[ A fresh start, that's what this is supposed to be. Neil Hargrove going for a promotion out in North fucking Dakota, the most miserable place in the country, Billy's sure of it. Like moving them to the middle of nowhere will fix his fucked up kids.
A fresh start. Yeah, right. This is punishment, bitter and calculated. If it were anything else, there'd be a chance of any of them being happy here. Even Neil is more miserable, a feat Billy didn't think possible. And who should take the brunt of that but Billy?
His wrath is inescapable, suffocating. Billy's infraction this time had been letting his car spin out and slide into a ditch on the way home from school. He and Max were fine and so was the Camaro, but she'd been a little shaken up and they'd had to call a tow truck.
Billy knew he was fucked as soon as Neil found out. Sure enough, he went to bed that night with the door locked from the outside, lying on his stomach with stinging red stripes from Neil's belt across his back. And as he sobbed into his pillow, he'd prayed for something, anything to take him away from this place.
The dreams started after that, though Billy never linked the two. Always cold, always dark. Sometimes there was pain, so intense he’d wake up still feeling it for a second or two - and sometimes immense pleasure. The source was always unknown, but he could hear its voice calling him. He didn’t know what to make of it.
One of the only things to do out here is drive, so Billy does - too fast, because he hasn’t learned anything from hitting the ditch. He’s gotten pulled over a couple of times, both by the same guy. Probably because this place is so tiny they don’t even need that many cops. Or sheriffs or what-fucking-ever this guy is.
Tonight he’s really not in the mood for this shit. He’d stormed off out of the house because Neil was giving him hell for something Max did, and he doesn’t intend to come back tonight. He doesn’t know where he’ll go, but he’ll find somewhere. Anywhere. And he’s not even speeding by much this time, but those lights and sirens say otherwise. Jesus Christ, the theatrics. Billy huffs and pulls over to the side of the road, blowing smoke through his nose as he looks into his rear-view mirror.
Same fucking guy. Again. He cranks down his window as the deputy approaches, the chill in the air biting at his skin more than usual. The man’s eyes are so dark he can’t see the pupils, and Billy knows there’s no sense in arguing when he starts writing the ticket. But then he stops, puts it away. He’s smirking now, and Billy’s eyebrows knit together. ]
Sure. I promise. Look, I was barely going ten over and there’s nobody out here.
[ A fact he now feels painfully aware of. The night is so still out here, the snow dampening all noise. Billy clenches his jaw. ]
[ are you giving me a ticket or not? — it isn't that simple, and it never is. gator has waited — watched billy, kept his eyes fixed to his every movement. underage drinking, drugs — his blood will taste bitter, but gator wants it. he leans down, arms folded casually on the windowsill of the car. he smiles at billy, and there he is — a predator looking at billy just as hungry as he is. he tongues his incisor for a moment, smile growing before he sizes up billy's face with a ravenous once-over.
he will be gator's — there is no turning back, as billy called. he's sent dreams, both agonizing and pleasurable, he's watched billy twitch in his sleep, sometimes moaning, other times grunting from pain. it's beautiful, the way he twists. stained sheets and shivers. there's so much more where that came from, endless pleasure, endless pain. gator's mouth waters, and he tilts his head. he wants to invite billy in, wants to pin him and give him what he needs. there's a sick urge deep within gator, one that he harnesses. ]
Nah, I don't think I'm gonna do that. You wanna get out of it?
[ do you want to be mine? — gator's grin grows, and he's charming in the moonlight, skin pale and pretty in the dimness. he's fully aware that billy might not want this — so he'll get him next time. and next time. and next time. he won't rest until billy is his. an object, so gorgeous and cherished. no one will love him and adore him and worship him like gator. with his fangs, with the need to taste blood. ]
I'll give you two options — we fuck around, or you get me on your ass more. Which sounds better, baby?
[ The deputy - Tillman, the uniform says - leans down, teeth gleaming, way too close to Billy for comfort. It chills him to his bones, far colder than he can blame on the weather alone.
You wanna get out of it?
Billy should take the ticket. He knows that, knows better than to trust a pig for goddamn anything. He'd tried that once as a kid, when he'd seen some sob story about cops helping a mom and her kids get away from her abusive husband. Neil didn't get in trouble, but Billy sure did. He knows better now, or he should.
But he's also broke from the tow truck bill and all the other bullshit that comes with winter-proofing his car, and if Neil finds out he's got a speeding ticket on top of all of that now? He'll be lucky if he's let out of the house before the snow melts. And something he can't place at the back of his mind says to just do it. Just give in. His grip on the steering wheel tightens.
His chest feels tight, heartbeat quickening as the deputy continues to speak. So this is why he's been on his ass - because he wants a piece of Billy and this is the easiest way to get it. It's obvious now, the way he stares him down, hungry, like he could tear Billy from the driver's seat and throw him to the ground right now. Take exactly what he wants.
Billy lets out a nervous chuckle. ]
'Fuck around'? What, you want me to suck your dick or something? And I'm just supposed to trust you aren't gonna slap me with a ticket after anyway?
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A fresh start. Yeah, right. This is punishment, bitter and calculated. If it were anything else, there'd be a chance of any of them being happy here. Even Neil is more miserable, a feat Billy didn't think possible. And who should take the brunt of that but Billy?
His wrath is inescapable, suffocating. Billy's infraction this time had been letting his car spin out and slide into a ditch on the way home from school. He and Max were fine and so was the Camaro, but she'd been a little shaken up and they'd had to call a tow truck.
Billy knew he was fucked as soon as Neil found out. Sure enough, he went to bed that night with the door locked from the outside, lying on his stomach with stinging red stripes from Neil's belt across his back. And as he sobbed into his pillow, he'd prayed for something, anything to take him away from this place.
The dreams started after that, though Billy never linked the two. Always cold, always dark. Sometimes there was pain, so intense he’d wake up still feeling it for a second or two - and sometimes immense pleasure. The source was always unknown, but he could hear its voice calling him. He didn’t know what to make of it.
One of the only things to do out here is drive, so Billy does - too fast, because he hasn’t learned anything from hitting the ditch. He’s gotten pulled over a couple of times, both by the same guy. Probably because this place is so tiny they don’t even need that many cops. Or sheriffs or what-fucking-ever this guy is.
Tonight he’s really not in the mood for this shit. He’d stormed off out of the house because Neil was giving him hell for something Max did, and he doesn’t intend to come back tonight. He doesn’t know where he’ll go, but he’ll find somewhere. Anywhere. And he’s not even speeding by much this time, but those lights and sirens say otherwise. Jesus Christ, the theatrics. Billy huffs and pulls over to the side of the road, blowing smoke through his nose as he looks into his rear-view mirror.
Same fucking guy. Again. He cranks down his window as the deputy approaches, the chill in the air biting at his skin more than usual. The man’s eyes are so dark he can’t see the pupils, and Billy knows there’s no sense in arguing when he starts writing the ticket. But then he stops, puts it away. He’s smirking now, and Billy’s eyebrows knit together. ]
Sure. I promise. Look, I was barely going ten over and there’s nobody out here.
[ A fact he now feels painfully aware of. The night is so still out here, the snow dampening all noise. Billy clenches his jaw. ]
Are you giving me a ticket or not?
no subject
he will be gator's — there is no turning back, as billy called. he's sent dreams, both agonizing and pleasurable, he's watched billy twitch in his sleep, sometimes moaning, other times grunting from pain. it's beautiful, the way he twists. stained sheets and shivers. there's so much more where that came from, endless pleasure, endless pain. gator's mouth waters, and he tilts his head. he wants to invite billy in, wants to pin him and give him what he needs. there's a sick urge deep within gator, one that he harnesses. ]
Nah, I don't think I'm gonna do that. You wanna get out of it?
[ do you want to be mine? — gator's grin grows, and he's charming in the moonlight, skin pale and pretty in the dimness. he's fully aware that billy might not want this — so he'll get him next time. and next time. and next time. he won't rest until billy is his. an object, so gorgeous and cherished. no one will love him and adore him and worship him like gator. with his fangs, with the need to taste blood. ]
I'll give you two options — we fuck around, or you get me on your ass more. Which sounds better, baby?
no subject
You wanna get out of it?
Billy should take the ticket. He knows that, knows better than to trust a pig for goddamn anything. He'd tried that once as a kid, when he'd seen some sob story about cops helping a mom and her kids get away from her abusive husband. Neil didn't get in trouble, but Billy sure did. He knows better now, or he should.
But he's also broke from the tow truck bill and all the other bullshit that comes with winter-proofing his car, and if Neil finds out he's got a speeding ticket on top of all of that now? He'll be lucky if he's let out of the house before the snow melts. And something he can't place at the back of his mind says to just do it. Just give in. His grip on the steering wheel tightens.
His chest feels tight, heartbeat quickening as the deputy continues to speak. So this is why he's been on his ass - because he wants a piece of Billy and this is the easiest way to get it. It's obvious now, the way he stares him down, hungry, like he could tear Billy from the driver's seat and throw him to the ground right now. Take exactly what he wants.
Billy lets out a nervous chuckle. ]
'Fuck around'? What, you want me to suck your dick or something? And I'm just supposed to trust you aren't gonna slap me with a ticket after anyway?