I saved up all my pennies and I gave them to this special guy

[fabricatings]

He's not feeling himself. Not right. Something's scratching, clawing, and it's not because of the pain he imagines. It's not because of his life. It's because he needs something--anything. No oxy? Vicodin. No vicodin? Tramadol. Hydromorphone. Pethidine. All that mattered was that they were opioids and they were strong.

He tricks himself into thinking he can last at least a day with one pill. Briggs is convinced someone stole his tranquilizers, and even rounds on Mike. That's what sets it off--junkies aren't exactly ones for a stable environment. Briggs and Mike are both paranoid, powerful individuals who know how the other operates. It starts off as a fist-fight, Briggs claiming Mike took his drugs for drug money. Mike isn't exactly calm when he uproots the small table and begins yelling right back. The fact that he was thinking about it never comes up, but he goes for a walk.

He's still feeling it, the scratching inside his head. Like an insect, wanting to crawl out of his ear. And on top of that, he swears his gut feels like it's being stabbed. Like that knife is being sliced into him, over and over again. His lip is bleeding but he doesn't care--that pain is nothing compared to the flare in his abs, or the way even his teeth seem to be on fire instead of their usual numb state.

It's late by the time he tracks down his dealer after the other doesn't answer his texts. Slams him against the wall, demanding what he wants. Of course his dealer is out. Turns out, by the time Mike has actually beaten the shit out of the guy, the dealer is right. He's out.

"I know a guy, though," He says. "Hangs out at so-and-so a bar."

Mike's going to have to work for his meal, it seems, and he gives one last kick in the ribs to his dealer, tells him pleasantly he'll see him tomorrow and he'd better have some oxy squared away just for him.

To the bar he goes. He looks like shit--hasn't shaved, long hair--but he also doesn't care. All he cares about is the scratching, the pain--he needs that to go away. He just needs to track down who the fuck his dealer was talking about.

Comments

[47redbirds]

He may as well have had the drugs thrown in his face again, but Mike doesn't respond with anger. His brows knit, mouth still open, and he looks halfway to being positively wrecked as he looks up at the other's face, his own legs in the air, body straining against the strange position, sweat beginning to bead, and yet he felt cold, still.

"I don't want this," He manages, though the way the other is stroking his cock, the way the other is at a steady pace. Despite the pain, despite the fact that he mentally didn't want it? Physically, he was half-hard despite him saying this. "I don't want to do this--Colin, please. Please stop."

[heroeswork]

"But part of you does," Billy said on a strange, rising note that broke into a small laugh. His fingers knew exactly where to touch, finding just the right spot to stroke. Encouraging that arousal. Coaxing the other's body to betray itself. There was no better show of skill and power.

"When we're through, you're going to see just how much you wanted it." It was one of the greatest lies society had created. Somewhere people got it into their heads that arousal meant consent. That if part of the body was into it, it just be an invitation. One that Billy was so very glad to remind people of. Because when faced with something that truly sickened and terrified them, and still they got aroused, well...rationality had no place in that equation.

[47redbirds]

"I don't--" But his body is saying otherwise, under Billy's hands. It's insane, and part of Mike wonders why, exactly, Billy's good. Because he is, and knows all the right places to stroke and tease. Better than Paige, and that thought alone makes him want to hurl.

He's dizzy, suddenly, and he's fairly certain it's just from the entire experience and not drugs and whatnot--his hips rise despite himself, right into the touch, and he lets out a throat growl, as if reprimanding himself.

"Fuck you," He managed. He's just repeating himself, he knows, but all of this--it's too much to handle, and he lets a gasp out from breath he didn't realize he was holding.

[heroeswork]

Billy just watched, a smug smirk on his lips, as Mike fought and squirmed. He looked so very pleased with himself. The truncated protest, the hissed out words. It had taken so long for the first cracks to appear, but now Mike was crumbling. Rapidly. The right application of pleasure could make anyone weak.

"So you've said," Billy sounded amused. "Maybe another night, I'll let you." For as much as he loved to control others, handing it over sometimes was just as thrilling.

Billy's fingers started to curl inside Mike. Finding that exact, sensitive spot. Watching carefully with each thrust of his fingers. The hand on Mike's cock was one thing, but if Mike had never been with a man, he had no idea with being touched in such a spot could feel like.

[47redbirds]

Another night? Another night.

He supposes he's supposed to feel relief, something akin to that. That he's not going to die. In a weird way, it makes him feel even worse, even though his body is telling him he should feel good--he's flushing, sweating, and even the tips of his ears are red from what's happening.

He can't say anything, but the small growl bubbling up in his throat says it all. He's trying to glare, trying to show some sort of defiance, but---

--But Billy hit something and all the rage was knocked out of him, replaced with shock and surprise. There was a spot and he swears he sees stars, his entire body bucking with the touch, mouth dropping open. The growl turns into far less of an agitated sound--more of a groan, tight and soft and completely unnatural to Mike.

"What--"

[heroeswork]

Mike's reaction pulls a triumphant laugh from Billy. It wasn't just those hips, but that sound. It sent a visible shiver through the man. That's what he wanted. Mike had started to crack and now those cracks were leaking.

"Never felt that before?" Billy asked, sounding genuinely sympathetic. "That's such a shame. Every man should know what it feels like, or else you're missing half the fun..."

His fingers started to work harder and faster, a gradual build. Every single thrust of his fingers brushed that spot now that he'd found it.

[47redbirds]

"Colin--" it had meant to be a warning. Meant to be a lot more full if anger than it came out. He keeps his eyes closed because he doesn't want to look at the other, doesn't want to see that self satisfied look on his face.

Mike likes it. Physically, he can't help himself. There's that spot Colin's fingers are pushing and he can't help but rise his hips. "Fuck," he manages, and let's out a gasp.

He's confused. Confused and angry and his lips are parted, whole body shaking. It's all he can do to reign himself in. He doesn't want to come--just wants billy to do whatever he's going to do. Just Let him be.

[heroeswork]

Colin couldn't wait any longer. He'd held off this long, and now after such an uphill battle he worried Mike might pop too soon. But was that shaking out of need or something more raw? He didn't want to take a chance at being wrong.

He pulled his hand away from Mike's cock, the other continuing to work, not leaving that spot alone for more than a moment at a time. He wanted to drive Mike as wild as possible. Meanwhile, he hastily unbuttoned his own pants, shoving them down around his thighs. He spit into his hand and slathered it over himself. It wasn't much, but Mike hadn't given him reason to be kind.

In one move, he pulled his hand free and replaced his fingers with his own cock. Slowly, he pushed into Mike, letting out a deeply satisfied moan, his head thrown back.

[47redbirds]

Mike lets out a choked yell. It's not exaggerated but it's loud. It's unexpected and mike is so very close to a whimper, afterwards.

Colin is inside him, pushing in, and as the other groans Mike is suddenly wishing the pain pulls dealt in making him completely numb instead. Or maybe fucked with his memory.

But he's erect. Mike is hard, long hair in his face, sweat shining and looking half like he wants to murder the other and half like he wants to tell the other to go harder.

He needs to go back to before. When he could smell that place with the birds. He's desperate to go there, in his mind--or anywhere not here.

[heroeswork]

Billy let out another satisfied sound, seeing Mike's face. That's what he lived for. When they thought the might actual want it. When hormones and just the right touches combined, it did such great things to trick a man's mind. If it felt so good, maybe they did want it. How could it feel good if part of him didn't secretly want it?

He was already thinking over what to do next. He couldn't just kick Mike out and be done with it. He was too good to let slip away. He already wanted a real and proper hunt. Trapping his victim rather than leading him with bait. Let him go. Feed a line to Kelly. Use that sleazebag to find Mike again. Follow him...just thinking about him got him even more excited.

But he made himself not rush. Why ruin what he already had? He stopped once his hips met Mike's, resting for a moment. "You're so tight..." he breathed out, leaning closer. With Mike's legs up over his shoulders, he couldn't get as close as he wanted. But it left Mike so delightfully exposed.

[47redbirds]

Mike's legs are already nearly numb from their position, but he's barely paying attention when he feels Colin completely in him, endorphins and hormones flooding him and his brain, causing him to actually let out a strange, hitched whimper the moment the other mentions he's right.

"Oh, god, t--this is fucked up, this isn't what--" he can't finish the sentence. This IS what he wants, according to his body. His face is pinched, pained physically and panting.

"I don't... Just..."

[heroeswork]

"I know..." Billy said, caring and soft. His hand found Mike's cheek, caressing it gently. He let out a soft sound, just enjoying the heat around him. "You didn't think it found feel..." another sound, before he practically moaned out, "good."

With a very focused and concentrated effort, he started to move his hips. Taking it easy and slow. As if he were being considerate of Mike's inexperience. He wanted to break in his new toy, mold it, not damage it. At least not permanently. "Just like that..." he said, more breath than anything, punctuating the words with a low moan.

[47redbirds]

He starts rocking against the other the moment the other slows down. It's not him, he tries to tell himself. It's not his body, it's the fact that the other is doing just the right thing, and his dick is pressing up against whatever the other had pressed before.

His eyes slip closed--not scrunched, not pained like before, though. His mouth is open but it's not in surprise or shock. His brows knit together and his breath comes out in ragged gasps, the pit of his stomach filled with nervousness and fear, but the rest of the body ignoring it.

Mike isn't giving in, he tells himself, even though he can't really speak anymore, not with the other moaning in his ear, not with how strangely encouraging the other was. His hands flex only to curl into fists, almost unsure what to do with them since he can't quite move from the position.

This was fucked. This was fucked, but it was starting to feel good...

[heroeswork]

Billy started to settle. Trying to find just the right position. Soon, he pulled Mike's legs down around his hips. It caused those track pants and underwear to be pushed up onto his thighs. But Billy didn't care. His pace increased, and he was able to lean closer. Panting harder. Falling into it.

Mike wasn't fighting anymore. He was accepting his position. A hard won fight and he finally surrendered. And Billy was rewarding him for it. Making him feel good. Kissing over his chest and neck. His hands wandered over Mike's torso, not yet returning to touch his cock. One hand found its way back up to Mike's throat, fingers ghosting over it before his hand gripped it. Not yet squeezing, but a threat of sorts.

[47redbirds]

Mike gasps as those hands move down his chest and back up--he grazes over one of his scars and Mike immediately tenses, only to relax and inhale sharply once hands are dragged over his nipples.

He wants this to stop. Mike's still trying to tell himself that, and he's visibly biting down on the left side of his lip. He's biting down pretty hard, jaw set with determination and Billy's hand moves to his neck and he lets out a loud, grunting noise of protest, fingers flexing on his hands and trying to squirm away. He can't, not with his legs no around the other's waist, not curled around Billy despite Mike's wishes.

He can't even speak.

[heroeswork]

Still protesting, even when he couldn't speak? Anything that made Mike protest, even in his current state, needed to be investigated and abused. Drag him into exactly what he didn't want.

So Billy moved back, so he could focus his attention on the movement of his hips. And getting both hands around Mike's throat. He pounded harder and faster, as his hands slowly squeezed. The entire truck had started to shift with his movements, if only slightly, but the time he cut off Mike's air. Watching him intently the entire time.

[47redbirds]

The other is harder, faster, and Mike can barely keep up with what's going on in his brain as Colin ups his pace and pressure. It's hard for Mike to even think about what the other's doing until those hands start to squeeze.

He starts protesting again, of course--even manages a 'no' in between all of the action, mercilessly pounded into the car seat. He can hear the smack of the other's hips, the snap when he pushes out only to push back in again, the wetness around his ass thanks to sweat and spit but it's still not enough.

Then that right spot on his neck, the right amount of pressure is applied and Mike lets out a strange, half-frightened half turned on cry. He can smell it again, the earth, the dirt, the rain. Something else happens.

Mike feels amazing.

Hips arch into it, not quite greedy but strangely meeting the other, even as his hands jerk to try to claw out of the duct tape. His toes are starting to curl, too, becoming less and less about how much he doesn't want it and more about the strange sensation coupled by the lack of oxygen. Like he's floating, even if he's being fucked and fucked hard.

He opens his eyes, wide and staring not at Billy but almost through him as he's quickly close to coming, mouth in a soft o as he nearly stops making any sound at all. There's an odd place in his head, and he's found it. Like he's in sort of strange part of his brain he never knew before. A different plane.

And it all felt so good.

[heroeswork]

Billy seems to have forgotten about Mike. That there was a person beneath him. He was riding high on his own bliss. Feeling the desperate convulsions of the throat beneath his fingers as the other struggled for breath. The responding spasms around his cock. Each breath carried a sound of utter delight.

He leaned all his weight on those hands, refusing to let Mike breathe, as his hips grew more erratic. He controlled every last inch of his captive. Held that life in his hands. If he didn't let up, Mike could very easily black out. And soon after his body would start giving up. All because of the placement of his hands.

That knowledge, that power, overwhelmed him. He squeezed even harder, his hips jerking hard as he buried himself deep inside Mike. With a ragged cry, he came incredibly hard, his final thrusts rocking the entire truck.

[47redbirds]

Mike came, too, barely behind the other. It wasn't because of the way Billy buries himself in deep--no, it's the way all of that oxygen causes him to lapse and for a brief moment he sees nothing, vision growing spotty and suddenly he blows.

He doesn't really snap out of it, not right away, but his eyes are bleary with something--not quite tears, but close, either relieved, exhausted, stressed or all three.

His breathing is more than heavy and ragged, and it's more than a thin layer of sweat--Mike is left nearly soaking wet, trying to get himself to breathe and not feel like he's going to die. He still does.

The truck has stopped moving, but Mike still feels like the entire room is spinning. Billy's hands loosen just enough to get the long haired man to start to cough and sputter, letting his legs ease up on the other's hips. He hadn't even realized he'd pulled the other closer.

[heroeswork]

Billy settled back into the driver's side, pulling out as he let out a contented sigh. He let go of Mike's throat completely and fell against the door. His head tipped back and for a moment, he was completely and utterly content. Looking for all the world like a junkie who'd just a hit of the highest grade possible after itching for it for far too long.

Why did he ever let himself wait for months? Why couldn't he let himself have this every week?

Still floating high, he slowly dug into his jacket pockets. He produced a small bag of ten little round pills. He held them up into the light so Mike could see if he were paying attention. More than the cash in his pocket was meant to buy, even at Kelly's prices. "For your troubles," he said, still a little dreamy and breathless. And he shoved the bag into Mike's pocket.

[47redbirds]

While Billy is sated, Mike feels a variety of sensations--most of them being absolute dread and shame. He feels like he's burning, but it's not because of how physically hot things had been--it was more than embarassment, too.

He liked it.

Mike Warren had actually liked it, and he sits up as best as he can with his hands covered in duck tape, wincing as he moves his shoulder a certain way. It hurt to breathe, still, the pain like residue from a pipe lingering. He doesn't bother to hide the wince, trying to calm himself down. It's numbness, really, that he receives once he's done panicking. Absolute numbness.

In his state he's able to see the pills. Able to count them, too, but he doesn't dare state that it's too much. It's more than he paid for and after all of this, he needs them. Desperately.

"...What are you going to do?" He says finally, at a loss for words.

[heroeswork]

Billy doesn't answer. He doesn't even seem to hear. He's too focused on getting his own pants situated. He moved with a sort of lethargy that contentment breeds, wanting to linger there and enjoy every moment of it. Slowly, he reached over to assist Mike. Not to free him, but to push his pants back up into place, more or less. His fingers trailed over the other's hips, as if considering doing more. Reluctant to let this one go. He fought so very hard...

Finally, Billy pulled himself away. He shoved open his door and slipped out of the truck. He slammed it shut behind him. He took his time crossing around the front of the truck, his gaze fixed on the windshield the whole time even though it was too dark to see through it. Coming around to Mike's side of the truck, he pulled the knife from his pocket, flipping it open. To have it ready.

He yanked open the door. Hard. Not seeming to worry if the jolt or shock of being dragged by his hands hurt the other. He pulled it open far enough that Mike was hauled completely from the truck, to the gravel they parked on. And for a moment, Billy just stood there. One hand on the the door, the other holding the knife, watching Mike.

[47redbirds]

He's yanked because of the car door, arms feeling like they're momentarily going to fall out of their sockets before his bare back scrapes along the cement, painful and almost road rash worthy, had he been going faster. He doesn't cry out for help but he does look surprised, the skidding enough to shock him out of what had happened.

The fact that Billy had a knife was all he could focus on, not the whole fact that if Billy gave him the pills which meant he was probably going to be released--or he'd tell himself--but the fact that there was a knife in the person that had just flat out raped him's hands.

No.

"What are you doing?"

[heroeswork]

Billy stood over Mike for a moment longer, just watching him. Deciding. He could let Mike go, or he could take Mike somewhere else. Keep this going for a bit longer. No, he decided. If he let Mike go, he would have a chance to let that need build up again. Then there'd be a true and honest hunt. And he could feel it all over again. Fresh from having to wait.

He stepped toward Mike, knife gripped in his hand. He grabbed the other's bound wrists and sliced through the tape that held him to the door, leaving his wrists still bound together. He just let go, not bothering to help Mike up.

"You're leaving," Billy said simply, before folding up the knife. With nothing else, he started around to the driver's side again.

[47redbirds]

Mike is left with a stinging feeling on his rear and the shocked feeling of abandonment. He wasn't dead--no, he wasn't dead, Mike is assured once the knife is folded that he wouldn't die. Not by Billy.

Though part of him is unsure even as the other moves back to his car. He has pain, pain everywhere, most of it emotional he's feeling--physically, he's nearly numb. It feels like he's nearly numb, at least, though he knows that's not the case. He's probably bleeding, but he'll do an assessment later.

Right now, he watches stiffly from the ground as Billy gets into the car and drives away. He has the pills. That's all that matters, he tells himself. That's all that needs to matter. He takes one, though, dryswallowing it with ease. He still had the first one in his system, sure, but it was all too painful. Mike odesn't need an escape, he needs a temporary cure. Just until he gets his head back on straight.

For now, he walks.