Work Text:
Arthur Lester’s dreams are never pleasant.
He likes to think he has mastered the art of slipping back to consciousness in the scant moments before the nightmare will leave him shaking and sweating. He knows the dream he’s currently in is not one he has that much control over. He can feel the presence lurking in his subconscious. Arthur is familiar enough with beings in his head to know when he's not alone.
He fumbles around him, feeling the scratchy thin blankets of the hotel bed he fell asleep in hours before.
“John?” he whispers, a poorly smothered note of hopefulness in the dark.
Silence. His voice carries slightly, even at such a low volume. It echoes as if he were in a much larger space than a dingy hotel room. He stands, bare feet touching ice cold stone as he reaches a hand toward where the nightstand should be. His hand passes through empty space.
Alright. He knows the wall of the room was about three steps away. If he can find a wall and follow it- Well. Anything seems better than sitting blindly on the bed. He can still feel the presence curling around the corners of his subconscious.
One, two, three-
Nothing. He takes two more steps in quick succession, arm outstretched as if maybe the wall is moving just out of reach as he walks, as if he can catch it by surprise. Nothing. Only cold air surrounds him and he shivers, wrapping his arms around his bare torso. A sudden image of himself in his mind’s eye, wandering through a black cavern with no end, comes unbidden into his head. Arthur scampers back the direction he came, legs hitting the bed. The only thing he can hear is his own breathing, harsh in the silence. The hair raises on his arms, prickling. He knows he’s being watched, can sense it heavy on the back of his neck.
Fuck this.
“I know you’re there.” His voice only wavers slightly. He turns his face forward, straightening his spine and squaring his shoulders against an invisible adversary.
“Bravo, Arthur.” Kayne’s voice seems to slide out of the shadows.
Arthur keeps his back towards the bed, facing the direction of the echo. Unease simmers in his veins. He takes a deep breath.
“What do you want, Kayne?”
“Cozy place you’ve got here.” Footsteps, finally, slowly growing louder as Kayne approaches.
Arthur stands as if pinned at the end of the bed. Kayne’s continued interest in him is unsettling, but that same interest seems to have kept him alive. So far. As long as he plays along. But he’s tired, even here in his dreams. Without John to tell him where Kayne is in the room, Arthur feels vulnerable. Fear he tries to ignore fizzes in his chest, pushing him towards recklessness.
“Look. I’m not in the mood. Tell me what you want or leave. You’re the one that decided to visit my head.” he says shortly. “I know I’m dreaming.”
“Sure, whatever makes you feel better.” Kayne’s voice suddenly is much closer, mere feet away from him.
Arthur stiffens. He knows when he’s dreaming- he does. This is what it feels like. Uncertainty washes over him. If he’s not dreaming, then..
“John?”
“Oh, give it a break, Arthur.” Kayne’s voice grows in both proximity and anger. “John this, John that. Don’t you ever shut up about him?”
Arthur scowls in Kayne's direction.
“Yes, John.” Kayne sighs, voice drifting away again. “I’m sure he’s still kicking around in there somewhere. But this isn’t about him, kid. I wanted to talk to you.” He pauses, footsteps continuing to echo.
“Tell me what you want, Kayne.” Arthur grinds out, his heart kicking up a notch in his chest. Cold sweat starts to bead on his palms. “I don’t feel like playing guessing games.”
“Like I said, I wanted to talk to you, Arthur. Well. Maybe I lied. Maybe talk isn’t quite the right word. Although we can do that as well.” His footsteps get closer, and though they still echo from the same direction, Arthur feels distinctly like he’s being circled, sized up.
He sucks in a shallow breath. He knows Kayne is right in front of him now, even if he can’t see him. He could probably reach out and touch him. Based on the footsteps and the voice, Kayne seems to be just as John has described him before. It doesn’t stop some deep part of his brain from recoiling in fear. He can still feel Kayne’s presence, something much bigger than the size of a man, lurking in the corners of his subconscious.
“I’m just trying to be thorough, my dear. Check all the boxes and all that.”
“What-”
“You’re a special little boy, you know that, Arthur? And the real kicker is, nobody can tell me why. You certainly couldn’t.”
Suddenly Kayne’s breath, warm in his ear though still not touching him.
“Can I take a peek, Arthur? I just want to see what makes you tick.”
“I-”
“Pretty please? You don’t even have to do anything. I’ll do all the work.”
With that, Kayne touches him, a warm hand pushing him gently towards the bed. His knees buckle and he sinks down, sitting on the edge of the mattress. The cold stone numbs his feet as he twists his hands in the blankets below him. Arthur’s brain feels like it’s wrapped in cotton, his thoughts clumsy with fear. His heart won’t stop pounding. What is Kayne even asking him?
It matters much less than the fact that he knows can’t say no.
Kayne moves forward then, Arthur can feel him bump softly into the bed as he stands between his open legs. Kayne’s fingers rest lightly under his chin, slowly tilting his head up to where he stands above him. It doesn’t matter that he can’t meet his gaze because his presence slides against Arthur’s mind, pushing on him, testing him. He’s only letting him get this close because maybe he can hurt him. He’s so fucking sick of being toyed with. Maybe he can catch Kayne off guard somehow, wake up and tell John some good news for once. He tells himself that this is just a dream anyway. His dream. Kayne can’t really hurt him here.
He shoves the lies to the back of his mind.
Kayne rests his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, gently kneading the spot where the Butcher’s bullet entered. Arthur relaxes minutely, the pressure on the old wound softening the ache of it.
“Deep breath for me, Arthur.” Kayne runs the pad of his finger over the scar.
It opens up beneath his touch, blood welling up and spilling over slowly, running down Arthur’s skin. He tenses, wincing reflexively, although there is none of sharp pain that accompanied the original wound.
“What-” he cuts himself off with a sharp breath as Kayne slowly puts pressure behind his movement, pressing his finger into the bullet hole.
A dull ache spreads out from where Kayne has slipped just an inch of his finger in, making room for himself in Arthur’s skin. It feels like pressing an old bruise, like massaging an old pain. He feels slightly nauseous. Warmth spreads from his shoulder and Arthur realizes hazily that the pain is mostly overshadowed by the feeling of heat, of pressure as he slowly retracts the finger.
“See, that’s not so bad, is it?” Kayne sounds like he's beaming with pride. “I just knew you’d be up for the challenge.”
He slides back into the bullet hole, pushing deeper without hesitation and this time Arthur feels like he’s struck a live wire. His body tenses and arches toward Kayne, simultaneously trying to get further away and closer to the sensation.
“Wait! Sto-Stop.” His voice cracks as sweat beads on his forehead, slipping down his back as his heart pounds. He can feel his own blood drying slightly, smeared across his shoulder and chest.
“Tut tut Arthur. Don’t you want to see how much you can take? I know I do.”
Kayne reaches down, skipping his fingers playfully across Arthur’s red stained and tacky torso, lower. His touch draws Arthur’s attention to where heat has started to coil low in his stomach. He resolutely decides that that can be ignored, his attention pulled away as Kayne draws his fingers lower, down to the bite mark on Arthur’s leg, visible just below his shorts.
“This one was fun, wasn’t it?” Kayne wraps his fingers around Arthur’s thigh, thumb brushing lightly over the curved mark left by vicious teeth. Underneath his touch, blood bubbles up, and Kayne presses his thumb down to dimple the flesh in the center of the bite. Blood pools in the indentation before slipping down his thigh. A sickening sort of thrill runs through him at the warm ache beneath the press of Kayne’s fingers. He lets up on the pressure and slides his fingers around, spreading them across Arthur’s skin, getting him messy with his own blood.
The sharp coppery smell hits Arthur like a slap, and he recoils to try and escape iron filling his lungs but Kayne is still leaning over him. He slips his hand around the back of Arthur’s head, carding his fingers through his hair, too gentle for the way Arthur sits bleeding before him. His heart feels like a tangled knot in his chest, as if Kayne has sunk his fingers in deep and twisted. Arthur can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this, gently, like he was something precious.
“Where are you going?” Kayne coos, leaning down over Arthur until he can feel hair just brushing his head, tickling his face.
“I’m not- Nowhere.” Arthur shakes his head like he could possibly calm the whirlwind of his mind. “Why are you- What are you getting from this?" He tries to sound confident, missing miserably.
“Excellent question, Arthur.” Kayne says mockingly. “One I already answered, if you were paying attention. I’m just hoping to get some answers.” His voice lowers to a stage whisper. “And it’s fun.”
With that, Kayne leans down toward Arthur’s ear and licks the roughly torn skin. There’s only a moment of pain before that warm bruised feeling spreads out from the tear, freshly bloody as if it were injured moments before. Kayne leans back slightly to admire his work, before pressing a brief kiss to the ragged edge, like an afterthought.
Warmth spreads down Arthur’s neck at the gesture, flustered, he says “I don’t see how that’s going to help you."
Kayne just hums in response, seemingly far more interested in looking at Arthur than anything he has to say. He flicks Arthur's ear.
Anger boils up in Arthur. "So far you just seem to be poking holes in me. Are you getting the results you hoped?” He mutters, tone far too mocking for the situation.
And yet. And yet. It pulls at something deep within him, something he’s never wanted to acknowledge, this combination of pain and pleasure.
Arthur knows he’s hit a nerve when instead of a response, Kayne opens a scarred bullet wound on his chest with a tap and presses a finger in. Arthur writhes at the sudden intrusion, feeling electricity spark through his chest, into his limbs. Kayne doesn’t even give him a moment to breathe before he’s sliding his other hand over, reaching another bullet scar.
“So rude to me, Arthur.” he chides flatly, two fingers pushed into Arthur’s chest.
“Oh my God.” Arthur groans, body twisting from the sensation while instinctively trying to remain still. He can feel Kayne’s fingers twisting deeper, burning paths through him, before they’re suddenly yanked free. It’s as if a weight on his mind has been lifted as well, Kayne’s presence suddenly receding where he hadn’t even noticed it pressed up against him.
“You know what, you're right. Maybe it’s time to try a different approach. Something bigger.” He hums thoughtfully. "Can you scoot back for me, sweetheart?”
What other choice does he have? Arthur shuffles back on the bed until he’s no longer touching the floor, legs splayed out in front of him. The bed dips as Kayne crawls toward him, quickly settling himself in Arthur’s lap, facing him with his legs over his hips.
“That’s much better, isn’t it?” It’s not a question and Arthur doesn’t answer it.
Hands rest on Arthur’s shoulders, and he gets the feeling he’s being studied. A noise of affirmation and one of the hands slides down to where Larson’s monster pierced through him, palm covering the poorly healed scar. Arthur doesn’t even have time to panic, a shudder runs through him as he feels himself open up, deeper than any of the previous scars.
He knows this wound runs all the way through him, can remember with vicious clarity the all encompassing pain and terror he felt down in the mines. He hates the fact that if he focuses too hard, he can feel blood dripping slowly down his back, absurdly thinking with a rising sort of hysteria about how he must be getting the sheets dirty. He loathes that despite it all, the pain of the wound barely registers beneath the unignorable fact that somehow it feels good, the heat of the wound throbbing beneath Kayne's hand sending a sick sort of arousal thrumming through him.
Arthur realizes with a start that he’s not fully hard yet but, oh, it’s not going to take much. He feels panicked.
“Jesus Christ-” he stutters out. “What are you doing to me?”
“What does it feel like I’m doing?” Kayne sounds like he’s genuinely interested in the answer, as if Arthur could even begin to put into words what it feels like to have someone touch him like this. Kayne is tearing him open scar by scar with the care of a lover. Arthur almost laughs at the absurdity of it all.
“That’s not- not what I meant. You’re making me-”
Kayne seems to understand what he’s asking, interrupting his accusation. “Oh come on, the denial. I could make you feel however I want, it’s true, but where’s the fun in that? It’s time to face the music, Arthur. You. Like. This.”
Each word is punctuated by Kayne pushing fingers, then knuckles into Arthur, the edges of the wound stretching taut and then relaxing as he finally comes to a rest wrist deep. Arthur can feel him flutter his fingers as if in curiosity, before finally catching on something that wrenches the air out of his lungs.
God. He feels lightheaded. Maybe it’s his actual lungs. Arthur gasps raggedly, feeling the phantom pain of the original injury beneath the warmth of Kayne’s hand, the reopened wound feeling hot and tight like an infection. Arthur tips forward, catching his forehead on Kayne’s shoulder and sliding his hand further into him. Arthur tenses and Kayne groans as Arthur’s body contracts and shifts around him.
“Oh, Arthur, you are something special, you know that?” Kayne gasps in delight as he reaches some place deep inside.
Arthur shudders, eyes closed tight as if it could lessen the overwhelming feeling of being opened up and reached into. Kayne leans toward him, licking a line up his neck that Arthur can feel like ice compared to his burning chest.
“You’ve done this to someone.” Kayne breathes into his ear. “How does it feel to be on this end?”
“It hurts.”
“It does, doesn’t it.” Kayne sighs sweetly. “But that’s not all you feel, is it?”
Arthur’s hips twitch involuntarily. He tries to ignore the heat, the need he feels coiling in his belly. He knows it must be obvious that he’s straining against his pants, the thin cloth uncomfortably tight. Embarrassment writhes within him, making him want to curl up and hide but he can barely even move, pinned in place by the hand currently exploring his guts, by the thing sitting in his lap.
“Do you need some help with that, my love?” Kayne coos at him.
Arthur feels beyond coherent thought. He shakes his head no. If he just ignores it, if he just- It’ll go away. It has to go away. His chest burns with humiliation, he squeezes his eyes shut tighter and feels tears prick at the corners.
“Oh Arthur, don’t be embarrassed. It’s okay. Let's just make you a little more comfortable.” Kayne slowly, agonizingly pulls his hand out of Arthur. He seems to take delight in catching everything he can on the way out, plucking at sinew and muscle as Arthur does his best to stifle a whimper as he writhes from the sensation.
As Kayne’s hand slips fully out, a fresh pulse of blood follows, the air thick and coppery with it. He reaches for the band of Arthur’s pajama pants, pulling the waist down just enough for him to slip free of them. He can feel the cold air on his cock, now resting on his stomach.
“Should I describe it for you, Arthur? I know that’s what you’re used to.”
Arthur can feel himself twitch at the idea, shame coiling even tighter in his chest and staining his cheeks. He remains silent.
“Oh you liked that, didn’t you? I could even use his voice if you wanted.” Kayne's voice slides lower as he’s talking, until John is saying “You’re dripping Arthur, do you usually get this messy? I thought you said you didn’t need any help. Your cock is flushed, it looks like you must be aching, and the head is just as red as the wound on your stomach. This one.”
Arthur feels himself throb at the words, growing harder still as John- No, Kayne’s hand follows the edge of the gash leisurely.
Discarding John’s voice, Kayne murmurs “What a good job you’re doing Arthur.” He’s hooked his fingers just inside the wound, slowly tracing it from within him. Arthur whines softly at the feeling.
After that, Arthur starts to drift away in the onslaught of such overwhelming sensation. Kayne flits from scar to scar, taking his time with some, barely touching others. He's having fun playing with Arthur like this. Arthur feels unmoored, floating in darkness, his body hot. The only places he doesn’t feel on fire are the dripping wounds littering his body, where his blood cools in the air. It’s just a dream anyway. It would be easy enough to slip back to wherever he was before this.
“Arthur, darling.” Kayne moves his hands from where they were exploring an incision on Arthur’s forearm and brings both hands to cup his face. “Stay with me here.”
His eyelids flutter as he opens his eyes to the darkness, coming back to himself with Kayne’s words. He’s still speaking, saying-
“Just a little bit more for me. What do you think Arthur?” He tries to answer but it gets caught in his throat, sticky with disuse. God- How long had he been drifting? How long has he been here? He struggles to recall what led him to this moment, bleeding and aching under a god's hands. Kayne seems to take his silence as hesitation.
“We both know I’m going to do it anyway.“ The words are harsh but his voice is soft, spoken into Arthur’s ear. “I think you can take it.”
Arthur finds himself nodding, unable to talk around the lump in his throat. He swallows as Kayne’s hands trace down his face before coming to rest on his collarbones, gently tapping out a rhythm.
“Don’t let the others know, but this one is my favorite.” He follows the raised line on Arthur’s neck and the skin opens, unfurling beneath his fingers as if in recognition.
Arthur gasps, then tries to abort the sound when he feels the air whistle through his ragged open throat. He lifts his hand to where Kayne’s sits, fingers gingerly brushing the edge of the wound. He feels dizzy. His hand is sticky with blood although only a slow trickle seems to fall from his throat. It’s nothing like the horror of the original injury, his blood pumping out of him, soaking his clothes and leaving the ground wet.
“This one is mine.” Kayne says, preening.
He cups the back of Arthur’s head tenderly as he slides his fingers back and forth across the gash. There’s no avoiding the sensation, the motion soothing but leaving a burning feeling that adds to the fire roaring through Arthur’s body. He barely has the presence of mind to listen to Kayne’s words anymore, lost in the feeling of air touching places in his body it was never meant to, of being exposed in such a sickening way.
“Ah-Ah-” his breath stutters raggedly as Kayne slides two fingers deeper, into the tangle of his throat. Arthur tries to still his movements in panic as pressure builds from inside his neck, as if Kayne is threading his fingers through his vocal cords.
“Don’t hold out on me now.”
One hand still playing with the gash on his neck, Kayne draws his other to Arthur’s mouth, just resting the fingers on Arthur’s lips as he gasps and pants. He knows what Kayne wants him to do, what he wants to do. He can’t quite remember why he was holding back anymore, his reasons and excuses tumbling out of his mind beneath the ache and need. He gives in.
He slips his tongue out to taste Kayne’s fingers, the coppery tang of his own blood filling his mouth. He’s hardly a stranger to the taste of blood, much less his own, and he swallows Kayne’s fingers down despite the panic the taste brings. It quickly fades into the background. This feels right, it feels good; this is something he can do. He licks and curls his tongue as Kayne explores his mouth just as he explored his throat, his chest, his shoulder. Arthur laps at the fingers until he can no longer taste blood, just a hint of copper in the back of his mouth and still he doesn’t stop.
Kayne continues to entertain himself with the gash on Arthur’s throat; his touch feels like adoration even as he pries Arthur open. It’s driving Arthur mad, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his life. Kayne isn’t even paying attention to him beyond his neck, hasn’t even touched his cock at all as it sits exposed between them and Arthur feels desperate, overwhelmed. He thinks about reaching down, taking himself in hand but something about the idea feels like losing, as if he were admitting defeat. He can already hear Kayne laughing at him.
Kayne slows down his languid exploration of Arthur’s mouth, moving to draw his fingers out.
“Please-ah-please I can’t. I don’t..” Arthur babbles as soon as Kayne’s fingers leave his mouth. There’s spit running down his chin, mixing with his sweat as it slides down toward his open neck, stinging the abused flesh and sending zips of pain-pleasure-pain sparking through him.
Arthur twitches his hips, unsure of exactly what he’s asking for.
“Of course, Arthur,” Kayne says generously, slightly amused like he’s just noticed the state Arthur is in. “Take what you need.”
He slides even closer to Arthur, chest to chest, so his ignored cock is pinned between the two of them. The shift in position lets Arthur feel the pool of slick he’s dripped onto himself. The feeling of bare skin registers on his own, and he can’t recall if he had felt the rough press of fabric before, when it might have disappeared. It doesn’t matter because it feels so good. The cooler body in front of him contrasts with the feverish warmth of his own. Arthur clumsily rolls his hips up and oh- It’s not even close to enough but it doesn’t matter, he grinds his hips unsteadily, trying to get the most friction he can as Kayne turns his attention back to his throat. The pressure in his neck as tendons and sinew are pushed and prodded sends electricity sparking down his spine.
Kayne’s fingers reappear at his lips and he opens his mouth easily for them. He shoves them further down Arthur’s throat, making him gag. In a moment of dizzy realization Arthur recognizes that Kayne is trying to touch his hands together, the one lodged in Arthur’s neck reaching up towards the fingers sliding their way down his throat.
“How does it feel?” Kayne’s so close to him now, enveloping him completely. Legs over his hips, fingers in his mouth, in his neck. Chest to chest, Arthur can barely tell where his own body stops and Kayne’s starts. He rolls his hips faster, chasing a release that still feels too far away. He can feel that his movement is causing rivulets of blood to drip from the various wounds that litter his body.
“So good,” Arthur pants as Kayne’s fingers slide out of his throat. His voice is raspy. “So fucking good.”
“I wish you could see how pretty I made you look, Arthur.” Kayne purrs as Arthur twists and gasps beneath him.
“Here, I can show you.” Kayne grabs his hand, bringing it to rest over the Butcher’s bullet wound. He presses it down slightly, a deep ache pulsing through his shoulder, Arthur moans as his hand is tugged away, guided to the gash left by Larson’s monster. He tries to pull it away as soon as he realizes Kayne’s destination, his hips coming to a stop as a flash of fear runs through him, but the grip on his hand tightens and Kayne guides his hand to the entrance of the wound.
“I can’t, I can’t, don’t,-” Arthur feels his hand being pushed into himself, the tips of his fingers disappearing inside. It feels soft. Wet and burning hot.
“You’ll enjoy it.” Kayne promises.
Arthur knows he’s going to do it even as he tries to protest. He wonders in some far away corner of his mind if this is what true bloodlust feels like. The grip on his wrist loosens and Arthur pushes his hand the last few inches, his skin stretching over his knuckles with a punched out groan. Then it's suddenly over and he comes to a stop, hand buried in his chest. He hunches forward, jaw slack and eyes rolling up slightly in their sockets as he shivers.
“Good boy.” Kayne sounds delighted, elated. Arthur barely has the presence of mind to hear him, stuck in a feedback loop of hot, tight warmth on his hand and deep aching pressure in his chest. He thinks he might be crying. Suddenly, Kayne wrenches his head back, gaping the wound in his throat and Arthur can feel his tongue working at the torn flesh. The movement causes Arthur to jerk, and his free hand grasps for anything to keep him upright, clutching Kayne’s arm to steady himself.
“Are you close, Arthur?” Kayne laughs, pleased.
And he is. If he could just- He tries to move, to grind against Kayne’s stomach again but he can’t get the angle right with his own hand in the way. If Kayne would just- Well, there's no shame in asking a god for help, is there? His pride was left behind in the waking world anyway.
“Oh god - Please- Please touch me,”
“Of course.” Kayne says agreeably, reaching down and taking Arthur in his hand, earning him a whimper. “You’re so wet. I told you you’d like it.”
Arthur groans in- Denial? Agreement?
He can feel his own body stretched tight around his hand, heat scorching through him. Kayne’s free hand skips up Arthur’s body, running through the soft hair on his chest and smearing blood around, before landing on his throat once again. Arthur makes needy noises as he ruts into Kayne’s hand, straining and panting. He can feel the wave of his release rushing toward him. The fingers bore into his throat once again, slipping into the smooth sinew, prodding at him. Between the hand in his guts and the attention to his neck he feels so full, a bone deep contentment filling him underneath the frantic urge for release. Kayne strokes him in long pulls, and Arthur can feel himself pulsing, an aching rhythm echoed in every open scar on his body.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop- please- I-” Every muscle in his body trembles and aches. He’s so close, but he can’t quite-
“Having trouble, sweetheart?” Arthur doesn’t even have the capacity to feel flustered at Kayne’s teasing.
“Fuck, I can’t-”
“I think you can, Arthur.” With that, Kayne leans forward and presses an open mouthed kiss to Arthur’s lips, fingers still buried in his throat. His mouth tastes like blood, thick and hot.
Arthur comes.
A moment of terrifying ecstasy as he fucks up into Kayne’s hand before his cock pulses hard, spilling over. His body tenses up, arching and moaning into Kayne’s mouth like the sound is being ripped from his chest, mind going completely blank.
He doesn’t come back to himself, not really. He becomes aware that he’s lying on his back. Small twitches of pleasure still run through him, he feels feverishly hot even as he shivers and his body aches everywhere. He’s acutely aware of the thud of his heartbeat as it pulses through him. His chest feels hollow and bruised and his face feels tacky, tear tracks drying in the cool air.
Someone is humming, a tune that catches in his mind even in his hazy state. He moves to sit up, noticing distantly that his hand was somehow dislodged from his chest, but his muscles don't cooperate and he only gives a feeble twitch. Slowly, he notices a hand running over his face gently, brushing hair out of his eyes and tucking it behind his ear. The touch trails down to his neck and Arthur flinches, remembering the torn state of it, but the fingers merely ghost over the raw skin, like they can’t bear to be too far.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay, you did so well. I can’t wait to see you break.”
He can feel his mind pulling away again, dragging him to unconsciousness. The last thing he hears before darkness takes his mind is-
“Sweet dreams, Arthur.”