[ Billy's so drunk he can barely stand, so he doesn't, sliding down to the floor in nearly the exact spot he'd been the last time he saw Gator Tillman. He'd told himself that it was for good, that he'd never stoop this low again. Now he feels even lower, worse than the dirt on the carpet, scum of the fucking earth.
Only he could be so damn worthless, so unlovable that the only person he felt he could cry out to for help is the one he'd been trying to heal from. Gator's a nightmare, a walking terror, and Billy can't even stay away from him after he'd finally convinced him to leave him be.
He curls in on himself, sobbing, grabbing handfuls of his own hair and twisting his fingers. More than anything, he still just wants to hurt. ]
[ gator pockets his phone, then signals for his partner to take a few laps around the block in the patrol suv. he stomps up the stairs in his steel-toes, stopping in front of billy's shithole apartment. he knocks once, then opens the door slowly. he peers in, hearing the sobs, and he rolls his eyes before stepping in and closing the door with a soft snap. he stares at billy for a moment, brows knitting under the bill of his cap. his fingers twitch, and he's not sure why. does he want to hit him? to pick him up off of the fucking floor and hurt him like he wants?
no. for once, gator tillman isn't out for violence immediately. no bloody teeth, no fists.
he approaches, again, no sudden movements. he leans down on his haunches in front of billy, head tilted as he watches him cry, clawing at himself. gator's eyes narrow, and he reaches out, grabbing billy by the wrist so he doesn't wrench out his hair. his grip is firm, but not enough to hurt. he pulls his arm away. he doesn't know what he's feeling right now - there are two urges, one to beat him until he's really crying, and the other is to put him in a warm shower. he's drunk, gator can smell the booze, but that makes no nevermind.
gator looks billy over, head to toe, before he stands up and places his hands on his hips. he purses his lips for a moment, trying to figure out which need he'll go with. after a moment, after consideration, one hand slides downward to offer for billy to get up. ]
Get up, shitass. You can't sit there cryin' all night.
[ Billy doesn't react to the knocking, the door opening. He's almost too fucked to really process that Gator is there at all, spiralling deeper and deeper into his negative thoughts. It's always hard to claw his way back out of this - usually drinking helps, so he doesn't know what to do when it makes it worse.
Gator grabs his wrist, and Billy tries to fight it for a second before letting him tug his arm away. He lets out another sob, humiliated at the very idea of anyone seeing him in such a state, much less Gator. But he'd asked for it, pleaded for it as best he could with clumsy fingers.
He doesn't raise his head until Gator tells him to get up, at which point he sniffles, nose wet, congested. His eyes are puffy, bloodshot, blinking away more tears and refusing to meet Gator's gaze. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Billy finally reaches out to take his hand, clutching it tight. His other hand presses against the wall as he shifts to try and stand, wobbly, like a goddamn baby deer. Weak and fuckin' helpless, that's what he is. ]
I'm so -- so fucked, man. F-Fuckin' -- sick.
[ His voice cracks as he leans back against the wall, still holding Gator's hand tight. The room is spinning, so he closes his eyes to try and stop it. ]
You're the only one I could even call. [ His words are slurring together, and he laughs. ] Ain't that just fuckin' sad?
[ billy stumbles against the wall, and gator's instincts kick in to keep billy from hurting himself. his free hand takes his waist, holding him up. he looks into billy's eyes, head tilted a bit, gauging the deepness of this drunken stupor he's currently in. gator looks his face over, then pulls him from the wall. slow, gentle. he then leads billy completely away from any surface he could injure himself on. to the sofa, and down. gator doesn't sit, but he does lean down, brushing a bit of blonde away from billy's eyes.
this is what it's like to care for someone, he figures, though there's still the itch to scratch he's fighting in the back of his mind. he wants to knock billy's head off his shoulders for this - wanting to kill himself, getting this drunk - but he knows he can't. there would be no point. billy hates himself enough. gator places his hands back on his hips, frowning. he takes in air through his nose, a sigh escaping the same way. he passes billy on the sofa, making his way to the kitchenette. he puts on a pot of cheap coffee - water, grounds, and it's on. he then returns to billy, back down on his haunches, looking up at him. ]
[ Billy stares back at Gator, trying - and failing - to read his expression. There's no way he's not angry - who could blame him? But if there's anything else there, Billy's too far gone to tell. He is gentle with him though, unusually so, and Billy can feel some of his own rage flaring up in him again. Gator should be hurting him. He wants it this time, punishing and brutal, but Gator won't give it to him.
He sinks onto the sofa, some cheap secondhand find he'd picked up when he first moved out. Gator brushes stray curls out of his face, and pathetic is really the only way to describe how he feels. Starving for even the slightest bit of attention, only knowing how to find it when it's rotten. His knuckles rub at tired eyes, tears slowing but not stopping completely, sniffling to himself as Gator steps away to look through his cupboards.
It strikes him that Gator's one of the only people he's ever had in his apartment. Once against his wishes, and now in some -- what, begrudging attempt to keep him from driving his Camaro into the first thing he thinks could kill him?
Gator returns, and Billy stares at him again, bleary-eyed, unfocused. He rubs his nose with the back of his hand, shaking his head from side to side. ]
I'm okay. [ No, Billy, you're not. Try again. ] 'm not gonna puke.
[ He brings his knees up to his chest once more, leaning forward to hold himself loosely. His gaze has wandered past Gator now, toward the view of the street he can see from his window. It's not like Gator cares, but he can't stop himself from saying the words anyway, clumsy, syllables running into each other. ]
Got fired. Can't afford to leave now, gonna have to stay the winter.
[ gator stands, swiftly, hand up to his face as he rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. his hip cocks, weight shifted, before he releases his eyes and gazes down at billy, jaw set. he isn't as disappointed as he is disgusted. billy allowing himself to become this fucking sloppy should be illegal. nevermind the drinking, the speeding - gator knows this is beyond that. his lips purse, and he shifts his jaw before he passes billy again to head into the kitchenette.
he pours billy a cup of black coffee, then brings it back, placing it on the small table beside the sofa. he strides to stand before billy, then nods at the coffee. his eyes narrow, and there it is again - a flash of red, his hands shaking for violence. billy let himself get this way - gator knows that he destroyed him, but billy was the one to call it quits - is unacceptable. his wrist tightens, and he doesn't know how long he can keep it under the water. it's splashing, fighting, trying to breathe. ]
Too fuckin' bad I have to see your ass around town, then. You gonna stay this fucked up? Drink the goddamn coffee.
[ Because he'd gotten wasted. Because he was ashamed to go out in public looking the way he did, bruised and ugly and without any good excuse for it. It's hard to tell your boss you got in a bar fight when he likes you, let alone when you're already getting on his last nerve and he knows you're under twenty-one. So Billy just stopped showing up. Let the calls go to voicemail, including the one telling him not to bother coming back in.
He's only eighteen and he's pretty sure he's already fucked his life up beyond repair. Doomed to scraping by in this shithole apartment, shithole town, alone. Maybe he can find something else, but that still requires him to get his shit together enough to apply for jobs, interview, actually work instead of wallowing in here. Right now, it feels like an impossible task. ]
Mm. Sorry.
[ Sorry that he has to see him around, sorry for not drinking the coffee, sorry he'd dragged him here. Billy reaches out to take the mug, taking a couple sips with a sigh. It's not great, but that's what he gets for buying the cheap stuff. Paired with a couple cigarettes for breakfast, he doesn't usually notice it much. He'd like a smoke now, but he's pretty sure he's out and isn't willing to go digging through his pockets to see if he can find any.
Another sip, and he's back to looking at Gator again, itching to say something that'll please him but coming up short. ]
Thanks. For showin' up. [ He pauses to take another gulp from the mug, swallowing before he continues. ] I could suck you off. For the trouble.
[ i could suck you off. for the trouble. gator's teeth clench, and he watches as billy takes sip of the coffee, and it's disgusting. he's limp and sore, gator knows it, from all the fucking booze and whatever the hell else he's been up to. gator grimaces, turning away and tut-tutting his tongue.
he wants to drag him from that fucking couch by the hair, he wants to sling him across the room, he wants to hit him until his hand goes numb, he wants to fuck him until they both can't feel any of this bullshit. whatever wins, wins. the boiling water can only take so much heat, and with that, gator unleashes it all. it's like the great roy tillman says: a hard man for hard times. gator takes a step forward, gazing down at billy with nothing but cold, dark eyes. his tongue, like a knife, stabs: ]
You're fuckin' pathetic, you know that? Sittin' there snifflin' like some girl pulled that pretty hair of yours. Is that it? You called me over here to watch you sit and cry?
[ and that's it, what snaps. he rears forward, backhanding billy across the face, hard. it's enough for the coffee to spill, it's enough for his hand to sting. he then slaps him again, chest rising and falling with the effort. he grabs billy by the hair, pulling him off of the couch and onto the floor. ]
Is this what you fuckin' want? Is this what you needed, huh?
[ for instruction, never taking pleasure in the act. ]
[ I know, I know, he thinks, but the words don't form. He is pathetic. The half-full coffee mug goes flying as Gator smacks him across the face, spilling across Billy's shirt, the couch, before hitting the floor. Another hard backhand makes him groan, and before he can put another thought together, Gator's yanking him up by the hair, easily throwing him to the floor.
Pathetic. The word rattles around in his head some more as he rolls himself onto his back, panting, staring up at Gator. The fury radiating from every part of him is clear to Billy now, and it feels right. Feels deserved. Like he doesn't know what to do with himself without someone breaking him down. ]
Yeah. That's what I fuckin' need.
[ It's sick. He'd had no right to call Gator sick for it when it's what he needs, now more than ever. The booze in his system dulls the pain a little, but not enough that it doesn't satisfy. For the first time in days, he feels something other than numb. Alive. And he knows he should stop talking while he's ahead, but his thoughts keep spilling out, slurred and slow. It's not like they won't keep Gator angry. ]
[ gator walks over, standing over billy, legs parted over his to trap him. he leans down, one knee at billy's side, before he grabs him by the jaw. another slap, then another, his hand stinging with it. after a few smacks, gator grabs billy's jaw again. he looks into his eyes - wild dark to wild bright - and he smiles. it's slow, dangerous, each one of his teeth shining in the dull light of the window. he works his thumb up billy's chin, then parts his lips, slipping it inside.
never taking pleasure in the act.
gator's cock jumps, and he knows it's wrong. he knows it's sick - just like billy called him, just like the twisted snakes that squeeze gator's mind. he's got sharpness in him, a cruel streak a mile wide. he's a gun, tongue the bullets. he watches billy suck his thumb, almost transfixed, mouth opening as his cock begins to get harder. it's obvious, his inseam growing, but he knows that billy might not want to. ]
Piece of trash. You're too goddamn pretty like this for your own fuckin' good. Do you know what you do to me, huh? Ridin' around town, flashin' that ass. You're a fuckin' danger to yourself. Babygirl, you wanted me, and you got me.
[ Any good the coffee might have done for him feels negligible now, the room spinning around Billy as he watches Gator step over him, staring him down. He feels so small, so weak, and yet - it's exactly what he wants right now.
Gator kneels, grips his jaw tight, and Billy grunts as he's slapped, over and over again. It stings, and he knows it'll be sore for days, down to his skull, but it feels right, too. Gator smiles, and Billy smiles back, dazed.
His thumb slides up from his jaw to his chin, over his lips and into Billy's mouth. Billy doesn't think, just sucks at it, heavy-lidded, red-rimmed eyes staring up at Gator as he berates him.
You're a fuckin' danger to yourself. That's the point of all of this, isn't it? The rush of being caught by him, of not knowing how far Gator will take things next. Billy hates himself for it, of course, but Gator's like any other addiction. Going without him is so much worse.
His tongue laves over Gator's thumb, to remind him of what else his mouth could be doing for him right now. Billy would probably be half-hard right now if he weren't so drunk, just from sucking his thumb, being pinned beneath him and told he's trash. Pathetic. But he got what he asked for. ]
Y'gonna show me my place? [ The words are garbled somewhat around Gator's thumb, Billy drooling a little in the process. ] I can take it. Need it.
[ billy takes it like a man - and that makes gator smile wider, fucking billy's mouth with his thumb. billy's words are mumbled around his thumb, and gator merely watches, the urge to choke billy with his fingers rising, but he doesn't. he wants something else. something harder. something more durable. he slips his thumb out of billy's mouth, then stands, unbuckling his belt.
it's carnal, violence. bloody teeth to bloody teeth, kissing and rutting and having their way after the pain. it feels good, it feels right, and it feels as if this is something they share. sickness spreads sickness, just as addiction rattles the system and destroys shame. gator gets on his knees, unzipping, hard cock stiff in his hand as he nods at billy with his chin. ]
You wanna be shown your place? Roll over.
[ that's all this is, right? sex and pain. he hits billy, billy likes it, and then they fuck. it's a pavlovian urge, built up time after time. this is gator and billy, and this is their fucked up lives, the way they entangle. there is nothing good in their connection - pleasure, so much pleasure - but what it takes to get there is beyond reason. the brutality that grows between them is lacking sanity. billy, subhuman, and gator, his god. it gets him off, knowing in some diseased way that this is what he should be. what he's been molded to be. what everything has fallen down to. ]
[ Billy watches, entranced, as Gator stands, opening up his belt. He gropes himself through his sweatpants, soft, but it still feels good to touch. This is his reward, after all, for the humiliation of begging him to come back, for taking his well-deserved licks and eagerly awaiting more.
Gator's already so hard from it, too, and Billy stares for a moment as he takes himself in hand, licking his lips. But his mouth isn't what Gator wants, and Billy has no intention of trying to deny him anything tonight. He needs this, every painful inch of it, and they both know it.
So Billy takes one last look at Gator, cock in hand, before rolling over onto his stomach, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. He still feels like his head's underwater, dizzy and disoriented, but the lust building in him makes it easier to ignore. One hand reaches backward to tug at his waistband, lowering his sweats to his mid-thigh, no underwear beneath. ]
Fuck. [ He sways a little, repositioning himself to rest on his forearms, ass high in the air for him. ] This cunt's -- all for you.
[ when billy presents himself, softened cock hanging between his legs, gator wastes no time. he pulls billy back by his hips, then spits into his palm. this is what billy wanted - true pain and suffering, true loss of value. gator sees that now, that billy wants to be ruled over. that's what connects in his mind. that he's the man, and billy... well. this cunt's all for you. with another mouthful of spit, gator works his cock, grunting at the feeling as he uses his free hand to tap against billy's hole, two fingertips inserting to test the warmth, as if he's about to jump into a goddamn pool.
it'll be a tight fit without lubricant, but if billy wants hurt, gator will take it and swallow it deep down. he yanks his fingers from billy and then thrusts into him, arm around his waist. he looks like an animal - wild eyes as he ruts, hips slapping hips with enough force to bruise. ngh, ngh, ngh! sounds as gator fucks billy, every thrust issuing a groan of approval. ]
Fuck, babygirl. Does it hurt? Tell me it fuckin' hurts.
[ sick, twisted. there is something wrong with gator tillman, and he doesn't hide it from the world. violent and irritable with an itchy trigger finger, he knows how to take what he wants without apologizing, without asking for forgiveness. he ruts into billy roughly, his cockhead slamming billy's spot, but he must be tearing him apart. he wants billy to feel this for days, weeks, what they mean to each other. in his way, this is gator's love. his dedication. his loyalty. it's the tillman way. ]
[ It's wrong, so wrong, and Billy knows it. He's too fucked up to want something normal from this, and Gator's fucked up enough to give it to him, again and again. He'd been stupid to push him away before when this is who he is, this is who they are. Sick and broken, letting it fester and grow.
His head hangs down, forehead pressed against his arms as he listens to Gator stroking himself, his spit the only mercy Billy will get tonight. He wants it that way, because this should be punishing. He'd welcomed Gator back in with open arms, and he deserves to be shown what that means. His fingers press into him, just a little. Billy whines, wriggling his hips, and then they're gone.
They're quickly replaced with Gator's cock, pushing into him deep and forcing him open. Billy cries out under him, knows the pain would be too much to bear sober, but even now it's making him tremble. Gator's pace is immediately brutal, grunting with the force of each thrust, and Billy whimpers as tears spring to his eyes once again. But he doesn't want him to stop, not for a fucking second. ]
It hurts. [ His voice is cracking, whiny. ] Fuck, it hurts.
[ And yet he's moaning for it like a bitch in heat, muscles tensing involuntarily every time Gator pounds against his spot. Billy doesn't think he can come when he's this far gone, but he doesn't care. This is its own reward just as much as it is a punishment. He arches his back, groaning, drooling. ]
Needed this. [ He pants, struggling through the words as tears fall from his eyes. ] I'm - a sick fuckin' faggot.
[ this was never about sex, not really. it was about power - or, rather, the abuse of power. it's about making billy bend the knee, making him cry and shiver and shake at gator's feet. he's billy's only reason to live now, and that makes gator grunt harder as he fucks billy into the carpet. he wraps his free hand around billy's throat, the other still splayed against his abdomen. he squeezes - another groan escaping as he thrusts harder, driving deeper.
billy's a pretty thing, and if that makes gator a fucking faggot, though he knows he's isn't - so be it. he likes fucking him, likes making him his own. horrible, violent thoughts. sexual pain. hurt and tension and suffering. that's what this is about, what it all boils down to into nothing. gator knows he's wrong, but his body wins, the feeling incredible as he hears billy cry. ]
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm sick, huh? Is that what you like?
[ gator knows that billy isn't getting much pleasure out of this, but when gator slams into him, the build up growing within him, he squeezes harder. he's seeing stars, brutal and red and bleeding, before he throws his head back and comes. his back stiffens, a low groan issuing, come freely leaking from the head of his cock and into billy. he rides out his orgasm, the wet noise of his cock fucking more come into billy's ass turning him on, making him bite his lip until a prick of blood stains his teeth. ]
[ Gator's hand closes around his throat and squeezes, and for a moment Billy feels like he could pass out right there under him, whimpering as he manages to fuck into him even deeper. He'll be feeling this for days at minimum, a painful reminder that this is what he's living for, this is who he really is, under all that bravado and attitude. He's just a toy. Not even a beloved one, kept close, but the one you leave in the dirt, forget out in the rain until it's time to play again.
Billy chokes out another sob as Gator speaks, nodding as best he can with his hand still wrapped around his throat. ]
Uh huh. F-Fuckin' -- love it.
[ Gator squeezes harder, and Billy feels faint, doesn't know if he can hold himself up much longer, thighs shaking. He wonders if Gator would keep going if he did pass out on him, but he hangs on. The least he can do is take it like a fuckin' man even if he isn't one, not really.
He can't decide if he's relieved or disappointed when Gator starts to come, hot and deep, seemingly endless. If nothing else it makes him wetter, moaning as Gator fucks him through it, milking every last bit of pleasure he can from Billy's body. But he knows when it's over and Gator leaves, his mood will only drop that much more. He doubts he'll even make it to his bedroom before he crashes, though. ]
[ gator releases billy's throat, pushing him forward into the carpet and off of his knees. he then leans over him, kissing the back of his neck, hair falling across his brow as he mouths at the area between billy's shoulder and the side of his throat. he doesn't know why he's suddenly affectionate - call it post-load clarity, call it a reminder that he can be gentle, but gator kisses billy's shoulder, then bites it playfully. he climbs off of him, spent, covered in his own come. his lip bleeds, the blood on billy's neck and shoulder, and he wipes it from his mouth with the back of his hand. he spits a bit onto the carpet - a stain, something billy can remember him by.
he hitches up his pants only so far, then walks to the bathroom to clean up. it doesn't take long, a wet towel and a rubdown, before he strides back into the living room, throwing the towel near billy's head. he works his pants up all the way, then buckles and zips. sitting on the sofa, gator pulls out his vape, taking a long drag. he tilts his head, watching billy on the floor, sweatpants still pulled down - a dripping mess from his ass of come and flecks of blood. he purses his lips. ]
You gonna lay there all night?
[ it's cruel, mean, but isn't that what billy wants? gator's eyes narrow as he drags again, then he pats the seat next to him on the sofa. his fingers curl, scratching it with his stubby nails, beckoning billy to come to him like some sort of animal. he licks his bottom lip, chin jutting at him with a nod. ]
Come here.
[ it's deranged, how much this works for gator, how much it seems to work for billy. they've become pain and pleasure, hate and lust, love and loss. they are beyond what each other needs, beyond what the other can take. there's a twisted part of gator that does love billy - all of his needs are met, all of his pain is sated - as the idea of losing him drives him to madness, but most everything about billy does. ]
[ Billy gasps for breath, letting himself collapse onto the carpet under Gator. He doesn't expect to feel his lips against his neck, soft, making Billy sigh at the stark contrast. Every other part of him is aching, having begged to be broken by him once again, but this - maybe he's just drunk, but this must mean something too. He groans as teeth nip his shoulder, but then Gator pulls away, up and out of him, the sensation making his stomach turn.
He lies there, dazed and trying to collect his mess of half-baked thoughts into something that makes sense. He wants Gator, that much is obvious, but has this convinced him to keep coming back after Billy shoved him away the last time? His thoughts drift to their last encounter, tears in Gator's eyes as he'd pushed him up against the wall.
And then a wet towel lands near his head, brought back to the present by Gator's voice above him. Billy pushes himself up to his hands and knees, grabbing the towel so he can clean himself up. He winces a little as he swipes at his hole, sore and dripping, well aware of how it'll only feel worse later when he's hungover. He takes his time cleaning the mess from his thighs, his balance unsteady.
Gator's calling to him like a dog, and Billy knows that's all he is, an animal. By the time he repeats it, Billy's getting to his feet, tucking himself into his sweatpants. The towel is abandoned on the side table, a problem for later, and he climbs onto the sofa next to him, tucking his legs under himself. It's bad, Billy thinks, how badly he wants to reach out for more contact, to be held, kissed, pet.
Like a dog. He chuckles under his breath. ]
Needed that. [ He sniffs, meeting Gator's eyes. ] Thanks.
[ gator watches billy clean himself, the come from his thighs. he licks his bottom lip, then takes another drag from the vape. he blows the smoke upward, and as billy comes to him - like an animal, like one that's been kicked and requires positive attention - gator pats his lap. he then nods at him, making sure he gets the message: come closer. he places the vape on the side table, then turns back to billy eyebrows jumping, expectant.
needed that. gator nods again, this time in understanding. what's going on here is wrong, but the both of them only understand one thing: pain. it grows between them like wildflowers, stomped and torn apart under gator's boots. they are the thorns, creeping and crawling like vines around the very core of them. magnetic, electric, harmful. volatile. gator doesn't speak for a moment, still calling billy with his eyes. when his lips finally part, his tone isn't angry. ]
C'mere.
[ he wants to hold billy now, he wants to hear him cry. it isn't sexual, but there is power flowing through gator that he took what he wanted, billy liked it, and now they sit. there are no predispositions - gator is fully aware that he shouldn't have. he takes and takes and takes - and billy is the perfect toy. good for throwing around, good for fucking, there's no one else like him. gator's eyes lower, and he leans back, anticipating billy's body. this is what roy does. he beats the hell out of whoever he wants, then comforts. there will be no more pain here, until he gets riled up again and kicks in the teeth of anyone who looks at him wrong.
[ Billy'd tried to be strong, tried to pretend this wasn't something he needed, deep in his bones. He'd regretted it almost instantly, let everything fall apart around him in the process. It was futile that he'd come crawling back, tail between his legs, begging forgiveness and offering himself up. But Gator isn't angry now, Billy can tell, even in his current state. They understand each other, even though Billy doesn't feel like he even understands himself. He doesn't know Gator's life, his past, but there's probably similarities there somewhere. You don't just become what they are from nothing.
Letting out a shaky sigh, Billy scoots closer, crawling into Gator's lap despite the way his body aches in protest. His arms circle around him, holding him tight, burying his face against Gator's neck. He doesn't want to cry any more, but he can feel it building behind his eyes, in his throat. ]
'm sorry. [ He swallows, but his voice is breaking anyway, words still running together. ] I don't want it to be over.
[ gator allows billy to crawl into his lap, his arms wrapping around his back and holding him close. he can hear his voice snap, broken like a deer's neck under a boot. he's a thing - something gator can use. there are times when gator feels a tug, an urge, to protect him from anyone else. he is the only one allowed to hurt billy, only he is allowed to make his life miserable. he always rewards, and billy's in the middle of it, gator stroking his back, a deep shh escaping. he kisses the side of billy's neck, then his cheek.
he knows tears will come, and he'll let them. he cradles billy's head, bringing him ever closer. i don't want it to be over. gator nods, head against billy's, and he closes his eyes. this is what billy needs - someone to show him a hand and someone to give him love. as deranged as gator tillman is, there is something strangely interesting to him about billy. he doesn't know everything about him, but that could be easily remedied. billy could tell him, or he could find out. either way works.
as gator nuzzles billy's cheek with his nose, he kisses his jawline. he smiles, brushing billy's hair from his shoulder. leaning his chin in, he whispers against billy's ear: ]
Good, because I'll kill you if you do that again.
[ gator nuzzles billy again, kissing his shoulder. he holds him tighter, hands splayed against billy's spine. he rubs in slow circles, then up and down, soothing. shh, baby - he leans his head back, smiling, tracing hair from billy's eyes. ]
[ Gator's holding him, shushing him as he kisses him softly, and the dam within Billy breaks again. He trembles as he sobs against Gator's collar, fingers clutching handfuls of the back of his shirt.
He's never had the privilege of crying in front of anyone, not without repercussions. It's always been one of Neil's favorite ways of putting him down, and Gator does it too. It's strange to be comforted through it now, but in his sick, addled mind, this just proves how much they need one another. Billy's already broken, but when Gator breaks him, he can put him back together again, build him up stronger.
Gator whispers the threat so sweetly into his ear, and Billy shudders, whimpering into his neck. It chills him to the bone, most of all because he knows it's no exaggeration. It's not surprising, either. It's just the truth, one Billy feels he deserves. They're tied together now, in their own sick form of love, and there's only one way to sever it.
He raises his head to look at Gator when he speaks again, blinking away tears as he nods. Another deep, shuddering breath comes, and he meets Gator's gaze with watery eyes, sincere. ]
I understand. [ His voice is quiet, soft. ] I promise.
[ Then, to show he means it, Billy leans in to kiss Gator, chaste but lingering there, unwilling to pull away. ]
[ there is no escape now. gator has stood his ground, listening to billy sob against his shoulder. he weeps, and gator holds him, eyes unblinking as he stares forward, shh falling from his lips again. once billy has stopped crying, for the most part, he sits forward and gator nods. he smiles again, brushing tears from under billy's eyes with his thumbs. when he's kissed, mouths lingering, gator kisses him deeply - passionately, mouths opening as gator devours billy as if he's sucking his soul down from deep. he drinks in fear, love, pain, hate. when he parts from billy, breathless, he wipes a bit of saliva from billy's lip. ]
You're mine.
[ and in gator's mind, it's settled. he blinks at billy, then gives a nod again, as if it's alright for billy to respond. he's excited, dark eyes bright - he finally broke his pet enough for it to be loyal - his head tilts, and he kisses billy again, this time slow. he never closes his eyes, staring at billy. he wraps his arms around his waist. against billy's lips, a whisper: ]
[ Gator wipes his tears away, deepens the kiss, and Billy moans softly into his mouth, clutching at him like he's afraid to be let go. He is afraid, isn't he? Afraid to misstep, to either drive Gator away or simply bore him. He'd be so easy to discard, and they both know it. And they both know that Billy can't handle being without him now, too.
He only nods, the first time Gator says it: you're mine. To Billy, it begs the question - but are you mine, too? But then they're kissing again, Gator staring him down, Billy suddenly too afraid to close his eyes. He's afraid to know the answer. There is a hierarchy here: Billy the pet, Gator the master. He doesn't know if he's the only one, or one of many, as disposable as those stupid vape carts Gator never goes without. So he buries the question down, murmurs against his lips: ]
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itss open. im here.
[ Billy's so drunk he can barely stand, so he doesn't, sliding down to the floor in nearly the exact spot he'd been the last time he saw Gator Tillman. He'd told himself that it was for good, that he'd never stoop this low again. Now he feels even lower, worse than the dirt on the carpet, scum of the fucking earth.
Only he could be so damn worthless, so unlovable that the only person he felt he could cry out to for help is the one he'd been trying to heal from. Gator's a nightmare, a walking terror, and Billy can't even stay away from him after he'd finally convinced him to leave him be.
He curls in on himself, sobbing, grabbing handfuls of his own hair and twisting his fingers. More than anything, he still just wants to hurt. ]
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no. for once, gator tillman isn't out for violence immediately. no bloody teeth, no fists.
he approaches, again, no sudden movements. he leans down on his haunches in front of billy, head tilted as he watches him cry, clawing at himself. gator's eyes narrow, and he reaches out, grabbing billy by the wrist so he doesn't wrench out his hair. his grip is firm, but not enough to hurt. he pulls his arm away. he doesn't know what he's feeling right now - there are two urges, one to beat him until he's really crying, and the other is to put him in a warm shower. he's drunk, gator can smell the booze, but that makes no nevermind.
gator looks billy over, head to toe, before he stands up and places his hands on his hips. he purses his lips for a moment, trying to figure out which need he'll go with. after a moment, after consideration, one hand slides downward to offer for billy to get up. ]
Get up, shitass. You can't sit there cryin' all night.
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Gator grabs his wrist, and Billy tries to fight it for a second before letting him tug his arm away. He lets out another sob, humiliated at the very idea of anyone seeing him in such a state, much less Gator. But he'd asked for it, pleaded for it as best he could with clumsy fingers.
He doesn't raise his head until Gator tells him to get up, at which point he sniffles, nose wet, congested. His eyes are puffy, bloodshot, blinking away more tears and refusing to meet Gator's gaze. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Billy finally reaches out to take his hand, clutching it tight. His other hand presses against the wall as he shifts to try and stand, wobbly, like a goddamn baby deer. Weak and fuckin' helpless, that's what he is. ]
I'm so -- so fucked, man. F-Fuckin' -- sick.
[ His voice cracks as he leans back against the wall, still holding Gator's hand tight. The room is spinning, so he closes his eyes to try and stop it. ]
You're the only one I could even call. [ His words are slurring together, and he laughs. ] Ain't that just fuckin' sad?
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this is what it's like to care for someone, he figures, though there's still the itch to scratch he's fighting in the back of his mind. he wants to knock billy's head off his shoulders for this - wanting to kill himself, getting this drunk - but he knows he can't. there would be no point. billy hates himself enough. gator places his hands back on his hips, frowning. he takes in air through his nose, a sigh escaping the same way. he passes billy on the sofa, making his way to the kitchenette. he puts on a pot of cheap coffee - water, grounds, and it's on. he then returns to billy, back down on his haunches, looking up at him. ]
Coffee's on. You gonna puke?
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He sinks onto the sofa, some cheap secondhand find he'd picked up when he first moved out. Gator brushes stray curls out of his face, and pathetic is really the only way to describe how he feels. Starving for even the slightest bit of attention, only knowing how to find it when it's rotten. His knuckles rub at tired eyes, tears slowing but not stopping completely, sniffling to himself as Gator steps away to look through his cupboards.
It strikes him that Gator's one of the only people he's ever had in his apartment. Once against his wishes, and now in some -- what, begrudging attempt to keep him from driving his Camaro into the first thing he thinks could kill him?
Gator returns, and Billy stares at him again, bleary-eyed, unfocused. He rubs his nose with the back of his hand, shaking his head from side to side. ]
I'm okay. [ No, Billy, you're not. Try again. ] 'm not gonna puke.
[ He brings his knees up to his chest once more, leaning forward to hold himself loosely. His gaze has wandered past Gator now, toward the view of the street he can see from his window. It's not like Gator cares, but he can't stop himself from saying the words anyway, clumsy, syllables running into each other. ]
Got fired. Can't afford to leave now, gonna have to stay the winter.
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[ gator stands, swiftly, hand up to his face as he rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. his hip cocks, weight shifted, before he releases his eyes and gazes down at billy, jaw set. he isn't as disappointed as he is disgusted. billy allowing himself to become this fucking sloppy should be illegal. nevermind the drinking, the speeding - gator knows this is beyond that. his lips purse, and he shifts his jaw before he passes billy again to head into the kitchenette.
he pours billy a cup of black coffee, then brings it back, placing it on the small table beside the sofa. he strides to stand before billy, then nods at the coffee. his eyes narrow, and there it is again - a flash of red, his hands shaking for violence. billy let himself get this way - gator knows that he destroyed him, but billy was the one to call it quits - is unacceptable. his wrist tightens, and he doesn't know how long he can keep it under the water. it's splashing, fighting, trying to breathe. ]
Too fuckin' bad I have to see your ass around town, then. You gonna stay this fucked up? Drink the goddamn coffee.
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[ Because he'd gotten wasted. Because he was ashamed to go out in public looking the way he did, bruised and ugly and without any good excuse for it. It's hard to tell your boss you got in a bar fight when he likes you, let alone when you're already getting on his last nerve and he knows you're under twenty-one. So Billy just stopped showing up. Let the calls go to voicemail, including the one telling him not to bother coming back in.
He's only eighteen and he's pretty sure he's already fucked his life up beyond repair. Doomed to scraping by in this shithole apartment, shithole town, alone. Maybe he can find something else, but that still requires him to get his shit together enough to apply for jobs, interview, actually work instead of wallowing in here. Right now, it feels like an impossible task. ]
Mm. Sorry.
[ Sorry that he has to see him around, sorry for not drinking the coffee, sorry he'd dragged him here. Billy reaches out to take the mug, taking a couple sips with a sigh. It's not great, but that's what he gets for buying the cheap stuff. Paired with a couple cigarettes for breakfast, he doesn't usually notice it much. He'd like a smoke now, but he's pretty sure he's out and isn't willing to go digging through his pockets to see if he can find any.
Another sip, and he's back to looking at Gator again, itching to say something that'll please him but coming up short. ]
Thanks. For showin' up. [ He pauses to take another gulp from the mug, swallowing before he continues. ] I could suck you off. For the trouble.
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he wants to drag him from that fucking couch by the hair, he wants to sling him across the room, he wants to hit him until his hand goes numb, he wants to fuck him until they both can't feel any of this bullshit. whatever wins, wins. the boiling water can only take so much heat, and with that, gator unleashes it all. it's like the great roy tillman says: a hard man for hard times. gator takes a step forward, gazing down at billy with nothing but cold, dark eyes. his tongue, like a knife, stabs: ]
You're fuckin' pathetic, you know that? Sittin' there snifflin' like some girl pulled that pretty hair of yours. Is that it? You called me over here to watch you sit and cry?
[ and that's it, what snaps. he rears forward, backhanding billy across the face, hard. it's enough for the coffee to spill, it's enough for his hand to sting. he then slaps him again, chest rising and falling with the effort. he grabs billy by the hair, pulling him off of the couch and onto the floor. ]
Is this what you fuckin' want? Is this what you needed, huh?
[ for instruction, never taking pleasure in the act. ]
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Pathetic. The word rattles around in his head some more as he rolls himself onto his back, panting, staring up at Gator. The fury radiating from every part of him is clear to Billy now, and it feels right. Feels deserved. Like he doesn't know what to do with himself without someone breaking him down. ]
Yeah. That's what I fuckin' need.
[ It's sick. He'd had no right to call Gator sick for it when it's what he needs, now more than ever. The booze in his system dulls the pain a little, but not enough that it doesn't satisfy. For the first time in days, he feels something other than numb. Alive. And he knows he should stop talking while he's ahead, but his thoughts keep spilling out, slurred and slow. It's not like they won't keep Gator angry. ]
Shoulda never told you to leave, man.
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never taking pleasure in the act.
gator's cock jumps, and he knows it's wrong. he knows it's sick - just like billy called him, just like the twisted snakes that squeeze gator's mind. he's got sharpness in him, a cruel streak a mile wide. he's a gun, tongue the bullets. he watches billy suck his thumb, almost transfixed, mouth opening as his cock begins to get harder. it's obvious, his inseam growing, but he knows that billy might not want to. ]
Piece of trash. You're too goddamn pretty like this for your own fuckin' good. Do you know what you do to me, huh? Ridin' around town, flashin' that ass. You're a fuckin' danger to yourself. Babygirl, you wanted me, and you got me.
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Gator kneels, grips his jaw tight, and Billy grunts as he's slapped, over and over again. It stings, and he knows it'll be sore for days, down to his skull, but it feels right, too. Gator smiles, and Billy smiles back, dazed.
His thumb slides up from his jaw to his chin, over his lips and into Billy's mouth. Billy doesn't think, just sucks at it, heavy-lidded, red-rimmed eyes staring up at Gator as he berates him.
You're a fuckin' danger to yourself. That's the point of all of this, isn't it? The rush of being caught by him, of not knowing how far Gator will take things next. Billy hates himself for it, of course, but Gator's like any other addiction. Going without him is so much worse.
His tongue laves over Gator's thumb, to remind him of what else his mouth could be doing for him right now. Billy would probably be half-hard right now if he weren't so drunk, just from sucking his thumb, being pinned beneath him and told he's trash. Pathetic. But he got what he asked for. ]
Y'gonna show me my place? [ The words are garbled somewhat around Gator's thumb, Billy drooling a little in the process. ] I can take it. Need it.
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it's carnal, violence. bloody teeth to bloody teeth, kissing and rutting and having their way after the pain. it feels good, it feels right, and it feels as if this is something they share. sickness spreads sickness, just as addiction rattles the system and destroys shame. gator gets on his knees, unzipping, hard cock stiff in his hand as he nods at billy with his chin. ]
You wanna be shown your place? Roll over.
[ that's all this is, right? sex and pain. he hits billy, billy likes it, and then they fuck. it's a pavlovian urge, built up time after time. this is gator and billy, and this is their fucked up lives, the way they entangle. there is nothing good in their connection - pleasure, so much pleasure - but what it takes to get there is beyond reason. the brutality that grows between them is lacking sanity. billy, subhuman, and gator, his god. it gets him off, knowing in some diseased way that this is what he should be. what he's been molded to be. what everything has fallen down to. ]
You're my best girl.
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Gator's already so hard from it, too, and Billy stares for a moment as he takes himself in hand, licking his lips. But his mouth isn't what Gator wants, and Billy has no intention of trying to deny him anything tonight. He needs this, every painful inch of it, and they both know it.
So Billy takes one last look at Gator, cock in hand, before rolling over onto his stomach, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. He still feels like his head's underwater, dizzy and disoriented, but the lust building in him makes it easier to ignore. One hand reaches backward to tug at his waistband, lowering his sweats to his mid-thigh, no underwear beneath. ]
Fuck. [ He sways a little, repositioning himself to rest on his forearms, ass high in the air for him. ] This cunt's -- all for you.
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it'll be a tight fit without lubricant, but if billy wants hurt, gator will take it and swallow it deep down. he yanks his fingers from billy and then thrusts into him, arm around his waist. he looks like an animal - wild eyes as he ruts, hips slapping hips with enough force to bruise. ngh, ngh, ngh! sounds as gator fucks billy, every thrust issuing a groan of approval. ]
Fuck, babygirl. Does it hurt? Tell me it fuckin' hurts.
[ sick, twisted. there is something wrong with gator tillman, and he doesn't hide it from the world. violent and irritable with an itchy trigger finger, he knows how to take what he wants without apologizing, without asking for forgiveness. he ruts into billy roughly, his cockhead slamming billy's spot, but he must be tearing him apart. he wants billy to feel this for days, weeks, what they mean to each other. in his way, this is gator's love. his dedication. his loyalty. it's the tillman way. ]
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His head hangs down, forehead pressed against his arms as he listens to Gator stroking himself, his spit the only mercy Billy will get tonight. He wants it that way, because this should be punishing. He'd welcomed Gator back in with open arms, and he deserves to be shown what that means. His fingers press into him, just a little. Billy whines, wriggling his hips, and then they're gone.
They're quickly replaced with Gator's cock, pushing into him deep and forcing him open. Billy cries out under him, knows the pain would be too much to bear sober, but even now it's making him tremble. Gator's pace is immediately brutal, grunting with the force of each thrust, and Billy whimpers as tears spring to his eyes once again. But he doesn't want him to stop, not for a fucking second. ]
It hurts. [ His voice is cracking, whiny. ] Fuck, it hurts.
[ And yet he's moaning for it like a bitch in heat, muscles tensing involuntarily every time Gator pounds against his spot. Billy doesn't think he can come when he's this far gone, but he doesn't care. This is its own reward just as much as it is a punishment. He arches his back, groaning, drooling. ]
Needed this. [ He pants, struggling through the words as tears fall from his eyes. ] I'm - a sick fuckin' faggot.
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billy's a pretty thing, and if that makes gator a fucking faggot, though he knows he's isn't - so be it. he likes fucking him, likes making him his own. horrible, violent thoughts. sexual pain. hurt and tension and suffering. that's what this is about, what it all boils down to into nothing. gator knows he's wrong, but his body wins, the feeling incredible as he hears billy cry. ]
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm sick, huh? Is that what you like?
[ gator knows that billy isn't getting much pleasure out of this, but when gator slams into him, the build up growing within him, he squeezes harder. he's seeing stars, brutal and red and bleeding, before he throws his head back and comes. his back stiffens, a low groan issuing, come freely leaking from the head of his cock and into billy. he rides out his orgasm, the wet noise of his cock fucking more come into billy's ass turning him on, making him bite his lip until a prick of blood stains his teeth. ]
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Billy chokes out another sob as Gator speaks, nodding as best he can with his hand still wrapped around his throat. ]
Uh huh. F-Fuckin' -- love it.
[ Gator squeezes harder, and Billy feels faint, doesn't know if he can hold himself up much longer, thighs shaking. He wonders if Gator would keep going if he did pass out on him, but he hangs on. The least he can do is take it like a fuckin' man even if he isn't one, not really.
He can't decide if he's relieved or disappointed when Gator starts to come, hot and deep, seemingly endless. If nothing else it makes him wetter, moaning as Gator fucks him through it, milking every last bit of pleasure he can from Billy's body. But he knows when it's over and Gator leaves, his mood will only drop that much more. He doubts he'll even make it to his bedroom before he crashes, though. ]
F-Fuck, it's so full. Fuck...
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he hitches up his pants only so far, then walks to the bathroom to clean up. it doesn't take long, a wet towel and a rubdown, before he strides back into the living room, throwing the towel near billy's head. he works his pants up all the way, then buckles and zips. sitting on the sofa, gator pulls out his vape, taking a long drag. he tilts his head, watching billy on the floor, sweatpants still pulled down - a dripping mess from his ass of come and flecks of blood. he purses his lips. ]
You gonna lay there all night?
[ it's cruel, mean, but isn't that what billy wants? gator's eyes narrow as he drags again, then he pats the seat next to him on the sofa. his fingers curl, scratching it with his stubby nails, beckoning billy to come to him like some sort of animal. he licks his bottom lip, chin jutting at him with a nod. ]
Come here.
[ it's deranged, how much this works for gator, how much it seems to work for billy. they've become pain and pleasure, hate and lust, love and loss. they are beyond what each other needs, beyond what the other can take. there's a twisted part of gator that does love billy - all of his needs are met, all of his pain is sated - as the idea of losing him drives him to madness, but most everything about billy does. ]
Come here.
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He lies there, dazed and trying to collect his mess of half-baked thoughts into something that makes sense. He wants Gator, that much is obvious, but has this convinced him to keep coming back after Billy shoved him away the last time? His thoughts drift to their last encounter, tears in Gator's eyes as he'd pushed him up against the wall.
And then a wet towel lands near his head, brought back to the present by Gator's voice above him. Billy pushes himself up to his hands and knees, grabbing the towel so he can clean himself up. He winces a little as he swipes at his hole, sore and dripping, well aware of how it'll only feel worse later when he's hungover. He takes his time cleaning the mess from his thighs, his balance unsteady.
Gator's calling to him like a dog, and Billy knows that's all he is, an animal. By the time he repeats it, Billy's getting to his feet, tucking himself into his sweatpants. The towel is abandoned on the side table, a problem for later, and he climbs onto the sofa next to him, tucking his legs under himself. It's bad, Billy thinks, how badly he wants to reach out for more contact, to be held, kissed, pet.
Like a dog. He chuckles under his breath. ]
Needed that. [ He sniffs, meeting Gator's eyes. ] Thanks.
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needed that. gator nods again, this time in understanding. what's going on here is wrong, but the both of them only understand one thing: pain. it grows between them like wildflowers, stomped and torn apart under gator's boots. they are the thorns, creeping and crawling like vines around the very core of them. magnetic, electric, harmful. volatile. gator doesn't speak for a moment, still calling billy with his eyes. when his lips finally part, his tone isn't angry. ]
C'mere.
[ he wants to hold billy now, he wants to hear him cry. it isn't sexual, but there is power flowing through gator that he took what he wanted, billy liked it, and now they sit. there are no predispositions - gator is fully aware that he shouldn't have. he takes and takes and takes - and billy is the perfect toy. good for throwing around, good for fucking, there's no one else like him. gator's eyes lower, and he leans back, anticipating billy's body. this is what roy does. he beats the hell out of whoever he wants, then comforts. there will be no more pain here, until he gets riled up again and kicks in the teeth of anyone who looks at him wrong.
there's no difference, is there? ]
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Letting out a shaky sigh, Billy scoots closer, crawling into Gator's lap despite the way his body aches in protest. His arms circle around him, holding him tight, burying his face against Gator's neck. He doesn't want to cry any more, but he can feel it building behind his eyes, in his throat. ]
'm sorry. [ He swallows, but his voice is breaking anyway, words still running together. ] I don't want it to be over.
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he knows tears will come, and he'll let them. he cradles billy's head, bringing him ever closer. i don't want it to be over. gator nods, head against billy's, and he closes his eyes. this is what billy needs - someone to show him a hand and someone to give him love. as deranged as gator tillman is, there is something strangely interesting to him about billy. he doesn't know everything about him, but that could be easily remedied. billy could tell him, or he could find out. either way works.
as gator nuzzles billy's cheek with his nose, he kisses his jawline. he smiles, brushing billy's hair from his shoulder. leaning his chin in, he whispers against billy's ear: ]
Good, because I'll kill you if you do that again.
[ gator nuzzles billy again, kissing his shoulder. he holds him tighter, hands splayed against billy's spine. he rubs in slow circles, then up and down, soothing. shh, baby - he leans his head back, smiling, tracing hair from billy's eyes. ]
Do you understand me?
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He's never had the privilege of crying in front of anyone, not without repercussions. It's always been one of Neil's favorite ways of putting him down, and Gator does it too. It's strange to be comforted through it now, but in his sick, addled mind, this just proves how much they need one another. Billy's already broken, but when Gator breaks him, he can put him back together again, build him up stronger.
Gator whispers the threat so sweetly into his ear, and Billy shudders, whimpering into his neck. It chills him to the bone, most of all because he knows it's no exaggeration. It's not surprising, either. It's just the truth, one Billy feels he deserves. They're tied together now, in their own sick form of love, and there's only one way to sever it.
He raises his head to look at Gator when he speaks again, blinking away tears as he nods. Another deep, shuddering breath comes, and he meets Gator's gaze with watery eyes, sincere. ]
I understand. [ His voice is quiet, soft. ] I promise.
[ Then, to show he means it, Billy leans in to kiss Gator, chaste but lingering there, unwilling to pull away. ]
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You're mine.
[ and in gator's mind, it's settled. he blinks at billy, then gives a nod again, as if it's alright for billy to respond. he's excited, dark eyes bright - he finally broke his pet enough for it to be loyal - his head tilts, and he kisses billy again, this time slow. he never closes his eyes, staring at billy. he wraps his arms around his waist. against billy's lips, a whisper: ]
You're mine.
[ until death do us part. ]
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He only nods, the first time Gator says it: you're mine. To Billy, it begs the question - but are you mine, too? But then they're kissing again, Gator staring him down, Billy suddenly too afraid to close his eyes. He's afraid to know the answer. There is a hierarchy here: Billy the pet, Gator the master. He doesn't know if he's the only one, or one of many, as disposable as those stupid vape carts Gator never goes without. So he buries the question down, murmurs against his lips: ]
I'm yours. All yours.
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