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acapelladitty · 10 months ago

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Monomania: Part 3

Summary - As the latest victim of Homelander's cruel and obsessive nature, Hughie Campbell finds himself playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse with a man who proves just how monstrous a hero can be.

(tw: unhealthy obsession, n-con, manipulation, abusive language/behaviours, forced oral/hj, mild violence)

Parts 1 & 2

"Oi, fuck off, Hughie. There's no way that happened."

Stopping dead in his tracks as he strode through the familiar hallways of Vought HQ, Homelander found himself straining his delicate hearing as he picked up the unmistakably smug and accented voice of William Butcher.

"You really are a fucking gimp." The voice continued, a bellied laugh quickly following the affectionate insult and something in how genuine it sounded sparked a twitch in Homelander's jaw - his stomach roiling with a feeling that a lesser man might call jealousy. Unwilling to contend with the possessive thought for the moment, he straightened his spine and turned the corner, almost walking into the man himself as he rounded the sharp turn.

"William!" Homelander greeted, venom hiding plainly across his tone as his lips stretched into a faux, welcoming grin. "I'm surprised to see you here." His eyes swept past the recognisable glare which William always afforded him to the even taller man standing just behind him - a cruel joy leaping into his chest as he met Hughie's eyes and watched the way that his eyes narrowed, and his hackles raised in an instant.

"And… Hughie, was it? Starlight's little,” he paused, “boyfriend?"

"Aww, you're famous, lad." William countered smoothly, his shoulders shifting to move in front of Hughie's body without thought as he subconsciously stood between the two, taking a moment to glance back at Hughie with a cocked smile. "Look, even the cunts up here know who you are. Remind me to get an autograph on my arse."

Fingers flexing against his gloves, the temptation to snap William’s fucking neck then and there was strong. Not only for the insult, but the way in which he thought he could, even unknowingly, interfere with his ongoing fun sparked a heated rage deep within his chest which surprised even him. Holding back the urge to lash out, Homelander instead settled his weight back on his heels as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, it was a pleasure as always.” Homelander bit out through gritted teeth. “But, places to be, heroic acts to fulfil. See you later, ladies." He smiled, the threat of violence unspoken but always present as he swept past the pair, ensuring to not spare an extra glance in Hughie's direction even as his familiar scent made his nose twitch in anticipation.

William was a wild card in his plans.

He was fond of Hughie, even an idiot could see that. The tight, defensive glare which burned from his skull when Hughie’s life was on the line and his rashness in trying to protect the man wasn’t well hidden. If William suspected anything of his little games then things would grow more complicated than he could be bothered with.

Turning to a new corridor as the two continued to leave, the last snippet of speech which Homelander picked up between the pair was Hughie telling Butcher to hold up in the lobby so he could use the bathroom. At the words, interest peaked in Homelander’s expression as his earlier irritation rose again to prick at his senses.

Perfect.

Oddly enough, Vought did not in fact monitor the bathrooms within the building with anything outside of smoke and carbon monoxide alarms. A fact which made it very easy to slip into the bathroom only a few moments after hearing the door click shut.

As silent as the grave, the small bathroom was empty save for the rhythmic beat of Hughie's heart. Another temptation rose unbidden in his mind, sordid visions of having Hughie on his knees as he swallowed him down making his mouth momentarily dry but again it was too risky to follow through on. Not on home turf. Not with Vought eyes everywhere. There was only so much he could get away with without scandal.

But, like this…

Homelander approached Hughie from behind as he started to fumble with his jeans, his throat humming away at some unknown tune. Hands acting in a flash of movement, his right slipped around to cover Hughie's mouth as his left pushed his lower back forward - pinning him roughly to the wall by the urinal.

A muffled cry of surprise was held in place by his fingers as Hughie's heartrate spiked, rushing his blood around his body in sheer panic as he found himself unable to move.

"Midnight." Homelander growled, enjoying the feeling of power as his fingers pressed into Hughie's spine, knowing that a single squeeze could turn the bones there to dust. "Your apartment. If you're not alone then I'll kill anyone else who's there after having some fun." He paused, tilting his head closer until his nose was practically brushing the thick curls which hung on the back of Hughie's head as he inhaled the woody scent of him deeply.

"And wear something nice, little Hughie. I like effort." Homelander added, allowing his semi-hard bulge to brush against Hughie's hip. "Makes me hard."

And with one final testing sniff of the fear which was beginning to tinge the air, he released his hands and slipped free of the bathroom quicker than the human eye could comprehend.

Zipping from the bathroom to one of the nearby supply closets, Homelander pressed his back gently to the thick wooden door. His cock twitched within his costume, feeling heavy and hard as it remained trapped by the thick fabric, and he rolled the palm of his heel across it, teasing himself with a sharp exhale.

Oh, yes.

He could wait until midnight.

x-x-x-x-x

As the clock ticked down, Homelander couldn't deny the genuine excitement that nipped at his senses. Tonight, he would take his little game to the next level and finally get what he really wanted. The foreplay was all fun but his little interaction with Hughie in the bathroom had only solidified his determination and tonight would prove that Hughie was the right choice. Someone who could give him what he needed.

Patting his pocket to ensure that his planned surprise was safely stowed away, fantasy ruled his thoughts as he took off on the short trip to Hughie's apartment. Images of Hughie, his blazing eyes piercing his own as he wrapped those long legs around his waist, roiled within his mind. Those thin fingers squeezing at his throat as growls, bestial as fuck, slipped free of his curled lips. Hatred and fear. Adrenaline thick in the air. His cock slipping between Hughie's lips as he stared down at him.

Groaning as his feet landed on the balcony once more, Homelander was already breathless, and he took a moment to collect himself before slipping through the door. Immediately, he sensed Hughie and followed his heartbeat to find him sitting on one of the shitty couches which littered his cheaply furnished living room.

Lips splitting into a grin, Homelander took in the dark t-shirt and jeans which housed Hughie’s delightfully lanky frame with a giddy joy.

"Low effort. Wow." He popped his lips on the final word. “Really pulled out all the stops for me.”

"Fuck you." A simple reply as Hughie stood to his full, impressive height - the tension across his shoulders was unmissable. "And fuck whatever this is. But you won't hurt anyone else."

"I don't want to hurt anyone else." Homelander lied.

"Just me. Is that it? Some kind of fucked up punishment for Annie or Butcher just because you can't get to them instead?" Thoughts running away with him, Hughie's voice raised an octave as he quickly grew defensive at his continued confusion with his own predicament. "I won't hurt them. Annie. Butcher. Whatever sick shit you're planning. I won't. You'd be better killing me now."

"It's you I want, little Hughie. And as a show of," Homelander ruffled his shoulders until a satisfying pop went through his neck, "good will for our new arrangement, I even brought you this."

Throwing the item in his pocket over to Hughie's chest, he watched as Hughie caught it and brought it to eye level in the dim lighting before continuing.

"Take it."

Gazing down at the vial of compound v with obvious uncertainty, Hughie could only manage out a soft. "What? Why?"

"Take. It."

"Why?"

"You don't want to find out what'll happen if you don't." Homelander smiled, a strained smirk which did nothing to hide his irritation at the delay. "Trust me, little Hughie, you'll need your strength if you want to stand a chance against me. Take it and then you can get me. You can have me."

That did it, and a desperate determination entered Hughie's features as he slammed the small vial of liquid back. It was a determination which made Homelander's gut clench as he sadistically looked forward to stripping it away from him piece by sorry piece.

Arousal aside, it was interesting to watch a human react to the compound. Hughie's heartbeat picked up in an instant, pacing so quickly that Homelander watched with open fascination as his limbs trembled and a thin sheen of sweat erupted on his forehead. His movements even became quicker, fingers clenching and unleashing so quickly that it would be difficult for normal eyes to pick them up.

Little Hughie was all juiced up and Homelander held back a grunt as something unexpected joined the growing scent of sweat and adrenaline in the air.

Arousal.

Arousal which was definitely not his own.

In an instant and clearly hoping to catch him off-guard, Hughie lunged for him and Homelander laughed breathily as the sudden force knocked them both to the floor in a pile of thrashing limbs. Hughie's carpets were in rough shape, the stink of some cheap cleaning power making Homelander's noise twitch but he ignored it in favour of focusing on the welcomed heat which now pinned him to the floor.

Hughie's movements were a mess, the fresh power coursing through his veins making him jerky and uncontrolled. Almost animalistic in his unrestrained aggression as he straddled Homelander's waist.

"See. Now you have me. What next?" Homelander asked, his hips rolling despite himself as he ground himself into Hughie’s ass.

"Going to," Hughie panted and his fingers looped around Homelander's neck, "kill you."

"Really?" Homelander tutted, one hand wrapping around Hughie's hands to prevent any actual strangulation while the other dropped to Hughie's hip, fingers squeezing at the flesh there roughly enough to ensure some wicked bruising. "Do you think that's what's going to happen here?"

"Fuck. You." Hughie growled, some strands of his dark hair falling over his forehead with the effort of his movements.

"Maybe." Eyes dilating at the prospect, Homelander gave a mocking chuckle as he considered it. "But not tonight, little Hughie. Tonight, you're going to touch me."

"You're disgusting."

"And if you don't then I'll have to find someone else to do it. Maybe sweet Annie. I hear she's good with her mouth."

Pain, sharp and delicious, ricocheted through his jaw as Hughie's fist connected with his face. The sensation sparked a bloodlust which made his cock twitch and his tongue flick against his slack lips as he took in Hughie's furious gaze. The hand which had been pressing into Hughie's hips dropped, instead grasping messily at the seam of his costume as he struggled to pull the fabric down to free his cock.

Feeling the struggle as his gaze dipped to watch, revulsion twisted Hughie's features but with it came a hateful acceptance as he released Homelander's neck and instead slipped his ass back far enough to allow Homelander to slide his costume down far enough to allow his cock to spring free – the length immediately jutting proudly as it brushed his lower stomach.

Silence reigned for a moment, awaiting the break that would be the point of no return and Homelander gnashed his teeth impatiently as he snapped his hand around Hughie's wrist, forcing his hand onto his aching cock. The relief was immediate as the heat from Hughie's palm seemed to scorch the sensitive skin of his cock, giving him something concrete and cruel to focus on as his other hand slipped around Hughie's thigh, fingers digging in to his jeans.

Hughie's grip tightened painfully and Homelander unleashed a strangled gasped as Hughie’s fingers moved almost experimentally across his length - the bottom of his fist brushing the smattering of blonde pubic hair which lined the base of his cock.

"You're disgusting." Hughie spat, his anger and humiliation at being forced to pleasure a man he saw as a monster making his eyes flash and teeth bare themselves like an animal. "And this is fucked. It’s sick."

"But you're so good at it." Homelander countered with a throaty purr as his hips helped to thrust his cock into the hand jerking him off. "Look at how good you're doing it. Like you were made t-"

"You're a real fucking monster and I want to hear you admit it."

"Yeah, I'm a monster." Homelander gasped out, the words garbled and unclear as his breath caught in his throat due to Hughie's fingers brushing the ultra-sensitive ridge where his cockhead met the shaft. Hughie’s hand was dry and rough, almost irritating in how little it cared for his pleasure, and that dismissal made his head feel light as he allowed the rawness of the sensation to claw across his aching groin.

As though sensing his enjoyment, Hughie released his cock long enough to land a rough punch to his jaw, the blow forcing his head to the side once more as colour bloomed high in his cheeks at the rough contact.

"Say it right.”

"I'm a monster."

This time, the words were more of a whine as Homelander canted his hips against Hughie's ass - wordlessly begging for his hand again. True disgust rolled across Hughie's face as he reluctantly obliged, his fingers dropping to Homelander's cock once more to catch his aching length in a grip that would have been unbearably painful for a regular man.

"You're pathetic and cruel." Hughie continued, every snapped word matched by his hand as he twisted his wrist with each velvety jerk. "You're fucking sick. Insane."

Pinned to the floor and so fucking hard that he felt his cock was going to explode, Homelander could only whimper out weak agreements as his fingers clawed at Hughie's shoulders.

Pathetic.

Cruel.

Monster.

"Yes." Homelander agreed, repeating the word like a mantra as he chased his release. The tight band of arousal in his groin felt ready to snap, and his blurred eyes met Hughie's as he grunted out his pleasure.

There, buried beneath the hatred and disgust, lay a twisted satisfaction which made his balls tighten and his cock spasm; thin ropes of his release coating both his cock and the hand which continued to pump him through his orgasm. Hughie’s rough grip refused to relent, as though determined to force him to feel every touch and it prolonged the obscene line of pleasure and pain which his spasming cock was enduring.

Hughie liked hurting him.

Liked hitting him and humiliating him.

Little Hughie enjoyed hurting him in a way that he understood far too well and that was enough for him to know he had made the right choice.

His.

Distracted as he were, Homelander almost didn't notice when Hughie released his cock until thin fingers were pushing at his lips with a brutal insistence. Drained from his orgasm, he opened his mouth as prompted and was immediately met with the taste of his own release as Hughie thrust his cum-soaked fingers deeply into his mouth.

It was unexpected and so fucking hot that Homelander couldn't stop his tongue from wrapping around the thin fingers as the salty tang of his mess clouded his senses further. Turned out Hughie had more in him that he could have suspected, and he played his part well as his rage and humiliation channelled into a very decent handjob.

Maybe he did deserve a reward and a cruel idea alit in Homelander's mind, something he suspected would solidify Hughie as his own and put an end to any dipshit ideas that he had any control between them.

Knocking Hughie to his back with one swift push, Homelander didn't give him a moment to breathe before his shaky hands were fumbling messily at Hughie's jeans until he had enough purchase to pull Hughie's cock free of his boxers.

A part of Homelander, the part that was still firmly rooted in the sickness of reality, knew that Hughie was only hard because of the adrenaline of the compound v; his cock responding to the fact that his heart was attempting to beat itself out of his chest. But an even deeper part of him understood that the darkness he saw reflected in Hughie was truly relishing the chance to punish him, to make him suffer for his 'wrongs', and that part of him would always make sure that he was ready to hurt him in the way that he wanted.

Fuck, he needed to taste him.

The saltiness of his own release was still harsh against his tongue and the pure need to wash it away with something even more twisted gnawed at his chest. It was too difficult to ignore, not that he tried, and he slid his body down Hughie's in an almost serpentine motion until he was able to kneel with his face coming to a halt between Hughie's outstretched legs.

Keeping a grip on Hughie's cock, Homelander marvelled for a moment at how long is felt in his palm. Longer than his own for sure but not quite as thick, and where his cock was ringed by a halo of pristine golden pubes, Hughie opted for a more closely shaven look with his pubic hair being dark and stubbled across the base of his cock.

"N-no!" Hughie stuttered, bravado fleeing him as he looked down his own body and realised what was going to happen. The horror washing across his face was as pretty as a picture and Homelander tilted his head to take it in better. "This isn't- you can't fucking do that."

"Can't? I can do anything I want. I'm the fucking Homelander."

And with that, Homelander strengthened his grip on Hughie's cock as he closed his lips over the head, his tongue quickly darting forward to wrap around and taste the new experience while his eyes marvelled at the aroused nausea which crossed Hughie’s features at the explicit act he was being made to endure.

Lacking experience, Homelander knew that his head skills were a mess as he tried to imitate the many people who had blown him over the years. His hand pumped gently across the base of Hughie's length, conscious of his vast strength, as his lips sucked at the head - knowing how sensitive his own was and how it was likely that Hughie would be the same.

A sharp pain in his scalp made him grunt as Hughie's fingers tugged at his hair, weakly attempting to pull him free of his cock as a series of gasping pleas and refusals broke free of his stuttering lips.

"What's that, little Hughie? Speak up. Kinda busy down here." Homelander darted his eyes between Hughie's face and the cock which now lay only an inch from his lips, coated by his own saliva and wickedly hard despite its owners’ protestations.

"Please, don't. Don't make me do it."

"I'm not making you do anything. I mean, look what you did for me. I'm just returning the favour. If you don't like me doing it then-"

Homelander’s gloved finger trailed along the tip of Hughie's cock, gathering a little of the pre-cum which was leaking from his tip. Bringing it to his lips, he made a loud popping noise with his finger as he licked it up with a cruel smile.

"-why the fuck are you as wet as a slut?

"You fucker!" Hughie hissed, his eyes glistening with a frustrated moisture as his body betrayed him. "Bastard! You knew what the compound v would do! You fucking knew! This isn't- I don't want this!"

Homelander hummed in quiet disagreement, sucking Hughie's cock between his lips once more as he kept him pinned to the floor by his hips. The scent of Hughie, the natural musk which seemed to haunt the man, invaded his senses and he sighed out in satisfaction as Hughie's cock gave a very definite twitch in his mouth and he knew that the inevitable was approaching.

With a strangled noise, a mild sob which could easily be mistaken for a groan, Hughie came and victory clawed around Homelander's heart as his unwanted release flooded his mouth. Ropes of cum coated his tongue and he swallowed them down greedily, making a show of his win by refusing to let up on his torments - continuing to lick and tease away at Hughie's cock until his struggles grew more desperate as overstimulation quickly set in.

Taking pity on his defeated prey, Homelander released him. In a few sharp movements, Hughie was gone from him in a flash - his body backing off across the carpet until his back struck the nearby wall. His softening cock hung free of his jeans, the tip of it glistening with his release and Homelander's spit and the expression on his face was so beautifully broken that Homelander remained on his stomach for a moment to admire it.

"Not so 'little' Hughie then." Homelander purred, sadistic joy at how perfectly his evening had gone making him chatty. "If I'd know that then maybe I would have set us up quicker than this. I think I'll blame William and his pointless vendetta."

"Leave-" Hughie muttered out, his voice hollowed, "just leave me alone."

Rising to his knees, Homelander followed Hughie's path towards the wall as he crawled towards him, only coming to a pause right in front of his prone frame. From here, the visible tremble of Hughie’s limbs as his arms wrapped around his knees was clear and Homelander almost felt a tendril of pity for him.

"Can't. Sorry." Homelander confessed, not truly feeling very sorry at all. "But I think we both know you're not mad at me. Nope. You're pissed that you came and that you liked making me come."

Whatever protests Hughie had went killed in the crib by Homelander placing one gloved finger over his lips.

"I saw it and if you lie it'll just make me angry."

"Why the compound v?" Hughie asked, the question catching Homelander off guard as his bleary eyes caught his own. "Why bother? It doesn't make a difference. Didn’t work."

"Despite what you think, little Hughie, I don't want you to break too easily. The compound v keeps things,” he hesitated to think of the best word to use, “interesting."

"Why me?"

His cock softened and sated, Homelander took a moment to tuck it away back into his costume as he fixed himself up fully.

"Because I can." Was his easy reply as he stood to his feet and ruffled his hand in Hughie's hair like stroking a well-behaved pup. "And because you've been a pain in my ass for too long. C'mon little Hughie, don’t be so glum, it'll be a ride and I'll always make sure that you get yours as much as I get mine."

That thought, more than anything else, seemed to be the straw that broke the camels’ back as a dry retch caught in the back of Hughie's throat and his unfocused eyes dropped to the floor.

Moving towards the kitchen to return to his easy escape route on the balcony, Homelander stopped long enough to throw one last dig at his new favourite toy.

"And remember, not a word to anyone about our little bouts of fun. I don’t share my things well."

With that, Homelander took off once more, diving into the night sky with a satisfied smile which those who knew him best shudder to understand as being one born of sadistic delight.

#just not a nice lad #the boys #homelander x hughie #homelander #hughie campbell #hughie x homelander #the boys amazon #anthony starr #jack quaid #william butcher #billy butcher

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dragonfics · 6 years ago

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Piecing Back Together

Part 2 of Ownership (Please note that part 1 contains rape and domestic abuse).

I dedicate this to @hj-skb, who guilted inspired me to write this with their gorgeous art. Rus really deserves a happy ending.

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Summary: Leaving an abuser is hard. Healing from their abuse is even harder. Edge will be the glue Rus needs to hold himself together for as long as he needs to be.

Ships: Spicyhoney, Past Honeyvenom

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Healing from domestic abuse, Mild Fluff

Warnings: Past rape, Past domestic abuse, Psychological trauma, Escaping a domestic abuse situation.

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Read on AO3

Below the cut

But for the quiet tapping of Edge’s fingers against the steering wheel, the car was silent. It was well after midnight, and the street was still. Pale lamplight illuminated the quaint gardens and hedgerows. Edge sat in the dark.

He was parked next to the curb of a very particular house. He glanced up at the second floor. The windows were dark and the curtains drawn. Ten minutes. He’d messaged Rus ten minutes ago, and he hadn’t emerged. Edge knew he could walk up to the door, march inside, and get Rus himself.

But he also knew he couldn’t do that. Not if he really cared about Rus.

He vaguely wondered if this was a waste of time. He’d been through this process before, and Rus had shied away at the last minute. It wasn’t unlikely to happen again. In fact, Edge had come to expect it. But that didn’t matter. He’d wait all night here if he had to, regardless of whether Rus followed through or not.

Hinges creaked, and Edge looked up at once. The front door slowly swung open, and—a jolt of relief went through him. Rus looked rather the worse for wear, though, when didn’t he? He was hunched over, fist tight around the strap of his bag, which looked pitifully empty. Even from this distance, Edge could sense his confliction. He was walking slowly and uncertainly, as if he might turn back at any second.

Edge climbed out of the car and walked stridently over to Rus. “Let me take this,” he said gently, slowly pulling Rus’s bag off his shoulder. Rus didn’t protest, but he was stiff.

After loading Rus’s bag into the trunk, Edge opened the passenger door for him. Rus hesitated before climbing inside. Edge sat in the driver’s seat next to him, but didn’t start the car. They sat in silence, and the minutes ticked by. Edge glanced at Rus and noticed flushed orange bruising around his jaw. His soul shrivelled. He yearned to reach out and touch him.

Instead, he started the car, and they drove in silence.

The roads were quiet this late at night, and the city lights rushed past them as Edge pulled onto the highway. In his periphery, he could see the listless slouch of Rus’s shoulders; his expression was taut, and his hands were fisted on his knees. The silence between them was heavy.

“You did the right thing,” Edge said quietly.

“i left my soulmate.” Rus’s voice was rough from disuse. Much like the rest of him, it sounded thin and lifeless.

“Your abuser,” Edge corrected calmly, though his marrow boiled. He heard Rus shifting, and his bones cracked as he stiffened. Red light moved across his face as they passed under a billboard. His jaw was trembling. “It’s okay to feel upset about it,” Edge said. “It’ll take time to—”

“yes, i know it’ll take time,” Rus snapped.

Swallowing his words, Edge went silent. He inhaled and nodded. “I’m here for you, okay? Every step of the way.” He dared a glance at Rus. He was staring at his shoes, and his arms were wrapped around himself. They drove the rest of the way in silence.

When they pulled into Edge’s driveway, Rus didn’t get out of the car. Edge got his bag out of the trunk then walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. “Would you like to come inside?” he asked, ensuring his tone was gentle.

Rus didn’t answer, but he climbed out of the car and followed Edge to the doorstep. He was still clinging to himself. It was a warm night, but he wore a turtleneck and jeans. Edge knew why. Knew what was underneath those clothes. They were his safety barrier.

Flicking on the light of the front hall, Edge turned to Rus, forcing a faint smile. “Would you like something to eat?” he asked. Chin lowered, Rus shook his head. Edge swallowed, his smile fading. “I’ll make you some tea, how about that?” A weak nod. Edge reached for Rus before his mind caught up, and he quickly let his hand drop.

They sat across from each other at the dining room table. Rus sipped his tea slowly. His bones were pale, almost sallow. The natural flush was missing from them. Edge might not have noticed it had he not seen that same look on his own face, years and years ago.

Neither of them made any attempt at conversation. Edge doubted Rus was in the right mind for it. Once they had finished drinking, Edge gathered their mugs and washed them in the sink. “I’ve set up the bedroom for you,” he told Rus, who had remained in his seat, hunched in on himself. “I’ll take the couch.”

Rus shook his head. “no, i’ll sleep on the couch.”

“It’s no bother.”

“i’ll sleep on the couch,” Rus repeated brusquely. Edge watched him, considering, then nodded.

“If that’s what you want,” he said.

He found a pillow and duvet, along with a few extra blankets for Rus, and set them out on the sofa. “If you need anything, I’m just down the hall,” he said, smoothing the blankets out. “Don’t be afraid to wake me.”

“thank you,” Rus murmured quietly, climbing beneath the covers. He curled up tightly and turned his back on Edge. Soberly, Edge turned and walked away. He went to bed with a heavy soul. Even down the passage, he could hear Rus sobbing softly.

****

The vibrating of Rus’s phone on the coffee table rang in Edge’s skull like an alarm. Razz’s number glared on the screen. Rus sat on the sofa, staring at it, chewing on the tips of his fingers. His expression was drawn, and he was shaking.

“You don’t have to answer it,” Edge said quietly. Rus’s breath hitched, and tears leaked from his sockets. He wrung his hands together, choking back sobs. Edge shifted closer to him, but held back. He couldn’t be certain how Rus might react to touch under these circumstances (or any circumstances, for that matter).

The call went to voicemail. Edge’s chest tightened sickeningly as Razz’s voice came through. “Rus, sweetheart, where are you? Call me right now. Please.” A deep breath. “Don’t do this to me. You can’t do this to me. Come home.” After a few seconds, the call went quiet.

Edge looked at Rus. His face was tear streaked and scrunched in anguish. He pressed a hand over his mouth and choked. Edge moved closer to him. Their shoulders brushed. “Remember, Rus, you owe him nothing.”

Rus squeezed his sockets shut and shook his head, sobbing. “he’s my s-soulmate.”

“He’s your abuser,” Edge said firmly. Rus pressed his knuckles against his teeth as he bit back tears. Cautiously, Edge rested his hand over Rus’s. “You’ll be okay,” he said gently. “Do you understand me? You’ll be okay.”

Minutes went by, and Rus sobbed quietly. Edge squeezed his hand wordlessly, waiting patiently while he gathered himself. After a few shuddering breaths, Rus nodded tremulously. Edge held his hand tighter. “You’re doing well, Rus. So well. It’ll get easier, I promise.”

****

“I need to see him. I know he’s here.”

Edge sighed, and closed the front door behind him, edging Razz out onto the porch. “He doesn’t want to see you,” he said.

“Maybe he doesn’t think he does,” Razz replied coldly, “but I know him better than you do. He needs me.”

Edge inhaled, forcing himself to remain cool. “No, he doesn’t.” Razz tried to walk around Edge, but Edge placed himself between Razz and the door. “You’re not coming inside, Razz.”

“He’s my soulmate,” Razz spat, all diplomacy removed. “I have every right to see him.”

“You have no right,” Edge said, his tone erring on dangerous. “After everything you’ve done to him. After all the times you’ve r—” Edge caught himself, and swallowed back the spitting fire curling within him. “He does not belong to you. Razz. Now go. This is my property, and you are not welcome here.” Across the street, Edge noticed his neighbour giving him a strange look from her garden. He paid her no heed, his perilous stare trained on the monster in front of him. “I will call the police if I must.”

“Don’t bother,” Razz said through gritted teeth. He turned on his heel, fists curled at his sides, and stormed towards his car. Edge didn’t go back inside until his car was a speck on the road. He locked the door behind himself before heading to the living room.

Rus was on the sofa. He was staring blankly at the wall, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around them. Edge moved swiftly across the room and sat beside him. He lifted an arm to rest around Rus’s shoulders, then reconsidered, and withdrew. “He’s gone,” he said, voice low.

Rus’s jaw was clenched. He nodded stiffly. His eye sockets were wet. Edge swallowed, unsure what to do with himself. “Would you like some tea?” he asked.

“please sit with me,” Rus said raspily.

Edge nodded. “Of course.”

Neither of them spoke, and silence weighed on the room. Though the sun was warm outside, Edge felt cold. Nausea pooled in the depths of his chest, and he felt himself trembling, his thoughts still lingering on Razz. Beside him, Rus’s breaths sounded ragged.

Edge’s bones were beginning to grow stiff when he felt Rus’s fingers creeping across his own. Rus rested his hand on top of Edge’s, still hugging himself with one arm, still tense. Edge looked at him, but Rus was staring directly ahead, focused but unseeing. Slowly, Edge responded to Rus’s touch, flexing his fingers and intertwining them with Rus’s.

His anger began to seep away, something else—something intangible—taking its place. He closed his eyes and exhaled, leaning back. Rus hardly moved, but Edge could feel him relaxing. The atmosphere grew softer, the tension smoothing. Though Rus’s fingers still trembled, they began to feel warm.

****

Edge bid Rus goodnight and headed to his bedroom. He could hear thunder rolling distantly, and the beginnings of soft raindrops pattering against the roof. After changing into his night clothes, he climbed into bed, pulling the covers to his chin.

Sleep was slowly creeping across the borders of his mind when he heard his bedroom door creaking. He sat bolt upright, alert. Rus froze in the doorway. Edge blinked, staring at him. “Rus.”

He looked so pitifully scarce in his thin tank top and loose pyjama pants. More bruises were visible on his clavicle and arms. Edge could see the series of numbers printed across his ulna. Marking him as property. He pushed back a flicker of anger. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

“can…” Rus swallowed, his voice faint. “can i sleep here?”

“O-of course,” Edge said, climbing out of bed.

“no. with you.”

Edge froze with one foot on the carpet. “Oh.” He opened his mouth, then shook his head. “I—yes. Whatever you need.”

Rus climbed into the bed beside him. It was large enough for both of them, but Edge could still perceive him as if their bodies were pressed together. His magic, though weak, was warm in the air. Edge lay stiff beside him, uncertain how to proceed.

Rus turned onto his side, facing Edge. His face was pressed against the pillow, but Edge could see tears glistening on his cheekbones. He swallowed and closed his eyes. His voice was so soft, Edge almost missed his words. “c-can you… can you hold me?”

Edge inhaled, his soul pulsing. “I…” He fidgeted beneath the duvet.

“you haven’t been touching me,” Rus said. “is it—is it because i’m—”

Edge’s soul plummeted. Sighing, he shook his head. “No,” he said, earnestly. “No, it’s not. You’re not—”

Rus’s breath stuttered and he sniffed. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “i’m sorry that i’m—b-broken.”

Edge couldn’t take another second of this. He reached for Rus and pulled him against his chest, wrapping him tightly in his arms. He could feel the wetness of Rus’s tears through his shirt. He could feel tears on his own face. “You’re not broken,” he said. “You’re not.” He spoke through his teeth, desperate. “You’re strong, Rus. You’re so strong. And you’re going to get through this.”

“please don’t let go,” Rus whispered, clinging to Edge’s ribs through his shirt.

Edge squeezed him tighter. “I’m not letting go of you—not again. Not ever. I’m here for you, always. Okay?”

Rus’s breaths were heavy and uneven. He held onto Edge desperately, pressing himself into him, as if he couldn’t get close enough. Eventually, he fell asleep in Edge’s arms, but Edge couldn’t bring himself to do the same. Not when he could finally hold Rus like this. Not when he could finally feel the soft pulse of Rus’s soul through his chest.

He felt warm again.

#Spicyhoney #Papcest #my writing #us papyrus #uf papyrus #sf sans #Past Honeyvenom #Past rape #Past abuse #hurt/comfort

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