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Weather has always been a little unpredictable in this part of the world. You could be enjoying the warm sun one day, but get bombarded by snow the next. There really was no winning with it, but when you're able to find a way to enjoy the night sky with the fluffy snow falling and coating the ground; or the small breeze from under a warm blanket or two. You learn to appreciate the view and put aside the chill nipping at your hands and face.
"Cough Cough!"
____ choked out a puff of smoke, eyes squinting and blinking away the tears that formed at the punch to his lungs. The bong that had rested in his lap was picked up to be set on the deck while he slowly recovered, spitting out any of the gross tasting residue left in his mouth.
"Ugh..." He groaned, leaning back into the leather couch with a squeak. The crisp air filling his lungs felt heavenly as he looked over to the reddened sky, when the deck roof was covered in snow it was the only way he could enjoy the view during this time of year.
His mind and body buzzed pleasantly, the irritation, worry, and pain he felt throughout the day melting away in the moment. All that he cared about was the warmth coming from his blankets and the snow cascading down from the sky.
Or until a notification pulled ____ from his peace, a news update about the murders that had been getting closer and closer to his city.
Anyone would have their mood killed hearing about that. (slight pun intended)
"Cops should have had it covered already, fuckers are incompetent..." He grumbled, left and right people have been talking about how scary and brutal the situation is, which is fair; it IS scary. But most normal people don't feel like they'd ever be targets, and he might be under that category of people.
When walking late at night, ____ always kept up his guard and was aware about everything around him. But even then, who really thinks about being attacked constantly? Why would HE be the target for a serial killer?
He wasn't, that's the thing. He could never fully put himself in that mindset since he was never a target in that way, so that way of thinking made him feel disconnected and not very empathetic about the situation.
Then again, nobody goes out of their way to fill their media intake with stories about depressing losses to families. That would make someone feel 100x more shitty than if they just ignored any of the interviews of the victims' families.
Too much thinking, he was supposed to be enjoying his bowl and the night sky, reconnecting with nature and shit.
But now he just felt like ass.
____ pushed himself off the cold couch, the springs squeaked with every shift until he was off. Chucking the blankets over his shoulder and grabbing his bong, he begrudgingly headed inside away from the cold. It felt a little short lived but he suddenly felt tired, and he always had tomorrow to make up for the short solo sesh.
The kitchen was clean for once with his roommates gone, the only thing left was the collection of bottles on the windowsill that ranged from coke bottles to bottles of smirnoff, at least it was some sort of decoration. ____ kicked off his shoes with the others spread near the door before wrapping his body up with blankets and shuffling out of the kitchen.
The soft padding of feet against the hardwood was the only sound that rang throughout the house as he headed up the old steep stairs to his room.
Being alone was nice for once, but no plans with friend's ever landed on the days the house was free, so ____ was left alone with his thoughts.
Reaching the top of the stairs, ____ shuffled to his room and dropped the blankets on the floor and put the bong to the side before flopping onto the bed. It felt nice to finally lay down after a busy day, he hadn't been able to since he got home.
It felt like the mattress molded to him instantly, so comfortable... anyone would fall asleep in seconds. But there was a slight chill, the room always got cold but this felt different. ____ thought back to when he was walking upstairs in his high stupor, was the front door open? There was no way to be 100% sure unless checked, the door might have been opened a crack if memory calls correctly but either way he'd have to get up again, a losing situation on both sides.
So he did, he pushed himself up after he had just gotten comfortable and went to head back downstairs, silently muttering to himself as he went back down the stairs.
And as he suspected, the door had been open. Snow was already coming through the crack and making a little pile on the ground. One of his roommates must have left the door open before they left since ____ came in through the back entrance.
"Fuckers..." He grumbled, shutting and locking the door with a loud click.
He was too high and tired for this, eyes burning slightly and now he felt the need for some water. This just kept pushing back the plans to lay down and sleep, sleep for at least a year..
So he slowly made his way into the kitchen, just passing the archway..
There was a loud bang, and it wasn't until the pain processed that he realized he had been hit over the head. Hard. He hit the ground, the force sending flares of pain around his body, a confused muffled yell escaped him as he tried to get a grasp on the situation. Turning onto his side to check behind him, he almost couldn't see the figure about to slam what looked like a metal rod down onto his head again.
The rod made a whistling sound from the force that was used to swing it down, and ____ rolled out of the way, barely missing the impact. It slammed into the ground beside him instead, and he used that time to grip the other end of it; tugging it towards him to try and get it loose. The intruder was strong as hell though, only losing his footing slightly enough to bring him into the light that came from the window.
And ____'s eyes widened at the view of the man, the psychopath that had been causing chaos in the province for the last 3 weeks.
Not just any psychopath, Jeffrey fucking Woods. The man that caused so much panic in the U.S and now somehow made it into his home.
Most news stations had caught him in just a white hoodie, it was nearly pink on the clean areas from the amount of caked in blood that'd had been washed out; and besides that all he had was some shredded up jeans.
But he had dressed differently now, white coat with fur rimming the hood that was also beginning to stain. That was the only warm thing on him, pants were still ripped to shit and the coat was unzipped enough to show the black tank top.
As much as someone might want to appreciate style, you can't do that when your head has begun to bleed while still actively in danger. So ____ tugged the metal rod hard enough to finally waver Jeff's grip enough to yank it free of his hold.
The wind howled outside, rattling the windows as ____ quickly pushed himself off the floor, now in the darkened kitchen, heart pounding and ready to swing. The sudden creak of a floorboard sent a jolt of fear through him, as suddenly the distance was closed and a fist connected with his cheek.
“Did you really think you could fucking lock me out?” he spat, a twisted stupid smile spreading across his face. The bright winter sky illuminating his scarred tissue, the two deep cuts along his cheek and mouth that meet two stretched piercings along his upper cheeks that exposed the inner working of his mouth.
____’s pulse quickened as they stumbled back, the adrenaline making the pain subside quick as he began searching for something—any kind of opening to fight back. The metal rod they had was the only thing he had, leaving only this one chance to survive.
“Can't even fight back?” Jeff taunted, stepping closer, eyes glinting with excitement. “I promise I’ll make it quick if you stop fucking moving.”
With a burst of adrenaline, ____ swung the rod, it hit Jeff's knee; making it lock back in the wrong direction.
Seeing it bend wrong and the loud crunch made a wave of nausea hit ____. But it was his once chance to run for the door, but Jeff was faster, even injured, grabbing ____ and slamming him against the wall.
“Fucking piece of SHIT!” he growled, taking a handful of hair before slaming ____'s face back into the wall. The impact made blood gush from ____'s lip, his teeth being forced into the flesh just enough to cause a continuous flow of blood. The grip on his hair had begun to coat Jeff's hand with his blood as well, the rod to the head earlier did some decent damage; any form of protest from ____ came out as a choked pained noise.
Jeff tugged his head back, but it gave ____ the chance to see the window he was beside, a gift from fucking heaven. As Jeff went to slam ____'s face back into the blood-splattered wall. Hard glass suddenly connected and shattered over his head.
The bottle collection his friend had was finally useful. The last shard fell as Jeff let go and backed up, a rough angry scream piercing ____'s ears. This was too much, he couldn't handle this, nobody could.
"Why would I be the target for a serial killer" remembering his internal speech made ____ angry, really angry. All of this was just...
Too.
Much.
"GOD- SHUT UP!!" He screamed, his vocal cords left feeling raw as he lunged with the half broken bottle. And as Jeff looked back up, his expression would of killed ____ if Jeff had that kind of power, fuck he looked mad.
____ had never seen that type of malice in his life before. But it didn't matter, he was on top and stabbing down with the bottle as much as he could. And Jeff had finally pulled out his knife and began to return the onslaught, both protecting themselves from fatal blows but still getting bloody in the process.
____'s sides seeped with blood, Jeff had blood dripping and coating his eye and front of his skull. ____'s neck had some shallow cuts and the bottle had torn Jeff's jacket. Leaving circular cuts and stabs into his flesh with the glass.
As ____ tried to get Jeff's neck, the psycho slammed his hand against the side of the bottle, sending it flying and shattering against the cupboards.
____ could only cuss before a sharp pain came from his shoulder as Jeff lodged the blade into it. Rocking it back and forth and he dug it deeper into his shredded muscles and bone; and for a second everything blanked
Suddenly, a piercing scream shattered the stillness, echoing through the walls of the house like a banshee’s wail. It was a pained and hysterical sound from his core, something that could make anyone sick hearing it.
____'s throat was so, so fucking raw, every breath felt like salt being shoved and packed into an open wound, getting rubbed and pushed into every crevasse, causing so much pain, he swore his eyes rolled back and he nearly passed out. But with what strength he had left, he started to flail and kick violently, heels hitting Jeff's ribs as hard and as fast as he could until he was knocked off ____ and his ass hit the cold floor.
____ gulped the air into his lungs while he had the chance, his hand wrapping around the handle of the knife; sharp breathing coming out in puffs as he pulled it out of his shoulder with a disgusting wet noise. His eyes are wide with a mix of fear and fury, glazed over with exhaustion but refusing to give in. Blood streaked down his clothes and body. The crimson stains had begun to crust while open wounds still spurted and leaked, his limbs shaking, barely able to hold himself upright. ____ dropped onto Jeff, using his body weight to his advantage and he began to lay into him.
Each movement is uncoordinated, frantic, as if he's running on sheer adrenaline, beyond the limits of their strength. His voice is hoarse from gritted teeth or stifled cries, but there’s a raw, unyielding desperation in his every action. And Jeff was still alive and well after all of it, his cut off curses and snarling getting more and more enraged sounding.
And in the heat of it all, Jeff's hand found a pot that got caught in the fight and fallen to the ground, he quickly wasted no time slamming it into the side of ____'s head, knocking him off of Jeff with a THUNK
Both didn't move for a while. The only sound was the strong wind from outside which had picked up immensely over the past 20 minutes. Anyone that could walk in right now might think they found two corpses with the grotesque scene. But both Jeff and ____ were still breathing, and ____ even questioned if he was alive. But if he were dead he wouldn't have been in the amount of pain he was in then and there.
Another five minutes passed before ____ spoke up, voice rough and worn.
"Why... the fuck are you in here?" He spat, and that seemed to set the killer off.
"Why? Fucking why?!" He growled, pushing himself up onto his elbows, spitting out blood onto the floor before continuing.
"It is colder than the underside of a penguin's ballsack outside, and the house was fucking empty!" Jeff spat back, maybe more-so than ____ did.
"Is it my fault you are horrible at protecting your property? No!-"
"Oh fuck right off! I was outside for ten fucking minutes!" ____ now had pushed himself off his stomach and onto his arms, blood dripping onto the hardwood underneath him like a metronome would click.
"And why should I care how cold it is outside for you? Go back out and fucking freeze-"
____ paused..
"Why the hell are you even in the country?!"
Both had begun to sit back up, and while they were in no condition to fight anymore; that did not stop the bickering.
"Are you fuckin' slow??? Process of elimination, buddy. I'm a WANTED. MAN." Jeff punctuated his words with his bloodied hand hitting the ground, and ____ could only grimace at the mess.
"What? Got too scary for you down south?" ___ spat back, the anger he felt had almost forgotten he was poking a bear with a stick.
Jeff looked like he was two seconds from getting back up and stomping ____'s head in, he was absolutely seething. And as both of them went to get back up for another round, a violent gust of wind made the house tremble slightly as the windows shook. The snow was already worse than it was earlier, it'd be a miracle if they didn't get snowed in. But even then, for the past few days it has been in the -45 to -50 area, a record for how cold it's gotten in the past few months. Nobody would survive sleeping outside tonight, and Jeff realized this awhile ago.
"I have roommates.." ____ cut in before Jeff decided to attack again.
"If they find me, you'll be fucked. You won't be able to go far enough before they realize you're in the city... it's too cold."
Jeff looked at ____ before looking at the windows that showed the baby blizzard outside. His fist clenched as he looked back to ____ , he admitted defeat the second the drawn out 'ssshit..' left his lips.
____ sat back as Jeff's tantrum burned out, kicking the cabinets while cursing ____ out. Saying nearly every insult known to man, might of even heard a "Fucking fat ass cunt" in there somewhere, but he couldn't be bothered to care. He knew at this point he wouldn't be killed, he would just be in pain.
So he pushed himself off the ground as the man behind him got what left of his anger out, his wrist almost twisted as he got up from how weak he felt. The stab wound in his shoulder wasn't helping, it felt like his body was covered in paper cuts and was dunked in lemon juice.
____ wobbled out of the kitchen, leaving Jeff alone as he stumbled up the stairs. At some point he was basically crawling up them from the pain he was in. But eventually he got to the washroom and took off his shirt before starting to rummage through the storage in there, he eventually found the first aid he had stored awhile back; it would work until he could make it to a hospital.
He began to dress his wounds, most shallow cuts only got cleaned and left alone while the one on his shoulder had butterfly clips put in. They worked for now as a substitute for stitches, still hurt fucking bad to put them into his skin. Once he did the best he could, he got into the shower to wash any residue off, being mindful of spots like the back of his head or his sides so as to not agitate them with soap. It wasn't a long enjoyable shower, five minutes max just to clean the blood off. He was out in record time, and when he left the bathroom he couldn't hear Jeff's fit anymore. So with the dirty clothes in one arm and the other holding the towel around his waist, he made it into his room. The lights were off as he stepped into the chill room, he threw the bloody clothes in a corner and grabbed some black boxers and a new shirt.
Attempting to put anything on was hell, with each bend on his body it felt like the cuts teared more open. The fabric rubbed up his skin leaving it burning and irritated until it was in its place.
He was too out of it, the stress and fear making him go into a numb state. His mind wasn't all there because... who could even begin to process a situation like this?
A killer was in his home, a famous one at that, one that was still at large around the world and lord knows how high his kill count had become. The temporary truce they had made was not comforting, that's like asking a bull not to trample you when you enter its ring, it might not do it but it damn well didn't hear your plea.
There was nothing else he could do though, it was this or die. And ____ didn't really want to pick the die option all that much.
"Your phone is dead."
And he screamed.
Jeff groaned and covered his ears, he used one fist to turn the light on which burnt ____'s eyes and caused him to cover his face.
"Do you ever shut the fuck up? Jesus H. man.." he groaned, walking into ____'s room, making sure to toss the phone on the carpet by the window.
"Do you always watch people change like a fucking freak?" ____ tried to snap but the suddenness had scared him so badly, and his throat was in horrible condition from the fight, so anything from his mouth came out raspy and quiet. Jeff could only scoff as he shrugged off his coat before flopping back onto ____'s bed. It looked like the killer had done some patching of his own but... a lot worse than ____'s job.
"And please don't ruin my bed with blood..." He mumbled, rubbing his eyes from the stress.
"It's not like you'll be sleeping here."
Silence rang through the room before ____ asked.
"...what?"
"You're not sleeping here." Jeff reiterated, picking at his scarred hand. It was almost funny how absurd that request was, ____ would have laughed if he could. "That's MY bed.."
Jeff, the bastard, only looked up at ____ with callousness all over his expression before letting his head fall back against the pillows.
____ waited for what felt like an hour to see if the psycho would say anything at all, but he could see it in Jeff's face, the fucker was serious about taking the bed to himself.
____ could feel the frustration build up again, his chest feeling tighter and tighter as he was ignored. After all of what he dealt with tonight, this really could have been the thing that made him snap.
"Where the fuck will I sleep then?" ____ asked, and Jeff, the fucking prick, didn't even give a verbal response. He just looked down at the blankets ____ had set down earlier.
He could only stare at the blankets, they burnt into his mind as his sore body throbbed. And that was all he could take, he felt his composure shrivel into dust just like that.
"No, no no no- you really are fucking crazy- you white pasty fuck! God-" he wanted to laugh, cry, scream. Maybe he could smash his own head in but that wouldn't be satisfying knowing this psycho would just take advantage of his belongings after he died.
____ paced around mumbled to himself for a solid five minutes before he grabbed his bong from off the ground and walked to the window, sitting down before slamming it wide open. The crisp wind hitting his face the second it was open, leaving a pleasant chill against his warm face. Usually he'd enjoy it more but he was pissed.
____ couldn't do any of this sober, within the next 30 minutes of sitting there he had bowl after bowl after bowl, by the time he was able to stand up and shut the light back off, he was gone.
He grabbed the blankets and stumbled to rest against the big pillows he had set up by the window for when he couldn't go outside to sesh. His heavy eyes shut once he was curled into his spot, body shivering slightly from the cold and emotions he couldn't handle. The weed did a good job of numbing out every negative thing going on in his mind, he wasn't gonna process the fact there was a killer in his bed, so sleep cradled him instead.
And in the silence, the killer found himself glancing and the beaten and bruised body that curled on the floor.
-----
Around 3:40 am, ____ felt himself jolt awake. A hard breeze hit his face as he stirred, shifting to pull his blankets over him.
With the night's glow, Jeff's body was a bit visible. One leg over the covers as he slept on his side, ____ could only stare, wishing he felt as comfortable as the killer looked. The thumming against the back of his skull kept him awake; the memories of getting hit over the head multiple times coming back. He wasn't excited to have a headache.... or maybe a concussion.
It didn't surprise him he felt like shit, he was so cold on the carpet it wouldn't be a shock if he was starting to get sick.
'Maybe something is infected already...' he thought, a small bit of worry filling his chest as he sat up from the ground. Pain flaired with the movement, and ____ could only hiss quietly; face scrunched up as the sharp burns from across his body. He took a moment before moving again, pulling the collar of his shirt to the side to check on the stab wound. Surprisingly it didn't look infected, still inflamed and damaged but it didn't look bad yet.
____ dropped his hold on his shirt and let his hand fall into his lap, sighing as he looked over to Jeff. Of course he could sleep even with the injuries, probably used to the feeling of pain.
A feeling of envy surged in ____, seeing the little fuck sleep so soundly. But it wouldn't help to get upset right now, he was already hurting. Getting frustrated would just make his head hurt a thousand times worse, so instead he tried to focus on his injuries.
____ took his shirt off, turning towards the light from outside to get a better look at his situation. It wasn't good, could have been worse though. Cuts littered his stomach and sides, some more deep than others, even old scars had been given new buddies! And scar tissue ain't fun to keep damaging.
"If these heal okay it would be a miracle.." ____ mumbled to himself as he grabbed some of the fat on his stomach so he could inspect one of the cuts better.
And out of his vision, a body stirred. Jeff moved onto his back, trying to fight off waking up but failing in the end as he sat up groggily in ____'s bed. His damaged eyes burned badly whenever he woke up, only being able to resort to pressing the skin around his eyes to simulate a full blink since he had lost the ability to fully shut his eyes. When Jeff was done his hands dropped and his gaze landed on ____, sitting on the ground examining the cuts.
"You're just going to irritate them more by doing that.." He grumbled, Jeff's voice made ____ look up before looking back down, starting to mess with the cuts again.
Jeff could only scoff at ____'s attitude, laying back down.
They stayed like for maybe five minutes before Jeff spoke up again, more irritated this time.
"If you're that fucking paranoid about them, let me look."
____ didn't look up, but he still responded.
"Can I sleep in my bed if I let you?"
"Fucks sake..." He groaned, and ____ was starting to think the man always sounded irritated when he wasn't.... being insane.
____ shot Jeff a glare at the unwillingness as if he OWNED the mattress.
"Why do you even care? Just go back to bed."
Jeff was messing with his hair when ____ actually gave him a look, the dark hair cupping his face sharply.
"Can't sleep if someone else is up." Jeff responded before they both fell back into a short silence.
'Makes sense..' ____ thought, probably can't sleep soundly with his profession. Maybe that's where his shitty slogan came from..
And after a few seconds of deciding, ____ slowly got up, wincing silently as he stood and walked over to the side of the bed.
Jeff felt the mattress sink slightly beside him as he stared at ____, who was avoiding looking at him. Jeff wanted to scoff at the bratty attitude, he would never do this for anyone. But, he couldn't kill ____ and he couldn't leave; so all you can do is make it work.
He gripped ____'s shoulder and brought it toward him roughly, making the other hiss out.
"Be careful, asshole." ____ grumbled, giving Jeff a pissy look that was ignored since the killer's focus was on the stab wound.
He stared attentively, looking past the butterfly clips that held ____'s flesh together to see if any glass shards landed inside to which he found none. But in the dark it wasn't a 100% guarantee, so he looked for any light besides the one on the roof. ____ thankfully had a small lamp that gave enough light to see the others' bare torso.
"Is this the only one you actually tended to?" Jeff asked, his gruff voice somehow made everything he said up to now sound like an insult.
____ didn't respond for a moment before he mumbled "I cleaned them.." to Jeff, who just snickered. The attention on his shoulder trailed to the rest of ____'s exposed body. There were multiple shallow cuts along ____'s neck, chest, collar. But along his sides, Jeff's gaze landed on the deeper cuts that lined his hips. And he definitely remembered how he caused them, the pressure he had on the knife and what angle he slashed at. The thought gave him a slight thrill up his spine, as much as he was in a docile state; Jeff savored knowing he caused this and it was causing discomfort.
He cupped the cut, thumbing at the edge to see if any shards were there. He doesn’t acknowledge the soft hiss of pain that follows, but the brief flicker of interest in his eyes betrays him. Without a word, he reaches over and pushes ____'s body to get more light on his body, revealing a series of bruises beginning to form and slices across his torso. His hand hesitates over one particularly nasty cut just below the ribcage, its edges dark and jagged. Jeff whistled at the display.
"Hit scar tissue, huh?" He mused, he had already noticed the old scars along ____'s chest. He's not interested in the story though, his interest only being the fresh wounds littered across the other's body.
____ didn't respond, more like he couldn't. Jeff's cold hands on his body distract him too much, on one hand he knew he should leave back to the uncomfortable floor and try to sleep. On the other hand, he knew that sleep wasn't gonna happen easily there, so there was no point.
He keeps his eyes on Jeff, refusing to look down at his beaten body. “I can take care of myself.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Jeff mutters under his breath, though there’s less bite in his tone now, more complacent. Jeff's hands exploring each cut around ____'s hips and stomach. He hated to admit even just to himself how impressed he was, this guy could hold his own. And even if he didn't have enough fight in him to survive an encounter where Jeff showed no mercy, the show he got was impressive either way.
"I never got a name.." Jeff stated, and it seemed to get ____'s attention, he really didn't think the killer would care to know.
"____"
Jeff hummed, and that was that. The silence between them deepens as Jeff finishes up with looking at the trouble cuts in ____'s flesh.
But Jeff's fixated stare lingers, wanting to take in the image as a whole.
____ didn't miss it, he was hyper-aware of the staring. He just couldn't find himself wanting to complain.
He wasn’t used to this kind of attention—didn’t know what to do with it. This type of gaze from anyone wouldn't normally shake him as much as it did now, the change in behavior was unnerving but ____'s curiosity was gnawing at him. Maybe the head injuries have started to take a toll, starting to make him act loopy...
Maybe that was a good enough excuse for why his hand reached and had a feather-light touch against the circular cut on Jeff's neck.
"You said you wanted up here?" Jeff's voice took ____ out of his thoughts, he could feel Jeff's vocal cords vibrate from under his fingertips.
"What?" ____ asked, a little dazed from the situation.
"Well it's cold, right?" Jeff drawled, and the feeling against ____'s fingertips made him shiver.
The room goes still for a moment, the weight of his words lingering between them. Jeff taking in the view of ____ , his expression nearly unreadable, yet there was a hint of anticipation... only slightly.
Something about not being able to read his face, not knowing what this crazed lunatic had planned, it drew ____ in. So no more words were spoken at that moment, Jeff's hold on ____'s hip had turned into a grasp. He could feel the plump of his body mold under his hold as he was guided off the edge of the bed.
The contact was short-lived when both actually found a comfortable position on the bed. Jeff was on his back, taking up space with one leg out towards ____. But as long as he could actually sleep on a bed, ____ wasn't about to complain.
"This feels out of character for you..." ____ chuckled softly, looking up towards the ceiling. He could feel himself relaxing as the mattress gave his body the support it was crying for, and it felt like he had died and went to the pearly gates.
"Don't get used to it." Jeff responded, not trying to hide the smugness to his tone. Guess most would be grateful for gaining a psychopath's favor, saying it's a rare occurrence would be an understatement.
As they laid there, the discarded shirt that was still on the floor popped into ____'s mind. He wanted to groan at the fact he had to get up again, but he held it back as he reluctantly started to move. He sat up to go grab it, but a hand landed on his shoulder.
"Just got in here and you're already trying to run away?" Jeff's low voice drawled out again, and it felt like ____ stopped breathing. With a slow, steady pull, Jeff coaxed the other down until his head rested against his side. There was a slight hint of copper to Jeff's scent, and something about it in that exact moment made ____ want to drool. Fingers just barely grazed his side in a way that felt deliberate. It was subtle—a kind of sultry energy that simmered beneath the surface.
It didn't help that Jeff was looking at ____ with a lidded smirk, it was almost a shock that he could make those sorts of expressions even with the damaged eyelids and still made it look good.
Jeff's arm wrapped around ____ as they were pressed close, his hand trailing to ____'s neck, pessing against the tender skin, sending a low thrum of awareness through
his body. The smirk grew as Jeff leaned in slightly, his breath ghosting over ____'s ear. “What's the rush?" His voice was low, rough, like he knew exactly the effect he was having and didn’t mind pushing it further.
He was egging ____ on, he could tell, looking for a reaction from him verbal or not.
A soft shuddered breath slipped past ___'s lips, his body shifting to hook a leg around Jeff's.
"Only stuck here for a night and you're stooping so low?" He snickered, the tremble of his voice not missing Jeff's ears.
"Stooping low?" He echoed, ____'s new position allowing him to hook his arm around his waist to pull him more flush, nearly chest to chest now.
"Stooping low would have been me cutting you open and throwing you out into the cold, this is just me enjoying the circumstances.."
"Jesus.." ____ mumbled, only now realizing the warmth that had enveloped his body like a frenzy.
Jeff's breath hit ____'s neck as he laughed slowly, fading into a deep breath before he whispered against the other's tender neck.
"He's not here for you..."
A sudden warm pressure is against his neck, Jeff's tongue pressed flat on to one of the cuts, slowly lapping up in a rhythmic motion, grazing the raw flesh in a way that makes ____'s head spin violently. As it glides over the wound, the saliva mixes with the faint traces of blood left in the inflamed skin, providing a cooling sensation that temporarily relieves the burn of the cut.
The rhythmic motion of Jeff's tongue, slow and deliberate, creates a strange, primal surge in ____'s gut, as if it’s instinctively trying to get more of the attention. The sensation alternates between discomfort and an odd thrill under his skin, shooting towards the base of his spine, leaving his body hot.
Jeff's lips soon connected to ____'s neck, sucking at it without a care. The mix of his wet hot tongue and the pressure had ____'s breathing in shambles. Hot short breaths falling from his lips as his hands trembled, reaching to grip and claw at the sides of Jeff's shirt.
The flesh bruised so easy under Jeff's mouth, so pliable to his wants. The faint discoloration spreads like watercolor, the subtle throbs of pain making ____ keen, and Jeff drinks up each reaction. His lips linger over the freshly abused spots before moving on, leaving behind a trail of purpling heat in its wake. Jeff didn't stop until he let his teeth drag across the cuts, and ____ sobbed out, arching into the other. It’s overwhelming, like being caught in a storm of sensations, where the line between agony and ecstasy blurs into one.
Maybe it was a little sad how affected he was already, he half expected Jeff to tyrannize the hell out of him and stop. But that never happened, no smart-ass remarks, nothing. All Jeff gave was that sick attention he craved, and ____ didn't want anything else. Jeff let the flesh that he had bitten go, snapping back like elastic with ingrained marks of where he had bitten down.
"You already taste so fucking good and I haven't done nothin'.." Jeff mumbled with a chuckle. He could tell how long ____ had been deprived of this, deprived of someone else. And he'll never say that he would be a good person to indulge in, but damn is he good at indulging. His hand moves into ____'s hair, running it through before he tugged on it, pulling ____'s head back with a yank. A stifled gasp came from ____ , his head craned back as Jeff let his tongue run up the center of ____'s throat one last time before he pulled back. He let go of the hair and ____ groaned at the loss, his head falling forward before Jeff's rough hand found its way to the back of his neck, roughly pulling them together.
"Don't think this means anything." Jeff growled low in his ear, the tension between them still palpable despite the intimate touch.
"I never said it did." ____ bit back, though the hitch in his breath betrayed him. His body still burned where Jeff's hand lingered, the contradiction of his actions and words gnawing at ____'s mind which left him feeling dizzy in the best way imaginable.
Jeff seemed to enjoy his response, nearly devouring ____'s lips just a moment after.
It was aggressive from the start, but not unpleasant. Unlike some gross men who couldn't kiss if their life depended on it, this felt good. Really good. ____'s bottom lip stung violently from earlier but it only added to the sensations. Kissing back with the same vigor, both men's hands began to roam each other. Gripping, clawing, nearly tearing like an urge to feel more of a burn against each other.
Their breathing becomes ragged, the sound of it mingling with muffled, barely contained moans as the intensity between them rises. Mouths moving together with a feverish desperation, ____'s wound on his inner lip reopening from the assault.
Jeff groaned at the taste of blood, shifting to press his hard-on into ____ who responded back with a roll of his hips. It’s a dance of pure hunger, each kiss fueling the next, until they’re consumed by the overwhelming need for more of each other, lost in the relentless desire to taste, to feel.
____ broke the filthy kiss with a shuddery breath, his vision speckled with black from how light-headed he got. But with how Jeff's hands roamed down to rub along ____'s thighs before moving to grab his ass, it didn't seem like he had the privilege of a break.
"Fuck, you're shaking bad.." Jeff snickered lowly, and that brought ____ to reality for a second, not needing to look down to feel his legs trembling against Jeff against his will,
“Shut up." ____ rasped, voice hoarse, but the message didn't get through to the other with how pathetic he sounded.. Too weak. He wanted to clench his fists, dig his nails into his palms as if to ground himself, but he couldn't, feeling like he'd lose his balance; leaving nothing to stop the trembling. His body refused to obey.
Jeff’s hands squeezed harder, a twinge of a pain shooting up ____'s that made his breath catch. “Can’t even hold yourself up straight and you’re telling me to shut up?” Jeff’s voice was low, rough like gravel yet made ____'s ears tingle.
“I said shut up." ____ grunted, shifting to try and get a better angle to hold himself but all that did was remind him of the hard cock pressing up against him which all but nearly took him out again. And Jeff, oh, he decided that moving was out of the question. Pushing his hips up against ____'s damp boxers with a whistle.
"Settle down, you get pissy so quick.." Jeff teased, a thumb hooking under the waistband. He tugged on it before letting it slip off his thumb, snapping back against ____, making him jolt.
"Hopefully you lose the attitude when you're full of me.." He hummed, hooking the waistband again, pulling the fabric down this time. The cold air hitting ____'s bare ass wasn't the most pleasant feeling, but Jeff's hand on it was.
____'s eyes felt heavy, his breathing coming out in quiet puffs as that slender, rough hand kneaded at the flesh. And just as he felt himself melting back into the feeling, a sharp smack rang through the room.
"Ah!-" ____ gasped, the initial sting left by Jeff's hand fading into a warm tender buzz.
"Fuck- you can't just-" ____ began to weakly protest, but was silenced feeling his boxers getting tugged down his thighs fully now.
"Ohh, but I can..." Jeff purred, moving to press ___'s torso more against him into an arch, his face now pressed into Jeff's chest while the killer's hand moved lower to the new territory; and almost instantly Jeff found his fingers wet. He grinned, a breathy chuckle rumbling in his throat as he pulled his hand back.
"And you don't seem to mind.." He added an arm wrapping around ____'s back before Jeff moved him into a more accessible position. The bedding shifted along with them as ____ was manhandled with surprising ease, he was pressed onto his back, with Jeff pressed up against his side.
The boxers got fully discarded at this point with how eager Jeff was to have his legs spread open, his hand pushing ____'s thighs apart and groaning at the sight.
____ wasn't given any mental prep time before Jeff's fingers were teasing around his clit, rubbing the length between pinched fingertips. The action alone made ____ keen, his head falling back against Jeff's shoulder who surprisingly wrapped his free arm around him.
"Are you this hard because you're just a slut, or are you a freak for the dangerous types?" Jeff purred, rubbing in slow circles.
"Mn.. No I- gh.."
"Can't talk? I'll just assume both then.." He muses, and fuck ____ could feel that damned smirk burning into the back of his skull.
Jeff's fingers picked the pace up a bit, and in return he got to feel ____'s breathing pick up against him, to see how his eyes shut as the pleasure worked its way into his system. The view was devilish, leaving Jeff's dick straining painfully against the front of his jeans.
Fingers circle around his clit before dipping down, arousal coating his two digits before dragging them back to continue rubbing ____ off. The soft moans and whines that slip past his lips is really pushing what little patience Jeff has, the urge to use the pliable body squirming against him growing stronger every second.
"Hh..mnh-" ____'s body shuddered, eyes cracking open to watch Jeff's hand work. It was overwhelming, his body tender to the touch yet each time Jeff would irritate a bruise or cut, the sharp ache made his head foggy.
"Please.." He whined, hand clawing at the arm wrapped around his shoulder which earned a shaky breath from beside him as Jeff's fingers dipped lower.
It was a slow, deliberate motion as he pressed forward, ____'s body more than will to have him inside. The slick warmth enveloped Jeff's fingers, and his breath hitched, the heat of ____'s walls snug around Jeff's fingers was delicious.
____ squirmed more, rocking against the fingers as his eyes shut again, hiding his flushed face in Jeff's chest. He could feel the digits start to thrust and curl into him, each time Jeff would push inside to his knuckles, ____'s chest would heave as he breathed in Jeff's scent, and every inhale just made ____'s arousal spiked tenfold. The mixture of sweat and copper filling his senses, fingers gripping the fabric of Jeff’s shirt tightly, trying to find grounding.
Jeff's pace built, roughly finger-fucking ____ to his hearts content, his merciless actions causing an odd preasure to make itself known in ____’s abdomen, growing stronger the faster Jeff got.
He was out of it, out of it to the point he couldn't even hear how slutty he sounded with the noises that poured from his mouth. All the pleasure making him want to return the favor in some way, his hand moving to rub against Jeff's clothed cock, movements uncoordinated but the rough noises from the man against him was more than enough motivation to continue.
But before he could do much, his body tensed, his insides feeling suddenly more sensitive for a moment which left him babbling words he couldn't process into Jeff's chest. The subtle slick sounds from ___’s pussy suddenly way louder and more wet as he gushed over Jeff's fingers.
“Fuck, Baby…” Jeff moaned, in slight awe of the scene in front of him. He stopped, giving ____ a chance to breathe before pulling his fingers out and up to his mouth, shamelessly licking them clean.
“O-oh shit- what..?” ___ panted, his body still on fire, wondering why the sudden stop. His eyes could hardly see the small mess he had made, it wasn't until he shifted he could feel the wet spots on the sheets. The embarrassment would have made the heat in his face flare up if he weren’t so painfully turned on. His breath hitched, chest heaving as he understood what he did.
“God, sorry-” He wanted to apologize, he didn't even know that he could squirt before this, but Jeff cut him off with a guttural hiss to his tone. “Don't fucking apologize for that.” He moved his arm off of ____ as he moved away, beginning to undo his jeans, frustrated as he nearly ripped his fly down. “Taking too damn long just to fuck you.” Jeff huffed, tugging down his pants and boxers just enough so his cock could fully breathe.
Though dazed, the glimpse of metal caught ____’s attention when Jeff stroked his dick, but it wasn't just one. Barbells lined the underside of his shaft and ____'s eyes widened, not even noticing Jeff had pulled his legs closer and spread them, too fixated on the piercings. Oh it was a heavenly day to have someone break into his house..
“You're fucking crazy…” ____ whined, back pressed into the pillows and mattresses while Jeff caged him, rubbing his cock against ____’s hard clit, and oh god he would have came right then and there if he could. The piercings felt so good rubbing up against him, dragging against his slick heat with an agonizingly slow pace. Jeff smirked, his voice low as he leaned down, brushing his lips against ____’s ear. "You like crazy, don't you?" His movements are slow, deliberate, teasing, grinding just enough to drive ____mad. For someone who was complaining about how long it was taking to get inside him, Jeff was taking his sweet ass time now.
“Damnit- mh....” ____ groaned, trying to move his hips to get more friction, but Jeff held him down with one hand on his abdomen. The slow thrusts against him, getting Jeff's dick soaked with his arousal. It was just then he realized that was the point to this teasing, and like Jeff could read his thoughts, he pushed into ____ with a harsh thrust.
____ gasped, hand shooting to grab onto Jeff's shoulder as he started to fuck into him with reckless abandon. The piercings rubbing his inner walls made his head fall back into the pillows, moans now openly falling from his lips.
"Oh fucking- Christ.. Jeff–"____ choked out between gasps, nails digging into Jeff’s shoulders, trying to keep himself grounded as his body rocked under against the bed. It was overwhelming, the pleasure so intense it blurred the edges of everything else. His legs wrapped around Jeff’s waist instinctively, trying to pull him even closer, wanting- needing more.
“Fuck... you’re taking me so good.” Jeff muttered, his voice rough and breathless, his fingers digging into ____’s hips. His nails purposely pushing into one of the cuts, sending a jolt of searing pain through his body. The reaction was instant, he bucked beneath him, a strangled whine escaping his throat at the sharp, burning ache. Jeff smirked, snapping his hips forward with brutal force, the sound of skin slapping filling the room.
“Such a damn slut.” Jeff spat, his voice low and dripping with a sick, manic satisfaction with the reactions he was getting. He squeezed ____’s plump hips harder, his fingers leaving indents in the soft flesh, almost daring him to break under the pressure. A trickle of blood began to seep from the cut, smeared between their bodies with each punishing thrust. Jeff's gaze flicked down, watching the red streaks with dark amusement.
“You’re enjoying the treatment, huh?” he hissed through gritted teeth, his breath coming out ragged as he pounded into ____ without mercy. Every thrust was deliberate, meant to make ____ squirm, to overwhelm him with sensations. “You like being fucked like this? Made to bleed for me?”
____ body trembled beneath him, his breath coming in shallow, broken gasps. The pain sparked like needles against his body, sharp and constant, but the pleasure was overwhelming, drowning out everything else.
He didn’t want to admit how much he craved it, how much Jeff's brutal rhythm was ruining him. He could feel his body respond every time, how it reeled from the pleasure but still needed more- he needed more.
"Answer me." Jeff growled, his hand moving to grip ____’s jaw, forcing his head back so their eyes locked. His thumb dug into ____’s lip, a silent command. "Tell me how much you fucking need this."
A low whine escaped ____’s throat as he struggled to form words, his body too lost in the haze of sensation to think straight. "I—fuck—yeah, I... need it.." he finally gasped, voice shaky and uneven. He could hardly find the strength to keep his eyes open, let alone respond verbally. But something about Jeff's harsh voice dragged him back to reality, like getting a gasp of air after resurfacing from raging waters.
Jeff’s smirk widened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he thrust harder, driving deeper, his grip on ____’s jaw tightening. "That's right. You need me to break you apart, don’t you? To fuck you so hard you forget everything else?"
A nod, his legs and thighs shaking around Jeff's waist. The storm outside had been long forgotten with the heat of their bodies surrounding them. It made the room feel stuffy, but it was so nice in ____’s mind, having someone there to warm you..
His hands clawed at Jeff's shoulders, trying to hold on to something as his body began to unravel under the relentless pace. The pain, the intensity, the rawness of it all.. it was taking a toll on ____’s damaged body.
“Fuck- Fuck I can't.. I-” He sobbed dryly, eyes watering as his body tensed, clawing at Jeff's rough flesh trying to hold on, leaving marks against his shoulders and back. But Jeff didn't care, if anything he fucked into ___ harder. Letting go of his jaw to lift up his leg and press it into ___’s body, and the new angle was too much.
____’s body convulsed as he came hard, trembling violently as his orgasm hit its peak, his breath catching in his throat before he sobbed out with a raspy voice. Moans and pleas falling from his lips, his body throbbed and clenched around the other; but Jeff didn’t let up, not even for a second. The relentless pace only grew more punishing, each thrust driving deeper.
Jeff was ruthless, hungry for more and not satisfied with how he already wrecked the man under him. ___ was falling apart, his entire body trembling uncontrollably, the overstimulation was too much; if he could die via overstimulation he would have been on the way to heaven.
He felt like he could hardly breathe anymore, almost hyperventilating from the constant onslaught of pleasure. ____ was nearly crying, fully at his limit, but Jeff kept him there, keeping him pinned in place as he took every last bit from him.
“Yesyesyes- More-” Jeff grunted, nearly panting into ____’s ear.
Finally, Jeff’s pace began to stutter, his grip tightening even further, nails digging into flesh. A guttural growl bubbled in the killer's throat, cock twitching inside of ____ with every thrust. And finally Jeff buried himself deep in ____ as he came hard, his body pressing the mess of a man below him into the mattress as he rode out his own release, his teeth biting down on ____’s non-injured shoulder, leaving deep, red indents where his teeth buried into.
Jeff's teeth pulled off soon after and they stayed like that for a moment, both of them breathing heavily, if they weren't worn out from the fight earlier they definitely were not recovering fast from this.
The room was hot, or maybe it was just them and the bed, the smell of sex lingering as ____ tried to recover.
“At least your roommates are gone.” Jeff was the first to speak, and that made ____ laugh weakly as Jeff pulled out.
“Yeah…” ____ rasped, eyes shut as he felt his body melt into the mattress. Fuck life felt good right now, he could imagine all the nice things he's been missing out on, how the winter snow would-
“____? Man are you already asleep?” Jeff's voice made him jolt, eyes snapping open before he calmed down.
“No, just resting…” He mumbled, eyes shutting again and going back to picturing random stuff.
“____?”
“____…. Are you-” Jeff clicked his tongue at the body beside him, how his chest would rise and fall.
“He fucking fell asleep…” He grumbled, moving to lay on his side as he tugged the blanket over himself.
______
The next morning- or nearly afternoon was very uneventful, he woke up to a empty bed and a sticky sore body. It was a horrible idea to fuck a serial killer, even worse to do it with a possible concussion that he had to get checked out.
But as ____ sat up, he saw a glass on his side table filled with water. He picked it up and sipped on it, mouth met with freezing cold water.
The crisp water on his raw throat was so nice, ____ drank it all down before setting the glass back.
If it weren't for the mess downstairs, injuries, and…. Well… Being a murderer, ____ might have considered another hookup with the guy.
He wasn't half bad.