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Lower Than Dirt

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“Do what you want to me,” Pablo said. “We’re dead. So it no longer matters.”

“You’re such a slut,” Henry muttered, observing the bat on his bed. “Look at you, all tied up and helpless… but you don’t even fight it. I gotta admit, you look pretty like this. Wrists bound by rope over your head, your wings spread as wide as your legs, your obvious attraction towards me…” Henry rubbed his thumb over the tip of his partner’s aching cock. “How the mighty have fallen. Pablo the strong, Pablo the practical, Pablo who’s kept it together all this time… and it turns out he wants nothing more than to be fucked.”

“D-Don’t stop…” Pablo breathed. The flustered bat squirmed in his binds, his face flushed as red as his buckets of paint. He angled himself so his legs curled over the gazelle’s shoulders. “Do it… degrade me…”

“Not that it’s hard to do.” Henry scoffed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want me to bite you and bruise you and make you feel emptier than you already do.”

“Yes…”

Henry pecked and nipped at Pablo’s neck once between every sentence:

“You’re a receptacle to be filled. You’ll be thrown away once I’m done with you. You’re a meager pile of trash kicked to the side of the road for someone else to fuck. And you don’t even care... That’s how low you‘ve fallen.”

“All I want is to be used.” Pablo gasped. “I’ll do what you want me to do, then disappear. I’ll be your perfect little cock-sleeve…”

“Is that so? Maybe I’m wrong… you’re not garbage after all. I mean, garbage has its uses. It’s too much of a compliment to even call you that.” Henry pushed forward, a low sigh leaving his throat as he was surrounded by Pablo’s tight walls. “Ahh… god. Can’t believe how easy it is to rile you up. I haven’t even entered you all the way yet.”

“I can’t stand it. I need more…”

“You want my cock that badly, don’t you? You’re that desperate to be fucked into oblivion? Needy little bitch. Let’s see how you handle this!

Pablo cried out and threw his head back as Henry slammed himself the rest of the way in, squeezing his eyes shut from the force of the gazelle’s hurried thrusts. He groaned from the rough and ruthless treatment of him, indulged in the searing pain and ecstasy. He wailed as Henry clamped his teeth over his neck and shoulders, shuddered as he lapped and sucked at the affected flesh. He flinched each time the gazelle smacked his ass—he locked his legs tighter around Henry, holding him captive like the ropes that bound him.

“You fucking masochist… You’re turned on by anyone who hurts you.” Henry said. “First your girlfriend, now me. I could’ve killed you if I wanted. You would’ve been the perfect sacrifice. If everyone hadn’t already suspected you of being the Pilgrim, I would’ve put you out of your misery. You were only too willing to die.”

“Heh… I thought I was too impure for that.” Pablo chuckled. “You said it yourself. The hotel wouldn’t have been satisfied by the blood of a degenerate slut like me.”

“You know, someone had to teach you to be such a goddamn whore.” Henry raised an eyebrow. “Was it your girlfriend? Did she make you her little bitch? Did she tie you up like this?”

“H-Henry, please…”

“Did she crush your dick like this? Is this how you made up after every fight? No… it goes further, doesn’t it? She put her fingers into you. Then like the degenerate you‘ve always been, it wasn’t enough. So she took a toy and fucked you into oblivion. You miss it, don’t you? Almost as much as you miss her.”

“Yes…”

“Too bad she had to be crazy, huh? Maybe a madhouse would’ve been—hurrk!

Shut the fuck up.” Pablo snarled, legs clamped around Henry’s neck. “If you say one bad thing about my girlfriend again, this ends here now. Insult me all you like—but not her. Do you understand?”

Taken back by Pablo’s sudden hostility, the gazelle remained silent before returning his glare.

“...Fine. Not that it matters anyway.”

“I wouldn’t insult your family, so I expect the same courtesy in return.”

“Right, right, got it. My wife and I… We were so much purer than anyone could ever dream of.” Henry looked contemplative. “I have to admit, I was scared. Scared of hurting her. And I didn’t want to disappoint her in bed and ruin our perfect wedding. But we figured it out… and we brought our beautiful daughter into the world because of that. It was the happiest day of my life. Yet even after that night, after we had our little girl… we couldn’t stop touching each other. We knew it was wrong but we didn’t want to stop. We figured as long as no one knew about it and we weren’t hurting anyone, it’d be okay. It didn’t seem to affect our marriage either, so even better for us.”

“You weren’t a monster back then,” Pablo said. “You didn’t believe you needed to kill people and sacrifice their souls.”

“I’m not fucking you to get lectured,” Henry muttered. “If you’re so angry about what I did to try to get back to my family, what does it say about you that you agreed to be my toy?” Henry lay his hand on Pablo’s cheek, caressing it slowly. “Although… you’re not bad for a toy. For whatever reason, I could never keep my eyes off you whenever we were in the same room. Even with Nan around, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Henry leaned in and closed the space between their lips with his, gradually catching up with their earlier ravenous bucking. With a groan, Pablo parted his mouth to grant Henry access. The bat pushed back and their teeth bumped together—after that clumsy interlude, Henry paused for breath and tried again. Pablo tasted iron and saliva, but beneath all that, there lay the oddly comforting flavor of Henry.

“Mmm…” the gazelle whimpered. He slowed his thrusts so he could concentrate on the kiss. Pablo responded in kind, withdrawing so he could gently brush over his lips. Puzzled by his tenderness but not unwelcoming of it, Henry permitted his partner to come inside; Pablo took his time to explore him, caressing his gums and the palate of his mouth.

With a desperate grunt, Henry struggled to keep control, picking up his thrusts and sucking Pablo’s tongue. The bat shuddered and his teeth grazed his upper lip. Pablo’s fingers flexed helplessly as he thought of the things he wanted to do to the gazelle if he weren’t bound: he wanted to grab Henry by the horns, force him to be violent with him and do more wicked things with his mouth. He longed to trace the stripes on Henry’s face and admire their beauty; even the scar Nan had slashed across his right eye had a sort of bittersweetness to it. He yearned to sink his fingers into the back of his shoulders and massage them. He wished Henry would stop being stuck in his past… but that would be the pot meeting kettle, wouldn’t it? All he knew was even if Henry never found his family again, he didn’t have to be alone.

There was a small sound between their lips as the bat and gazelle parted. Then as if waking from a dream, Henry sneered and turned hostile again:

“You’re disgusting. You and Nan and Santiago. Always stepping in and getting on my last nerve.” He stared at the bat. “Pablo. Why are you so nice to me?”

“I don’t know. What good would it have done to be mean to you?”

“Even after everything I’ve done? Even after killing all those people, and Alan and Anna? Even after I almost sacrificed Nan? I don’t regret any of it.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I could’ve been home. I could be having dinner with my wife and daughter. I could be making love with my wife instead of fucking you. I wouldn’t be lonely and desperate and pathetic like you. I’d finally be free! I’d finally be—!” His eyes widened in realization. “Pablo. What was my breakfast specialty?”

“I-I don’t know. You never told me...” Pablo replied, his breathing labored—despite his peak approaching, his anticipation evaporated like a raindrop in a desert. Henry was no better, his eyes wide with panic as he slammed his hips frantically with Pablo’s.

“It was pancakes, wasn’t it? Waffles? French toast?” Henry gasped. “You have to help me, Pablo! You have to… help me…”

Henry shuddered and collapsed over Pablo, emptying himself inside him. With a shiver and a groan, the bat surrendered his climax as well, though like Henry he got no pleasure from it. For a moment, neither of them said anything. What could they possibly say? Pablo didn’t know Henry cooked. He didn’t know the names of his wife and daughter any more than he could remember his girlfriend’s. But he knew that whatever memories Henry still had, he would fight tooth and nail to keep them. It was the only way to stay alive—and the only way to justify anything he did at the hotel.

Henry pulled away from him like a wet rag, refusing to meet the bat’s eyes. He reached for something on the nightstand—when Pablo saw what it was, his blood turned to ice.

“Henry! No—!”

The knife sliced through the rope, cutting Pablo free of his bonds.

Oh.

He supposed it wouldn’t make much sense to be killed if you were already dead.

As Pablo rubbed his wrists, Henry tossed the knife aside with frustration. The gazelle lay over his body, burying his face into his chest.

Pablo remembered whenever Henry cried at the hotel. Henry always made a point to be as dramatic and sensitive as possible, openly bawling whenever it was discovered someone had been murdered, embracing any survivor who turned up after being missing for a long time. He gave the impression he was as fragile as glass, and that his innocence could shatter as easily as the mirror in the safe room.

A soft sob muffled into Pablo’s fur… but it was creaky and restrained. Henry flinched when Pablo said his name, as though he expected to be mocked or scolded. He didn’t want to be weak to Pablo, ashamed at having lost control when he was supposed to be infallible. Pablo knew the feeling. No matter how much of a jerk he was, no matter how manipulative, cruel, and monstrous he’d been… all Henry ever wanted was to be with his family again. Pablo understood even if he despised the methods taken. The bat lay his arms around the grieving gazelle, stroking his shoulders in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

“I’m so sorry, Henry...” he whispered.

The gazelle wept harder and returned his embrace.