Note: Damien is the son of satan, of course he can change his age at will, fools!
He was nothing.
He wasn't the sort of nothing that was a hollow, empty thing; he was a living, breathing, feeling nothing, which was often the worst sort of nothing to be. He was the sort of nothing that, if provoked, became a momentarily something-nothing that could act like a someone and do something before fading back into potential nothingness again. He was the sort of nothing that had never been a something, not in the eyes of society; not in the eyes of them.
"Oh my god!" He felt like nothing, floating carelessly outside of his body as he watched the scene below, as he stared at the oh-so-familiar scene with eyes of the brightest blue and pale, bloodless cheeks puffed out as he frowned at the boys surrounding what was, essentially, him. It was his body; his shoes, his shirt, his tattered jeans and beat up sweater. The watch with the smashed in face, that was his (though he had stolen it from the large ones locker and knew, upon his revival, he would hear nothing but crude comments about it all week) and so was the cracked psp that was still clenched tightly in now cold, dead hand. He wondered if it could be repaired, or if he would have to try his luck again to raise the money, again.
"You killed Kenny!" His lips traced the words, letting them slide down his throat as he swallowed the routine, half amused and half malcontent as he turned to walk away from the scene of his death. He needn't see what came next; the abandonment of his body, the picking apart of his now empty shell as his so called friends walked away. He was use to it, to the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach and the tired feeling of repetitive motion, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt every time. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he didn't come back, if he remained dead for real this time. When they were younger then their current twelve years, he had disappeared for what had felt like forever, only to be replaced mere days after his death when it appeared he wasn't coming back.
He wondered, dully, what it was like to be mourned.
He shook his head, stooping to sit on the curb of the road as he waited for something to happen, some one to guide him to hell for another visit, as per the usual. He sighed, tugging on his shoelace as the seconds ticked by, and was startled when a cool hand suddenly dropped to grip on his shoulder from seemingly nowhere. He prided himself on not jumping or letting out a noise at the sudden touch, simply turning to look coldly at the person who had disrupted his sulk. He instantly recognized the black hood and scythe, though he wondered idly when the Grim Reaper had donned a black hoodie instead of the black robe. He shrugged, standing up and staring at the being, patiently awaiting the directions he nearly had memorized. He was use to this; to the routine of death, the procedures and the fall into hell. So it was, in retrospect, largely surprising when instead of sinking into the ground, the Reaper reached out to lightly caress Kenny's cheek. He was startled that the hand touching him was soft, warm flesh and not cold, hard bone, and he realized that the being before him could not be the Grim Reaper.
"We're not going to hell today, are we?" he asked softly, and the hooded figure shook its head, motioning for Kenny to follow him into the park. The blonde shrugged, moving to walk in step with the figure carrying the scythe as they entered the small, sad excuse for a park that South Park had to offer. Kenny moved ahead of his companion, seating himself on one of the swings as the figure stood beside the set, scythe leaning against one of the posts as Kenny began to half heartedly pump his legs. The cool Colorado fall, which normally froze the blonde to his core, seemed warm in this state; earth's weather could not touch them in this state of between lives. Kenny let the momentum of the swing carry him, legs dangling as the hooded boy (he could somehow sense that it was a boy, not much older then himself, by the way he stood and moved) moved to stand in front of him. He reached out, and Kenny watched lazily as those soft, human hands grasped the cold metal of the swing, pulling him to a stop. Gazing up, he frowned; still unable to see into the hood, still unable to see his companions face. He glanced away, eyes seeking out the still bleeding form of his once-body with some sort of semblance of needed normalcy that he had never before known, only to have those warm fingers pull his chin up, to look at the hooded boy. Kenny closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and the boy leaned down, pressing a hard kiss to the blondes lips. Kenny opened his eyes and pulled back, startled; he still could not see into the hood.
"Who are you?" he asked, warily, as one of those non-skeletal hands trailed down the chain to grab his hand, pulling him from the swing as the other hand grabbed his hip. He frowned, trying to pull away, and was surprised at the strength holding him in place as his lips were captured again, the hand from his arm moving to hold his head in place. He struggled, pushing at the boy's chest as he frantically tried to get away, get everything under control and make the world stop spinning out of his control. The boy let go, and he could make out a smile; a smirk, a pointed tooth, a vaguely familiar cocky grin. He frowned, backing a step away as he watched those confusing hands lower the hood.
"Hello, lovely one." Kenny's eyes widened, his hands gripping the sleeves of his sweater as he stared at the boy before him. Red eyes gleamed back, and Kenny stood, transfixed by the boy before him, as the boy rushed forward, trapping the blonde against the swing set. Hips pressed forward, and Kenny let out a gasp as hands moved under clothing to touch bare skin.
"Damien?" The son of Satan smirked, lips moving to brush lightly against the soft skin of his ear as he closed his eyes, tilting his head back to rest against the post he was leaning against. He knew the feeling on hands on his body, touching, caressing, as well as the cool touch of a crisp new bill being slid into his hand better then any boy his age should. Damien's large, calloused hand slid down his body, unfamiliar and familiar all in one as they played with the button of his well worn jeans, slipping the button out with ease. He gasped as the demon-boy slid his pants precariously low, demon hands sliding under paper thin boxers to touch smooth, warm skin. He gasped, hips pressing forward unwillingly as the older boy's hands unzipped his pants.
"Shhh. Not a word, or I'll send you back." He looked over at his body, and the words settled as he let out a small, breathy gasp as Damien reached into his pants, fondling him as he bent to bite hard on Kenny's shoulder. The blonde tried to jerk away from the supernaturally strong hands touching him, and he found the hand on his hip tightened painfully, causing him to whimper. He moved as Damien half shoved him past the swings, both the demon boys hands gripping his hips as he pushed him towards the playground's wooden play set. He didn't struggle as the dark haired boy bent him over the curved metal bars making a step to the upper portion of the playground, barely making a noise as Damien's hands moved to pin his own to the top bars, near the plywood platform making the floor of the set.
"Damien….what are you doing?" His words were soft, quiet; unafraid of the boy leaning over him, unsurprised as his shirt had strips torn off to tie him to the metal bars. Damien's hands trailed down his body, pulling his pants down as he knelt, tongue trailing down the blondes spine. Kenny shuddered, pressing his forehead to one of the cool bars at the cool air on his bare skin, eyes closing as fingers trailed up his thighs to grope his ass as a nimble tongue dipped to Kenny's entrance. Kenny pressed back slightly, biting his lip hard as he let out a whimper, and Damien pulled away after a moment, sliding up Kenny's body, one hand reaching between them to undo his own pants, dropping them as he pressed close.
"Taking what's mine." One hand moved to his own manhood as he positioned himself over the smaller boy, and Kenny shivered at what he knew would be coming. Damien pressed forward, hand guiding himself as he pushed into Kenny, the younger boy letting out a pained sound as the demon boy gripped his shoulder. Kenny clenched his hands, tugging hard on the restraints as Damien pressed his lips to Kenny's shoulder, unaware that he should have prepared the other boy instead of just surging forward. The blondes eyes squeezed shut, and he whimpered as Damien began to move, every thrust driving Kenny's hips into the cold metal frame. His hands turned to grip the strips tied to his arms, and he tried to be silent as Damien silently thrust into him, his panting breath the only real sound disturbing the cool afternoon air on their side of reality. Around them, children had begun to filter in for after school play group; not seeing the two at all. Kenny let out a pained groan as Damien thrust forward again, pressure on his hips building as he tried to push his body away from Damien.
"You're hurting me." He whispered, and Damien smirked, hands pressing hard on Kenny's hips as he continued. Kenny moved his hands to grip the bar closest to them, and Damien thrust against him one last time, shuddering against him as he came. Pulling out, he wiped himself off, doing up his pants as Kenny's arms tingled above him.
"Mine." He growled, snapping his fingers. The torn shirt strips caught fire, burning as Kenny tried to pull his hands free from the hot flames. The scent of burning flesh filled the air, and Kenny let out a soft cry as the flames suddenly went out. He pulled his wrists down, tugging his pants up as he skittered away from the other boy. "Let's go." The son of Satan stated, grabbing Kenny's shoulder and pushing him forward, sinking to hell as he gingerly rubbed his tender wrists.
He was nothing. Even in the land of nothing….he was nothing.