiatrist, and exotic dance club owner in Baltimore. A suspect has been charged and is in custody-- forty-four year old Doctor Abel Gideon, a former colleague of Doctor Chilton’s who recently escaped from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Doctor Gideon was institutionalized after his infamous 2011 rampage, in which he murdered his wife, as well as her mother, father, and brother.

“Doctor Chilton was choked until incapacitated, then his throat was slit with a small hunting knife. Although authorities have yet to find the murder weapon, other crucial physical evidence has been found. Doctor Gideon does not deny the charges, and, indeed, seems to take pride in his most recent murder. He was charged and arrested today, and is currently in federal custody, awaiting trial. And in other major news, the Chesapeake Ripper has struck again--”

Relief flooded Will’s body from head to toe. Finally, finally, it was fucking over. Bobby was fucking over.

He grinned and reached for the remote. “Well, that’s that--”

“Wait, wait, hold on, I want to see this, turn it up,” Nigel said.

The boy gave him a quizzical look before shrugging. Guess he really likes murder.

“Uh. Okay.” He adjusted the volume knob on the remote, and the news anchor’s voice got louder.

“--In Baltimore. Thirty-five year old Liam Campbell from the East side was found dead in his apartment early Sunday morning. Organs were removed while the man was still alive, and he died from blood loss as a result.”

Nigel groaned and put his head in his hands. “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me. Fucking drama queen.”

Will took a sip of coffee and studied him, amused. “Nigel? You good?”

He waved a hand at Will in reassurance, rubbing his face in inexplicable agitation. “Yeah, yeah, baby, I’m fine. It’s just… this guy, he’s fucking unbelievable.”

The boy shrugged, grabbing another waffle and shoving it into his mouth. “I dunno, I think what he does is kinda fascinating, don’t you?”

“Fucking pretentious is what it is,” Nigel grumbled, fiddling in his pocket for a cigarette and lighting up. Will wondered if the man kept at least one cigarette and lighter in every pair of pants he owned.

He took another sip of coffee. “It’s elevated. Heightened. It’s high art.”

Nigel coughed out smoke. “Oh Jesus, you’re exactly like him, aren’t you, baby? Fucking hell,” he said, shaking his head.

“You talk like you know him.”

Nigel jolted at that, head whipping to stare at Will, and then shook his head profusely, like he was overcompensating for something. “No, uhhh… No, I mean, it’s not hard to imagine what he’d be like.”

Why was he being so fucking weird? Did he know the Ripper? And if he did, why hide it from Will?

Maybe he was trying to protect Will. But from what? Was he afraid the Ripper might hurt him?

One thing was for sure, and that was that Nigel himself was not the Ripper, and neither was Duncan. Will was confident that if he ever came face to face with the Ripper, his empathy would spot him a mile away.

He decided to brush it off. They’d had enough drama in the past twenty-four hours to last several lifetimes, and the last thing Will needed was something else to be anxious about, more fucking battles to fight.

He offered Nigel the last waffle, and the man shook his head, so the boy polished it off. “I think he’s probably really sexy and charming, put together, a man of culture. How else would he lure his victims?”

Nigel raised his eyebrows to him in amusement, taking a quick drag of his cigarette. “You wanna fuck the Chesapeake Ripper, baby?”

“Mmm, maybe I do,” Will teased, poking Nigel on the nose.

The man wordlessly ruffled his boy’s hair, an unreadable expression on his face. My weirdo, Will thought fondly to himself.

He continued to drink his coffee, squinting at the picture of the victim as the news anchor continued reporting. Something about the guy looked familiar…

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. It was the douchebag from the grocery store.

What the fuck? How was that even possible? Was it a coincidence? It had to be a coincidence. Actually, on second thought, there was no way it was a fucking coincidence. The Ripper knew about him and that guy-- Liam-- somehow. How did he know? And why would he kill him? Will could feel his heart rabbiting as more and more questions came into his head, and he had to force himself to stay calm and focus his eyes on the TV as the news anchor continued.

“Now, my sources at the FBI have told me that Doctor Frederick Chilton was a top Ripper suspect, and with this new scene occuring after his death, authorities are back to the drawing board.”

Wait. Was that why? Did the Ripper know that Will had killed Chilton? Was this a consequence of doing away with the man he would frame? Maybe he’d seen Will with Liam in the grocery store, and thought they were involved somehow. Was this a warning to Will, letting him know that he was being watched?

No. That was impossible. There was no way. Nobody else had been there when Will had killed Frederick, and nobody else had been in that grocery store, aside from the cashier. The Ripper would have to be a fucking sentient being. It was a coincidence. A very, very convenient coincidence… Seems like I owe him a thank you, Will thought, suddenly much more chipper than he usually was in the morning.

“And that concludes our special report on the Chesapeake Ripper. Tune in for more updates--”

Nigel flicked the TV off. He sniffed and cracked his knuckles. “I need a fucking beer.”

“Nigel, it’s ten a.m,” Will scolded.

“Time is a construct. Want a beer?”

“Uhh, maybe when I’m not high as shit on pills.”

“Fuck, right.” Nigel sighed and rubbed his face. Will stared at those delicious fucking veiny hands. God, those hands…

“Anyway, the important thing is that you got away with it, baby,” Nigel continued. “And now that bastard can fucking die.”

“Can’t wait,” Will said with a smile, finishing his coffee and setting the mug down on the footrest in favor of kissing his boyfriend. “Thank you for taking care of it, Nigel… Thank you for taking care of me.”

“That’s my job. Otherwise I wouldn’t be a very good fucking boyfriend, now would I, sweetheart?” Nigel pointed out with a crinkled smile.

He opened his arms, and Will cuddled up to him, resting his head on the man’s shoulder. They sat in companionable silence while Nigel finished his cigarette.

He always smoked them like joints, down to the nub. When he was done, he flicked it into an ashtray, then settled against Will, carding his bandaged hand through the boy’s pillowy curls with a deep sigh.

Nigel kissed him, and, as on most occasions, it turned from sweet and chaste to passionate and heated on a fucking dime. A minute later, Nigel was on top of Will, one hand in the boy’s hair, the other venturing down beneath his cum-stained panties. Will was so wet, and Nigel was hard against him, and--

And then there was a noise from the front door.

Will shot up and ran out of the room. “Duncan?”

“Cockblock,” he heard Nigel mumble, following close behind.

Will ran into the foyer, and there he was, hanging up his coat, setting down his duffel bag. He turned to face Will and Nigel, and his smile fell when he saw the bruises on the boy’s face.

“You’re back!” Will shrieked, flinging his arms around the man like a small child whose father had come home from a long day at work. “I missed you so much.”

Duncan’s eyes were blazing, fierce with loyalty as he gripped Will by the shoulders, examining the damage. His voice grated as he asked, “Who the fuck did that to you?”

Will gripped a strong bicep in each hand, pursing his lips, unsure where to even start. He opened his mouth, but Nigel cut in before he could begin.

“He’s in the basement.”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Will watched Duncan closely as the three men unlocked the false door and descended the stairs, feeling a burst of pride at the impressed look on the man’s face when they got to the bottom. Bobby was still tied to the chair, almost unrecognizable-- face beaten into distortion, broken hands laying uselessly at his sides, clothes stained almost black, and the remnants of his dick all shriveled up in its own pool of blood. He was unconscious and almost gray, on the verge of death, head lolled and face slack. It was very, very fucking satisfying.

“Good job,” Duncan said to Will.

“Hey, I fucking helped too,” Nigel protested.

“Yeah, Nigel did most of it. I did the last bit. Snip snip motherfucker,” Will said to Bobby’s cold, lifeless face.

He needed to be conscious for this part, though. Nigel used his preferred method of dunking ice water over the man’s head to rouse him.

“Wake the fuck up, fuckface,” he snarled, gripping the back of Bobby’s chair to keep him from toppling over as he swayed around weakly, moaning in agony and spitting out water.

Will stood directly in front of the detective. Duncan stood next to him, stoic and unmoving, almost somber. The boy saw it in the man’s downcast eyes-- Duncan knew, without Will having to say it, what had been done to him. He said nothing, but he looked overwhelmed, distraught, and entirely uncomfortable about it, like he hadn’t experienced those emotions in a very, very long time.

He addressed Will gently, brushing a curl behind his ear and stroking his cheek. “Is there anything you want to say to him first?” he asked, and his eyes seemed to say, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

Will could’ve made a whole speech, but Bobby didn’t deserve one. He’d known what he’d done from the very beginning, and quite honestly, he wasn’t worth Will’s fucking energy. He shook his head in answer to Duncan’s question-- although, in lieu of words, he did spit in the detective’s pathetic fucking face, watching him moan weakly as it dribbled down his broken, horrifically bruised nose.

Then Nigel was by his side, drawing him in with a protective arm around his waist, and Will was ready.

“Do it,” he said to Duncan, before putting Nigel’s noise-canceling headphones on (for the sake of his eardrums).

Duncan wasted no time as he whipped out his handgun and shot Bobby, clean through the chest. His aim was spot on, and his technique was impeccable, but Will could see the fire in his eyes, the furrow in his brow, the tension in his hands as he pulled the trigger. To anyone else, it would have looked like he was concentrating hard, but Will knew better. He was furious beyond belief.

Bobby went limp on the first shot, but Duncan kept shooting, pulling the trigger over, and over, and over, and over, until the clip was done, each blow jostling Bobby’s corpse where it was bound to its chair until, finally, it fell to the ground with a dull thud, chair and all. 

His blood was everywhere, and Duncan had a little bit on his face, snarling as he wiped it away, and he was so, so beautiful.

Will sensed that it was rare for Duncan’s kills to be so personal. He killed with speed, efficiency, and indifference. It was his job, not an extracurricular activity, and his emotions probably had little, if anything, to do with it. But in that moment, it seemed as though a new, more outwardly sensitive side of the man was blossoming-- and Will had brought it out of him. For a split second, he was almost… grateful for Bobby.

Duncan tucked his gun back into the holster at his hip, looking pensive, and Jesus Christ he was sexy. Something about this passionate, tortured side of his boyfriend was making Will horny as fuck.

But there was no time for that now. They had to take care of the body.

Or maybe not. Duncan stared at the corpse on the floor, heaving a sigh. “I’m exhausted and jet-lagged as shit. I’m going to bed.”

“Uhhh, what about the body?” And his penis, Will thought smugly.

Duncan waved a hand dismissively, already halfway up the stairs back into the main house. “I’ll take care of it later,” he said, and Will gave one final apathetic glance at what was left of Detective Tiny Dick before following him, tugging Nigel along by the hand.

“I’ll nap with you,” he called to Duncan. “Can you stay and cuddle me too?” he asked the other brother bashfully.

“I was planning on it, gorgeous.” Nigel gave him a wink.

Will reached the kitchen pantry just in time to see Duncan hide something behind his back.

“What’ve you got there?” he asked sweetly, slinking towards him with a grin and resting a hand on his big chest.

Duncan cleared his throat, a tiny smirk on his face, and the fact that Will made the fucking Black Kaiser shy was just… absolutely ridiculous. 

“I got you something when I was gone… I don’t know, I just, uh, saw it and thought it was cute. I hope you like dogs.” He revealed a little french bulldog stuffed animal, holding it out to Will.

Will gasped. “Are you kidding me? I love dogs! Oh my God, it’s so cute! How did you know?”

“I figured you were more of a dog than a cat person,” Duncan replied. 

Will squeezed the stuffed animal against his chest, like it was a piece of the man. “Thank you, Duncan. I love it.” He beamed at the elder brother, then gave him a little kiss on the cheek, watching them redden in response to his affection. I missed your scruff against my face…

“You’re welcome, baby,” the man said back, and fuck, Will really liked it when Duncan called him that. He blushed, continuing to smile as he took the eldest Lecter’s hand in his.

“Time for bed,” he cooed. Nigel scooped him up bridal style, carrying him through the kitchen, the living room, up the stairs. Duncan led the way into his bedroom, still gripping Will’s hand.

The boy settled between the brothers in bed, pulling the covers over them, laying down and pressing his cheek to his new dog plushie, and the comforting weight of his boyfriends’ limbs enveloping him allowed him to drift off. He slept deeply and dreamt that the three of them were a family of stags, galloping through an endless wood, fierce and feral and free.

Chapter Text

Nothing in the world belongs to me

But my love, mine, all mine…

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

No one would think twice if someone like Bobby disappeared.

Most people would assume he was off in a crappy motel somewhere, drinking himself to death, or that he’d gotten into a bar fight gone wrong and ended up in a ditch somewhere. Plus, even if people did become suspicious of foul play, the detective had far more enemies than friends, and only Will, Bobby, Nigel and Duncan knew that Bobby was in any way connected to Will. They were safe.

That was what Will told himself as he sat up in Duncan’s bed, hugging his knees to his chest as his boyfriends slept. Somehow, it was five in the evening, and they’d all spent the day curled up together, sheets and duvet crumpled at their feet. Duncan was snoring softly, and Nigel had drooled on the pillow, and even Will had slept well, until about ten minutes before, when he’d woken from a nightmare.

He was in his old apartment, on his bedroom floor, covered head to toe in blood. Bobby was inside of him, grinning his awful grin, thrusting and thrusting and thrusting, howling like some mythological creature from the bowels of hell. Nigel was banging on the apartment door, over, and over, and over, and over, and over.

Will opened his mouth to scream, to tell him to stop, to yell NIGEL! NIGEL! NIGEL! , but nothing came other than a small, choked whimper. His skin prickled, and suddenly, blood rose around him, up, up, up, until it coated his fingers, his toes, his arms, his legs, his entire body, suffocating him. Just before blood spilled over his face, he looked at Bobby and saw that the man had grown monstrous, grotesque, spiderlike antlers.

And when Will had woken up, he was gasping for air, sweaty and shivering at the same time, heart pounding and mind racing. Thank god Nigel and Duncan were heavy sleepers.

He thought back to when he was twelve, thirteen, fourteen, when nightmares like that used to make him cry, make him feel sorry for himself, make him hurt himself. In place of all that emotion now was a big old fucking ball of nothing.

It was really just fucking annoying, because before Bobby, he’d just managed to get his nightmares under control. Without fucking therapy, thank you very much. And here he was, yet again.

After all he’d been through, only to end up right back where he’d started. Was this really going to be the rest of his life now? It was like there was always something, some man, around the corner, waiting. Waiting to make him fucking miserable.

But Bobby was gone. Bobby wouldn’t hurt him anymore. Bobby was a literal pile of garbage on the Lecters’ basement floor. Will had gotten his justice, taken his revenge, and rid the world of the detective forever. If only someone would tell his fucking subconscious that.

Something shifted next to him, and he snapped out of his thoughts as Duncan’s strong arms wrapped around his torso. Will felt stubble against his face, and he nuzzled the older man back, soaking in his calm, comforting presence.

“Hi,” he said, giving the man a tiny kiss.

“Hi,” Duncan returned, and God, that low, smoky voice never failed to make Will’s stomach-- and pussy-- flutter. The man kissed his cheek over and over as he spoke, the tickle of his mustache making the boy giggle, and he was so fucking turned on that he almost missed what Duncan said.

“Everything’s taken care of.”

Will’s brows furrowed. Everything?

He drew back to face his boyfriend, and he was trying really hard to be serious, but Lord, it was some of the most sexually tense eye contact he’d ever had in his life.  He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to the way both Lecter brothers boldly stared him down, undressing him with their eyes, even when they didn’t mean to. Will cleared his throat, trying hard to focus and not attack Duncan with kisses.

“What do you mean?” he asked, because there was absolutely no fucking way the man had had enough time to dispose of a body.

“He’s gone,” Duncan said nonchalantly, reaching for a cigarette from the nightstand and settling against the headboard, deliciously shirtless and firm in his grip on Will’s waist.

Will opened his mouth, then closed it, like one of those mechanical fish things, taken aback completely. “Where?”

Duncan lit up, his beautiful bare chest rising and falling as he took a long drag. “Don’t worry about it.”

God, he’s so mysterious and hot, I just want to jump his bones… OH MY GOD, SHUT UP, THIS IS A SERIOUS SITUATION, Will scolded the horny side of his brain.

He took a deep breath. “So… You woke up, took him… wherever you took him, cleaned the entire basement, showered, then came back to bed?”

Duncan nodded and yawned.

He told you not to worry. After all, he does it for a living…

Will decided that the man’s vague explanation was just fine with him. Bobby had gotten his, and Will didn’t care where he was beyond the fact that he was gone and would never come back.

“Okay then.” He settled against Duncan’s strong pectoral, playing with the thick hair and listening to his heartbeat.

The rise and fall of Duncan’s chest as he smoked encouraged Will to breathe deeply in tandem, and he wondered if he’d ever felt this safe and cared for in his entire life.

He could see it on the man’s face-- he had questions about what had happened with Bobby, and he was concerned for Will’s safety. But his primary motivation, if his possessive grip on the boy was anything to go by, was to make him feel as secure and comfortable as possible. He wouldn’t press-- Duncan never pressed, never persuaded, just stared at Will with those expectant hazel eyes.

And it wasn’t like Will didn’t want him to know. But, at least in this moment, retelling would be reliving, and he decided to go with his trusty method of never talking about it until he couldn’t remember many details about the incident at all. Maybe Nigel would be willing to forget, too.

Will cleared his throat again, suddenly wishing he had a drink in his hand, or a joint, or his pen, or literally any substance under the sun.

Instead, he buried his face in Duncan’s chest and inhaled. Whiskey. Cigarettes. Fresh winter air. Safety.

Duncan brought a hand to his cheek, exhaled smoke, and Will looked up into his warm, understanding eyes. He loves you. You could never tell him what happened, and he’ll still love you.

“Hey, is it okay if, uh… can we not talk about it? What happened, I mean. Just… not right now.”

Duncan kissed the top of his head. “When you’re ready.”

Will smiled up at him. “Thank you.” I love you, he thought. I love you with more love than I thought I had in me.

They shared the cigarette, as well as more horny eye contact and chaste little kisses with the promise of much, much more. It wasn’t long before Will was alerted to Nigel’s state of consciousness by tickles to the sides of his ribs and chuckles in his ear.

Nigel, of course, had to smoke, and it was more than likely the three of them would be staying in bed for the foreseeable future. Will wasn’t sure which brother he wanted to snuggle more, so he turned to sit facing them, one hand clutching Nigel’s, the other Duncan’s.

They danced around the subject of Bobby for a while-- aside from Nigel asking over and over again if Will was okay, the events of the night before were not discussed. Still, it was there, undeniable, hanging over them like a deep, humid fog and polluting the air they breathed, until it became impossible to ignore.

“I should’ve been here,” Duncan said quietly, eyes downcast.

Will shook his head. “Please, Duncan, it’s done. I don’t want to talk about it.”

The man looked into his eyes, and they were full of guilt, as if he’d had anything to do with what had happened-- as if it wasn’t Bobby’s fault for being a piece of shit. As if it wasn’t Will’s fault for getting himself into a stupid situation.

“I just… Should’ve been here,” Duncan said again, eyes glistening with the beginnings of tears before he blinked them away.

Will shook his head, crawled into Duncan’s lap, laid his head on his chest, and kissed his cheek. You couldn’t have done anything. I know you want to be strong for me, Daddy. You don’t always need to be.

The three of them were silent, and, for a while, the only sounds that could be heard were their collective breaths, the crackling burn of Nigel’s cigarette, and the steady thump of Duncan’s heart.

“Do you want to go camping with me?” Duncan asked Will suddenly, lightening the mood. “I have a cabin, we could go up there. A change of scenery might be good.”

Camping. Warm memories were associated with that word. Will had been camping only once in his life, with Uncle Jack, and that trip was by far the happiest time of his childhood. He’d discovered his love for the outdoors, and he’d gotten to pretend that he had an actual father. Jack had shown him warmth, compassion, gentleness; Jack had cared about his thoughts, his opinions, his dreams; Jack had taught him how to fish, how to hunt, how to shoot-- things Beau had refused to teach him because You’re always gonna be my little girl, aren’t you, baby?

He wondered what such a trip would be like now, as an adult, as a man, no longer colored and muted by a profound sadness. What would it be like to roam into the wilderness, side by side with his real Daddy, capable and unafraid of what might lie within?

He smiled brightly at Duncan. “That sounds… really fun, actually. How long?”

And Duncan, in turn, seemed to perk up at Will’s enthusiasm. “However long we want. I have enough food stocked to last a month.”

Will was already mentally planning his outfits. He looked to Nigel, who was working on his second cigarette. “Daddy, can you come too?”

The man sighed, scooting closer and ruffling Will’s hair. “I wish I could, babydoll, but I have business at the club to take care of. Besides, camping isn’t really my thing. You two go, have fun, okay?”

Will pouted and threw his arms around him, pressing his face to his neck. “I’ll miss you,” he said into the skin just below his tattoo.

Nigel petted his hair and kissed the top of his head, in the exact same spot Duncan had five minutes before. “I’ll miss you like crazy, baby, but I’ll be here for you when you get back, yeah?”

Will nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he agreed before kissing Nigel, long and hard, like he was already saying goodbye.

The man kissed him back, then pinched and patted his cheek with a grin. “Good boy.”

The next day, Will got his stuff moved into the Lecter estate. He had his own bedroom, converted from a guest room, complete with not only a closet for his clothes, but a much larger walk-in closet for his lingerie, heels, and sex toys. He’d probably rarely spend time in this room-- aside from the insane fucking closet-- but it was nice that his boyfriends had been considerate enough to allow him his own space.

He split his toiletries between the two older men’s rooms, unsure if he’d switch off spending nights with them, or if they’d all sleep in the same bed, together. Probably a combination of the two. Oh God, they were really doing this, weren’t they?

Will was beyond ready to start this adventure with Nigel and Duncan. Whenever he’d pictured his future, it had always been him on his own, third wheeling with Margot and Bev for the rest of their lives. And that had always been just fine with him. But this? This changed everything. For the very first time, Will was excited to live life. He wasn’t bored out of his goddamn mind, hopping around, looking for the next fix, the next distraction, whether it be drugs, alcohol, or dick. He was settled, and it didn’t make him feel uneasy, or send him down a self-destructive spiral-- he was with two men who loved him unconditionally, and he suspected that few people ever got to know what that word actually meant.

Will’s future was solidified now; the only way he would part from Nigel and Duncan was in death. He’d always thought that being in a relationship would make him feel restricted-- caged-- but God, it was the opposite, the exact fucking opposite. He’d never felt as free to speak his mind, to be himself, to offer his body, and as he made his new bed, setting Rusty, his new dog plushie, against the pillows, Will felt, for the very first time in his life, that he was home.

Duncan and he took off for his cabin on Monday afternoon. While Duncan drove, Will got high in the passenger seat, having the chance to observe him again for the first time in a week-- well, obviously, besides observing how hot he was, Will also observed that he hummed along quietly to songs on the radio, and that he smoked cigarettes in his Bronco with the windows rolled up. Will had brought a book for the journey, but ended up abandoning it in favor of giggling and occasionally teasing Duncan with his body, just for the joy of watching the car drift onto the shoulder of the road.

Thanks to the weed, when they pulled up to the cabin, Will was unsure how long they had been on the road. He expected a small, somewhat ramshackle place in the woods adjacent to a tiny, quaint town, which is not what he got.

The cabin was fancy as hell, and against the incredible backdrop of the endless woods beyond, it looked like something out of Architectural Digest. It was the same deep gray-brown as the trees, and it was like a cabin from a horror movie, only the murderers lived in it, and they were very rich.

Floor-to-ceiling windows flanked either side of the shotgun style cabin, giving a glimpse into the entire ground floor, in the middle of which was a spiral staircase leading up to the bedrooms, plural, on the second floor. Out back, there was a pool and a firepit, and the property stretched across a vast clearing, complete with a decent-sized, very likely man made lake. This wasn’t camping, this was glamping.

“It’s Hannibal’s,” Duncan said, as if that was a sufficient explanation. “I promise we’ll pitch a tent for a few nights and be normal.”

Will, completely dumbstruck, just nodded. “No, I mean… Yeah, that sounds great. What does he have all these houses for? Does he ever visit them?”

“Welcome to the one percent,” Duncan said wryly.

The interior of the cabin was slightly more rustic than the exterior, but still pretty modern and fancy. But the most important thing to Will was that the bed was very big, and the sheets were very soft.

They unpacked, and Will changed into a flannel and fuzzy socks, settling in for the night. Duncan brought him dinner in bed-- chicken noodle soup, with a side of grilled cheese and two Oxys-- and they ate together, exchanging lovesick, goofy glances in between bites.

And after dinner, Will opened his vacation stash, fished out a joint, and waved it in Duncan’s face. “Wanna get high with me?” he asked, curious as hell how his boyfriend would act after a few hits.

Duncan raised his eyebrows. “I haven’t done that in a long time.”

Will grinned, climbing back onto the bed, sitting back on his heels and pulling his flannel above his waist so Duncan could appreciate his thick thighs. He tilted his head at the man, being an absolute tease and basking in every second of it. “You have before?” he asked.

Duncan stared at his thighs with intention, then into his eyes, a delighted smirk on his lips. “A few times, with Nigel. That’s it,” he answered.

Will bit his lip and bounced up and down a little in excitement, being cute and coy whilst also letting Duncan know exactly how he’d look on top of him. “Do you want to?” he asked sweetly.

Duncan shut his eyes and rubbed his face, then made smoldering eye contact with his boy, beckoning him closer with two large fingers. “If you come here,” he said gruffly.

Will crawled on all fours to him, arching his back with the joint between his lips and a devilish expression on his face. Duncan flicked open his lighter and brought the flame to the tip of the joint, and the look in the man’s eyes burned even brighter, making it known to Will that, thanks to his teasing, he was in for a night of earth-shattering orgasms.

They smoked until the joint was no more, and Will took the opportunity to study Duncan-- watched him get progressively higher, felt his limbs sink into the couch, observed the way he sucked lightly on the joint. He was just as hot as Nigel when he smoked, but they smoked differently-- Nigel inhaled like he was desperate for the rush of nicotine, or the wave of THC to hit him like a truck, sharp and quick. Duncan smoked like it was breathing, leaving the joint to dangle out of his mouth as he palmed Will’s ass.

The boy in his lap giggled, limbs buzzing and brain heavy. How the hell had this joint given him an intense head and body high? He’d have to go back to that dispensary downtown and bat his eyelashes at the cashier again…

He snuggled up to his boyfriend as he continued to feel him up, rubbing his face on the man’s unbearably itchy sweater. How does he wear these goddamn things? Are they really super itchy or am I just that autistic?

Will laughed again, unfiltered and uninhibited. “Shit. I’m so fucking high.”

Duncan just nodded, slow and calculated, like it took great effort. He’d kept up with Will, smoked almost as much as he had, and he looked like he regretted it.

He was so fucking cute. “You’re gone, aren’t you?” Will asked, pinching his cheek.

The man cleared his throat, eyes lidded and slightly watery, still firmly gripping handfuls of ass. “You smoke some crazy shit.”

The boy smirked. “You’re welcome.”

He started kissing Duncan with both hands on his chest, and the man wrapped one arm around his waist, encouraging a slight arch in his back. This particular makeout session was slow and sloppy, with lots of tongue and lots of moaning, and it didn’t take long for Will to feel something big and hard against his panties. When Will ground against him, Duncan grunted and spanked him.

“Oh!” Will exclaimed, hands wringing the fabric of the man’s sweater.

“Does that hurt?” Duncan asked softly, repeating the motion, then rubbing the soft skin.

“Oh! N-no, feels good,” Will responded, the sharp crack of Duncan’s hand producing a pleasant buzz in his right asscheek.

“Your body is amazing,” the man whispered in his ear, sounding genuinely bewildered. “I can’t stop touching you.”

“Thank you,” Will said, giggling, continuing to writhe against him, rubbing his wetness over his jeans.

And then… “Can I eat you out?” Duncan asked him.

“Oh fuck. Yes, yeah, please,” Will responded, gripping his shoulders. Goddamn, can I get him high every day?

“Is there anything you like?” he asked softly.

“Um…” Will tried to think of the things Nigel did when he went down on him. “I… I like when Nigel spits on it and spanks it.”

Duncan’s eyebrows went up, but he said nothing. He flipped them over, climbed on top of Will and leaned over to kiss him with intensity, running his hands up and down the boy’s torso.

He pulled back to flick his hair out of his face and whisper, “Is this okay?”

“Yes, yes,” Will replied breathlessly, looping his arms around the man’s neck and letting his legs fall open. “Fuck, Duncan, I need you.”

His boyfriend flicked a nipple, and Will moaned, arching up against him.

Duncan gave him a cute smile. “Do you like it when I touch you there?”

Will smiled back, nodding. “Yeah, it feels good…”

The man huffed at Will’s eager reaction. “You like that a lot, huh?”

The boy nodded again in agreement. “Yeah, I’m super sensitive there--”

Duncan did it again, and Will keened, shutting his eyes and letting out a tiny moan. “Oh God, fuck, don’t stop…”

“You’re beyond beautiful,” the man murmured, leaning forward to kiss the skin of Will’s pectoral. “Every inch of you.”

“Duncan… OH!” Will gasped as his boyfriend brushed his tongue over his nipple, then sucked it into his mouth. “Oh God…”

Duncan hummed around the skin, worrying it very lightly with his teeth before letting it go in favor of flicking his tongue back and forth over it.

And Jesus Christ, it felt amazing. How had Will been ignoring his nipples all these years? Or had everyone else? Pleasure shot down his spine, making him shiver and moan and cling to the strong man above him.

Foreplay was kind of a new thing for Will. Sex with most guys was like they were trying to set the Guinness World Record for the shortest amount of time possible it took to stick their dick inside him. Letting a guy explore other parts of his body was completely alien, and almost more vulnerable, more intimate… Just like with Nigel, Duncan knew what Will’s body needed before Will did.

The man meandered down his body with no particular goal other than to investigate his most sensitive spots with his mouth, the spots that made Will whine his name and clutch at his hair. They were: his nipples, his bellybutton, his inner thighs. Duncan licked and bit and sucked, leaving little hickeys that tracked his journey down the boy’s figure, until, finally, he ended up between Will’s legs, making eye contact as his warm breath caressed the boy’s pussy.

“Miela smulkmena,” he mumbled, kissing Will’s hooded, throbbing clit, before audibly spitting on it.

“Oh fuck, yeah, that’s good,” Will encouraged, tangling his fingers in Duncan’s hair as the man’s cold saliva dribbled down his wet cunt.

Duncan growled like a wolf about to devour a deer carcass, then dove in and sucked Will’s clit into his mouth.

And goddamn, if Nigel and Duncan ever held a pussy-eating contest, it would sure as shit be a tie, Will thought. They were both incredible with their hands, incredible with their mouths, incredible at multitasking and driving Will to the absolute brink of insanity. He had a distant thought that, now that they were all living together, he might never have to masturbate again.

The man played with his nipples as he ate Will out, even occasionally brushing a thumb over the boy’s hole, making him tremble and mewl and clutch at him with such intensity that he was sweating.

After a few minutes of exploration, Duncan popped up for a second, kissing and biting at his inner left thigh. “Love the way you taste,” he rasped, mouth shiny with Will’s wetness. “Everything about you is just perfect, isn’t it?”

“Duncan, oh God, please,” was all the boy could manage, yelping as the man dealt a particularly harsh bite to his thigh.

Duncan grunted softly against the plush skin, biting down again, then kissing over the bruise he’d left, giving Will that piercing eye contact that stripped him to the bone. “I love hearing you say my name like this. I’ve pictured it… for years,” he confessed, treating the boy’s other thigh to the same attention.

And then, he brought a hand up to Will’s pussy and spanked it lightly, watching as he twitched.

“OH!” Will moaned in surprise, twisting his fingers in Duncan’s silver hair. “Harder, it feels so good…”

So Duncan spanked it again, bringing his hand down with a wet thwack.

“Oh fuck!” Will arched off the bed, the sting of the man’s calloused palm against his wet pussy giving him a completely new sensation of pleasure. “Duncan, Duncan, I’m close…” he warned.

Duncan hummed, looking surprised and delighted. “You’re going to come like this?”

Will nodded shakily. “Yeah, I think so…”

And Duncan wasted no time in spanking his cunt again-- thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

“FUCK!” Will screamed as the floodgates opened, watching his pussy squirt in the man’s face with wide, unbelieving eyes.

“Wow,” Duncan commented, grinning wide and letting out a chuckle as the boy’s cum coated him, soaking his mustache. “Good boy, Will.”

“Fuck, oh my God, holy shit…” Did that really just happen? Will thought hazily, succumbing with a broken groan when Duncan put his mouth on him again.

When all was said and done, Will had squirted four more times in Duncan’s face, and collapsed like a sack of beans against the sheets, falling asleep swiftly and barely registering the warm spurts of semen that spilled over his cunt.

The days that followed far surpassed Will’s high expectations-- every day was spent smoking weed, hunting and preparing meat, feeding each other spoonfuls of stew, skinny dipping in the lake adjacent to their property, roasting smores by the fire, and drinking whiskey from mason jars. As promised, they pitched a tent in the woods and slept there for a few nights, huddled together in a flimsy sleeping bag, staring up at the sky, making shapes out of clouds and arguing about which constellations hovered above them.

Will called Nigel every night, to tell him about his day, to ask him how he was doing, and to update him on his journey towards healing physically. By his second week at the cabin, his injuries had healed significantly; cuts and bruises faded, and deeper wounds, like the bite mark on his chest and the burn on his shoulder, became fresh scars.

As for his ass-- thanks to drugs and daily cleaning sessions-- the constant burning was gone, and sitting on hard surfaces was doable. It was painful as fuck to take shits, but Duncan, the poor man, held his hand every time, calmed his shaking legs and wiped sweat from his brow whenever he had to go.

By their second weekend, Will had fully healed down there. And that was when, finally, Duncan fucked him for the first time.

On their trip, Will had become very well-accustomed to his boyfriend’s size-- he’d sucked him off practically every night before bed, given him handjobs that left his arm muscles sore the next day. And Duncan would reciprocate as much as he could, given that Will was too sensitive to be penetrated, even by a finger. He was beyond patient, but Will was frustrated as hell.

All of their trysts had been exchanging oral sex, and nothing more. Will would blow him, and then Duncan would go down on him, and then they’d smoke and cuddle and talk. And that was really nice, but Will wanted more. He wished he could ignore the pain, push past it, for Duncan’s sake-- he was desperate to demonstrate his love for the man in a way that was tangible, in a way that was undeniable.

So when the second Saturday at the cabin rolled around, and the twinge between his legs was gone, he was over the fucking moon. The next time things got frisky with Duncan, he didn’t shy away when the man brushed a finger over his entrance.

Duncan, thankfully, didn’t wait for Will to broach the subject of sex-- one thing that Will appreciated about both Lecters was that they were straightforward, unashamed in talking about intimacy, rather than just assuming that Will wanted it. Sitting against the wrought iron headboard of the cabin’s rickety bed, he explored the entrance to Will’s pussy with the pad of an index finger as the boy whimpered on his lap, encouraging him with a tiny nod.

“I want to fuck you,” Duncan said in his ear. “Is that okay?”

“Oh, God, please, it’s more than okay,” Will responded with a broken sigh.

“I’ll be gentle,” Duncan promised. You sweet, sweet man…

The boy shook his head, prepared to take whatever Duncan wanted to give him. “We’ve waited long enough. I want you inside me, and I don’t want you to hold back. Fuck me like you’ve always thought about fucking me.”

Duncan smiled and tilted his head. “You’ll be very sore tomorrow. We might have to cancel our hike.”

“I’m sure we can find other things to do,” Will responded before leaning in for a frantic, messy kiss.

It lasted about ten seconds before Duncan pulled away to make eye contact, suddenly looking somber. “I’d like you to come up with a safeword. Just in case it gets too rough.”

Which was probably the absolute last thing Will expected him to say. A safeword? Really? He had never been asked for a safeword before. In fact, it seemed that most men got off on making him feel un safe. “Uhhhh…”

He was trying hard to come up with something, but it was kind of a lot of pressure. What was a word that would be specific to his relationship with Duncan? What was a word that would represent their connection?

Will thought back to that first night they’d shared together, when Duncan had caught him and Nigel in the kitchen. The way the older man had stared at him over the rim of his whiskey glass, and the way Will had bravely stared back, asking him to pour him a drink…

“Whiskey,” he said decidedly.

Duncan smiled and nodded, immediately understanding the reference. “Good boy,” he praised.

Oh Jesus. Those words out of that man’s mouth did things to Will’s pussy that were absolutely fucking unfair.

He bit his lip. “Can I call you Daddy?”

Duncan answered with a growl and wrestled him down onto the bed, climbing on top and peppering his neck with little kisses.

Will giggled, opening his legs so the man could grind his dick between them. “I’m guessing that’s a yes.”

They made out as Duncan rolled his hips, the friction becoming unbearable between them until Will got impatient and tugged Duncan’s jeans over his hips. He felt over the man’s boxers, moaning at how massive and hard he was, while Duncan reached for something on the nightstand.

Will frowned when he saw that it was a condom. “Whaddaya need that for?” he asked, rubbing the man’s soft, cute little tummy.

Duncan was just about to rip it open impatiently before Will’s words stopped him. He looked down at the boy, quizzical. “You, uh, you don’t want me to use one?”

Will shook his head, squeezing the man’s bulge and biting his lip. “I get tested a lot. I’m clean. And on PrEP. Are you?”

The man above him grunted and closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the boy’s touch. “Yeah, I am, it’s just, um… are you on birth control?”

God, just get to it already, he thought. “Nope. I won’t get pregnant or nothin’, though.”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”

Will silently cursed himself for landing a boyfriend who was emotionally intelligent and astute. Most men would go in raw, no questions asked. But, as Will told himself for the upteenth time, Nigel and Duncan Lecter were not most men.

He tugged Duncan forward by his sweater, hoping that squeezing his bulge again would be a sufficient distraction. “I just do. Don’t worry about it, okay? C’mere, Daddy.”

And it was. Duncan chucked the condom over his shoulder and continued to kiss Will, grunting into his mouth as they rocked against each other.

Five minutes later, Duncan was rid of his sweater, and Will his flannel. They studied each other, clad in only their underwear, locking the anticipation of this moment in their respective memory palaces.

Duncan’s body was absolutely unreal, and, by the way his boyfriend was ogling him, he got the impression that he was thinking the exact same thing about Will. His meaty pectorals, his bulging arms, his impressive thighs-- everything about the man was formidable, and Will felt like Little Red Riding Hood, about to be ravaged by the Big Bad Wolf.

“Wow. These,” Will said, rubbing the long gashes and scars littered across Duncan’s torso, “are so fucking hot. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.”

Duncan smiled softly at him, like he didn’t know how insanely beautiful he was. “Yeah?”

Will nodded, in awe of his boyfriend’s powerful figure. “Yeah. You and Nigel are the most attractive men I’ve ever seen. You know that, right?”

The man just shrugged. God, how is he so humble? It made Will that much more sexually frustrated. He wanted to shake Duncan by his shoulders and scream, YOU ARE SO FUCKING SEXY, IT MAKES ME WANT TO KILL MYSELF.

“Get these off,” he demanded instead, tugging at the fabric of the man’s boxers.

And Lord Almighty, Duncan was always a sight to behold. Even Will’s stellar memory and active imagination didn’t do his cock justice. It was almost half the size of Will’s thigh, dangling low, even when he was hard; it had a slight upward curve at the tip; a big, delicious vein ran straight down the middle of his shaft; and even with his foreskin pulled up over the head, it wasn’t hard to see that the tip was slightly girthier than the rest of it, almost like a dildo. Every single time, Will was surprised and lost for words at the sight of that huge thing tumbling out of his pants. Blowjobs were one thing-- it was no small feat to suck him off, and it always left his throat incredibly raw-- but it was a whole other thing to think about where else his cock might go. As Will gazed at it, it finally began to sink in that, very soon, the biggest dick he had ever seen would be inside of him.

He knew it would hurt, even if Duncan was gentle. And that made him want it even more. Will missed being pleasantly sore, well-used, reminded that he was good. Reminded that he was loved.

He was still staring at it with wide, greedy eyes, and Duncan was just standing there, letting him. God, how does he even fucking walk with that thing? he thought with a giggle, and Duncan quirked an eyebrow at him.

“It’s just, um… I’ve never taken anyone bigger than Nigel before, not even a dildo. Do you think it’ll fit?”

Duncan tilted his head, an amused expression dancing across his features. “It’ll fit.”

Will’s eyes flickered to his face, then back down to his cock, squinting. “Are you sure?”

“It’ll fit,” the man repeated simply.

Will nodded in acceptance, slightly terrified, but safe in the knowledge that Duncan would take care of him. I trust you, Daddy…

“I want you in my mouth again first,” he decided, biting his lip absentmindedly as he thought about how incredible the weight of his boyfriend’s cock felt down his throat.

“Come up here and sit on my face while you do it,” Duncan instructed.

They 69ed on the bed for a while, moaning into one another as they slurped and sucked and licked, and the way Duncan’s mustache brushed over his asshole made Will squirm and giggle as he was eaten out. He did his best to deepthroat the man, playing with his balls and relishing the sensation of Duncan’s tiny grunts against his pussy. Because most men he’d been with had never bothered to go down on him, Will had never tried this position before, and goddamn, it might just be one of his new favorites. It was insanely hot, giving and receiving oral pleasure at the same time, teasing the man under him only to be teased in turn, and Will wanted his boyfriend’s dumb fucking mustache all over him and covered with his cum by the time he was done.

Will pulled off of Duncan’s red, spit-slick, throbbing cock to say, “You’re so fucking hard.” He kissed the tip and pumped one hand up and down, continuing to play with his balls, reverent.

“So are you,” Duncan returned, kissing over Will’s protruding clit. “So sexy…”

Will blushed. Other cis men had made him feel embarrassed about getting hard-- it was always somehow an unwelcome surprise to his former sexual partners, even though they knew he was actively taking testosterone. They never said anything, but Will’s empathy saw it anyway, from the taken aback look in their eyes; it was strange, abnormal, not like a woman’s pussy, or a man’s dick, but some unexpected, freaky in-between, and, deep down, Will always knew that they would prefer him to be cis.

His most positive sexual experiences had been with other trans men. They never made him feel weird, they never asked wild, intrusive questions, and they were never disgusted by Will’s body. On the contrary-- to them, the fact that Will was trans made him even more attractive, more beautiful, more fuckable. Having sex with Nigel and Duncan was more akin to those experiences-- they were the first cis men Will had ever been with that acknowledged every aspect of who he was, and wanted to fuck him because of it, not in spite of it. And it made Will want to give himself to them every single chance he got.

When his boyfriend slid a big finger inside Will’s dripping, pulsing cunt, both men let out matching groans.

Duncan’s voice sounded even lower, more gravelly, and Will wished he could see his face. “Your pussy is so fucking beautiful… Even tighter than I remember,” He said, just keeping his finger there, slid down to the knuckle as Will squeezed around it.

“Duncan, fuck… I’m so wet,” the boy said in that newly discovered high-pitched tone, continuing to jerk his hand up and down the man’s length and sucking on his exposed head in between moans.

“You are,” the man agreed, grunting as Will took him into his throat once more. Duncan stayed still for a few more seconds, no doubt appreciating the way the boy’s cunt clenched down on his finger, before crooking it over his g-spot and rubbing up and down.

Will let out a whorish moan around his dick. No one had touched him there since the night of his dinner date with Nigel, and he could cry from how fucking good it felt.

He pulled off to express his gratitude, a glob of spit connecting him to the tip of Duncan’s cock as he screamed, “DUNCAN! Fuck, I’m so sensitive, oh my God…”

And Duncan, sweet, caring, beautiful Duncan, stilled his finger, a tinge of worry coloring his voice as he asked, “Are you okay? Do you need me to stop?”

Will shook his head so hard that his curls bounced in his face. “Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare…” he growled, pushing his hips against the finger inside of him in encouragement.

So Duncan kept fingering him, and Will kept sucking him, until it was absolutely audible how wet they both were, and the slick, sticky sounds permeated the room. Duncan added another finger, and then another, switching between fucking them in and out and circling them over Will’s spot.

And it didn’t take long for Will to get close. It was as if Duncan was determined to make him come as hard and fast as possible, letting out little grunts of effort as he shoved his fingers in and out, in and out, in and out.

Will clenched hard, and the man behind him hummed. “There we go. You’re going to squirt, aren’t you?”

Will moaned around a mouthful of cock, then frantically pulled off, squirming as pressure built inside of him. “Yes Daddy, yes Daddy, I’m gonna--”

Duncan targeted his g-spot again, and it was fucking over. His cunt squeezed around the man’s fingers, and an enormous wave of cum rushed out, probably hitting Duncan right in the face.

“FUCK! FUCKFUCKFUCK! OH MY GOD!” Will shrieked, doing his best to stay still as one, two, three more squirts burst out of him, completely taken aback at how fucking much of it there was.

“Good boy, yeah, good boy,” the man praised, fingering him through each gush that splashed his face.

These g-spot orgasms were something else, Will thought dazedly, thighs trembling as he tried to recover from his overwhelming climax. It was as if they were completely involuntary, rising up from some unknown place within himself, being punched out of him and completely overtaking not only his body, but his being. It sounded really fucking dramatic, but it was true-- he was utterly helpless under Duncan’s fingers, and they both knew it.

As with Nigel, Duncan didn’t care to wipe Will’s cum from his face afterwards. He licked his lips, flipping Will to lie on his back with a smug smirk on his face, and sat back on his heels in between his boy’s legs, stroking himself roughly in preparation.

They started out like that, simply so Will could become accustomed to the man’s size. He held his legs open as Duncan rubbed the thick, slippery head of his dick against his entrance, teasing him until it was unclear whose wetness was whose. Then, he moved up to tap the head on Will’s hooded clit, once, twice, three times. 

“Oh! OH! OH!” Will moaned in surprise, jumping with each little tap. “Duncan, fuck…”

The man rubbed himself in circles against the hard little nub, watching with a transfixed expression. The sound of Will’s soaked pussy was filthy, and Duncan continued to rub his dick on it, making heated eye contact with the boy underneath him.

“You ready?” he asked Will.

YES! YES! YES! Will’s monster screamed, dashing itself to death against the bars of its cage. “Mmm, fuck yeah,” he responded with a small, breathless giggle. “Put it in, Daddy.”

“Eyes on me,” Duncan commanded, lining himself up.

Will nodded, staring up at his boyfriend. “Yes Sir,” he said, willing his body to relax. Oh God, I love you… he thought. I love you so fucking much.

And then Duncan pressed the tip inside.

Both men groaned, mouths open and eyes wide, like they were both cavemen who’d just discovered sex. Will did feel oddly virginal, almost bashful around Duncan-- which was absolutely fucking ridiculous, considering what he did for a living-- and when the head of his dick popped inside, it truly felt like he was being opened up for the very first time.

“OH, oh my GOD, mmm…” The boy stared into Duncan’s dark eyes as he was penetrated, his silky, bulbous glans making his small body tremble, and watched a soft snarl flash across the man’s face as he stared back.

Will’s pussy clenched, and his head fell against the pillow, shivering slightly, overwhelmed with how wide his boyfriend’s girth stretched him. “God, Duncan…”

Duncan grunted, looking just as affected, yet still conscious of Will’s comfort. He settled atop the boy, strong arms flanked on either side of him, changing the angle of entry slightly and making them both moan.

“You alright?” he asked gruffly.

Will nodded up at him, giving him those famous puppy dog eyes, wide and trusting. “Yes, please, more, give me more!”

And then suddenly it was really happening, and the huge thing between Duncan’s legs was slowly being pressed inside of him. Will tried his hardest to maintain eye contact, clinging to the man’s sturdy arms, squeezing his flexed biceps for stability as he inched forward.

“Oh my God oh my God oh my God, Jesus…” he whined, marvelling at his pussy’s stretch capacity and moaning like he was already getting fucked.

He glanced down between them with a whimper, and Duncan was barely three-quarters of the way in. “Duncan, it’s so fucking big, oh my God.”

Meanwhile, his boyfriend looked like he was trying his hardest to keep it together and not immediately start thrusting. His face seemed to be in a perpetual snarl, and it was so fucking hot that Will was on the verge of coming again.

“Too much?” he asked, a little out of breath from the effort it took to keep still.

Will shook his head. “No, keep going, please, all the way in…” Use me. Fuck me. Love me. I’m yours.

Duncan pushed forward in one sharp thrust, groaning loudly as his entire length was finally stuffed inside Will’s pussy.

“OH!” The boy gasped, squeezing so hard around his boyfriend that he was genuinely worried he’d hurt him. “O-oh my God, fucking sweet Jesus, you’re so fucking big!” he mewled, feeling like an absolute idiot for repeating it over and over again, but it was truly a revelation-- he was so used to constantly lying about how big he thought his sexual partners were, exaggerating his moans to puff up their already inflated egos, that the words, now genuine, felt completely new in his mouth. It was completely fucking impossible to think about anything else besides the gargantuan cock in his pussy, stretching his walls wide and growing thicker inside of him with each little involuntary clench.

He groaned, looking down between his legs, astonished at his body’s ability to take the massive dick inside. It fits… Oh my God, it actually fits! he thought. He felt like Cinderella with her goddamn glass slipper.

Duncan looked equally dazed, keeping his cock buried deep as he shut his eyes. “Jesus, you’re tight.”

Will almost wheezed. “Are you fucking kidding me? Anyone is tight for you.”

“Yeah, but you’re like, snug.” He looked down between them, circled a thumb over Will’s clit, studied the way his pussy stretched around his dick, seemingly captivated by what he saw. “Oof, goddamn. Give me a minute,” he warned, actually pulsing inside of Will.

“Mmmmm. Okay, Daddy.” The boy giggled, wrapping his legs around Duncan’s back to draw him even closer, gasping as his balls came to rest against the curve of his asscheeks, teasing his taint.

Duncan started out with shallow strokes, as the way Will’s pussy clamped down around him made it difficult to pull out, despite how wet they both were. Soft grunts and Lithuanian praises were murmured in Will’s ear as he fucked his cock deep inside of the boy.

And goddamn, he sure knew how to work those hips. Will sounded something like this:

“Oh, OH! Oh my God, oh my fucking GOD!”

The strokes got longer as Will’s cunt adjusted to his size, and the wet, slapping sounds of penetration became more pronounced.

“Does it feel good?” Duncan asked with a grunt, rolling his hips rigorously and hitting Will’s g-spot every. Single. Time.

“Yeah, fuck, don’t stop!” Will screeched, clinging to Duncan’s arms, knowing that if he continued to be this rough, he would end up an absolute sobbing, screaming mess.

The man pulled out, and Will was about to ask what he was doing when he pushed back in in one long, harsh thrust, keeping himself buried deep, making the boy feel absolutely every inch of the cock that was about to destroy him.

“Oh fuck! Oh my GOD!” Will squealed, slapping his bicep to express his appreciation, every thought driven from his head except DUNCAN. COCK. NOW.

“Wow,” the man above him marveled, looking up and down Will’s body, grunting at the grip of his pussy.

Will gazed up at him, already slightly ruined. “Y-you’re stretching me so much, oh my God…”

Duncan brushed curls from his sweaty forehead. “How are you doing? Is it okay?”

The boy nodded, biting his lip at how fucking incredible it felt to be filled to absolute capacity by his boyfriend’s big, warm cock. “Yeah, don’t stop… You can be rougher with me,” he said breathlessly, knowing he was signing his death warrant.

“Are you sure?” Duncan asked, giving Will a final chance to back out.

And Will reassured him that that was exactly what he wanted. He looked into the man’s eyes and clenched, and he was so tight that the cock inside of him was unseated, just a little. “Duncan. Fuck me. Fuck my brains out,” he commanded.

That was, apparently, all the prompting the eldest Lecter needed.

The only word to describe how Duncan fucked him that first time was brutally. On the bed. And against a couch. And then a desk. And then the big bay window that overlooked their backyard. It’s always the quiet ones, Will thought as he got picked up and fucked against a wall.

He basically forgot how to form words other than fuck and yeah and Daddy. Unlike Nigel, Duncan was markedly quiet, other than groans, grunts and moans, along with occasional Lithuanian. Will found that he loved the unique ways both men fucked him-- one, uttering filthy, depraved language in his ear, the other using him silently, as if he were no better than a toy.

And Jesus Christ, Duncan fucked him good. It wasn’t just his size (although the difference between Nigel’s eight inches and Duncan’s ten was, as Will was discovering, a big one). It was the way he used it, not stopping until he found the angle that made Will scream the hardest, cling to him the most. It was the way he kept shoving himself inside, determined to make space for himself, like he was entitled to Will’s body. It was the slight upper hook of his dick, torturing Will’s g-spot from every angle, in every position. It didn’t take long before he was sobbing on Duncan’s cock, screaming yes, yes, yes, over and over again, like his dad watching an especially riveting football game, and wondering, Where has he been all my life?

Will did not expect such… incredibly relentless stamina. Sex with Duncan was athletic. He fucked like it was an Olympic sport. They traveled around the bedroom, fucked in every corner, on every surface, in every position, until they eventually ended up back in bed.

Currently, Will was face down, ass up, pulling himself apart so the man could slide inside.

Duncan sank all the way in with a groan, stilling his hips and keeping the boy stuffed full, and it felt so goddamn amazing that Will started crying again out of sheer joy, voice whiny and hoarse from screaming as he said, “Oooooh shit, this position is good. Fuuuuck, your cock feels incredible…”

Duncan’s hips began to work, quick and sharp, and the smack of Will’s jiggly ass against him echoed through the room as he thrusted and grunted. “Yeah, you like it like this? Kišdamas tau užpakalį man į veidą kaip neklaužada apskretėlė. Look at that bounce.”

And Will was absolutely wailing, nodding his head over and over as Duncan hit it from behind. “Oh fuck yeah! Fuck-- fuck-- fuck--” He’s rearranging my fucking guts, he thought to himself with a choked, happy little sob.

Backshots had to be Will’s favorite thing during sex-- well, maybe his second favorite, after riding-- and Duncan sure did not disappoint. His hips were shockingly precise, and once he found the angle that made Will’s mouth hang open, he attacked that spot. The curve of his dick made every thrust that much more pleasurable-- he was tempted to call his boyfriend Captain Hook, after the Meg song.

He tossed his curls out of his face and bit his lip, his small, trembling body doing its absolute best to take the huge cock inside of it. His tears flowed freely, hitting the pillow beneath him, his moans sounded more like a dying animal than a person, and he could barely maintain his usual routine of; You feel so good… Fuck yeah, stretch me out… Oh yeah? You like seeing my ass like this? No. Just like Nigel, that very first time, Duncan knew exactly how to snatch Will’s control over the situation right out from under him. The fucking was fast, it was rough, it was unforgiving, and… oddly liberating.

Even after all they’d just been through together, Duncan and Nigel wouldn’t treat him any differently. They’d love him just as hard, care for him just as hard, and fuck him just as hard. And they knew he liked to be fucked like a slut.

The rickety bed frame squeaked along with their movements, headboard hitting the wall, and it was so obnoxious that it felt like a goddamn earthquake. Will was screaming loud enough to wake an entire neighborhood, and, as Duncan’s thrusts sped up even more, the boy’s cries became choked as he was fucked within an inch of his life.

Somehow, Duncan was still able to talk, to ask Will questions, which was just completely fucking unfair. He gripped Will’s waist as he fucked into his pussy, forcing him to meet each snapping thrust.

“Were you waiting for me to come home and use you?” he growled, not slowing down in order to give the boy the opportunity to answer.

Still, Will tried his best, nodding his head and letting out little gasps as the breath was knocked out of him, tears clouding his vision. “Yes-- Duncan-- yes-- oh-- OH-- OH!”

“Will it fit,” his boyfriend mocked, chuckling, giving the boy’s ass a spank.

“Daddy!” Will sobbed, burying his face in the pillow, the comfort of Duncan’s warm palm cracking against his behind making him crave more of his rough touch.

Duncan spanked him on the other cheek, continuing to fuck in and out of him like he was drilling for fucking oil with his dick. “You and I both knew it would fit like a glove. Mažoji kekšė.”

The sharp sting of his ass made Will let out a broken, high-pitched sound, and he brought his head up from the pillow to scream, “Duncan, please!”

Still, his boyfriend didn’t slow down, just spanked him again and kept right on going. “Please what? Use your words.”

It clicked into place, and Will suddenly knew exactly what he was pleading for.

“Choke me,” he demanded hoarsely, craning his head to look into Duncan’s amber eyes.

And Duncan seemed to be thinking the exact same thing. He growled and immediately gripped the back of Will’s neck with a big hand, squeezing tight. “Neklaužada berniukas,” he grunted, maintaining his merciless pace.

And Will was absolutely powerless to do anything except take what he was given. Duncan continued to pound his pussy as he choked him out, and it felt like what Will was guessing heaven felt like-- his cock going in and out, punching the air from his lungs, stretching his walls and wrecking his insides; his hand around his neck, a demonstration of absolute trust, a declaration of love. The man’s dick was sending him into the stratosphere, making him lightheaded, that weird, floaty feeling taking hold of his brain and body, and it was absolutely fucking unreal that sex could feel like this, that it could ruin Will and put him back together at the exact same time.

“Yeah, f-fuck, I’m’n’a come, I’m’n’a come!” he screamed, pressure swirling in his lower stomach and making his entire body tense up.

Duncan growled, drilling his pussy faster, harder, squeezing his neck tighter, until the boy’s cunt clenched so firmly around him that his dick was expelled from the tight channel as Will squirted.

“Oh my GOD, DUNCAN, FUCK! FUCKFUCKFUCK!” Will weeped, thumping his fist on the damp sheets, the sudden emptiness a shock to his nerves as he came, over, and over, and over again, cunt squeezing rhythmically for a solid minute until his body had been completely drained of fluid. “Duncan, oh my fucking God…” he whined brokenly, shedding tears of gratitude.

“Wow. Good boy,” Duncan murmured, as if he’d known all along that Will could come that hard, sliding his soaked cock back inside Will’s fucked-open pussy without warning.

Will just kept sobbing against the pillow, too weak to do much of anything except repeat “Oh my God, oh my God…”

Duncan kept fucking him like it was nothing, like he had faith that the boy would continue to take it. And take it he did-- the pillow beneath him was soaked with his tears and sweat, and his back hurt from arching for so long, but he stayed still for the man above him, determined to keep going until Duncan was worn out. He didn’t bother to push his ass back against the man’s pelvis-- Duncan was doing all the work, driving in and out of him with such ferocity that Will was sure the bed would break.

This continued for a few more minutes before Duncan stilled his hips and predictably demanded what every man who’d ever fucked him doggy style demanded.

“Bounce it on me,” he said, jiggling an asscheek and slapping it to watch it ripple.

This was Will’s favorite part of sex. He loved the moment he began to twerk on a dick-- it felt incredible, but it felt even better to crane his neck and watch the reaction of whomever was inside him. It was a surefire way to make any man come quick.

And Duncan, apparently, was no exception. He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath behind him and a gritty “FUCK.”

It was too fucking easy. “Hmmmmm, that’s what I thought, Daddy,” he teased, looking back at Duncan and continuing to twerk, doing his best to act bratty, despite the fact that he was shaking like a leaf and his face was red and splotchy.

And the expression on Duncan’s face was absolutely priceless. He squinted like he was looking at the sun, mumbling a stunned “Holy shit.”

Will wanted to cackle like an evil Disney villain. Finally, finally, he could get back at his boyfriend, give him a taste of his own medicine. “Yeah, you like that?” he purred. “Like when I throw it back on your big dick, Daddy?”

Duncan shut his eyes hard as his dick began, once more, to pulse inside of the boy. Oh, it was absolutely over. “Will, stop, stop, I’m going to--”

“Hmmm, yeah,” Will agreed, ignoring his request, giggling and shaking his ass persistently. “Gonna fill my pussy up, old man?”

“Oh my-- Will-- FUCK,” Duncan put aptly, finishing right then and there as Will clenched around him, grinning.

It was indescribable how fucking amazing it felt to take Duncan’s load. The way it spilled inside of him, warm, wet, unrestrained, felt symbolic; it was as if he was finally claimed, marked, protected; like Duncan was saying, You’re mine. No one else can have you. No one else can touch you.

And after Duncan was done, Will kept twerking, using his dick to hit that perfect spot over, and over, and over, and then he was squirting again, and Duncan was filming.

He sent the video to Nigel after, who responded almost immediately.

Brother #1: Damnnnnn you stretched the shit out of that pussy 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 Good man. Wish I was there

My iPhone: We should take turns with him next time.

Brother #1: Oh yeah he’d fucking love that

“What are you two talking about?” Will said, peering over at his phone screen and blushing as he typed his own reply.

My iPhone: hi daddy yes i would😍😍😍 miss u soooo much hehehe hope u came hard watching the video

Brother #1: Naughty little fucking boy. Daddy misses you so fucking much. Can’t wait to see your ass shaking in my face like that again.

My iPhone: 🥰🍆🍑😍 love you daddyyyyy

Brother #1: I love you so fucking much gorgeous. Did you and Duncan have fun?

My iPhone: yea idk if i’ll be able to walk for a few days😭

Brother #1: Mmm I can’t wait to wear that pussy out again

My iPhone: i’ll be absolutely wrecked by the time y’all are done lol

Brother #1: We’ll take care of you after, baby. We always will.

My iPhone: 🥺 i love you daddy

Brother #1: I love you more than anything, angel. Get some rest for me.

My iPhone: ❤️💓💘

Brother #1: ❤️❤️❤️

Will handed the phone back to Duncan, who tossed it onto the nightstand in favor of lighting a cigarette. The boy grabbed his dab pen, then snuggled up to his boyfriend, naked and dripping with cum, already high on being fucked to tears and grinning like an idiot.

“I swear I can last longer than that,” Duncan said, taking a sharp drag.

Longer than that?!?!? Will wanted to collapse on the floor and die at the prospect of being even more fucked-out than he currently was.

“Are you kidding? That was like, thirty minutes. Most guys only last five minutes with me.”

Suddenly, a dangerous thought crossed Will’s mind. I wonder if he’d ever want to make videos together… Maybe he’d hint at it when they got back to Baltimore and see how the Lecters reacted to the idea.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Duncan said, exhaling smoke out his nose and ruffling Will’s sweaty curls. He was silent for a minute before clearing his throat and divulging, “I’ve never been that… vocal before.”

“Yeah?” Will smirked, overjoyed that he was able to affect Duncan just as much as Duncan affected him. “I liked it a lot,” he confessed, taking a long hit from his pen.

“Tu turi griežčiausią pūlingą, kurią aš kada nors pakliuvau,” the man whispered into his ear.

Will shut his eyes hard. Oh Lord… “I love it when you talk in Lithuanian,” he said breathily, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek stubble with a tiny hum.

They smoked and cuddled for a while, the scent of their sex all around them, limbs heavy and minds settled.

And then-- “I love you,” Duncan blurted suddenly, gazing at Will with those dark, smoldering eyes. “I’m sorry if that’s too much too fast, but I--”

“I love you too, so, so much,” Will replied immediately, clutching at him like he was an anchor in a deep, fathomless ocean. He’d dreamed about this moment ever since Duncan had gone out of town, and even though his eyes hurt from crying, he could’ve burst into tears again, right then and there.