bouncypickle

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when I miss playing Veilguard for the first time...

[bouncypickle]

Lesbian KN dealing with annoying men and kissing each other

The newest recruit has been buzzing around Krueger like an annoying little insect. Nikto watches the kid follow Krueger at her heels, constantly jabbering. His incessant presence is getting on Nikto's last nerve.

The fact that Krueger hasn't scared the little pissant off has nothing to do with Nikto's sour mood.

The gunfire has finally ended, the last enemy taken down by Krueger and her karambit. Before Nikto has a chance to talk to Krueger, the annoying recruit cuts in front of her.

Krueger has her netting flipped up over her helmet. She's smoking a cigarette as she pats down the dead enemy for anything useful. The recruit squats down beside her like he's welcome. Nikto stands above him and seethes.

“You're really pretty,” he says to Krueger, “You should show your face more often.”

Krueger looks up at Nikto so quick the young man doesn't even notice. A smirk curls at the corner of Krueger's mouth. She reaches up to pluck her cigarette from her lips and Nikto is distracted by her hands. Her fingers are long and slender, her nails freshly trimmed. Her gaze pins the recruit in place.

“You think I'm pretty?”

The recruit stammers at the intensity of Krueger's attention.

“Yeah,” he chuckles awkwardly, “You're gorgeous.”

Nikto almost snorts in dismay. Krueger is attractive but she's hardly gorgeous. Her hair is cropped short against her scalp, her eyebrows are unplucked. Her nose is crooked from being broken. Her jawline is sharp. Her cheeks gaunt. Nikto could stare at her for hours and never get bored. This kid doesn't know anything.

“Oh?” Krueger feigns interest. She finally cleans her knife, wiping the blood carelessly onto her pants, “Which one is it? I am pretty or I am gorgeous?”

The kid's eyes stay watching Krueger's knife as she tucks it away. He gulps.

“Both?”

Krueger stands, “You are blocking my friend.”

The kid shoots to his feet alongside Krueger. When he glances behind himself and spots Nikto, he jumps. He pulls his gun closer to his chest to shield his body. His face pales. His eyes go wide.

“You're in my way.”

“Sorry, ma'am! I'll just–” and he hurries away.

Nikto scoffs at his retreat; Krueger chuckles.

“Why do you lead him on? He's a fool.”

“He entertains me,” Krueger meets Nikto's gaze and smiles. Her front tooth is chipped. Her lips are chapped. Nikto wants to kiss the smirk off her face, “Why? Are you jealous?”

“Of a twerp hounding after me like a dog? Not a chance.”

“I meant, are you jealous he has my attention instead of you?”

Nikto growls “Why should I give a fuck?”

Krueger just hums a non-committal response, knowing such an aloof answer will only piss Nikto off more. Her expression stays smug and annoying.

“Come to my room tonight,” Nikto tells her.

Krueger sucks the final drag from her cigarette before responding. She blows the smoke into Nikto's face as she stomps the butt end of her cigarette into the ground.

“Maybe. Or maybe I have plans already.”

Fed up, Nikto grabs Krueger by the front of her shirt and hauls her forward. Close enough she can feel the heat of Nikto's breath.

“Don't play with me.”

“Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?”

Her voice is lilting and teasing. Nikto knows she's being mocked. So she shoves Krueger back a step and pushes past her, fed up.

When they finally return to base, Nikto watches Krueger leave with the recruit. She's annoyed but also tired. If a chase is what Krueger wants, she won't get one like this. Nikto doesn't care if Krueger plays with her food, as long as she doesn't eat him.

Nikto's fingers curl into a fist at her side.

She refuses to glance Krueger's direction, knowing that's what she wants. Still when Nikto strides past Krueger and her little pet, she can't help herself but look. Krueger is leaning back against the wall, letting the recruit into her personal space, letting him light her cigarette for her. She's smiling in that manipulative way she does. Her insincerity is so obvious to anyone who knows her. This recruit is eating it up. So eager to get his dick wet he doesn't see the red flags Krueger wears with honor.

After Nikto enters the building, she stops. She wonders how far Krueger is willing to go. If she's trying to get under Nikto's skin, she's already succeeded. Still Nikto knows that Krueger is never the one to back down first.

With a sigh, Nikto turns back around.

“There aren't a lot of other women here,” the recruit is saying to Krueger, “None as sexy as you anyway.”

Nikto wants to slap the kid and she isn't even the one being hit on.

Krueger's response is flat and unimpressed, “You flatter me.” 

Perhaps she is less entertained than she would like Nikto to think.

When Nikto steps back outside, Krueger spots her immediately. She perks up, pretending to be interested in the recruit and his petulant postering. She even lays a hand on the kid's shoulder, pretending to fix his tactical vest.

“You're cute,” Krueger lies.

The kid gets flustered, opening his mouth to reply before Nikto cuts him off.

“Back off,” Nikto demands.

The kid gives Nikto an offended look, “What's your problem? We're just chatting.”

Krueger's brown eyes are watching Nikto's every move, challenging her. Nikto reaches up and pulls her helmet and mask off. Her face is mutilated, acidic burns cover one half of her face, her black hair only grows on one side, shoulder length and full of split ends. She growls with her teeth. The recruit goes pale, nervous.

He's not scared enough.

So Nikto reaches out and grabs him by the throat. Her hand is big enough to wrap around his neck nicely.

“I said, back off,” Nikto repeats, “She's mine.”

Understanding dawns on the recruit's face. He glances at Krueger, maybe seeking help, but all he finds is a sadistic smugness that reflects Krueger's true nature.

“Sorry! I didn't know,” he tries.

Nikto shoves him away, “Go.”

She doesn't watch the recruit leave. Instead Nikto crowds Krueger up against the wall. She grabs her face and kisses her with violence. Krueger only responds with a lazy lap of her tongue across Nikto's teeth. Nikto doesn't bite it but she wants to.

When she breaks apart from the kiss, Nikto squeezes Krueger by her throat.

“Stop playing with me.”

Krueger only smirks, “But winning feels so good.”

Nikto kisses Krueger again so she'll shut the fuck up.

[bouncypickle]

"are you normal about-" no I'm an insane pervert

[bouncypickle]

giving the mutuals a mango 🥭

[bouncypickle]

I am known as transgender

[bouncypickle]

Territorial (Krueger/Nikto)

[bouncypickle]

Stranger Things s1 AU where Barb and Billy get sucked into the Upside Down together and they are both gay

Barb likes music. She doesn’t really care about what’s cool or what the other kids are listening to. Her mom thinks she likes Billy Joel. Nancy says she prefers pop music but she secretly likes Barb’s collection of Woodstock inspired tapes better. She knows all the words to Janis Joplin’s Ball and Chain. Barb smiles whenever she thinks about Nancy singing into her hairbrush, giving her best impersonation of Janis’ creaky voice.

Under her bed in a shoe box Barb decorated with colorful paper, she has tapes she keeps to herself. Those she doesn’t share with Nancy. Barb listens to them when she’s alone, trying to study but unable to focus. Her mind lingers on thoughts of Nancy’s soft smile, the freckles that bridge her nose, the way she makes Barb feel seen and also so completely overlooked. Barb knows she’s not like other girls.

When Nancy talks about boys, about Steve Harrington’s cute smile and his even cuter butt, Barb feels like she’s missing something. See, Barb doesn’t care about boys like Steve Harrington or the new school heartthrob Billy Whatever. Her eyes don’t wander to the gym shorts Steve wears during practice like Nancy’s, she isn’t swooning over the California sunkissed skin and blonde hair of the new boy like everyone else. Barb stops herself, never lets herself look, because the only thing that’s ever caught her attention like that are the femine curves, the cute dresses, the lipgloss sparkling smiles of other girls.

Barb knows people think it’s wrong.

She’s smart, though, objectively speaking. She doesn’t care if the other kids in school make fun of her, call her names. Sometimes it feels like they knew even before she did, as if Barb has a scarlet letter sewn to her chest. Not an A but an L. Barb feels like no matter how hard she tries, she just can’t act like something she isn’t. She’s a smart girl, though, so she knows how dangerous life can be for people like her. Particularly, people like her in a backwater town of bigots like Hawkins, Indiana.

So Barb pretends as best she can and only lets herself swoon over pretty girls when she’s alone, listening to love songs.

Barb only agreed to go to Steve’s party with Nancy because she was worried about her friend. She has no interest in drinking with a bunch of pompous douches like Steve Harrington and his friends. Barb also doesn’t want Nancy to leave her behind. Sometimes it feels like Nancy is the only light in her life. Barb doesn’t pine for Nancy, not really, because she knows Nancy will never see her that way. Still, Barb doesn’t want to lose Nancy from her life because she’s too much of a prude to go to one party.

Barb sits by the pool, alone. The party has been about as fun as she expected. Tommy and Carol are here. Billy is too even though Steve had apparently not invited him. They almost got into a fight but Nancy convinced Steve to calm down and Tommy and Carol convinced Billy to drink beers with them. Barb finds their toxic male posturing to be so predictable and overdone. The two would probably get along if their egos weren’t reliant on people knowing about the size of their--

“Hey, want a beer?”

Barb blinks, startled out of her thoughts. Billy Harvgrove is sitting on the edge of the pool, jeans shoved up his calves and feet in the water. He’s holding up a can of beer in offering. To her. Barb can’t think of two words Billy has ever said to her before now.

“I don’t drink,” she tells him.

He snorts, cracks open his beer, “That’s boring.”

“No, I just happen to enjoy keeping all of my brain cells,” she shoots back.

Billy tips his head back when he laughs. He must be drunk or something, otherwise he wouldn’t be caught dead talking to her. 

“Ouch,” he sips his drink, “The hell are you doing at a party then? You just come here to mope in some rich dude’s pool by yourself?”

Barb scowls, “Why are you talking to me?”

Billy rolls his eyes, gestures over his shoulder, “They’re all screwing each other. If I had known this was that kind of party, I would have brought a date.”

And I wouldn’t have come, Barb thinks to herself, sighing.

“So?” Billy prompts, like he’s waiting for Barb to answer a question she’s pretty sure he didn’t ask. She scrunches up her face, peers over her glasses at him. He grins, “How about it, Red? Wanna, you know? You and me?” 

Barb guffaws, “What? Why would I ever do that with you?”

He laughs too, “Damn, you really know how to break a guy’s heart.”

“That’s not funny,” Barb shoots back, even though she’s still chuckling, “What if I thought you were serious? That’s how you hurt a girl's feelings, you know.”

Billy rolls his eyes, “Please. You should be so lucky.”

“Oh right,” Barb snaps, “Because you’re every girl’s dream. Who doesn’t love the stereotypical bad boy who's secretly just an asshole with mommy issues?”

“Damn,” Billy smiles, shakes his head, “You’re a bitch.”

Barb scowls. Her face flushes in anger. She has a vicious retort on the tip of her tongue but Billy speaks again before she can say it.

“I respect that,” Billy continues, “Everyone here is so damn boring. No one says anything they’re thinking.”

“That’s because they aren’t,” Barb huffs.

Billy drinks down the rest of his beer, tosses the can over his shoulder like he doesn’t have a care in the world where it ends up. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” he points out suddenly, “What are you doing here if you hate it so much?”

“Nancy asked me to come,” Barb admits.

“And then she ditched you?” Billy burps. Barb scowls at him but he just grins, “Wow, King Steve must be hung.”

Barb shrugs, “So I’m told.”

Billy cackles, “Jesus. You don’t hold back anything, huh? Why does everyone think you’re some quiet nerd with a stick up her ass?”

Barb frowns, “Because they never talk to me. And I’d have nothing to say to them, probably.”

“Plenty to say to me, though,” Billy points out. He fishes out a pack of cigarettes, offers them out to her. Barb shakes her head and he just shrugs, getting one out for himself and lighting it up.

“Maybe I’m just that bored,” Barb sighs, “They aren’t even playing good music.”

“I know!” Billy gets his smoke between his fingers and gestures at Steve’s house with it, “Who listens to Modern English? How about some Motorhead or something?”

Barb smiles, “Of course you like Motorhead. Though Bang to Rights is a good song, I’ll admit.”

“Damn straight it is!” Billy narrows his eyes at her, “What do you listen to, then? Probably The Beatles or something.”

Barb snorts, “Not a chance. I’d rather listen to out of tune elevator music,” she shares a laugh with Billy again, “And, I don’t know, I like a lot of stuff. Tonight I’m in the mood for...Adam Ant.”

Billy splutters, “The Goody Two Shoes guy?! How can you criticize this and listen to that crap?”

Barb snickers, “What can I say? I’m a multifaceted individual with unique experiences and tastes, William.”

"Ugh, don't call me that--What's your name again?" 

"Barb," she supplies.

"Barbara," he points his cigarette at her, "William makes me sound like a fucking nerd."

"And Billy makes you sound like a five year old," Barb tuts, "But fine. Don't call me Barbara and I won't call you William."

Suddenly Barb's hand throbs with fresh pain and she winces. A drop of blood slips out from under the cloth over her wound. It splashes into the pool. Billy grimaces.

"Damn," he mutters, "How bad is it?"

"It's fine--" Barb starts.

Billy shoots to his feet. "Look out!" he yells and then he tackles her off the diving board. 

Barb is gasping when they hit the water but she manages to clamp her mouth shut before she really chokes. Water shoots up her nose. It's freezing. It feels like she's being slapped in the face by how icy cold it is. Billy's hands are on her biceps and they help guide her to the other end of the pool before they surface.

"What are you--?!" Barb starts but Billy clamps a hand over her mouth. 

His eyes look wild and frantic. First Barb takes in the grime in Billy's hair, sticking to his face and neck. It's brown, dirty, slimy. She realizes it's from the water in the pool. She's shivering. Then Barb feels something touch her ankle. Billy startles too, frantically searching the murky water they're in. He looks up at her, opens his mouth, he looks scared. Then Billy is pulled under.

Immediately Barb dives under the water after him. The look on Billy's face before he went under rattles her. She sees him struggling with vines or tentacles or something wrapped around his ankle. Barb helps yanks them away until Billy is free enough for them to both shoot back to the surface. They scramble out of the pool as quick as they can. Billy helps pull her up and they immediately run into Steve's house, trying to get away from the water.

Steve's house looks completely wrong. It's not warm. There are no lights on. Everything is awash with a dismal blue glow. It's dusty and grimey. They slam the door behind them but somehow Barb doesn't feel any safer. Billy is panting. She's breathing fast too.

"What-" she starts, then, "What the fuck?"

Billy laughs, a hysterical bubble up the back of his throat. "What the fuck?" he repeats back to her, "Did we drop acid?"

"No," Barb is shivering and she can see Billy is too, "Is this-is this real?"

Billy pinches his bicep, winces. Then shrugs helplessly.

"This can't be real," he sounds desperate, "Right? This-this is crazy!"

An inhuman shriek from outside silences them. They both jump, moving a little closer, before exchanging looks. Billy says what the fuck is that and Barb says we need to get out of here. Barb grabs Billy's arm, puts a finger to her lips. Then she's pulling Billy with her more deeply into Steve's house. Billy lets her, stumbling over his boots a little. They move into a bedroom. Vines are draping over the ceiling and clinging to the floor. Just as they're closing the door they hear the sliding glass door of the living room shatter.

Barb almost gasps but stops herself. Billy keeps his lips sealed tight too. They move into the closet, squatting down to hide. Both of them are breathing fast but they're desperately trying to be quiet. Barb shoves both of her hands over her mouth and presses down. Billy finds a baseball bat on the floor and clutches it to his chest. She can feel him shivering where their legs are pressed together. Barb is peeking through the slats of the closet door when she sees it. She jumps and it makes Billy jump too. When she shakes her head he stays deathly still.

There's something in the bedroom with them. Barb doesn't know how to describe it to herself. It's a horrid creature like something stolen from a Lovecraftian horror novel. It's skin is grey and mottled, pulled tight across a bony, gnarled frame. It crawls into the room. It's head parts and opens like a carnivorous plant. Barb watches as it finds the towel she had wrapped around her hand but apparently dropped. It pauses over it. The click click clicks like hisses that rattle from its throat make Billy shudder. Barb grabs his knee and grips it until her knuckles go white.

Then in the distance another shriek echoes. The monster next to them snaps its head up toward the noise. And it takes off running. They stay frozen in the closet for a long, long time.

"Did…" Billy whispers after what feels like hours of silence, "Did you see that?"

Barb lets out a shaky breath, "Yeah. I don't…"

"The blood," Billy grips the bat so tight Barb can hear it, "Do you think it was the blood?"

The monster had been drawn to the bloody fabric. Barb's hands are shaking.

"I'm-it's-" Barb stammers, "It's still bleeding, Billy."

“Shit,” Billy curses.

Barb is afraid. She’s scared of whatever world they’ve found themselves in. The monsters roaming around in the dark, chasing the smell of blood. Which can only mean something so utterly deplorable Barb can’t even think of it. That’s not all that scares her though.

Billy has a reputation. He’s only been at Hawkins for a couple months but he’s already made a name for himself. Billy outdrinks everyone at parties. He has sex with any girl that will look at him twice. He fights. Comes to school with new bruises and black eyes every other day. As far as assholes go, Billy takes the cake. And now Barb is stuck here in-in hell or purgatory, or freaking Hades for all Barb can guess, with him. Barb isn’t afraid of Billy Harvgrove. She’s scared he’s going to leave her behind to die. That would be the asshole thing to do, right?

Across from her, Billy lets out a shaky breath, breathes in through his nose, exhales again. He’s trying to calm himself down, Barb recognizes. She imitates his breathing. It does help with the trembling in her fingers.

“Alright,” Billy says, “Alright, come on.”

Barb's clothes are soaking wet, both of theirs are, but she's wearing a thick sweater. She unbuttons it and drops it to the floor of the closet. It won't do them any good dripping wet like it is. When she rolls the sleeves of her blouse up, Barb sees that Billy is watching her. His white thermal is see through and she figures her peach blouse isn't much better off. She blushes, in embarrassment but anger too.

"Eyes," she snaps.

Billy immediately lifts his gaze from her chest. Her brasserie is plum. She knows he can see it through her shirt. 

Billy smirks, smarmy, "Nice bra."

Barb smiles, fake and sharp, "Nice nipples."

Billy glances down at himself and then he chuckles, "You're more'n welcome to enjoy the view, Babs."

Barb snorts, "They aren't even pierced. What's there to enjoy, Bills?"

Billy lets out a startled sounding laugh, "Don't tell me yours are?"

Barb just huffs out a laugh of her own, "Wouldn't you like to know."

The tension between them has lessened. Billy shakes his head of ratty, dirty blonde hair, droplets of water hitting Barb like Billy's a damn dog. When he creeps out into the bedroom, she follows. The house is silent. Dead quiet. The kind of quiet that unnerves Barb down to her bones. The worrying thought that Nancy is here too leaves her. It's too quiet. Barb gets the feeling that it's just her and Billy trapped in this fucked up mess. Billy is stopped in front of a dresser, hands on his hips. He glances back at her.

"We can't stay in these wet clothes," she tells him, "It's freezing."

"We gotta fix your hand up too," he hums.

Then Billy pulls open the top drawer. It's all wool sweaters. Dusty, musty, pullovers in jewel tones. They look old and decrepit. But dry. And warmer than what either of them are wearing now. Billy pulls out an emerald green one and passes it to her. Then he pulls out a dark blue one for himself. She watches as he pulls his shirt off and quickly spins around, cursing. Billy chuckles behind her. She stomps back into the closet to change her own shirt. 

The sweater is scratchy and smells funky and matches Billy's like they're a couple of weirdos. She can't help but snicker when she stands next to Billy. He's glaring down at himself and when he looks up at her, his glare only deepens. She's taller than he is. Billy swims in his sweater. Barb's pulls almost too tight around her chest.

"I'm changing back," Billy barks, "I think I'd rather die than wear this."

Barb stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Hey. There's no one here to judge you, Bills," she holds back a smirk, "Except me. And I think you look real handsome."

Billy shakes her hand off. She spots a redness glowing along the tips of Billy's ears.

"Whatever," he snips, "Like I care what you think anyway."

"Don't be an asshole now," Barb slaps at his bicep, "I'm just starting to like you."

Billy rubs his arm even though Barb knows it didn't hurt. "Yeah, well, I don't make friends with stuck up, ugly bitches like you."

Barb snorts, "Oh, I'm well aware. I'm not interested in being friends. But I don't exactly want to die in fucking Limbo with a piece of trash like you either."

Billy's nostrils flare. He grabs her by her wrist, hard. Barb doesn't let her fear show. But her hand is shaking in his grip. It isn't the first time a boy has grabbed at her. They know her, see that bright, red L on her chest. They laugh at her, threaten her by saying they can change her dyke ways. All she needs is the touch of a real man. That'll set her straight.

"Don't--" her voice comes out even more shaky than her fingers, "Billy. Please don't touch me."

Billy snarls, yanks her a step closer by the fierce grip on her arm, "Why? Cause I'm trash. Afraid it's catching?"

"Billy--" Barb gasps, tightly. Her fingers clench into a fist, "I didn't mean it. Now let me go," she meets Billy’s eye, "You're hurting me."

Billy's hand jerks away like he's been burned.

"Whatever," he snaps, "We need to stop you from bleeding all over the place."

Barb clears her throat, straightens her posture. "Right," she agrees, ignoring the pain in her wrist where she thinks it might be bruising, "Bathroom?"

Billy shrugs. So they both step out of the bedroom to look through the halls for a bathroom. A truce quietly formed between them to not mention what happened earlier. Billy finds the bathroom. In the cupboard he finds some medical supplies. Barb tells him she can tend to her wound but Billy gruffly does it anyway. He's astoundingly gentle as he cups her hand, cleans it, puts ointment on it, and wraps the whole thing up in clean, white bandages.

"Thank you," Barb says gently.

Billy snorts but doesn't answer. His mouth is pulled into a grim line. He won't meet her eye. Barb doesn't think he's the type to apologize but he's wearing guilt on his body better than the musty old sweater. It's obvious in his hunched shoulders, tense jaw, downturned eyes. She isn't even mad at him. Yes, he's a bully, she supposes, but he's never bullied her. Earlier when Tommy and Carol were mocking her about shotgunning a beer, Billy had sneered at them and not joined in. Barb doesn't know what that means but it means something and that matters to her.

She speaks, more to say it outloud than to expect an answer, "Are we dead?"

Billy's head snaps up to meet her eyes, "No," he says firmly, "Before, out by the pool, there was--I saw a monster like that one before, behind you. That's why I jumped you like that. If that thing was out…in our world. Maybe we…ended up in its world."

"You mean, like, we went through some kind of portal?" Barb hums thoughtfully, "If that's true then that means there has to be a way out of here...somewhere."

"The pool?" Billy asks but he's looking away again, something uneasy across his features.

Barb kind of wants to reach out. She lays a hand on his shoulder, overwhelmed with a need to console him for some reason. He jumps, at first. Glances up at her, confused and maybe offended. Barb just smiles as softly as possible.

"I don't know," she confesses, "But I'm not eager to test it out. I don't want to risk that...thing in there getting a hold of either of us again."

Billy shivers and Barb knows she hit the mark with that. He nods, quickly.

"We shouldn't stay here," she continues, quieter, "That monster could come back."

[bouncypickle]

early kruegernikto being horny and angry, pre-relationship fooling around

Nikto and Krueger have been pushing each other, back and forth, for too long. Nikto is fed up. So the moment he gets Krueger alone, Nikto acts.

Nikto grabs Krueger by the back of the neck, dodges Krueger's defensive blow, and throws Krueger back into the wall. The grunt knocked from Krueger's throat comes out light like a laugh, like he's having fun being thrown around.

It pisses Nikto off.

Nikto pushes forward into Krueger's space. He wants to crush that asshole's throat, punch him in the gut, break some ribs. Instead Nikto kisses him. Hard and deep and nasty.

Krueger doesn't act surprised, only parts his lips and his legs like he knew this was coming.

To be fair the two of them have been at each other's throats for days. They were going to throw fists or fuck eventually.

Nikto shoves his tongue behind Krueger's teeth. The man tastes like stale cigarettes and the mint gum he spit out half an hour ago. His tongue pushes back against Nikto's teasingly. Krueger is so fucking smug. Nikto wants to tear him to pieces.

Nikto reaches down to cup Krueger through his pants. He can't find what he's looking for at first. Wonders how in the hell Krueger isn't hard for him yet. So Nikto shoves his hand even further, seeking.

Krueger chuckles against his mouth at the same time Nikto realizes he has a pussy in his hand.

He goes still. Krueger wraps his arms around the back of Nikto's neck, trapping him. He bends forward to whisper into Nikto's ear.

“Wie? Are you afraid?”

So Nikto grips Krueger harder and growls, “Fuck you.”

Then Nikto kisses Krueger again with teeth. He's not letting Krueger get away from him, not now, and not over this.

He wrenches Krueger's belt open and drops to his knees. He doesn't give a fuck what is in Krueger's pants, Nikto is going to devour Krueger like a man starving. Rend his flesh from his bone and feast.

Then, he's going to fuck Krueger good and hard because if he doesn't, Nikto will have to kill Krueger instead.

A/N: and then Krueger pulled out his strap and fucked Nikto :)

[bouncypickle]

Some nightcore KruegerNikto for @cerosin-bis, Nikto being a pining insomniac

The moon is full but the sky is cloudy. Nikto has been watching the clouds drift lazily too and fro. He couldn't sleep, again, for what feels like too many nights to count. His eyes itch and his vision is blurry; blinking doesn't help. So he's found a quiet place away from his sleeping comrades where he can be alone. This is the most peace Nikto can hope for.

“Can't sleep?”

Sebastian's voice startles Nikto; his hand jerks toward the knife on his belt but he stops himself. Nikto doesn't glance Sebastian's way. He isn't in the mood for company, even if he can usually tolerate Sebastian. So he hopes Sebastian will take the hint and leave.

Instead Sebastian saunters up to his side and leans against the balcony railing, too close to Nikto to be comfortable. If he were anybody else.

“Here.”

Nikto finally looks.

Sebastian is holding out a cigarette for him to take. His sleeve has shifted up his arm. Nikto watches the tendons in Sebastian's wrist flex. They pull and strain against Sebastian's skin. His veins bulge, curving lines of blue under his tanned flesh.

“Take it,” Sebastian insists.

So Nikto reaches out and plucks the cigarette from Sebastian's fingers.

When he lifts the cigarette to his mouth, Nikto hears Sebastian strike his lighter. The flame bursts to life, painting them both in soft orange light. Nikto leans into Sebastian's space and Sebastian lights his cigarette for him.

“How long have you been up?”

Nikto only grunts dismissively.

Sebastian clicks his tongue. He leans back against the railing so he is facing the opposite direction. Nikto's attention shifts from the sky to Sebastian. His eyes land on Sebastian's neck. He watches Sebastian's throat bob while he talks.

“Full moon,” Sebastian observes.

Nikto doesn't look up, eyes drawn to the divot between Sebastian’s collarbones.

“They say the full moon makes people crazy,” Sebastian continues.

Nikto scoffs, “Bullshit.”

Sebastian gets himself a cigarette and lights it before he responds. Nikto watches his lips curl around the butt as he takes a drag before he speaks again.

“You don't feel different tonight?”

Nikto looks away. He does feel especially restless tonight but there's no way the full moon is responsible. He can tell, also, that Sebastian doesn't believe in this superstitious nonsense.

When Nikto falls silent, Sebastian follows suit. Nikto appreciates the cigarette and the quiet. He even appreciates Sebastian's company, now that he's shut up. His gaze drifts back to Sebastian and Nikto catches himself tracing Sebastian's jawline with his eyes. Sebastian catches him too.

When Sebastian takes another drag of his cigarette, his lips wrap around it suggestively. After, his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. The flash of pink flesh makes Nikto's stomach twist up in knots.

“You have trouble sleeping?” Sebastian looks Nikto up and down, eyes dark and deep, “I know a way to help.”

Nikto stares at Sebastian, a bit taken aback by such a bold line. Then his cigarette burns his fingers, startling Nikto out of his stupor. He hisses, shaking his hand. Next to him, Sebastian chuckles. He lays his palm on Nikto's chest, patting him in a friendly manner.

Then Sebastian saunters away.

Nikto is left alone but he no longer feels at peace. The flicker of Sebastian's tongue is burned into his mind. He imagines heat where Sebastian touched his chest. He drops the butt end of his cigarette to stomp under his boot.

Nikto follows after Sebastian.

In the hallway, there is one door cracked open, letting out a dash of light. He doesn't knock before entering the room and closing the door behind.

Sebastian is laying on his bed, back against the headboard, and long legs stretched out in front of himself. His boots are tangled in his sheets. He glances up from the joint he's rolling and acts like Nikto didn't just barge into his room uninvited.

“You smoke?”

Nikto's eyes roam over Sebastian's shirtless form without shame. Sebastian has lean muscles under a scant layer of fat. His skin is decorated in tattoos and battle scars. His chest hair is blonde, a trail of it grows from his belly button down and disappears into his pants. Sebastian lifts the joint to his mouth and licks a line along the edge of the paper. His tongue is wet and pink and tempting.

Nikto wants.

“It's not laced?”

Sebastian takes Nikto's question seriously and answers with a shake of his head.

“No but it's not pussy shit.”

Nikto marches over and grabs the sole chair in the room. He drags it next to Sebastian's bed and sits. While he does, Sebastian sticks the joint in his mouth, lights it, takes a drag.

Nikto hasn't smoked marijuana in a long time but the scent is familiar. When Sebastian sucks, his cheeks hollow gauntly. The end of the joint burns up towards his lips. Smoke curls free from the smoldering tip and Nikto watches it card through the other man's hair. Nikto is so focused he almost misses when Sebastian passes him the joint.

Nikto wastes no time taking a deep hit of his own. The smoke burns good, down his throat and deep into his chest. He coughs around the drag and Sebastian laughs at his expense.

“Easy,” Sebastian tells him.

Nikto blows his smoke into Sebastian's face in retaliation. He watches Sebastian's eyelids flutter; his eyelashes are clumpy, his eyes red rimmed. Nikto feels the hit he's taken already. Sebastian was serious that this shit is strong. It's exactly the way Nikto likes it.

“You know shotgunning?”

Nikto looks at Sebastian's mouth first before meeting his gaze.

“Fuck off.”

Sebastian grins with his teeth and Nikto finds his eyes drawn down again. One of Sebastian's front teeth is chipped. If Nikto ran his tongue across the edge, he'd feel the sharp sting of jagged enamel. Maybe he'd cut his tongue open on the other man. Blood would spread between their mouths. Nikto can almost taste it now.

“I’m serious,” Sebastian continues, “Shotgunning helps with the coughing.”

Nikto acquiesces too easily, “Show me.”

Nikto catches an unmistakably pleased glint in Sebastian's dark eyes. His expression remains neutral but Sebastian is undoubtedly triumphant. Nikto lets him think he's won something; Nikto is the one getting what he wants.

Sebastian's draws in a deep drag from the joint in his hand. Nikto watches the other man's cheeks pull in, stares at the stubble growing along his cheek and jaw. He imagines the prickle of that stubble against his tongue. Then Sebastian turns toward Nikto.

When Sebastian leans into Nikto's space, Nikto locks up tight. He doesn't dare move as the other man comes closer. Sebastian looks up at him through heavy eyelashes but Nikto is focused only on his lips. Sebastian's fingers curl under Nikto's chin, prying his mouth open.

Just as Nikto thinks Sebastian is going to seal their lips together, Sebastian stops. He puckers his lips and blows the smoke into Nikto's mouth without their lips ever touching.

Nikto breathes in Sebastian's breath like he's chasing something. Sucks in the shared smoke as deep as he can. Swears to himself he can taste Sebastian through the dankness of the marijuana. When he exhales through his nose, he doesn't cough at all.

“Told you,” Sebastian rumbles. Then he lets go of Nikto's chin to pat his cheek, a bit too hard and a bit too condescending.

Nikto's hand shoots up and catches Sebastian's fingers in a death grip. He squeezes them warningly and even though he says nothing Sebastian seems to understand him.

“Don't be offended, I'm teasing,” Sebastian doesn't flinch and he doesn't try to pull back either.

Nikto shoves Sebastian's hand away from his face and reaches for the joint. He makes sure to look Sebastian in the eye when he takes a deep hit. He doesn't cough through sheer force of will. Sebastian smirks like he knows and Nikto feels like he lost anyway.

By the time the joint is burned out, Nikto is good and stoned. Sebastian looks like Nikto feels: eyes red and glassy, movements liquid smooth, demeanor relaxed and easy. As relaxed and easy as men like them ever get, anyway.

“You want to stay here?” Sebastian asks innocently.

Nothing about Sebastian is innocent. Nikto knows Sebastian is playing some kind of mind game. He's simply too tired to compete.

So Nikto bullies his way into the bed next to Sebastian. The other man lets himself be scooted over while Nikto stretches out beside him. Both of them barely fit and the space between them is cramped. Even though laying pressed against Sebastian on his narrow bed should be uncomfortable, it isn't. Nikto finds his tense muscles relaxing, his breath calming, and his mind slowing.

The weed is helping.

Sebastian props himself up on his elbow, so he's looking down at Nikto. His expression is amused. His short hair hangs over his forehead where gentle wrinkles crease his skin. His brown eyes look red in the dull yellow light of the table lamp. His lips appear impossibly soft and inviting.

Sebastian smirks, “I take that as a yes then.”

Nikto closes his eyes to avoid looking at the other man.

“Don't feel like walking to my room. That a problem?”

“I wouldn't have offered if it was.”

When Sebastian moves over him, Nikto snaps his eyes back open. Only Sebastian is just leaning across him to turn the light off. This close, Nikto can smell the other man, can feel the heat from his bare skin. It would be so easy to reach out and grab him. Nikto fists his hands into the blankets.

Then Sebastian settles back into the spot next to Nikto, shifting until he's comfortable. Nikto doesn't make it easy on him; his bulk takes up most of the space. Still, Sebastian doesn't complain, simply lays on his side pressed up against the wall.

In the quiet darkness, Nikto still doesn't sleep. Next to him, Sebastian's breathing evens out. Nikto listens until Sebastian starts snoring softly. Even after that, Nikto finds himself focused on Sebastian, the smell of him, the heat of him, the quiet sounds he makes in sleep.

He could kill Sebastian right now.

Instead, Nikto lays in bed with Sebastian until the morning. Then he gets up and leaves before Sebastian wakes. He isn't sneaking away but he walks quietly so as to not wake the other man.

The clouds have dissipated as the sky brightens. Nikto decides to have another cigarette. It burns in his grip as he watches the moon disappear under the light of the sun. Despite the quiet solitude, Nikto feels ill at ease.

Nikto's mind is running amok with images of Sebastian. Of innocuous things like his stubble, his tattoos, the wrinkles between his eyebrows, that knick in his tooth that Nikto wants to feel with his tongue. Nikto feels haunted by the other man. 

This is a reprieve from his usual thoughts.

Somehow Sebastian's company is less disturbing than his absence. Nikto loathes understanding why.

Another sleepless night, Nikto thinks, as he watches the sun rise with thin-veiled venom. Soon Sebastian will be awake and he will come find Nikto again.

Despite himself, Nikto awaits the other man with eager anticipation

[bouncypickle]

its that time of the year

[bouncypickle]

does anyone have any krueger x nikto ideas? i want to write about them and i'll write anything. please give me something! okay thanks bye

[bouncypickle]

Krueger and Nikto doing inappropriate things to each other on the battlefield

Nikto doesn't take his mask off; Krueger doesn't lift the netting over his face. This isn't that kind of fuck.

Krueger shoves Nikto back into the wall behind him. The air stinks like spent gunpowder and fresh blood. Both of their ears are still ringing from the firefight. In the distance, guns are shooting. They could die any second.

Krueger works Nikto's belt open roughly, hurriedly. He's panting for air behind the netting wrapped around his face. Just his eyes are visible. They eat Nikto whole, devour him into their darkness. Nikto lets himself be consumed by the other man, willingly, eagerly.

Without breaking eye contact, Nikto returns the favor and pulls Krueger's pants open with enough force to make Sebastian stumble.

“Fuck,” Krueger grunts.

Nikto drops his forehead against Krueger's, deepening their eye contact. He wants to crawl under Sebastian's skin, wants to squeeze in between the threads of his muscles. Behind his mask, Nikto bares his teeth. He'd sink them into Krueger's flesh if only they had the time.

A stray shot pings the wall next to Nikto's head.

Krueger growls behind his teeth. Nikto knows he's close, they both are. It never takes them long like this. Especially now, when they need to hurry the fuck up.

Krueger finishes first but Nikto is not far behind. They press their foreheads together again, share one deep breath, then they break apart to fix their clothes back into place. Nikto wipes his glove on his pants while Krueger throws his gloves into the dirt.

When Nikto reloads his weapon, his wrist flashes free from his clothing. Krueger is impossibly quick in catching it up. He brings Nikto's arm under the netting over his face. Nikto feels teeth sink into his flesh hard enough to make him grunt in pain. Then Krueger is spitting him out and returning his attention to cleaning the blood off of his karambit.

Nikto stares at the bruise already darkening his skin. He wishes he could devour Sebastian whole. Sometimes, he wonders if Sebastian wants to devour him just as much.

[bouncypickle]

Krueger has a nightmare so Nikto...comforts him, full, uncensored story on AO3 👍

Nikto jerks awake when Sebastian gasps next to him. Immediately, Nikto thinks they are under attack. He reaches for his knife but Sebastian's hand steadies him.

“Nein,” Sebastian's whispering voice is rough with sleep, “We're fine.”

Which only makes Nikto more on edge. Sebastian is not a man easily startled; he does not jump in fear; he does not gasp in surprise; he does not startle awake. At least, not as long as Nikto has known him.

“What happened?” Nikto grunts and slides his blade back into its sheath.

Sebastian shakes his head and reaches for their cigarettes. He wastes no time putting one between his lips and lighting it. From the smell of the smoke, Nikto can tell he's smoking the Marlboros, Nikto's cigarettes. He didn't even bother to check first.

Nikto sits, a prickling sensation creeping up his spine. Something is not right here.

“What?” Nikto asks sharply.

Sebastian just sighs out a plume of smoke, like he's put upon.

“It's nothing.”

Nikto is not stupid. He can tell that something is bothering the other man. However, he has never been patient when dealing with Sebastian's mind games.

With an annoyed huff, Nikto lays back down. He adjusts his position and ends up pressed against Sebastian's thigh, head resting next to Sebastian's hip. Sebastian is wound tight, tense to the point his muscles have tremors. In the darkness, Nikto's mind puts two and two together.

He sits up again, lays a hand on Sebastian's bare shoulder.

“Nightmare?”

Sebastian presses the palm of his hand against his eye socket as he hums an affirmative.

Unusual. Nikto is prone to having nightmares, night terrors even. Contrastly, Sebastian is almost always a cool balm against the inherent dark thoughts that creep out at night. He's steady. He's insane but he's stable. He doesn't get shaken like this. Tonight is a reminder that Krueger, despite himself, is human.

Nikto doesn't ask about the nightmare even if he's curious about what could have shaken the other man. Instead, he recalls a tried-and-true method Sebastian often deploys when Nikto himself has a nightmare.

Grabbing a handful of Sebastian's pec, Nikto shoves him down. His back hits the mattress with an annoyed grunt. The cigarette in his mouth bobs when Sebastian curses at him.

As Nikto climbs on top of the other man, Sebastian's annoyance only persists.

“Do you only think with your dick?”

Nikto reaches down and snatches his cigarette from Sebastian's lips. It's damp when he lifts it to his own mouth and draws in a deep, chest rattling drag. Then he leans over and puts it out on the nightstand.

“Shut it,” Nikto demands.

He shoves Sebastian legs apart with his knees, making room for himself between. Sebastian could stop him but doesn't. He does scowl, unimpressed.

“You're not fucking me. Jerk off if you're so horny.”

Nikto rolls his eyes.

He bends down and kisses Sebastian's neck. Under him, Sebastian is tense, radiating displeasure. Nikto knows Sebastian can and will kick his ass during moods like these. So he turns and hums into Sebastian's ear.

“Trust me.”

[bouncypickle]

KN if Nikto was weirdly possessive of Krueger and expressed it very poorly

Nikto sees the man too late to warn Krueger. In a flash of black tactical gear and cold steel, Krueger is tackled to the ground. Krueger lands on his front, the enemy on his back.

Nikto doesn't act, knows Krueger has it handled.

Only Krueger hesitates. He moves to strike but halts. Krueger lets the enemy carve open his shoulder.

Nikto is sent into a blind fury at the sight of Sebastian's blood.

When he comes to, Nikto is on top of the enemy. The man's face is caved in, blood and brains paint the ground like a halo around his skull. Nikto's fists are throbbing with pain. His knuckles will be bruised to the bone.

Nikto's heart is pounding rage through his veins until all he can feel is anger in every inch of his body.

When Nikto stands, he shoves Krueger out of his way. Without glancing at Krueger, he speaks into the radio on his shoulder, calling for a med evac. His injury makes Krueger a liability in the field.

Instead of letting Krueger ignore his wound, Nikto pushes Krueger around to tend to it himself. He tears the sleeves off of his own shirt, long to hide the mottling scars on his arms. Then he ties the fabric around Krueger's shoulder as a makeshift bandage to slow down the bloodflow.

Sweat is collecting at the back of Krueger's neck. Nikto feels the sudden urge to kiss it away. Instead he grabs there with his fist and drags Krueger into cover.

Then Nikto leaves Krueger there and returns to the mission.

He's furious and that fury drives Nikto forward. He accomplishes what a four man squad couldn't and pushes the enemy back into a retreat. Only he doesn't let them get away. By the time he's calmed down, Nikto's chest is heaving, his brow is drenched with sweat, and he's covered in blood. None of it is his own.

The entire base clears when he walks down the hall.

Sebastian is standing outside of medical, shirtless but bandaged. He looks up when Nikto approaches and braces himself. Nikto hits him hard enough to knock Sebastian to the floor.

Immediately the rest of the team splits between helping Sebastian to his feet and holding Nikto back.

“Mудак!” Nikto barks, “I am not your dog!”

Sebastian's eyes widen. Of course he's surprised. Sebastian thinks he's so fucking clever.

Nikto shakes off his teammates and takes one long step forward into Sebastian's space. He grabs him by the neck. Sebastian isn't fighting him even though he could.

“You did it on purpose.”

Nikto shakes Sebastian.

“Your blood does not belong to them.”

And Krueger fucking smirks at him, knowing and smug.

“You killed them?”

“I killed them all,” Nikto growls, “Don't do this again.”

Then he kisses the blood from Sebastian's lips. Blood his own fist spilt. Blood that belongs to him.

[bouncypickle]

still got KN on the brain so more Fallout Au

Nikto doesn't take his mask off much. Not under the nuclear sun of the wasteland, not when he enters new towns and settlements. Out in the wastes, Nikto sweats. Dirt and radioactive dust collects, gritty and scratchy, between the fabric of his mask and his skin.

On occasion, his mask feels suffocating: too damp with sweat, too itchy with dust, too hard to breathe through. Nikto must take it off, just for moment, just to catch his breath.

As they enter his ramshackle tavern, the barkeep grunts, “Ghouls ain't welcome here.”

This is one of the reasons why Nikto hates taking his mask off.

“Not a ghoul,” and Nikto sits with Sebastian at the bar.

The man looks the both of them over. His eyes linger on Nikto's face. He's scarred, mangled by some standards. The raised pink flesh of his burned face is too flushed with life to be mistaken for the gnarled flesh of a ghoul. To some, he's close enough.

Nikto's met ghouls more human than him.

A shotgun cocks.

The bartender levels his gun at Nikto's face, “I ain't servin your kind. Now get the fuck outta my bar.”

From the corner of his eye, Nikto sees Sebastian's fingers tighten into a fist. He's waiting for Nikto to make the first move, ready to follow Nikto's lead.

Another reason Nikto doesn't like not wearing his mask. He feels exposed like a nerve. Wound all kinds of tight in all the wrong places. A bead of sweat rolls down the back of his neck.

He stands.

“Fine,” he acquiesces, “We're leaving.”

When Nikto grabs his mask out of his back pocket, he sees Sebastian reach out like he might stop him. The movement is so slight and quick Nikto almost misses it. When Sebastian doesn't do anything more, Nikto pulls his filthy mask back on firmly. They leave the bar together with a shotgun pointed at their backs.

Once the two of them are just out of eyesight of the bar, Krueger pounces. Nikto should have seen it coming but he's distracted. So Krueger kicks out his instep and shoves him, taking advantage of Nikto's heftier size to push him into the nearest wall. Nikto's back collides with the brick surface, knocking a grunt from the back of his throat. Immediately, Krueger is on him, ripping his mask off.

“Fucking bastard,” Sebastian snarls into Nikto's face.

Then his tongue is laving across the mutilated flesh of Nikto's temple. Sebastian licks off sweat and dirt and grime. Licks over Nikto's eyelashes and cheekbone and the flesh pulled back exposing Nikto's teeth.

Nikto flinches under the soft wet touch, slimy against his too sensitive skin. He welcomes it, anyway, because Sebastian is murmuring hymns against his skin, practically worshipping him.

“I would have carved through his guts if you asked,” Sebastian is saying, “You don't need to hide this face. You're fucking gorgeous.”

Nikto scoffs but doesn't stop the other man. His words feel like lies but Nikto isn't so sure. Part of him thinks that Sebastian really means them. The man is crazier than a deathclaw on psycho.

Not that Nikto has any right to judge.

Sebastian's tongue dips into Nikto's mouth so Nikto sucks it in like he's sucking meat off of bone. He chews it and Sebastian moans against him, throaty and shameless. Nikto's head spins at the sound of Sebastian's unrepentant desire. Desire for him. It doesn't make sense but Krueger rarely does.

Nikto parts their lips to turn himself around. He starts working his pants open.

“Fuck me hard,” Nikto demands, “I want him to hear.”

Sebastian, the psycho, just chuckles in delight.

And obeys.

[bouncypickle]

as above (insane in the head) so below (insane in the pussy)

[bouncypickle]

what if Eddie and Billy both worked as waiters at Benny's restaurant and they were both queer and decided to make out in Eddie's van

Eddie is fucking weird, Billy thinks, as he passes the blunt back to the other boy. The two of them are on break, behind Benny's diner. Eddie always shares his weed with Billy when they're at work so Billy always lets Eddie talk his ear off. And the other boy can fucking talk.

Today, he's going on about that damn guitar again. Billy has gathered that Eddie sells weed–and took this part time job as a waiter at Benny's–to raise enough money to buy the damn thing. Billy won't admit he's jealous, and a bit hot under the collar at the thought of Eddie playing guitar, because he's not a fucking idiot. And Eddie is a weirdo, even if Billy kind of wants to suck his dick. Billy knows better than to get involved with the crazy ones. Really, he does.

"You play?" Eddie asks him.

Eddie does that, asks Billy about himself. Probably because Billy is tight-lipped about personal shit. Benny gave Billy his dishwasher job out of pity when he caught Billy turning tricks in a truck stop bathroom. Billy ran away when he was fourteen and he's been on the run ever since. This break in Hawkins is just that, a break. Billy will be back on the run soon so he's not trying to make friends.

Eddie just makes it so damn hard.

"Nah," Billy scuffs his boot across the ground and slips up by continuing to talk, "Always wanted to learn, just never had time for that shit."

"For real?" Eddie asks like he's excited, "I could teach you, man! Can never have too many guitarists in a band. I'd be lead, obviously, but if you're any good, you could be on rhythm."

Billy tries not to sound impressed or horny, "You're in a band?"

When Eddie turns to look at him, Billy knows he's failed. Eddie's eyes drag up Billy's frame, taking him in, and it makes Billy’s blood pound in his veins. Eddie is fucking cute is the thing. Cute but a bit wicked at the same time. When their eyes meet, Eddie grins, devilish. Like he can see right through Billy's facade. Maybe he can. Billy's eyes flick down to Eddie's lips.

"I am the band, baby," Eddie's tongue peeks out, between his teeth.

Billy smirks, "And the band needs me in him, does he?"

"Well…if you're offering…" Eddie purrs.

Just then, Benny leans out of the back door and yells, "You two get back to work! I ain't paying you to stand around."

"To be continued," Eddie promises with a wink.

Then he's dropping the burned up end of his joint and grinding it under his sneaker. Billy watches Eddie go back inside, trying to calm himself down. That was fucking stupid. Billy knows better than to flirt with any fucking hot guy that catches his eye. He's gotten his ass kicked more than once for looking at someone the wrong way. It's fucking lucky Eddie is a such a freak.

Billy shakes himself, willing his heart to stop racing and his dick to stop doing his thinking for him.

The rest of the shift goes by fast, once dinner rush hits. Billy lingers, like he always does, because Benny sometimes lets him crash at the diner if he helps close. Tonight, Eddie is on closing shift. So once the last customer leaves, Eddie and Billy are the only employees left, cleaning the dining room.

"Hey, so how come I never see you at school?" Eddie asks, out of fucking nowhere, "You cannot be older than me. I'm a senior and I've never seen you around. So, what? Did you graduate early or something? Are you secretly a genius, Billy-boy?"

Billy scoffs. If only. As Billy wipes one of the tables down, he chews on his answer.

"Nah, nothing like that," Billy finally admits because why the hell not? "I dropped out."

"Aw, for real? School's important, you know."

Billy barks out a surprised laugh, "You sound like a fucking PSA. You gonna tell me to not do drugs next?"

"Now that would be awfully hypocritical, dare I say. And," Eddie says in this poncey, British-ass voice, "I don't want to put myself right out of business, old chap!"

"Jesus Christ," Billy snickers at Eddie's antics, "You're a lunatic."

Eddie closes in on him, gets right up in Billy's space, "Yeah, I am. I'm insane, haven't you heard? A freak. A devil worshipper. A bad influence. The messiah of the pariah, baby."

Billy smirks, "That's hot."

Eddie shifts the tiniest bit closer and for a horrifying second Billy thinks the crazy asshole is going to kiss him. Reeling back, Billy puts space between them.

"Gotta take out the trash," Billy explains.

Eddie blows him a kiss when he walks away. And fuck, Billy knows he has a weak spot for pretty boys but he should not be this flustered. If Eddie breaks their gay chicken first, Billy will give the other boy whatever the fuck he wants.

Once Billy takes out the garbage, Benny stops him in the kitchen.

"Hey, kid, you staying here tonight?"

Billy shrugs, "If that's alright with you."

"Long as you close her up," Benny tosses Billy some keys, "And stay out of the kitchen."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Billy grins, a quick flash, "You leaving for the night?"

"I am," Benny tells Billy as he pulls on his jacket, "Is Munson still here? Jesus. Just tell him to stop dilly-dallying, will you? I'm too tired for this crap."

"You got it," Billy starts on the last dishes in the sink, "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, night," then Benny is leaving through the back door, heading home.

Billy finishes up in the kitchen. Then heads out to the dining room to see what the fuck is keeping Eddie. He should have finished the dining room by now.

"What's the hold up?" Billy asks.

Then he stops. The dining room is in perfect order. Only Eddie is still there, lounging in a chair with his feet up on another, crossed at the ankle. When Billy enters, a lazy grin spreads across Eddie's face.

"Just waiting for you," Eddie's eyes are dark and deep and shameless. So, the jig is up then. He drops his feet to the floor, sits up, gaze never leaving Billy.

"So," Eddie bites his bottom lip, smirking, "We screwing or what?"

"Fucking finally," Billy starts tearing his apron off, "Wasn't sure if you were queer or just fucking crazy."

"Can one not be both?" Eddie giggles as he sashays to his feet, "My van's just outside."

Eddie's van is more spacious than Billy had been expecting. Then again, the seats in the back have been stripped, leaving only the driver and passenger ones. Billy doesn't get a chance to admire any of it before Eddie is shoving him down onto his back in the middle of the floor. When Billy goes sprawling, Eddie immediately climbs into his lap. Billy catches Eddie's hips, fingertips skirting up the edge of the other boy's t-shirt.

"Fuck," Billy leans up to kiss at Eddie's throat, "You're so fucking hot."

"I know," Eddie curls his fingers into Billy's hair, "So are you though. Those freaking arms? Goddamn. I bet you could bench me. Bet you'd be a jackass jock if you still went to school."

Billy snorts, "Yeah, probably. Be a real hit with all the cheerleaders. But I'd rather be fucking you under the bleachers."

Eddie giggles, fucking maniacal, "Shit. Why is that so hot? Corrupting the popular, golden boy, getting him to skip class and suck my dick in the bathrooms, watching him showboating knowing I'm the one who's going to fuck him later."

Laughing, Billy bites at Eddie's pale throat, "I am so far from a golden boy. If you knew even half the shit I've done…"

"Yeah?" Eddie yanks Billy back by his hair, hard, so their eyes meet again, "You a bad boy, Billy? A troublemaker? A rebel?"

Billy doesn't say that actually he's a piece of shit whore and instead he just smirks, "Me? I'm a cocksucker. A real good cocksucker."

"I think I'm going to have to see that to believe it, bad boy."