Cutter had finally gotten what he wanted. Now, any time he had an itch, he went to Otis.

Otis was usually willing to oblige, more than happy to receive the affection that always came after. He craved it, desperately. He had never received any kind in his life. Warm, soft touches that didn't have force behind them were a whole new beast to him. He knew it was against his better judgement. He certainly wasn't romantically involved with Cutter at all. It was just a means to get to orgasm and receive the love he so desperately pined for his whole life.

Love. God, he wanted it so badly. He wanted someone to say those three words to him and have them really, truly mean it. No sarcasm, no malice, no ifs. He had been told since he could remember that he would never receive that heartfelt gift. That no one could ever bring themselves to love a freak like him. That no one would ever treasure him.

Otis had learned that the quicker he gave in to whatever Cutter wanted, the quicker he got what he wanted. He had stifled that old childhood understanding that you only kissed people you loved; instead, he let Cutter's tongue explore his mouth as he pleased. He had never been kissed, either. His parents had only needed him for a play thing; didn't care about him at all. Fuckers didn't even name him. All they had wanted was something to hit and fuck.

He was standing, sculpting a horse face onto a human head, brows knit in concentration and anxiety. What if he couldn't get this to work? He'd be pissed. He had plans for this one.

Strong arms wrapped around his waist and he gasped.

"Relax. It's me." Cutter spun him around playfully. Otis couldn't help the smile that graced his face or the laugh that escaped his throat. Though their relationship was far from traditional, Cutter reminded him of much younger days, when he would look out his window and see fathers spinning their children like he just had.

"Need a break?"

"D...Do you want me to need one?"

"Yes." Cutter threw Otis against the wall, his feet inches from the ground. Otis, as if on cue, wrapped his legs around the clown's torso. He began kissing his neck, tossing the white locks to the side. "Mmm...you gonna moan for me? Come on. I know you like it."

"Nnn..." Otis rarely vocalized his pleasure. Having a survival instinct to stay quiet during sexual acts was hard to shake.

"Come on. Show me you like it. Moan for me..." His lips traveled to the spot he knew would get a reaction out of Otis.

Otis gasped, letting out a small whine.

"Louder." Cutter's hands traveled up Otis's torso.

"Nnnnnn..." The low groan came easily this time.

Cutter claimed Otis's lips. The younger man had shaven today, so Cutter could fully put it out of his mind who it was he was fucking. He had to admit, he enjoyed taking advantage of Otis. He was certainly not unattractive- even someone who was heterosexual, as he considered himself, could see that. Sure he was having sex with a male regularly, but it was just to get off.

Otis's lips hurt with Cutter's brutish kisses. He knew it was wrong, but god he needed that sacred piece of his life that had been missing that came after he had pleased Cutter.

Cutter was always so gentle with him. They both knew it wasn't the ideal situation for either of them, but they both got something they wanted out of it. Cutter wanted to feel close to someone again. He desperately craved Eve's love that had been missing for months now. God, he missed her. The mother of his daughter, Baby...That was the only woman he had ever truly loved. And he had fucked that up, too. So now here he was, fucking the brains out of this poor albino drifter that had wandered into his shop when he weighed 90-some pounds at six foot.

After they had cleaned up, came the part that Otis needed.

God, those caresses had become a drug to him. He needed them. Their absence haunted him in the middle of the night when he woke up in a sweat from a night terror of his parents' abuse. He craved the affection- the positive attention. The attention was another aspect Otis loved. Someone paying attention to him, without brutalizing him, without hitting him or spouting hateful words at him, just holding him. Feeling the warmth of another body against his. Being called a 'work of art' instead of 'the son of satan' or a 'fucking freak'. Though he knew it was to Cutter's benefit, he couldn't help but feel a boost in confidence when the sweet nothings where murmured.

Cutter sat back down on the bed, pulling Otis against him. "Come here..."

Goosebumps raised on Otis's skin at the contact as Cutter stroked his back. God, it felt like he was high. He was addicted to this. And would do anything to get it. Even subject himself to the same kind of actions he vowed he would never let happen again. But hey, at least it was consensual this time.

A few days passed. Otis worked diligently on his sculptures, waiting for an opportune moment to get that drug he craved so much. He longed to feel arms around him.

Cutter seemed to be in a foul mood that day, roughly chopping the heads off the chickens before he prepared them for the fryer.

Otis kept to himself, working in the back. The door finally slammed open and he jumped. Before he had time to register his presence, Cutter had roughly thrown him against the wall.

"Nn!" He protested. squirming.

"Fuckin' stay still."

His tone was different, but Otis complied. He would have his light at the end of the tunnel.

Cutter was rough this time, biting down Otis's neck instead of the sweet, sultry kisses.

"O...Ow..."

"Shut up." Cutter threw him on the bed, and Otis stared back wide-eyed. Something was wrong. This was different. Completely different. This is what he had feared.

Cutter took his belt out of the loops, holding it threateningly. "Take your fuckin' clothes off or I'll make more than your ass bleed, boy."

"C...Cutter...w...why-" He was cut off by a sharp snap of the belt across his chest. He cried out in pain and surprise.

"NOW!"

Otis hastily undressed, yelping again when Cutter crawled on top of him quickly, aggressively.

"Y...Y...You're...R...Really s...scaring me..."

"Aw, poor baby." Cutter mocked, jerking Otis by the hair to bite down on the other side of his neck until he tasted the copper tinge of blood.

Otis shook violently, trying to sort out what the fuck was going on.

"What'sa matter?"

"Y...You...This...This isn't...This isn't..."

"The same? No shit, moron."

"I...I don't...I don't want this. S...Stop...I...I don't like it this way."

"I don't fuckin' care what you like and what you don't!"

Otis tried desperately to fight his way away from the clown, but Cutter was much bigger. He tied Otis's hands with the belt, securing them around the bed post.

Tears rolled down Otis's face. He continued to shake. God, he had never meant for this to happen.

He screamed in pain as Cutter plummeted into him. He tried to squirm away, to no avail. "STOP! THIS HURTS! STOP! GOD, PLEASE! PLEASE, YOU PROMISED ME!"

Cutter reached up with one bear-paw like hand and covered Otis's mouth. Cutter tried desperately not to be vocal most times, because he knew it would scare the boy. But he didn't care now.

"Ohhhh, give it to me you fuckin' whore. Oh you little slut! Oh your sweet little ass is so tight!"

Otis began to shake harder. Loud noises were never fun for him, but these sickening, vile words being screamed were a complete other beast. Knowing he was defeated, Otis retreated into his mind to try and block it out.

"You fuckin' little slut! Yeaaaahhh!"

No cuddling. No warm caresses. When Cutter had set him free, he clamored under the bed, shaking and sobbing. Cutter walked back into the shop, careless of the damage he had caused.

Otis was normally quiet, but he was absolutely silent after that; borderline catatonic. Instead of sleeping at night, he lay awake and shook. He had let it happen again. He had given himself over to the assault. It was his fault.

Cutter ignored him, moving on to a blonde floosy he had discovered in a bar somewhere.

Otis still desperately craved the affection as he had before, but every touch was now flinched away from. Not that Cutter had tried to show him any affection after the last time, but even just trying to get Otis's attention, he flinched wildly, backing away from the larger man.

He noticed Otis slowly dropping weight again. Eve would have his ass if she found out he had known and didn't do anything.

"Hey, kid...You eatin'?"

Otis nodded.

"Okay. You keeping it down?"

He simply stared back at him.

"Jesus, Otis...Why? Why're you doing that to yourself again?"

Otis began to shake again. He was nervous now, any time he had to be alone in an enclosed space with Cutter. It had taken weeks to gain his trust, and only seconds to shatter it. "Th...Th...The b...bigger the cushion...Th...The sweeter the p...pushin'..."

"Yeah, I always say that. What about it." The idea clicked in his head. "Ohhhh. You're makin' yourself thinner so I won't want you?"

Otis's face reddened. He nodded.

"Don't worry. I found another piece of ass."

Finally gaining courage, Otis spoke once more. "Why..."

"Why what?"

Otis stared back, glancing away for a moment, embarrassed.

"Why not with you anymore?" He scoffed. "You're too much of a needy mother fucker. God DAMN you're so fucking needy. All I wanted was to get off, but you...You had to be cuddled and coddled and snuggled and fondled all over. Fuck THAT! I want to fuck and be done with it. None of your...cuddly-ass bullshit. Lanky mother fucker, anyhow. You're too fuckin' needy."

Tears of shame and hate rolled down Otis's face. He knew it would end, but god, it didn't have to hurt so much.