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The closest Billy comes to kissing Stu the first time they get off together is his teeth grazing against Stu’s chin, wanting to bite, wanting to taste the blood that would come to the surface if he did it hard enough. Stu’s mouth is wide open as he comes, spilling all over Billy’s hand, and Billy squeezes Stu’s cock a little bit harder, milking the last of it as Stu lets out a pained whine. Billy’s aching hard in his jeans, cock pressing up against the seam, and he wants to make Stu suck him, wants to put that mouth to good use and come down his throat until Stu’s choking on it.
Stu’s not ready for that yet. He’s not ready for a lot of things Billy wants to do.
But, Billy thinks, as Stu unzips Billy’s jeans and pulls his cock out, he will be.
Billy will make sure of that.
*
“Where’s your mom at, dude?” Stu asks, a slice of frozen pizza in one hand, stolen beer in the other. “Thought you, like, you know, had a whole Brady family vibe going on.”
Billy crushes the pizza box in his hands before shoving it in the trash. “She’s helping a friend,” he says as he turns around. Taking the beer out of Stu’s hand, he takes a swig.
“That’s sweet.”
“Fuck you, asshole,” Billy says, narrowing his eyes at Stu. “Your parents know what school year you’re in, or they too busy planning their next vacation?”
There’s a tightening of Stu’s jaw, his eyes darkening, and a frisson of excitement runs down Billy’s spine. Stu’s so fucking easy to manipulate, his buttons right there on display for all to see if you know what you’re looking for, and Billy always knows what to look for.
“What is it?” Billy asks quietly, nodding at Stu’s clenched fist. “You wanna hit me?”
“Yeah,” Stu says. “I wanna fucking hit you.”
Billy grins, putting the bottle on the countertop before spreading his arms. “Go ahead, buddy. Free shot.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. If you’re not a pussy.”
“Fuck you, you’re the pussy.”
“Sounds like something a pussy would say,” Billy says, tilting his jaw at Stu. “Come on, do it. Pussy.”
It’s not the hardest Billy’s ever been hit, that award goes to Ryan Carpenter in middle school who thought Billy was looking at his girl. He hadn’t been, back then, but Christina’s been looking at him lately like Billy should take notice, and fucking Ryan’s sweetheart behind his back has been sounding real good.
Billy licks his lip, the metallic tang of blood filling his senses and he breathes slowly, closing his eyes, trying to ignore the sounds of Stu screeching about his hand hurting. The pain radiates through his jaw, his neck, settling into a dull ache, and he laughs as he opens his eyes. Stu’s face is sullen, but Billy can see his cock is hard, and he walks over, pushing Stu against the edge of the counter top, cracking a smile when Stu yelps in pain.
“You enjoy that?” Billy asks, roughly cupping Stu’s cock through his pants for a moment before letting go.
“Fuck you.”
“Not today.”
They stare at each other, eyes dark, and Billy isn’t going to be the one to break first, not after taking the punch, not when he can still taste the blood in his mouth and feel the ridge of Stu’s stiff cock against his own.
“Billy, fuck,” Stu says, his hips jerking helplessly. “Come on, man, I want—”
“Yeah,” Billy says, ducking his head and biting down on Stu’s neck. “You want. You want to come, you want to punch me, you want a girl you can show off at school, you want all these fucking things.”
Stu whines, squirming like he can’t decide if he wants to push against Billy for friction, or if he wants Billy’s teeth back on his neck, and Billy doesn’t want to give him either right now because he doesn’t want Stu to win whatever this fucked up battle is they’ve got going on between them.
So he stops, takes a step back, and laughs. “Eat the pizza before it gets cold, fuckrag.”
And Stu does exactly as he’s told.
*
Billy knew he wasn’t right, knew that there was something in him that wasn’t in other people. He didn’t expect it to drive his mom away.
But then Roman shows up in his life and—.
It wasn’t him, it wasn’t that she looked at him and saw the ugliness within. It was that fucking whore screwing around with his dad. The fact that Maureen happened to be the mother of his frigid fucking girlfriend, well. That’s some special kind of a coincidence that leaves Billy’s mind turning things over and over until he figures out what he has to do.
*
Roman tells him to find someone to blame it on, and the choice is obvious. Stu’s been fucking around with Casey Becker, trying to get Tatum to notice him, and Billy thinks he needs a fucking reminder that this isn’t a goddamn game.
Billy’s house is empty more often than not now, and he takes full advantage of it, likes the power that comes along with making Stu come to him. Making Stu obey him.
Right now Stu is on his knees, giving Billy a sloppy blow job that makes Billy want to grab him by the hair and fuck his mouth. He doesn’t, this time, he has a bigger plan and that’s not part of it. Instead he runs his hand over Stu’s short hair, pressing his fingers hard against Stu’s skull, hard enough to hurt, and when Stu looks up at him, Billy smirks. “You like it,” he says softly, not giving Stu the option to say no.
The way Stu lowers his eyes in submission makes Billy’s cock twitch, and he groans when Stu moves a little quicker, his tongue flicking against the underside like he thinks he knows the best way to make Billy come. Stu doesn’t seem to understand that the thing that makes Billy come is a slick, hot orifice he can stick something in, and other than that he’s not too concerned with the details.
Still, it works, and soon Billy’s listening to Stu choke on his come as Billy holds him there, giving him no choice but to swallow it down. Stu’s glaring at him, but he’s not struggling, not protesting like he would’ve done mere weeks ago and more than anything, that’s what makes Billy think Stu’s ready.
*
They can’t be suspects, that much is clear. There can’t be anything that makes people think these two high school students have something to do with the murder of Maureen Prescott. The thing is, Maureen is a whore and it’s easy to find someone to frame.
Cotton’s not the brightest guy, young and dumb and just happy to be getting laid even if it is by someone who has been run through more times than Randy’s seen Halloween. Billy watches Cotton, learns the routine, realises he drinks too much when he’s with Maureen, and it’s almost too easy after that.
There’s a documentary on tv about the dude who killed a bunch of girls down in Florida, about how he got the death penalty last year, and Billy watches how Stu laughs, snorting into the beer he brought over.
“What’s so funny?” Billy asks, eyeing the way Stu’s slumped on the couch, legs spread.
“Just funny how he got caught, arrested for robbery.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Stu says, his eyes taking on a flinty shine. “If you’re gonna be out there butchering people, you can’t get caught like that. Can’t get caught at all.”
“Oh really? And what makes you such a genius about murder?”
Stu looks at Billy as if he’s stupid, and Billy doesn’t move a muscle, just waiting for Stu to say something.
“I’m not a fucking idiot,” Stu says finally, mouthing at the rim of the beer bottle. “And you’re not either.”
“We’d need a plan,” Billy says idly, like they’re not discussing murder. “A scapegoat.”
“And a victim.”
Billy grins, eyes lighting up. “I already have one of those,” he says, and for a moment he’s not sure if he means Maureen or Stu.
*
Stu doesn’t get to know everything; he doesn’t need to know why Billy wants Maureen dead, he doesn’t need to know that Billy’s looking forward to watching his dad being unable to mourn her, he doesn’t need to know that Billy gets hard every time he thinks about no one knowing about the revenge he enacted. Stu just needs to know that it’s happening.
Billy needs a reason to kill, and as fucked up as it is, there’s a goddamn reason behind what he’s doing. A belief, a mission. Stu doesn’t have any of that, and Billy knows it. It’s what makes him easier to control. Stu’s a loose cannon, all rage and mild psychosis simmering in his body without somewhere to direct it. All he needs is someone to tell him what to do, and Billy can do that. Wants to do it.
The way Stu’s vibrating in his skin as they wait outside the house is driving Billy crazy, but if he hits Stu now then this doesn’t happen, and Billy needs it to happen. It’s quiet, the Prescott house dark as Cotton stumbles out of the house looking like a drunk mess. Framing him is going to be easier than Billy thought.
“Surprised he could even get it up,” Stu mutters in Billy’s ear as they watch Cotton open his car door. “S’not like Maureen’s a major babe.”
“Shut up,” Billy says, eyes narrowing as he watches the overhead light in the bedroom switch on. “Now. The back door, before she has a chance to shower.”
The back door is open where Cotton forgot to close it, and they sneak in quietly, Billy leading the way upstairs. Hand closing on the hilt of his knife, he pushes the door open.
Maureen startles. “Billy, what are you—”
“Tell me,” Billy interrupts. “Does your daughter know that you’re a whore?”
“I don’t—” Maureen pulls the sheets over herself. “I don’t think you should be here.”
“Yeah,” Billy says, closing the gap between them and pushing her down on the bed. “You’re right, but there’s a lot of places you shouldn’t have been. Funny how that works out.”
The door creaks as Stu walks in, carrying Cotton’s coat. “Look what he left behind,” he says, holding it out to Billy.
“Watch her,” Billy says as he takes it, slipping it on. “Now, Maureen, what do you think’s going to happen now?”
Stu laughs nervously, a high pitched noise that makes Billy clench his jaw. He pulls his knife out and runs the blade down Maureen’s chest, between her breasts. “Tell me,” he says. “What’s your favourite scary movie?”
*
There’s a lot of blood, Maureen bleeds like a bitch, and when Billy wipes his face he feels it smear across his skin. Cotton’s coat is soaked, and Billy can see Stu out the corner of his eye staring at Maureen’s body as if he wants to touch her.
“Come on,” he barks. “Time to go.”
“Holy shit,” Stu whispers, still unable to tear his gaze away from Maureen’s body. “We did it, we actually—she’s dead, Billy.”
“Yeah,” Billy says as he grabs Stu by the wrist and pulls. “That was the plan. Now come on, Sid’ll be back soon, she’s got a curfew.”
That, at least, seems to shake Stu out of whatever fucking revelation he’s having, and he follows Billy down the stairs, leaving the house the same way they came in. Billy hears the rumblings of a car pulling up and he shoves Stu down into the bushes. “Stay here,” he says, pulling Cotton’s coat up around his ears.
“What? Billy, I—”
“Just. Stay there.”
Billy traces his steps back to the house and waits for Sid to get inside before he walks away from the house, stumbling a little. He can feel her eyes scoping the area and he ducks his head, carrying on until he knows he’s faded into the darkness and out of her view.
“What the fuck was that?” Stu asks when Billy comes back and they’re running down to the car. “Did you want to get caught?”
“If she puts it together, she’ll only remember the coat,” Billy says as he strips it off. “And the coat belongs to Cotton. It’s a small town, people will start talking. It’s why we picked him, remember?”
“Oh,” Stu says. “Yeah. Sorry.”
Billy pushes him against the trunk of the car, pressing their hips together, and he grins, feeling the dried blood on his face crack. “Don’t be sorry,” he says. “Just don’t fuck up.”
“I won’t.”
“Good,” Billy says, leaning in and kissing him quickly, long enough to give Stu a taste of what he really wants. What he’ll never get. “Come on, we need to ditch the coat.”
Stu looks at him dumbly. “Ditch the—oh. Yeah. Yeah, okay, I know where he lives.”
“You okay there, brain trust?”
“Fuck you.”
“Keep it together.”
*
When they make it back to Stu’s house, Billy wants to fuck. The blood is pumping through his veins, and he can’t call up a girl to do this because—because it’s not what he wants. He wants to push Stu down and hold him there and take what he wants without having to think about being careful or charming.
Stu’s already stripped his shirt off and is making to go and shower when Billy catches him by the wrist. “Take your pants off,” he says, looking down between them.
“Dude, what?”
“Take your pants off,” Billy repeats quietly, looking at Stu until he gets it. He waits until Stu’s on the bed, boxers still on, before he yanks open Stu’s bedside drawer, finding some lube. Raising an eyebrow he holds it up. “Expecting something to happen?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Stu says, his face flushing. “I got it when my dad took me into the city. Not like he wanted to spend time with me.”
“And you, what, were waiting for a special moment?”
“I’m a considerate lover,” Stu says, nodding.
“You’re a fucking moron,” Billy says. “Turn the fuck over.”
Forehead wrinkling, Stu shakes his head. “I don’t—I haven’t done that, dude, you know that.”
“But you want to.”
The flush on Stu’s skin gets darker, and Billy knows he’s right. Knows that it’s not gonna take much for Stu to give in and let Billy do this. He slides a hand up Stu’s thigh before he brushes his fingers over the bulge that’s there. Stu’s head falls back against the bed and a reluctant laugh slips out. “Okay so I want to, doesn’t mean I want to do it with you.”
Billy narrows his eyes. “Who else is there going to be?”
There’s a moment where he wonders if Stu is going to say something, is gonna tell Billy that he lets his little girlfriend fuck him with a strap on, but instead Stu sits up and takes off his boxers. “Just you,” Stu says quietly as he gets back on the bed, turning on to his front.
Billy hums thoughtfully as he takes his shirt off. The dried blood flakes off and a rush goes through Billy’s body as he wonders if Sidney’s screaming right now, if she’s found her mother butchered in her own house. His dick pulses at the thought of it and he presses the heel of his hand against it in an attempt to relieve the pressure.
He’s not a complete sadist, he opens Stu up as much as he can stand, mostly because he doesn’t want to hear Stu whining if he doesn’t, before he gets his cock out, kicking his jeans off until they’re a pile on the floor. “Hands and knees,” he says to Stu, watching as he obeys.
Rubbing the head of his dick against Stu’s hole, Billy bites his lip before he pushes in, and fuck, that feels good.
“Shit, Billy,” Stu chokes out. “Safe sex, you asshole.”
“Want me to pull out?” Billy asks, pushing further in even as he asks the question.
“No,” Stu says after a pause. “Fuck, fuck you.”
“Yeah,” Billy grunts as he bottoms out, draping his body over Stu’s for a moment, teeth grazing over Stu’s shoulder. “You feel good.”
“You gotta move,” Stu whines. “Billy, you gotta, I need you to—”
He shuts up once Billy starts fucking him hard, anything Stu would say reduced to gasps and whines, and Billy closes his eyes, tuning him out as he thinks about what they just did. The way the knife sliced through Maureen’s skin, the terror in her eyes before the life drained out of her completely, the way she looked at them as if they would show her mercy.
Fuck, he wants to do it again. Billy drives his hips forward, fucking into Stu over and over again, his fingers gripping Stu’s hips hard. He wants to feel that rush again, wants to drag it out next time, torment them a little longer, make them realise that he’s the one in charge of whether they live or die. They’re always going to die, but—he grunts, feeling his balls tighten up—they won’t know that. They’ll still have hope until he finally takes it away from them.
Yeah, fuck yeah, he needs to do it again. Fuck.
“Shit, dude, you just came in me, what the fuck,” Stu’s voice breaks through Billy’s post orgasm high and he rolls his eyes before pulling out.
“The fuck did you think was going to happen,” Billy says, pushing Stu over and wrapping a hand around his dick, jerking him off harshly, just like Stu likes, until Stu’s flailing, spilling over Billy’s fingers. He wipes them on the sheets and takes a breath as he settles on the bed, head resting against Stu’s flat pillow as he eyes him.
“You could’ve pulled out,” Stu says, cleaning himself up with the shirt he’d been wearing. They’re going to have to burn those clothes, Billy realises, it’s all evidence.
“Pussy,” Billy says, laughing as Stu elbows him in the ribs.
They’re both breathing heavily, side by side on Stu’s bed, and Billy can feel the sweat running down his spine when Stu turns to him with a glint in his eye.
“What, fuckhead?” Billy asks.
“Next time, I want to do it. I want to pick who we kill.”
Billy pretends to think about it before he nods. “Yeah,” he says. “But I have a bigger plan.”