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Blood stains his fingers; Curly no longer smells like himself, but instead of iron and saline.
He screams.
It’s barely his voice anymore either, instead one of a wounded, terrified animal.
He looks like one, too, the way his pupil constricts evident.
Jimmy, somehow, doesn’t mind.
Maybe he likes him better like this, because like this, he can finally be better than him. Not morally, because, morals are useless, but because he’s above him.
Metaphorically and literally.
Now, Curly’s just like a puppy. Pissing and shitting himself and crying for food (medication, really) unable to do a single thing alone.
It’s nice. He has control of him; that’s nice. He’s his little pet.
Because it’s so nice, he almost forgets that Anya’s there. Which is weird. Considering he’s doing this to scare her, really, to terrify her and put her in her place.
He wonders if that’s just an excuse. That’s plausible, considering how hard he’s gotten.
But he still wants her to be there. No, he needs her to be here. To witness it all. Not just so he can terrify her, ingrain this imagine into her head, no, but because something as delightful as this simply /needs/ a witness.
Curly’s crying and squirming already, little pained groans and strangled noises escaping him as he feels his thighs dug into. Jimmy can imagine it’s painful; after all, there’s no skin, and blood seeps out as soon as he digs his dull nails into them, but that makes it all the better, somehow.
He wants Curly to suffer. Wants to hurt him now more than ever. Anya pissed him off to the point this was inevitable. It was all her fault.
That’s why she was now going to watch, with front row tickets.
Hyperventilating in the corner against the wall was Anya, sat with her knees pulled to her chest.
“Remember what I told you.” Jimmy sneers, just to make sure she’d watch, before turning to Curly again, finally unzipping his coveralls to free his cock; there’s been enough teasing.
He’d warned her earlier if she took her eyes away from the scene, he’d have to hurt Curly even more. Make it truly torturous. She didn’t want that.
Curly’s dick is slightly marred. Not completely unusable, Jimmy’s sure, but it’s not in the best shape, like most of his body. He’s lucky it’s even still there.
Curly whimpers. Jimmy stares down at him.
And then he moves forward, hips canting as he finds Curly’s entrance. He doesn’t bother to prep him; he /wants/ this to hurt.
It does, judging by the pained cry Curly lets out.
“Jim-Jimmy, please, at least-”
Jimmy looks to Anya, who clams up once he locks eyes with her.
“What?” He sneers. Anya swallows, hard, lip quivering. There’s tears running down her face; she’s always been so weak.
“Please… prepare him..”
Jimmy cocks an eyebrow. This was supposed to hurt. Even if he prepped him, it’d still hurt like a bitch, wouldn’t it?
He looks back at Curly, who stares back at him with that pastel blue eye, pupil pinpricked.
Jimmy grit his teeth, complying and shoving in two fingers instead of his dick. It still wrenches out a cry from Curly, not like Jimmy expected anything else. Anya flinches, her breath hitching. Jimmy fucks his fingers in and out of him, watching as blood slowly but surely coated his fingers (not as much as he expected, really, but still enough) a cruel cherry red.
Jimmy gets fed up after a few moments. It’s far too long, and frankly, he’s not sure why he listened to Anya (did he still feel pity, somewhere deep down?) in the first place.
So he wipes off the blood on the gauze wrapped around Curly’s leg, and finally presses his dick against Curly’s entrance. He’s warm and plush. He whines. Jimmy licks his lips.
He pushes in.
Curly screams, screams to the point he loses his voice. Jimmy winces from the sound just a little bit, but pushes in nonetheless till he’s buried inside of him. Anya’s a full out sobbing mess now, hiccupping and clawing at her hair.
And all Jimmy can think about is how /good/ Curly feels.
He’s wet and warm, kinda like a girl, he thinks, and he’s so, so tight.
Jimmy should’ve done this years ago. Should’ve taken him when he was intact. He would’ve protested, like Anya, but he’d be a lot more lenient with him, Jimmy thinks. He loved him. It was why he always helped him, always defended him, despite how cruel his acts would get.
Jimmy thinks he loves him back. It’s the least he can do, right?
Curly’s panting now, unable to make any more noises, ragged breaths coming out short and choked up.
Jimmy knows he loves him like this.
He stays seated in him for a few moments before beginning to move, the gurney trembling with each thrust. Curly whimpers with each and every movement, tilting his head back and breathing like he’s crying - he probably is, he just lacks the tear ducts for the actual tears - his eye trying to focus on anything else than the present. He ends up staring at the screen.
Jimmy keeps fucking him, unable not to. He feels so awfully good. He almost wishes Curly was in more pain (would that even be possible? He wonders.) so he could relish in it more. He wishes he didn’t lose he voice just then, either, because he loved hearing his choked out cries.
Still, it was infinitely hotter to remember that he quite literally couldn’t make noises anymore because of /him/. And it’s a little nice to get a break from the bitching.
Still, he’d prefer an active participant. So he digs his nails harder into his flesh, making Curly choke on a breath.
Jimmy slides out - not completely out - slowly, admiring the fresh blood on his cock, glistening under the artificial light.
He slams back in. It hurts Curly, by the way he tenses and stops breathing for a moment, but is that any surprise?
No. It’s a welcome reaction.
Jimmy fucks him with purpose, with need. Curly takes it, like the good boy he is. Anya watches, like the prisoner she is.
It’s so hot it claws at Jimmy, it makes him want to writhe like Curly, makes him want to come instantly-
But he knows he has to draw this out, for the both of them. He wants to make Curly feel good, and he knows how males work, he knows about prostates (of course he does) and how it feels pretty fucking good to have someone rut at it, so he works to find it, angling himself till he hears Curly’s breath hitch and gets the clear indication something finally feels good.
He looks almost horrified at the revelation, and Jimmy knows why, he’s felt nothing but constant pain for months, and now he was feeling a sort of fucked up pleasure, one forced upon him. It must be strange.
That’s okay, after all, he’ll grow to like it.
He’d surely be more grateful than Anya. Jimmy’s sure of it. Curly’s always appreciated him, despite everything.
He feels better too. It’s nice, this feels like making love, not like sex, not the way he fucked Anya - this was love.
He wonders if Curly knows it, as he chokes on his breaths and sobs dryly, helpless, a marionette with snipped strings.
A bird with clipped wings.
Jimmy loses himself just a little, for just a moment, digging his nails harder into Curly’s flesh, making him gasp and jolt. It’s a pretty picture, and he takes a mental snapshot.
He fucks him harder after that, snapping his hips forward, burying himself deep inside. The cot shakes and trembles under the added weight and movement, but he ignores it in favor of fucking him, fucking Curly, making him feel good-
Jimmy groans when he comes inside Curly, cum seeping from his cock into him. He absently wonders if Curly came. He doubted it.
In the end, it didn’t matter, as he slid out, blood and cum dripping off his cock in a slow, cruel way, like honey. Anya’s still sobbing and shaking in the corner, terrified. Horrified.
Jimmy leans down and kisses Curly.
It’s not much of a kiss, really, more so Jimmy wetting Curly’s relatively dry teeth, but it’s good enough, because it’s still Curly, still Curly’s teeth, still his baby blue eye staring right at him unblinking-
When he pulls back, he simply slips his dick back in his boxers, zipping up his coveralls. He slides off the gurney, glancing to Anya, who stares at him with caution. There’s dried tears staining her cheeks, fresh ones welling up in her bloodshot eyes.
He leaves without another word, and relishes in the fact she’ll have to clean him up.