Billy would never touch you without your permission. Okay, maybe that’s a lie. He quite frequently hugs onto you and feels you up whenever he damn well pleases. But he would never take advantage of you, never go beyond heavy petting and steamy makeout sessions without waiting with baited breath for you to nod and tell him he can go on ahead.
For all of his eccentricities and oddities, he’s holds your comfort (at least, your comfort regarding your permission) strangely high. It’s so conflicting that at times it makes your head spin. One moment, absolute filth will be spilling out of his mouth and his nails will be digging into your skin hard enough to draw blood, and the next, he’ll demurely look up at you through long, pale lashes asking “Can Billy?”
Honestly, it turns you on sometimes. But there were times when all you want is for Billy to take you fast and hard, without hesitation. To wrangle you to the floor and have his way with you, even if that’s the last thing you want. When it’s daylight out, and Billy is hidden away and sleeping in the attic, it’s about the only thing you can think of when you have some you-time (which is jerking off in the shower, typically).
And tomorrow just happens to be the exact day that everything just so happens to line up for you. Barb’s planning an absolute rager of a pre-game before heading over to her latest fling’s place for the actual party with the rest of the girls, excluding Clare, who’s heading down to the police station to get something done about the Moaner’s phone calls.
You wish that you could get Billy to stop that particular habit, but he went hysterical at their reactions, how indignated and flustered and scared the girls that the sorority would get whenever he called. You found it fun at times, when Barb would tell you to “be the man of the house” and handle the calls, mostly because Billy endlessly frothed about pussy and she thought it would be a riot to have a guy on the phone.
Getting Billy riled up by dirty talking (or dishing him some of his own medicine, as the others thought) lead to some great sex with him. Where he would almost take you the moment he sees you, but still pauses, waiting for your response.
So you get planning, sitting Billy down the night before and carefully trying to explain to him what you wanted. You wanted him to use you, fuck you tomorrow even if you say no. To hurt you as much as he wants. To only ever stop if you tell Billy red, or slow down or do something else if you say yellow. That you get off on this kind of thing. You won’t get shitfaced tomorrow, just enough that you won’t be able to fight back properly.
Billy is vibrating again in his spot on the bed. “You won’t… You won’t hate Billy? If Billy does to bad things t-t-to you?”
You shake your head and caress his face. “Not when I’m telling you it’s fine, and as long as you stop when I say that phrase. You can be as rough and as mean as you want, and I won’t get mad at you.”
“But- what if Billy doesn’t want it? Wh-what if Billy doesn’t want to be bad?”
“Then we don’t have to. It’s just a fantasy babe, I’m not going to force you into anything you don’t want. And if you start to get uncomfortable, you can say the same phrases, and we can stop.”
Billy nods slowly at first, but ramps up, and suddenly stops to look you in the eyes. “You trust Billy th-that much?”
There’s some part of you that wants to say no, you don’t Billy is so unpredictable, that there are times you think you’re going to wake up to him standing over your bed with a knife. But at the same time there’s something that tugs inside you that says otherwise, that as feral as he gets, he would never hurt you. You tuck a lock of stray hair behind his ear, and caress his cheek. “Of course I do Billy.”
Billy’s cheek go red, but you don’t get to see it for that long before he launches himself at you, burying his face in your chest and spilling out gibberish. You catch a “Love you, love you, love you” and a “sweetie pie” which makes your heart skip a beat.
The next day, you’ve got a nice buzz going for yourself. A nice pleasant warmth in your gut and fuzzy feeling in your head that makes you misjudge how your legs are working just a little bit. You have your wits about you, so you trail behind the girls as they leave, leaning heavily on the doorway to wave them goodbye. Clare had left five or so minutes earlier to head to the police station.
“Bye bye girls! Be safe!” you shout after them, blowing a kiss and giggling when Phyl catches it in her hand and presses it to her chest.
As you stumble your way back into the living room and let yourself fall back onto the armchair, you surmise that maybe, just maybe, you’re a little more drunk than you originally thought. Your head spins and pulses when you land, so instead of going to turn the TV on like you were planning, you sink back into the armchair and try to get your wits about you.
You sit around for a good ten minutes trying to get your head to stop swimming, staring up at the ceiling. The bones of the house creak and groan, but you wrap that up to the wind and cold warping it. Claude had hopped up onto your lap some time ago, curling up and nipping at your hand when you don’t immediately start petting him.
“You sill fat cat, you’re so needy,” you tease, stroking his white fur. He chirps briefly, but puts his head back down on your lap and starts purring. It’s nice, lulling you towards sleepiness. That was a problem with you when you drank, if you didn’t push through the initial drowsy haze, you pass out pretty quickly.
Just as you’re about to nod off, someone grabs you by your head and pulls you over the armrest. Claude scatters, and you’re thrown heavily to the floor. Above you stands Billy, chest heaving and eyes glued to you. Well, you’re wide awake now. He hesitates for only a moment before hauling you to your knees by your.
“P-pretty cunt,” his other hand goes to undo his belt and fly. “F-fucking t-tease, you want my f-fucking cock? My f-fat juicy cock shoved into your p-pretty p-p-pink lips, f-fucking your throat.”
You try to get away, but the tight grip on your hair makes you wail and tears to spring up. “Get away from me!” you shout, grabbing his wrist and trying to loosen his fingers.
He silces you with a sharp slap across your cheek that makes your teeth clack together and leave bleeding scratches on your face. With his grip on your locks still tight, he drags you across the living room, and throws you onto the couch.
While you’re still dazed and reeling from the slap, Billy rips you shirt off and slips his belt free to tie your forearms together. “Tie up the p-piggy bitch, so it can’t get away when I f-fuck its holes.” He roughly pulls down your jeans halfway down your thighs and just barely runs his fingertips along your bare ass.
“No! Don’t fucking touch me!”
It makes Billy’s hands stutter for only a moment, but he continues on, and spreads your cheeks. The first swipe of his tongue has you letting out a sharp gasp. He’s drooling again and he forces his tongue into you, lapping and making wet, squelching noises.
Billy is like a man starved, trying to get as deep as possible, and digging his nails, drawing more blood, into your ass. Spit and drool dribbles down your perineum, and you really have to fight to not moan. You thrash weakly instead as your sensitivity builds. “Please, stop! I don’t want this!”
Again, it makes Billy pause just enough. He pulls himself off of you and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. He slurps on his fingers briefly before slipping them inside your already soaking and dripping, and hurriedly rushes in trying to stretch you. It feels more like a cursory exploration, quickly getting in to press firmly against your prostate, just to see you shiver and moan.
He fumbles getting his fly undone, and that’s when you take your chance.
You try to toss yourself bodily over the couch, and manage to get down on the floor (bringing Billy with you). You squirm out from under him, and knee him in the gut for good measure before struggling up to your knees.
Where to go, where to go? Outdoors is a no since you can’t even get the door open like this, let alone would you be willing to run outside with your dick and ass out. The basement would be the smartest choice.
Billy catches up to you surprisingly fast, skittering to a stop at the foot of the stairs. You give no mind to kicking him in the chest, sending him sprawling back into a table, knocking the vase off.
While he’s trying to collect himself, you dart up the stairs to your bedroom. Under the bed is the only place you can hide, so you drop to the floor and slide under.
Your heart is thumping hard against your chest, and it takes all of your power to get control of your breathing when you hear Billy thundering up the stairs and yelling expletives and your name. Your heart feels like it stops when your bedroom door swings open, bouncing off door stop before he slams it close and locks the door. He stands there a moment, turning bodily to look around.
Just when you think he’s going to turn around and leave, he crouches down and stares at you with one eerily lit eyes. “Agnes, it’s me, Billy,” he whispers, grabbing onto you ankles tight enough to hurt. It makes your heart skip from a real palpable fear that Billy has slipped into a manic state. But you’ve got to trust him, you’ve got to have that faith.
Instead you squirm and kick, trying to break free of his grip, but you aren’t able to, and just keeps pulling until you’re out, and his crotch is pressed to your ass. He swings at you once, catching you in the lip. Enough to throw you off and wrap his hands around your throat tightly, and smack your head against the floor. It makes your vision go black, your head to swim, and panic rising up in the back of you throat.
“Yellow,” you manage to rasp out.
Billy immediately lets go of you, and stares down at you unblinking, panting, while you coughed and sucked in air. Completely silent, just watching. He only waits until you’ve just caught your breath before getting up and heaving you onto your bed, face smooshed in the pillows and ass in the air.
Billy doesn’t wait for any confirmation, or assurances, or okays, and climbs onto you and thrusts into your. His hips don’t need any time to find a pace, and he’s pounding into with no care for the sobs coming from you. “F-filthy f-fucking pig, taking my cock, you like it~” Billy teases, fucking into you harder. He squeals and snorts, rambling off.
Neither of you hear the door struggling to be opened downstairs.
“St-stop! It hurts, it hurts!” you cry, tears spilling down your face. Even with Billy having eating you out, the spit isn’t much for actual lubrication. “Get off of me!” God it burns, but your thighs are trembling and your cock is rock hard. When Billy amps up, close and chasing his orgasm already, he fucks you as hard as he can, which only makes you cry harder. It suddenly becomes slicker, and you know it’s because of your blood.
Billy cums inside you, and with little care pulls out. His cum spills from you, and with much softer and gentler hands, reaches around to stroke your cock, but there’s yelling from downstairs and people running up the stairs. Billy jump out of the bed, quickly doing up his pants while someone tries to kick the door open.
He’s out of the window and sprinting into the dark, shadowy corners of the neighborhood before the door finally opens. It has to be a nightmare when Lieutenant Fuller burst through, Clare close behind him.
“Jesus Christ,” he lets out in a breath, and Clare gasps when she get in and sees you. “Go wait downstairs,” he orders.
Lt. Fuller’s voice is soft as he directs her out of the room. “Let the man have some dignity.” Lt. Fuller turns back to you, and undoes the belt around your arms. It leaves bright red marks where the skin was rubbed raw.
His hands hover on your shoulders while you push yourself up with arm, while the other tries to pull up your pants and hide your erection. Thankfully, Lt. Fuller looks away the moment he notices it, letting you get your pants up all the way and zipped up.
He takes off his coat, and places it on your shoulders. You were shaking, weren’t you? you could hardly notice. Oh what a mess. Billy was never going to come back, was he? Fuller grabs a kleenex from your nightstand and wipes at the tears on your cheeks. He stops at you hisses when he wipes the tissue over your injured cheek. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get that creep, and make sure he gets locked up.”
You numbly nod, and pull the coat tighter around yourself. You let him lead you out of your room and down the stairs into the kitchen after a distraught looking Clare tells him not the living room, your torn shirt in her hand.
He sits down opposite of you at the kitchen table, while Clare busies herself with making some coffee. Lt. Fuller pulls out a notepad and pen. “Son, I know it hurts to think about, but can you remember anything about what the perpetrator looks like?”
You shake your head, not looking up from the table. Time to put those acting classes to good use. “I-I don’t know, it was so dark, and I was so scared. I think he had short, dark hair? Maybe? A-and he was taller than me, I think. His skin kind of looked yellow, but it could’ve been the light” You accept the cup when Clare passes it to you.
“Is that all?” Fuller asks. “Don’t worry if it is, you were under a lot of stress. I’m surprised you remembered anything.”
Clare suddenly gasps, pressing a hand to her mouth. “You don’t think it was the Moaner? Or,” she shudders. “I know you don’t want me bringing it up, but could it have been Will?”
“Will? Who’s that?” Fuller asks, eyes darting between you and Clare.
“My…” you mutter quietly enough that Fuller asks you to repeat yourself. “My boyfriend,” you get out, looking into your coffee cup.
Lt. Fuller nods, scribbling it down on his notepad. “I know it’s difficult to change habits, but that was made legal years ago. Legally, there’s nothing I can do to you. But even if it was illegal…” You start shaking again, clutching your mug tightly. “Well, I’ve turned a blind eye more than once. Had a blind eye turned towards me more than once as well. All I need to know is if it could have been him.”
You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding in. “No, it wasn’t… It wasn’t Will, he’s the same height as me, a lot skinnier, and we would never hurt me. He adores me. And the guy he was- he was completely silent. I don’t think it was the Moaner.”
Fuller nods again, writing it all down. “Would you be willing to go to the hospital?”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“Alright, can’t force you to do anything. I’ll radio the information back, and if you’ll let me, I’ll station myself outside of your door.”
You go to object, but Clare cuts you off. “Oh would you? It’s so scary just us in the house alone with the Moaner and another maniac out on the loose.”
Lt. Fuller smiles and pats her arm. “Of course, and tomorrow morning I’ll have an officer stationed outside of the house. But tonight, he could try come back in, and I wan’t to make sure both of you stay safe.”
Clare looks so strung up that you don’t say anything, and nod along with what he’s saying. You drain down the rest of your coffee, and stand up. “I’m gonna go take a shower.” You hand Lt. Fuller his coat back, before making him up a cup of coffe and also handing that to him. “I think there’s some pastries in the fridge, you can help yourself.”
“I’ll be up to check on you in a bit.”
“Yeah,” you say, voice hoarse. As soon as you’re out of view, your body deflates. The one night you try doing something different… You can only hope that Billy’ll show up eventually. You don’t care about how you feel, you’re fine, embaressed, exhausted, but Billy… Just thinking about how scared he must be makes your stomach turn.
You stop and stare at yourself in the mirror before getting into the shower. And Christ you’re a mess, no wonder Lt. Fuller was so worried. Your eyes are red and raw, tear tracks on your cheeks, one cheek swollen and scabbed from where Billy scratched you. Your lip is busted open and stings when you run your lip over it.
Your shower routine is the same as it normally is, though you are a bit more careful cleaning yourself out. Your fingers and the water stings. It seems like Billy isn’t going to be topping for a while. You’re sure he’ll be devastated. You just want him back in your arms.
Thank fuck your bed doesn’t have any cum stains on it when you go to crawl in. Your door doesn’t close quite right, thanks to Fuller. The only thing on your bed is a thin sheet, to prepare for what Billy might do to you. The mess he might make. But everything hurts too much for your to care about the chill.
Your bedroom door cracks open, and for a moment you hope it’s Billy, before Lt. Fuller walks in with two quilts, and a cold pack in one hand, and a glass of water in the other. He sets down the glass and cold pack on the night stand, before layering the quilts over your shivering body.
“You don’t have to.” You weakly say as he pulls the quilts up to your chin.
“You’re right, I don’t.” Lt. Fuller grabs the cold pack and presses it to your swollen cheek, making you sigh. He sits down on the bed next to you. “I have a nephew, a few years younger than you. I’m never going to have kids, so he’s the closest I got. And… You look a helluva lot like him, you know?”
You let him reach over and stroke your hair.
He watches you for a few moments before getting up. “I’ll be out in the hall, alright? Yell if anything happens.”
It isn’t until a good half hour after Lt. Fuller leaves, you unable to drift into sleep, that you hear a light rapping on your window. When you look over, you see the familiar form of Billy, shadows entirely except for one unsettling eye hoisting himself through the window with less grace than usual. Not that he’s ever been anything that could be described as graceful. Usually he comes into your room without warning, but the notice now is nice.
You shuck off the blankets and sit up on the edge of the bed, watching Billy fall to the floor with a loud thump, cursing quietly. He struggles to get up, and while you want to help, you think it’s cute, how flustered he is and dusted in snow. You smile and let out a soft giggle as sprawls across the floor instead and huffs.
Until the door bursts open, again, and Lt. Fuller has his gun trained on Billy. And if Billy were in better shape, he would scatter and dive out the window, but he isn’t, so he clambers and tries to crawl for you.
You rush to Billy, covering his body. “Don’t! It’s just Will!” you shout, holding Billy close.
Lt. Fuller lets out an irritated sigh and holsters his gun. “He couldn’t have used the front door?”
You help Billy up from the floor, holding him close as he grips onto your shirt and hides his face in your neck. “He uh- We try to be subtle, with all the girls in the house… It just what he does.”
He peers at Billy closer, placing a hand on his should which Billy flinches at. You pulls him away. “Will’s sensitive, and shy. I told him what happened and he wants to be here with me, even though he knew you would be here.”
Fuller looks between the two of you, how you turn your shoulder to him like a barrier, how Billy clutches at you and mutters into your neck. How you stroke his hair, and how tensely Billy’s muscles are flexed. “I would have appreciated the warning you were having a visitor.”
“I didn’t know he was heading over, I would have, otherwise.” No, you really wouldn’t have. “Can we go to bed now?”
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Sleep well you two.” Halfway towards the door, he pauses. “Will, be good and keep him safe.”
Billy says something that sounds like ‘yes sir’, and Fuller leaves the room, closing the door silently behind him. Billy pulls his face back looking into yours. His eyes are brimming with tears, and his bottom lip is quivering.
You hold his face. “Hey, hey. I’m okay Billy. I’m fine. Lets get you into some pajamas and head to bed, alright?”
Billy nods, and lets you dress him in your oversized pajamas, which still look adorable on him. While changing him (not that he can’t do it himself, you just love doing it) you notice his swollen ankle, and how his skin flinches when you touch his left side. You make sure to kiss both softly before dragging him under the cocoon of blankets.
You stroke his face and hair, pressing frequent kisses to his lips. “I love you Billy,” you tell him over and over, pressing close to him.
He shivers in your arms, choking down whimpers. “B-bad Billy, stupid idiot. Agnes? Agnes? Where’s the f-fucking baby-”
You cut him off with another, longer kiss. When you part, his eyes are still closed. “You’re not bad, Billy. You’re very good, and kind, and you know I love you. I would never love someone bad, and I still love you.” Partially a lie, but you still believe every word.