It is amazing how strange sensations are when you have a sense forcibly taken from you.
It was inevitable, really. Up until the last moment before his capture, Jeff was surprised he had lasted this long. In this form, in HABIT's realm, he didn't seem to need to eat or sleep or do any of the normal things that his human body should really need. This made the maddening never-ending nights curled up in abandoned houses and dubiously dark-skied daytimes spent shivering in a thicket of trees even more horrific, all while he searched desperately for his way out of this nightmarish place.
But no way out existed, or at least did not make itself known to Jeff in time. When HABIT came crashing through the undergrowth, painted in fresh blood and bearing the glowering eyes of animal, he did not say a word. He didn't explode into a rage or even try to mock or cajole him. The monster merely slung an arm around his shoulder and guided him through the trees, through the darkness, and into the unknown.
The harsh night air bites at Jeff's exposed skin like the raking canines of some unseen animal, and every single hair on his body prickles against the cold and the anticipation of what is to come. The problem is, Jeff does not know what is to come. All he sees is black.
At the time, Jeff tried to speak, but he just couldn't get his mouth to form the words properly. He wanted to ask so many things – namely about the reason for his own stupid continued existence – but he froze up entirely. Images of what that thing had done to him flashed through his mind in a whirl of colour and scent and taste; red, Death Proof, gasoline, earth, pennies. Nothing made sense; nothing had made sense for the days or weeks or years that he had been dead.
It came as a surprise; the soft touches, the gentle strokes and the dancing fingertips moving gracefully along the length of his collarbone and reaching up to grasp lightly at his hair. Jeff could just about make out the faint contours of the body of his friend, and void-black eyes glittering in the dark.
"E-Evan?" Jeff found himself asking. His voice cracked with hope.
The fingers stilled, and nails dug into Jeff's scalp.
"No."
Then HABIT seized Jeff by the neck and hurled to the ground, slamming face-first into leaves and dirt. Jeff hacked and coughed and tried to regain his balance but HABIT slammed a foot against Jeff's spine, pinning him to the ground. Jeff tried his best to turn around, to reach out and hit him, but HABIT moved too quickly; he dropped his knees square in the centre of Jeff's back and lay his entire weight upon him, phenomenally more than Jeff ever remembered Evan having possessed.
Jeff struggled against HABIT's weight, but stilled when he felt the cold edge of a blade upon his hip. He inhaled sharply, suddenly aware once again of every single delicate little throbbing vein and artery and organ and bone he had, waiting to be ripped and sliced beneath that thin layer of skin. Jeff winced, arching his spine and bracing himself for the searing pain of the first cut.
It didn't come. HABIT dragged the knife up the length of Jeff's side, slitting open the ancient waistcoat and shirt that came with his new iteration. He curved the knife up over Jeff's shoulder and cut through the collar with practiced ease, leaving the separate halves of clothing to droop down Jeff's skin.
Real fear started to course through Jeff, and he made to kick out at HABIT, maybe to trip him up and to run as fast as he could, but HABIT's superhuman speed outpaced him again. HABIT pulled Jeff's arms behind him and bound them quickly with something cold and heavy, something that rattled. Inwardly, Jeff cried out, begging for help from anyone and everyone who certainly couldn't help him. But on the outside, Jeff remained silent. This time he would not break.
"Playing the tough man, are ya?" Jeff closed his eyes, cringing as the voice he knew as Evan's spat out those words in a mangled, depraved mimic of his original voice. "You and I both know that won't last for long." And then, Jeff felt it for the first time: the silk-soft slick of fabric being slid across his back.
The blindfold is brought up slowly, giving Jeff a chance to appreciate fully what was going on, before totally obscuring his vision. That world of deep violet shadows vanished and all Jeff knew for that moment was the sensation of the fabric being tightly knotted at the back of his head, and total, unending darkness.
"Now," HABIT hissed. "You're gonna stay there, like a good boy. I'll be back. If you've moved even an inch when I get back I will drive this knife through your neck and pin you to a tree like a fuckin' fridge magnet. You get me?"
Jeff did not answer. He kept his face down, chin in the dirt, breathing shallowly. Maybe, if he could keep HABIT talking long enough, he would figure out a way to escape.
"I said-" HABIT's arms wound their way around Jeff's throat and snapped back against his windpipe, choking him – "- do you get me?"
"Yes," Jeff wheezed, "yes, I get you, I get you!"
The arms dropped and Jeff fell to the ground with a thump, gulping in air.
And then the monster was gone, with his fading, stomping boot-beats and the fresh bruises purpling around Jeff's throat the only thing to indicate he had ever been there.
That time felt so long ago now; God only knew how long Jeff had lain half-stripped amongst the leaves and grass, breathing in the crunchy musk of crisp, dead flora. After a period of time which Jeff could only assume had been five minutes, he began to strain at the chains binding his wrists, hissing softly as the metal dug into the grooves of his wrists. He must be slow and take his time trying to fold his hands into impossible positions to slip them out of his bonds. Another death by HABIT just for not being able to keep still did not sound like a justified one.
Burning sensations that could only be friction burns and welts blossomed across Jeff's hands, but he set his jaw and continued on. Damn HABIT and whatever the hell these chains were meant for; he is not going to give up. Not this time. He will find his way out of these chains, and escape HABIT again, and try to find his way back home…back home to Vinny and a semblance of normality. He needed his sanity back. They both did.
Without warning, Jeff feels a tiny mechanical budge in the chains about his hands, and he almost cries out. Yes! If he moves his right wrist just so, and then bends his index finger in a certain way, he might just be able to-
A heavy crunching sound makes itself known from somewhere to his right, and Jeff tenses his entire body, ready to try and thrash his way out of his bonds with all of his might. There is no way in hell he is letting this sick freak get away with killing him a second time – this time, he might not come back.
"Guess who?" HABIT trills. Jeff shivers; he can't tell if it was just his imagination, but the creature's voice has become even more terrifying than before; dark and deep and with such an unnatural resonance that it makes Jeff's whole body tremble even where it lay, face-down in the earth. Hardly a trace of Evan remains.
"Just had to deal with a couple other pesky critters that've been running around this place for some time," HABIT continues. "Left 'em in quite a state, Jeff, oh yeah. Sometimes I forget how fun it is to have a good old fashioned knife fight, you know what I mean? It's much more fun when they try to fight back."
The lack of vision makes it even more difficult to ignore HABIT; fuck him, he planned this! Maybe he hit his head when HABIT smacked him into the dirt, but Jeff feels like the sound of his voice is wavering; HABIT must be moving back and forth, trying to throw him off guard. Well, that isn't happening, not this time. No fucking way.
Suddenly warm flesh grazes along Jeff's semi-bare back, and he shudders helplessly as HABIT's hands press deep into the tension-worn muscles along his shoulder blades. The sensation of Evan's calloused fingers dripping like so much candle wax along his arms and sliding the torn pieces of fabric from his skin sends sparks down his limbs. He twitches, but keeps his head down, just trying to breathe evenly, in and out. If he keeps breathing, he will be okay.
"Bet you're wondering what's gonna happen to you this time over," says HABIT, as he traces odd little patterns into curves between Jeff's shoulders. "Oh, last time was fun. How much do you remember, out of curiosity?"
Keeping his breathing steady is proving difficult even at this stage – the total darkness feels all encompassing, amplifying Jeff's emotions tenfold. Through thin lips, Jeff says, "Not much. Knife in the side. Took some chunks out my shoulder with your teeth. You broke all of my fingers with a hammer."
HABIT lets out a short, barking laugh. "Ah yeah, forgot about the fingers! I remember having to slip that one in for the channel, y'know, give the fans a lil' something to cry over." HABIT's hands move down from Jeff's shoulders to thumb slowly over his fingers, interlocked not only by the chains but by choice. "Most fun I'd had in a while, not going to lie. The knife came first though, don't you forget about the knife. But by the eighth one, the eighth finger, you weren't even crying any more."
"What the fuck do you want?" Jeff snaps. The touching is infuriating. Without his sight it felt like he exists only as a series of touches; touches given by hands that have performed acts that make him sick to even try and remember. Evan's hands. He shivers.
The hands leave Jeff's, and he feels the warmth next to his hip shift. "Someone's touchy this evening," says HABIT. "I think you need to be shut up for a while. Properly."
And then HABIT is gone from his side. Jeff snaps his head up and tris to track the rustling of the leaves around him, but does not anticipate it when HABIT grabs his chin and smacks their lips together. Jeff cries out in surprise and HABIT takes the opportunity to slip his tongue past Jeff's teeth and down his throat. Something clatters to the ground and then both of HABIT's hands are on either side of Jeff's face, rolling him over onto his back. Jeff can do nothing but struggle weakly beneath him, his bound hands wanting to push back and trying to do so, but only finding purchase in the earth underneath.
It hurts, Evan's chapped lips crushing his own, and Evan's bright-white teeth that are bared all too often in an impossibly malicious grin clamping down on the sensitive skin of his bottom lip. And yet the kiss still makes Jeff's heart rush into overdrive, and he can picture that face, Evan's face, maybe with eyes closed shut too, just taking in his own taste, tasting him-
But this is not Evan; this is something inherently other, and Jeff feels sick with himself and the heat pooling in certain parts of his body. With an immense effort, Jeff lets his muscles go loose, forcing himself not to resist against HABIT, but also to not respond; he is not going to give that bastard the satisfaction of surrender.
HABIT growls against Jeff's teeth and pulls away. Something warm and wet drips onto Jeff's neck, and he shies away from the sensation as it pools in the dips of his collarbone.
"Didn't pin you as a frigid bitch," HABIT says as he shifts his weight back around Jeff's hips, with his hands curling comfortably around Jeff's bare shoulders. "Not even going to make an effort for me, when I've spared you for so long?"
Don't say a word, Jeff thinks, his pulse thrumming loudly under the seemingly too-thin layer of his skin. Maybe there was a way out of this. If he just concentrates hard enough, maybe he could slip his fingers out through the chains and make a break for it…
Suddenly those hands, hands that Jeff expects to be cool and calloused, but are warm and surprisingly soft, start trailing down the now-exposed flesh of his abdomen and gently folding their digits under the waistband of his jeans. Talented fingers worked their way along the ridges of his hips and began the task of unbuttoning his jeans, slowly, so tantalizingly slowly. One by one he hears each button pop, and then the leisurely dragging sound of his zipper. Shit, what is he supposed to do?
One of HABIT's hands reaches back to grab Jeff's shoulder, forcing him back down into the dirt. Then, HABIT trails his fingers loosely over Jeff's growing erection, and the bound man sucks in a shock of air, arching his back to stop himself from thrusting his hips up.
"Yeah, that's more like it," HABIT purrs.
The hand leaves for a moment, and Jeff hears a wet, smacking sort of sound, before it returns, knuckles dragging heavily over his crotch. But HABIT's hand is no longer softly teasing Jeff through his boxes but has wormed its way inside, tugging his cock free and grasping it with force. His fingers are slick and slippery with saliva and Jeff bites his lip, hard, trying to keep down the moan building up in his throat.
"You're trying so hard to keep quiet, aren't you?" HABIT says, slowly beginning to work Jeff's cock with one hand while keeping the other firm on his shoulder. "You're not going to be able to keep that up for very long. Even now you're…" He pauses, and Jeff can almost feel his grin. "You're a hot mess."
Jeff's face burns, and a wave of anger washes over him in a way he has not experienced in a very long time – he wants to kick out at him, punch him into the ground, break his arms and legs, and stamp on his face until he's bleeding. He tries to remind himself that it would be Evan he was hurting; that's still Evan's body, and somewhere, locked up alongside the maniac, he must still know what is going on. But now, with only black to see, a slippery hand around his cock and that awful, taunting voice being his primary grounding in reality, all of that sympathy is gone. Evan wouldn't want to see him like this. He'd want him to break HABIT too.
"Stop," Jeff breathes, trying to keep his voice commanding and calm, but he only succeeds in sounding desperate.
HABIT's hand stops for a moment, but then a thumb is dragged slowly over the head of Jeff's cock and he groans, unable to help himself thrusting upwards into the movement.
"There we go," HABIT hisses. His breathing has become ragged, and Jeff's own pulse quickens as he feels HABIT move his face closer to his own. HABIT's breath is hot on his cheek, and the sensation of the breath caressing his neck and tickling his ear sends gooseflesh rippling along Jeff's arms. "You look fuckin' gorgeous like this, Jeff. Chained up, all exposed, just for me. Fuck, I wish I'd thought of this last time. In you, there's just so much…potential."
That's it – he can't take this any longer. Jeff inhales, summons up every ounce of courage that has not yet been broken yet – and spits in HABIT's face. He hears the saliva connect with skin, and HABIT's hand is gone in a flash, with his weight being pushed back to Jeff's hips.
"Oh," says HABIT quietly. Then, in a much lower, much more twisted voice: "oh."
His weight is suddenly gone from Jeff's hips – he's standing up and moving, moving back to presumably kneel in between Jeff's legs- and his fingers are scrabbling for Jeff's jeans. In one fluid movement HABIT pulls Jeff's jeans down, right the way down past his ass, past his knees, to have them pooling around his ankles. Jeff gasps, the cool night air sending shocks up his now-bare legs.
"Spread 'em." HABIT growls, placing his hands on each of Jeff's knees.
"No, I'm not going to," says Jeff. He tries to close his legs but HABIT's grip is too forceful, so he says, "I don't want you to do this to me while you're in Evan's body. He wouldn't want this."
The resulting laugh is harsh and brittle, like Evan's own voice is about to snap in favour of HABIT's demonic words. "Since when have I given a fuck what Evan-" – he drags out the name, saying it in a sing-song voice – "wants? When have I given a fuck, about what he wants to fuck?"
Then, Jeff's legs are being spread forcefully apart. Jeff squirms and struggles, but HABIT holds one leg down while he uses his own leg to pin the other. There is a short sucking sound, a pop, and then Jeff feels the first finger being pressed flush up against his ass.
"A-ah!" Jeff cries out as the finger enters him. It's rough, and he's hot and tight against it, with only the saliva as lubricant he simply can't force himself to unclench to make it hurt less. But HABIT immediately begins to curl the finger inside of Jeff, and Jeff lets loose a throaty groan, lost in the mingled pleasure and pain.
"Keep making those noises, bitch," says HABIT, and before Jeff can brace himself another finger is being pushed up inside of him. The fit is so close and god it hurts, but the burn is amazing. Everything is becoming hazy with pleasure, and without his sight, with only those teasing fingers curling so delightfully inside of him Jeff could almost imagine this wasn't a monster, taking him for his own pleasure, but…
"Evan," Jeff groans.
It is too late – the damage has been done. The moment he realizes the name has left his lips Jeff freezes, a deep blush working its way up from his neck right the way up to his ears. Somehow, not being able to see HABIT's expression made it infinitely worse. The fingers were still inside of him, filling him and stretching him, but unmoving. He can feel HABIT's eyes boring into his flushed skin, and he wants nothing more than to curl up and hide.
HABIT's laughter starts small, just a gentle, amused chuckle, but it builds up, becoming louder and more crazed with each moment that passes. Eventually HABIT is shrieking with laughter, the nails of his free hand digging into Jeff's flesh and his hair tickling Jeff's exposed abdomen – he must be bent double with glee.
"Oh fuck, I did not see that one coming!" HABIT yells happily. "Jeff, you've thrown me for one hell of a loop. So, you've been harbouring a thing for our wild animal Evan, huh? Bet my choice of body was all the better for you. I mean, Evan's a looker – got to choose them to be charming, y'see, serial killer trait and all that, makes the chicks easier to lure in. Oh man, I bet you've been having your little moral struggle inside the whole time – shit, I can't want to fuck him, I can't pop a boner over my friend, 'specially not when he's not even him anymore! But seeing the sucker all dripping with blood, nothing but muscle and rage…hell man, if that ain't a turn on you aren't a real guy. I pride myself on my sexual appeal."
His fingers flex inside of Jeff at the word 'sexual'. Jeff tries to bite back another noise of pleasure but it seeps out, his body betraying him not for the first time since HABIT captured him. This is sheer torture, being laid out, and spread out for something that was Evan, but at the same time was not. He'd been careful, so very careful – quick glances when Evan used to freely walk around his house shirtless, complaining of the summer heat; talk of all of the girls they'd both been dating, although Jeff hadn't gone out with a girl since Jessalyn, and hot, risky nights of masturbation, biting down on his pillow so as not to scream out Evan's name. But now HABIT knew, and if HABIT knew, then Evan – wherever the poor man was – had to know too.
It is with a rough shove and a mangled noise of pain and satisfaction that the third finger is added – Jeff is preparing for himself to be rend apart, limb from limb, but here he is being stretched to his absolute limit.
"It's funny," says HABIT, with another small giggle. "I've seen all of the nasty shit that goes on in Evan's head. Kid's into some pretty sick stuff, just to warn you. Likes to dominate. But the times he's thought about you – and hell, there've been a few times – he likes to imagine you fucking him rough. He strips naked, ties himself up. Slaps a collar on himself sometimes, if he's feeling in the mood for it. Then just grinds hard on his bed sheets, or shoves some sick toy up his ass, and pretends you're ploughing him real good." He's leaning down again; Jeff can feel Evan's long hair just brushing his cheeks. "Sometimes, he calls you daddy."
Jeff is harder than he can ever remember being in his life. Evan thought about him too. The images being painted by HABIT, with that voice that is simultaneously Evan's, and not, make his entire body quiver: Evan, peeling all of his clothes and shyly revealing that gorgeous, ripped body underneath; Evan, spread-eagled on his bed, driving a dildo in and out of him while he moans his name into the bedcovers; Evan, collar-clad and bound to a bed frame, flushed and begging Jeff to fuck him hard. The word 'daddy' echoes around his head, making his body tingle. He likes it. He likes it a lot.
"He really…does that?" The words are tentative. HABIT could easily be messing around with his head, just trying to get what he wants out of him. He could just be exploiting new information.
"Fuck yeah he does. 'Specially in later months. You never seen him with all of those little bruises on his shoulders and lower arms? He didn't have a fucking girlfriend – he's flexible as hell, another reason why I chose him. He did it to himself, pretending it was you."
HABIT begins to pump the fingers in and out of Jeff, slowly at first, but building up speed faster than his body can take, and Jeff cries out, begging him to stop, begging him to just let him cum now. Mercifully, the fingers are removed, each coming out with a slick popping sound that makes Jeff shudder.
Then, strong arms are belted around Jeff's shoulders, and he is being hoisted up into a sitting position, and dragged up to fall forward onto his knees. Jeff stumbles, and his face presses into warm fabric – he's been caught by one of Evan's sturdy legs. The hands are moving now up Jeff's shivering back and over his shoulders, and moments after he feels them leave, he hears the tell-tale drag of another zipper.
Jeff's heart stops when he hears, for the first time in a long time, Evan's true voice – free from any distortion, any twisted, demonic resonance, any harsh bite of laughter – just Evan's voice. Not just because it is Evan's true voice, however, but because the words that slip into Jeff's ears are so dulcet and sensual, it makes him want to cum right there:
'Jeff – daddy, please will you suck my cock?"
Evan's dick is being shoved into his mouth before the words have truly taken root in Jeff's mind, but he opens his mouth wide and takes Evan's cock as far back as he can, savouring the sudden heavy taste that coupled with Evan's natural musk. As Jeff summons up saliva in his mouth and wraps his lips firmly around the area he can only assume is the base, he hears HABIT – no, this can only be Evan now, it's Evan's beautiful voice – give a gorgeous groan, a noise so thick with desire it makes Jeff's cock throb and almost sends him over the edge right there. But no – he isn't going to cum yet, not while he finally has this opportunity – he is going to make Evan feel amazing.
Jeff allows Evan to pull back out of his mouth with a slick, wet sound, but the moment it has left his lips Jeff licks up from where he can only assume Evan's cock begins right up to the head. A fist is suddenly in Jeff's hair, gripping hard at his curls. Jeff can feel the brushing of Evan's other arm somewhere below his cock – probably cupping his balls, or teasing his asshole, ready to be fucked by him. The thought sends a violent shiver down Jeff's spine, and he moans thickly as he takes Evan's cock once again and lets his tongue swirl over the head.
The noises Evan is making are incredible – soft whines and loud mewls interspersed with each other as Jeff alternates between soft kisses up and down his length and hard, lengthy sucks either at the head or further down the shaft. Jeff licks obediently at the head of Evan's cock. He can feel saliva dripping down his chin, but he doesn't care – he loves how debased this is, how he's getting Evan off in this nasty way, hearing him make these noises. Even though Jeff is the one tied up, he feels in power – he wants to take Evan down and fuck him senseless, make him scream his name.
All of a sudden Evan's cock is pulled from Jeff's mouth, and Jeff is being shoved back, and his legs are being spread apart once again. It takes moments, but Jeff lets out the most incredible cry as he feels Evan's cock filling him up, taking him further than he had ever been taken before.
And then a voice is in his ear: a low, devilish voice, a voice dipped in a glistening white smile.
"Think your precious little whore-to-be is going to let you take him right now, on my watch?" HABIT breathes into Jeff's ear, as he starts to rock his hips, slamming into Jeff with each thrust. "Think those nice little noises you so desperately want to hear are from him? Bitch, Evan is nothing. He's a vessel, a sick little fag who likes the idea of you calling him his little cumslut. But who is really the cumslut here?"
Then, those amazing noises are pouring out of Evan's – no, HABIT's – mouth again: with each thrust a new moan, a new cry, a new beautiful exhalation of pleasure, sounds that make Jeff's heart contract and his balls tighten. He's going to cum, he can feel it – he's being dominated and degraded and the combined sense of humiliation and arousal is almost too much to take.
"Yeah, you like that, don't you Jeff?" says HABIT, his thrusting picking up more speed with each word. "You like knowing that you're not in control now. Think about that little bitch Evan open-mouthed and gagging for your cock all you want, but know that now, I am the one who is fucking you. You are my fuck toy, and I'm going to take you like this, naked and wanting, whenever I fucking want. Go on, think about this body with your sweet little bitch inside, telling you how much he wants you to take him like a man. But you fucking listen to me…"
Jeff moans helplessly as he feels HABIT lower himself to whisper into his ear:
"I'm your daddy now."
They come as one, Jeff's seed spilling out onto his stomach and splattering parts of his chest, while HABIT's cum fills him up on the inside. Shudders rock Jeff's body, and he can faintly feel through his orgasmic bliss HABIT delivering his final thrusts, riding out his own. He immediately falls limp when HABIT pulls himself out, feeling totally exhausted. He can only hear the sound of the zipper being pulled back up and their combined heavy breathing.
It comes as a shock when the blindfold is ripped from his head, but Jeff takes the instant lightening of his surroundings, however minuscule, as a gift. He immediately sets his gaze upon the pale form of HABIT, visibly flushed and sweating even in the violet light.
HABIT looks up sharply, and Jeff feels his heart pound into his throat: he can see a glint of Evan in those eyes.
"Y'know what," says HABIT suddenly, rising to his feet as if nothing had ever happened. "You're a good lay, Jeff. I'm going to keep you around for a while."
And just like that, the chains binding Jeff's arms fall apart, collapsing to the ground with a heavy metal clunk.
Jeff stares at HABIT, keeping his muscles tense in case he needs to break into a sprint. "You're…not going to kill me?" he says quietly.
HABIT turns away, and starts to walk towards the thicket of trees bordering their small clearing. "Nah," he says, his voice growing steadily quieter. "You're good motivation for Evan. Who knows, I might let you two fuck one day."
And then, he was gone.
Jeff lay down in the leaves, staring up at the cloudless purple sky, and tried to steady his breathing. Yes, maybe one day, he would.
This is all worth it.