"Still got that hero complex, eh Ford?" The demon laughed, flicking Ford's nose, reddening it even further. "But who ever thought that complex would be directed at lil' 'ol me?"
-The distant future.
Doctor Pines, Doctor Pines, calling Doctor Pines! Doctor Pines, Doctor Pines…Get up now.
Ford stirred; someone's singing?
Doctor Pines, Doctor Pines, calling Doctor Pines! Doctor Pines, Doctor Pines…Wake up now!
Ford opened his eyes, and sat up, vision blurry and nose cloggy. He immediately checked next to him for Bill but found only empty space.
"Finally! I've been serenading you for a full five minutes and not even an applause." Bill sat slouched in the room chair, eyes half-lidded. Ford attempted meeting the stare, but his vision proved too blurry.
"What time is it?" Ford asked, still groggy. His limbs felt heavy, as though he'd barely slept at all.
"2pm." Bill leaned forward. "No work today?"
"It's that late already? No I'm—I have papers to grade now. No lectures," He replied, putting his glasses on and looking at Bill again, who was wide awake and fully dressed.
"How long have you been up?"
"Awhile, Ford." Bill said, leaning back in the chair. "I've showered already, and eaten. I borrowed the brand spanking new tooth brush you kept in your cupboard. I'm not reimbursing you, just FYI. As your lover, I'm entitled to everything you own." Amusement was present in Bill's face and voice, but his eyes had Ford thinking about what they'd discussed last night, about the nature of this relationship.
"I made you an omelette, want me to heat it up for you?" Bill asked, straightening his posture and Ford smiled in surprise. "You made me breakfast?"
"Brunch."
"How did you know I like omelettes?"
"You had an omelette maker, genius." Bill snarked, breaking into a smile that infected Ford.
Ford laughed to hide his embarrassment. "Yes, please…breakfast in bed. You're spoiling me." Bill raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, leaving to fetch the omelette in question.
Ford found himself wondering if Bill bleached his eyebrows lighter. If his hair was naturally black, his eyebrows should match but they appeared to be more of a brown.
He sighed at his mind working overtime to detect inconsistencies related to Bill Cipher.
Regret still nagged within Ford and it loved to repeat how young Bill was and how Ford had taken advantage of the boy. What was he to do now? He'd certainly said some stupid things last night, and he's sure Bill remembered. Things about them possibly continuing this…
He had to find a way to fix this mess without upsetting Bill.
Bill returned, and Ford thanked him.
"Do you bleach your eyebrows?" Ford blurted out and Bill raised an eyebrow before replying.
"Yes. Bleach then dye."
"You're very appearance orientated, aren't you?"
"Shut up and eat, Doc."
Embarrassment had Ford wolfing down the omelette. To his surprise, it was better than he expected. Imagining Bill cooking was quite a sight – somehow not out of place but still strange to envision. Ford tended to struggle with even the basics.
"It's delicious. Better than I make it." Ford confessed, slowing his eating pace to savour every bite.
Again, Bill only regarded him quietly, with eyes perpetually half-lidded.
"I'm waiting." Bill said abruptly, with a tone Ford knew to be seductive.
Feigning naivety, he asked, "For?"
"You know what. I'm getting impatient, Ford." Bill sniggered as Ford quickly broke eye contact. "Finish eating and shower. I can't kiss you if you haven't brushed your teeth."
Surprised, Ford laughed gawkily between mouthfuls while trying not to embarrass himself further. "Ah, so you did have ulterior motives!"
Again, Bill only stared at him quietly. Bill's silence bothered him, but bringing it up seemed risky. Ford had other things on his mind, too. Things like…
"I'm curious…" Ford put down his fork. "Where did you get those scars from? On your back?"
Bill grinned and waved a hand dismissively. "Oh you know…a few stabs here and there."
"Some of them looked like cigarette burns."
Bill's eyes thinned, but his smile didn't waver.
"Who gave you those scars? Am I prying?" Ford asked and Bill shrugged.
"Ever been so drunk you let someone put out cigs on your skin?"
Ford wasn't convinced and his face showed. The marks were too big to be cigarettes. Ford had purposely lied about that detail to see Bill's reaction. The circles were larger- cigars, most likely.
"Also, what's on your shoulder blade? The tattoo? Looked like a...triangle?"
"A party-hat!" Bill gestured excitedly with his hands, very child-like, and Ford gave a puzzled look.
"A party hat…?"
"A geometrical one."
Strange, but suited Bill's whimsical nature.
"One more, if you don't mind…what language did you speak last night?"
"Italian." Bill said, tapping the chair's arm.
"You're fluent in it?"
"It's my first language."
What a surprise. A pleasant one, at that.
"You're Italian…? From Italy?"
"No, my grandfather is. He took care of me when I was younger, so naturally…he'd teach me the language he preferred." Bill said. "He kinda hated English, funny enough. Always got mad when I spoke it to him."
"I see. That's interesting." Ford said, pleased with Bill's apparent honesty.
Something clicked in Ford's mind. Although Bill was not from Italy, he'd no doubt have been raised with leftovers of Italian culture and from what Ford knew of it, said remnants were observable in some of Bill's actions. Not wanting to admit it aloud, Bill was a lot more interesting than he'd anticipated.
"Want me to whispers words of love into your ear?" Bill snickered, making exaggerated kissy faces.
"Oh no, please no. You'd embarrass me." Ford laughed at the ridiculous display. "What did you say to me? Last night. When you spoke Italian."
Bill pulled his bottom lip with a finger continuously, drawing Ford's attention to the area. "I told you that I missed you. That you're a good man. And that I want to fuck you." The last one was a lie but not like Ford would know.
"Oh…" Ford's eyes retreated to his plate. "Straight-forward, weren't you?"
A good man? Peculiar thing to say to Ford. It wasn't exactly romantic or sexual by any means.
"You're sure full of questions."
"I prefer to be open and honest about things that bother me. It sets a good foundation for a—" He hesitated. For a what? Relationship?
Bill cocked his head to the side, awaiting Ford's next word.
"…relationship."
"Yikes. That's heavy." Bill laughed with obvious fake nervousness, rolling his shoulders back. "Gosh, look at the time…I should get going…" They laughed together.
"Okay but really, commitment isn't what I'm here for, Ford. So let's…not." There was no intention to hurt in Bill's words and Ford knew that, eventually agreeing with Bill. Neither of them seemed the relationship type.
There were other types of relationships though.
"Bill, I didn't mean to take advantage of you last night." Ford said, broaching the topic. It was now or never.
Bill's upper lip curled in annoyance. "What? That's not taking advantage of someone, Ford."
"No, it is. I'm older. I shouldn't have given into your advances. It wasn't right. I'm sorry."
"…you regret what happened? So, you don't want this to be a regular thing?" Bill's voice took on a worried inflection; Ford expected anger.
"Bill, it's not right for me to be with you. You're just too young." Ford said, attempting to convince both Bill and himself. It was wrong on principle, but desire was not always logical nor righteous – and Ford prided himself on being both. He was righteous only to an extent though, not above doing the morally ambiguous for the greater good, but that did not apply here. This was selfish desire.
Bill pouted. "You won't fuck me. And now you're apologizing. Where do they make men like you…?" He stood up, and Ford found the act intimidating.
"I've wanted this for so long. You don't understand anything, Ford." Knitting his arms around Ford's neck, he leaned into an ear. "Shower. We have lots to talk about afterwards."
He let go of Ford's neck, standing straight again. "One more thing…I scoped your place out, couldn't find your dirty magazines. I guess you watch everything online?"
"I don't watch porn." Ford said, putting his plate at his bedside table.
Bill chuckled, unconvinced. "Ford, come on. We're both guys."
"I'm not joking." Ford pressed.
"So what do you do when you touch yourself? If you ever do, you prude." Bill flicked Ford's cheek hard enough to redden it. As it came in for another assault, Ford smacked it away.
"I read. Erotic literature. On occasion."
Bill was intrigued. "So you don't watch your porn, you read it?"
"You could say that." Ford said, intercepting yet another flick from Bill while trying to contain his laughter.
"What do you like to read? Sweet, tender, make love?"
"Do you think that's all I like?"
Bill raised an eyebrow, a devious smile forming. Hinting at an unmapped territory of Ford's desires enthralled him, akin to baiting a shark with blots of blood. Ford knew he'd made a mistake, but it was too late now.
"Personally…I prefer more ambiguous scenarios." Bill said, coming to stand next to Ford's bed. A lone hand prodded at Ford's body that lay hidden beneath the covers, more so for fun than to initiate anything sexual.
Eyeing him suspiciously, Ford asked, "Elaborate?"
"Like you aren't sure whether the person getting fucked wants it or not, but they're forced to take it anyway." Bill's eyes moved to Ford as the last few words left his lips.
"That sounds like rape." Ford said firmly, resisting the urge to put distance between Bill and himself.
"Nah, that's an exaggeration." He ran a finger in the baby hair at the back of Ford's neck, the man's body flinching at the touch. "You don't think that's a turn on? You fucking me whether you I want it or not?"
So Bill imagined himself on the receiving end of such a fantasy? Ford had expected him to be the one giving. Masochistic fantasies were common, and could have originated from multiple places. If given time, Ford could pin-point their origins, but again, he was getting ahead of himself.
Dissecting Bill Cipher would have to wait. For now.
"No." Ford said, grabbing the hand at his neck and holding it. Bill seemed to like that.
Bill tilted his chin up with an uneven smile as he looked down at Ford. He seemed simultaneously unimpressed and satisfied. Running a hand across Ford's broad naked shoulders, he leaned in, lowered his voice and said, "Shower time. Get naked, Ford."
Bill watched him the entire time as he undressed and left for the bathroom. During the quiet, Ford kept anticipating Bill to pounce on him- his heart never slowed once as he envisioned what he believed to be the inevitable. He thought Bill might even offer to join him for a second shower.
Bill, however, did nothing.
Ten minutes into his shower, he realized he hadn't fetched a towel. Switching the water off, a tapping at the glass of his shower door startled him.
"You're pretty absent-minded, aren't you? Ford." Bill said handing him a towel, his eyes never leaving Ford's own. Ford expected them to wonder lewdly, but they seemed intently taken by his face.
He thanked Bill and the boy, with eyes never wandering, turned and left.
When Ford entered the room, Bill sat in the chair still, waiting and watching. Again, Bill's eyes seemed entranced by his face. Ford ignored it. If he thought too much about it, he'd become anxious and Bill would detect it. Of course, he thought about it more, mind going wild and–
Now he was nervous, and Bill noticed.
"You're making me nervous." Ford attempted to joke, seeking to defuse the situation.
"Nothing I haven't seen before." Bill's voice was flat but sinister all the same.
Without bothering to argue, he went ahead and began drying himself off further. Something cold slipped at his skin, and he found Bill's hand wandering across his warm skin. It slithered as if daydreaming, hypnotized by the skin which invoked flashes of last night's events.
"Looks like you're the one half-naked this time. Or rather…fully naked."
Bill swallowed him whole before he could object. It didn't take long for him to cum, and when he returned the favour, as Bill neared his climax, he made sure to take the boy's mouth and finish him with a hand.
"Cheater…" Bill muttered, and proceeded to complain. Soon though, Bill would understand the purpose of Ford's actions. It wouldn't take long for the results to show. That is, if he persisted with this relationship…
"One more." Ford's hand returned to Bill's length, despite the boy's protests, and once more, Bill came while Ford made sure his tongue was inside the boy's mouth. When Bill sought to return the favour, Ford denied him. Further complaints were silenced with Ford's lips, with Bill not fighting back.
In Ford's hands, Bill became fragile and harmless, easily subdued with simple touches and kisses. He enjoyed it, the vulnerability shown made him feel as though Bill truly loved being with him, enough to the point where he'd drop his guard and let go.
Bill Cipher in his bed. What a time to be alive. How had this even happened?
Not done yet, he removed Bill's shirt, and again, kissed the boy's scars. Paying attention to it might spurn a backstory reveal and Ford was too curious for his own good. As his lips left the last scar, one that was particularly big, he declared "All done."
Bill didn't get up. He remained face down, unmoving. Images of a body lying at a crime scene flickered in Ford's mind like a broken no vacancy sign.
"Bill?"
Finally, Bill got up. Looking over his shoulder at Ford, a hand asked for his shirt and Ford took it upon himself to dress Bill again. Unlike before, Bill did not respond to any of Ford's touches.
"I'm sorry…you don't want to talk about it, right?"
"I never said that. I'll tell you. Later." Bill said, voice flat and refusing to meet Ford's eyes. Maybe he shouldn't have done that…but he had confirmation now that Bill wasn't being entirely honest about the scars origins.
Guilt hassled him again until Bill took one of his hands while still refusing eye-contact. The grasp was hard, as if he feared Ford would run and needed the extra leverage to anchor him down. Ford rubbed at the fretting hand gently, Bill's eyes scurrying towards it.
Ford begun to feel something else– protectiveness towards Bill. He'd put off thinking about it, but it was definitely there. Only in these moments, when Bill was at his most vulnerable. The contrast between Bill's demeanour inside and outside the bedroom triggered something in Ford, and solicitousness had slowly manifested.
Everything was happening so quickly with Bill. Too quickly.
Freeing himself from Bill, with the boy attempting to keep him back, he dressed quickly while being watched.
"You said you wanted to talk?"
Bill's wide eyes narrowed, and he pulled Ford onto the bed, straddling him.
"You know who I am, right?"
"Gas-" But Bill cut him off.
"Don't say his name. Just say that man. But yes, I am that man's son, and technically, I'm that man, if you recall what I told you about the Giordano family." Bill ran his fingers across Ford's five 'o clock shadow. "You remember, right?"
Ford nodded. Bill would take the name Gaspard Giordano.
So he was that man's son…
"If you told anyone you had me in your bed, like this, no one would believe you." He let Ford's hands take his neck. "How does it feel to have the most powerful man at your mercy?" Ford's fingers laced together, forming a freak necklace of twelve fingers, before pulling away.
"You were terrified of my father, weren't you? Ford. But you aren't scared of me." Bill playfully pulled his ears and they reddened under the assault. "Am I not…intimidating?"
Bill's father had been a chill that if neglected, froze you dead. Bill, however, was alike to a forest fire; what you saw was what you got- inevitable destruction.
Or so he had thought. Bill might be more like his father than Ford recognized.
"That's not it. You're simply…different than your father, and I assure you, I have been plenty fearful of you." Ford said bluntly, and Bill slapped both hands at the sides of his cheeks- the force stinging lightly- while proclaiming, "Boo! Scared?"
Ford laughed and pulled Bill's hands off his face. "I am utterly terrified." A kiss came at him and he met it. Bill smelt like his shampoo and soap, and when he pulled away, Bill's face came to rest in his neck.
"Being close to you makes me horny."
Ford laughed again, rubbing the back of Bill's neck. "It's called the honeymoon phase. When you start to have sex with someone, you may find yourself getting aroused in their company frequently. It dies out eventually."
"Huh. I didn't know that…"
"Oh? You've had more experience than me, haven't you?"
"Not with relationships."
That word came again. Relationship.
"Bill…when you told me Ga-that man's family died…your family…your entire family is dead?" Ford asked, holding Bill's face and moving his hair away from his eyes, and Bill immediately tried leaning into the touch. The boy appeared excessively starved for physical affection, despite being physically affectionate himself. Ford took mental notes on all of Bill's actions, especially one's that stood out as being peculiar.
"Yeah." Bill said nonchalantly, his facial expression unchanging.
"I'm sorry…to hear that. That must've been tough on you."
"Not really. I hated them and ran away from home when I was a kid. No big deal."
Ford frowned at the sudden information reveal. "You ran away when you were younger?"
"Yeah, I'll tell you the story sometime." Bill smiled and Ford thought of the scars on his back.
Bill had clearly dealt with a lot, and was no doubt still dealing with a lot. Memories of what Bill had said about his mother, back at the diner, surfaced in Ford's mind and he wondered how much truth there was to that.
Again, he began to feel guilty. If Bill had been abused when he was younger, than he truly was taking advantage of someone vulnerable. The masochistic fantasies Bill mentioned earlier could be a product of his past abuse, but Ford was over-thinking, and getting ahead of himself again.
"Ford…you're amazing, in every way. In ways my father couldn't even see if he wanted to kill you." Ford gave Bill a confused look and he continued, "You were on his little black list, you know…"
Ford leaned back against the headboard, huffing in relief. He really had dodged a bullet.
"Would you reconsider the deal…if I was the one offering?"
Was this why Bill had been pursuing him? The end goal was to seduce Ford into working for him?
Ford shook his head. "I can't, Bill."
"Fiddleford isn't here to hold you back. Why don't you think about it?"
"I've thought about it…and it's not for me." He had to remember to find out about what had actually occurred between Bill and Fiddleford, but now was not the right time to mention it.
Bill didn't seem upset. "Fine. If you don't want to take over production for me, join my gang. At the very least…"
"Your gang?"
"Mmm, you met one of them. Evan." He snuggled into Ford's neck, and Ford embraced him instinctively. Again, Ford felt that Bill's actions were too familiar and affectionate. Not that he was complaining.
"Oh, that man."
Bill's laughter vibrated through his skin. "Did he scare you?"
Ford stroked Bill's hair. "He's…he's got a presence, hasn't he?" Bill hummed into Ford's neck approvingly, enjoying Ford's touches. "He's a monster but a good guy. You'd like him, Ford."
Entertaining the idea out of curiosity, Ford asked, "What will I have to do, if I joined you?"
"Whatever you want."
Ford laughed. "Are you sure it's a gang? Sounds more like a club."
"Hey, you're welcome to think of it that way. We haven't been doing much here anyway. And when we do, we go over-board. Overcompensation and all that." One of Bill's hands sought out one of Ford's to hold.
"Oh? How so?"
"I don't kiss and tell…"
The idea of joining Bill's, who was young enough to be his grandson, gang was ludicrous. Bill clearly hadn't thought it through at all, and despite it being nonsensical, Ford tried not to think too badly of him. Bill was young, foolish and a little rash. The very concept of gangs was silly enough. Especially here, in their quiet town. The only big name was Bill's family, but Ford likened that more to a shady business than a gang.
Seeking further clarity, Ford asked, "Do you actually have that criminal Law degree you claimed to have? You aren't a PI, after all."
"Nah." Bill pinched Ford's cheek. "I have a high school education, but that's about as far as it goes."
Ford frowned, pulling Bill's hand from his face. "Why don't you enrol? Get a degree in something?"
"When you said you were a gifted child, were you lying?"
"Nope. But—"
"No buts. You should take your education seriously, Bill."
"Oh man…come on, Ford. Don't go all Dad on me." He struggled to get away, but Ford held him in place.
"What are you interested in?"
"Ford, I am the scion of a powerful—" Ford cut him off.
"That doesn't matter. What are you interested in?"
Bill pulled a disgruntled face. "Okay, back to the topic of you joining me…"
"I can pull strings and get you any amount of funding you want. Even if you don't want to do drug production, just join me. I'll give you everything."
Negotiation wasn't Bill's strong point, Ford noted. This method might've worked on someone younger, but not on a man of Ford's age. 'Everything' was vague and held no meaning until the speaker properly defined it.
"I'm not keen on needing help to receive funding. I'm more than capable of getting it on my own." Ford said sternly. "The deal with your father was that he would fund a specific project."
"Ah right…" Bill seemed to shrink at the sudden change in Ford's voice; it was subtle, but Ford was perceptive. He rubbed Bill's cheek, letting the boy know he wasn't angry. "Think about your future."
"I am." Bill closed his eyes into the touch. "I can't."
"Then how about I teach you what you want to learn?" The offer was accidental; Ford had no idea why he'd said that, the words sputtering out with a life of their own.
"Huh?"
"Would you like that?"
Instead of retracting it, he reinforced it. He berated himself mentally while wondering if this was the true extent of his loneliness or if his subconscious saw something in Bill his conscious mind had not. Ford had an eye for potential and talent, but when had Bill demonstrated either of those things? Claims of being a gifted child could easily be a lie but…why would Bill lie now after having been honest so far? If he had been honest.
Ford felt caught between wanting to believe Bill and maintaining his detachment from situations, accessing them logically with skepticism. But relationships (again, that word), were trickier and required a gentler, sentimental touch.
Bill was useful, too.
Still, why one earth would he want a relationship with such a flippant, impulsive person?
"I suck your dick once, and now you want to play teacher?" Bill seemed amused.
"It's not like that."
"I know there's a voice in the back of your head telling you not to trust me. Maybe you should listen to it." Bill said, hands ghosting around Ford's neck, as if desiring to ensnare.
Trusting his intuition, Ford pushed ahead. "I told you, Bill. If you were going to hurt me, you would've done so."
"How do you know?"
"The second time we met. Do you remember what you did?" Bill nodded and Ford continued. "That's what you do when you're aggressive. You aren't acting like that now."
"You just really want to like me, don't you? Look at you, justifying your behaviour…" Before Ford could defend himself, Bill kissed him. It lasted a minute, neither men eager to pull away.
Bill was right and Ford was self-aware.
"You're so open-minded, Ford…" Bill muttered as he pulled away. "Didn't take you for the kind to fall in love after one night."
Ford laughed within, finding that ironic considering how clingy Bill had been acting. Both of them, in fact.
Ford was lonely. What was Bill's excuse?
"I'll give you time to think about it."
"You're so desperate for company…imagine if I had spread my legs for you? Would you be asking to marry me?" Bill pulled a lock of grey hair and Ford swatted the hand away. His eyes told Bill how much he disliked the boy's current train of thought and Bill swerved into another lane. "Join me and I'll let you educate me. How's that?"
"Bill, I'm not interested in joining your gang. I'm too old to be doing such…silly things." In truth, he was fearful, but he had to be smart about when to show fear in front of Bill. As long as he persisted with thinking it was ridiculous, his fear shouldn't surface and would hopefully die through neglect.
"Silly?"
"Of course, why would I join you?"
Bill smiled wryly. "You like danger, Ford. Know how I know? You let a sexually violent youth into your house, and your bed." Bill pushed Ford against the headboard. "You're reckless. I bet…I bet…you like this kind of thing. And you're too scared to admit it."
"Bill, let go of me."
"If I don't?"
"You have to leave."
The pressure on Ford eased, Bill eventually letting go and Ford struck immediately, grabbing Bill's face and kissing him.
Hypothesis: The best method for dealing with Bill Cipher was either to take control before he could OR to take control from him.
One held a snake with confidence, and reached for it with no hesitation. If one hesitated, it would strike, assuming harm was meant.
Bill was a snake.
Trying to make sense of Bill's past actions had led Ford to arrive at this for a potential and apparently successful solution.
Feeling Bill submit to Ford's kiss, his body relaxing and not resisting Ford's lead in the slightest, proved the theory. As long as he intercepted Bill before things escalated, it should be fine. Should he attempt to take the lead once things have gone too far however, it would be too hard to get the boy to back down.
Maybe Bill was right; Ford did like a bit of danger.
There were no protests when Ford pushed Bill onto his back, with a hand seeking entry into his pants, yet again. Bill's body stiffened, and Ford hesitated.
"I knew it…" Bill muttered, with an air of defeat. "I knew you'd want to do this kind of thing…"
He spread his arms above his head, letting them sit upon each other at the wrist, as if presenting himself to Ford. "You don't have to slick me up. You can use spit. Go ahead." Bills eyes were vacant and unfocused as they observed Ford.
"You must like…disgusting shit, huh? The kind you can't keep a record of. What is it?" Bill's finger trailed down Ford's cheek.
"Bestiality? Do you want me to get fucked by a dog…?" Ford kept his face neutral, but disgust burned him inside. Is this what Bill thought of him?
"No? You aren't a paedophile are you? Ford." Bill asked and Ford remained silent.
"Is it gore…? Do you need to cut me up a bit? I've never done any of the extreme stuff…but I can if you want me to."
Why was Bill so eager to please him? More importantly, why did he think Ford would ever be interested in such things? When had he ever given such an impression?
"What about—" Lips crushed against Bill's before he could continue, Ford having had enough. His lips continued their attack until his hand brought Bill to orgasm. Before Bill could talk again, Ford repeated it, wanting to persist until Bill was too worn out to talk about vile, factitious things. Two was plenty however, and Bill could barely formulate words now.
"None of that. I don't like any of that. Don't ask me again, Bill." He let two of his fingers into Bill's mouth. The boy tried sucking but could barely control his mouth's movements. "I'll show you what I like. Leave the assumptions and pay attention, alright?" His lecturer side came out, but he didn't bother restraining it.
"Now how about I try giving you another one? Maybe that will cement my words in?" Pain hit him, Bill having bit his fingers. Ford wasn't angry though, laughter came instead.
"You're mad?"
"Fuck… you, Ford." Bill's voice was rough and Ford loved it. The way his lovers looked and sounded after orgasming had always been a favourite of his. Something about flushed skin and a husky voice…
It suited Bill, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy making the boy cum for his own visual pleasure.
"I'm going to. For the third time in a row." Ford paused. "Actually…this would be the fifth time, wouldn't it?"
Bill struggled, barely.
"Ssshhh, you don't have to do anything. "
"No Ford, I can't…not again…it's too much…"
"Let's try anyway." His fingers lingered at Bill's crotch, the impending pleasure making Bill writhe, but they went no further.
"I'm sorry...I got carried away." He rubbed Bill's head and the boy reacted as he always did, eyes closed and wanting more.
"That... was overreacting?" Bill panted and kissed Ford's hand. "That was exciting… That's what you're like when you're angry?"
Ford laughed at the boy's levity, secretly glad he hadn't upset him. "Bill…"
"You're a good man…aren't you? Ford." They stared at one another in silence, until Bill's hand travelled to Ford's cheek.
Ford looked at him curiously and Bill continued, "I'd do anything for you, you know that, right?"
"Bill, you're so…" clingy. Excessively clingy. In a way Ford couldn't quantify yet. "…cute."
It wasn't a lie. Bill was cute. And without a doubt, extremely suspicious. Bill held a type of charm that made it easy to overlook his bizarre behaviour; bizarreness itself was something Ford very much appreciated, but nothing would make Ford overlook the incredulous nature of Bill's familiarity towards him and excessive affection. They were blatant manipulation tactics, but Ford was immune to such methods. Or so he liked to think.
The main issue was the non sequitur nature of Bill's actions. The Bill he'd first met, the second Bill, the third and now the fourth- they all had various things in common but were all ultimately very different. Nothing agitated Ford more than being unable to detect a pattern that should be present.
Bill propped himself up on his elbows. "Don't you have work to do?"
"I do."
They left for the living room, Bill following Ford, dragging himself- still tired from Ford's torture. Ford held in laughter at the sad sight– he hadn't been that tough on Bill. The boy was so dramatic.
"I'm going to be grading papers now." Ford said. "Make yourself at hom–"
"Oh hey…wait." Bill grabbed his wrist. "Want to go to New York with me this weekend?"
"What?" This was out of nowhere.
"Do you?"
"Bill, I have work…"
"Yeah, but it's only 2 days. I'll pay for everything." Bill insisted. "And now that I think about it, you should have plenty of time to do these papers, right?"
"Yes, but procrastination is my worst enemy. I want to finish it as soon as possible."
"Ford…"
"No, Bill."
"Can we have a sex filled weekend then? Nights only, Mr. Busy."
"I'll consider that." He couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed at the request; Bill was young and far more physical than himself. Not to mention he'd enjoyed their time together…
Bill seemed satisfied. "I guess I'll…leave then."
"No, as I was about to say, you can stay, but there's not much to do while I work. Do you like to read? Want to read something?"
"Sometimes. What do you have? " Bill didn't sound enthusiastic.
"I'll recommend you something. Would you like that?" Ford asked and Bill nodded.
He had to make a mental note to not talk to Bill as though he were a child, but it was hard. And Bill responded positively towards it, making it harder for Ford to break the forming habit.
"Do you have a favourite author?"
"Lovecraft!" Bill exclaimed and Ford laughed. He'd been laughing a lot since Bill arrived. "Mine too, what a coincidence."
Deciding to give Bill something different, since he assumed they must have similar taste, he handed Bill a worn book. "This one. You might like it, but it's a bit nerdy."
Bill took it, gave it a once over and looked inquiringly at Ford. "The stars, my destination?"
"Give it a try. It's a favourite of mine."
"Okay, I'll go loiter on the couch then." As Bill passed him, Ford grabbed him, kissing him in the neck before pushing him towards the couch. Bill tried pulling him with, but Ford wasn't having that.
He'd been grading papers for two hours without getting distracted. A new record. A break was needed and Bill was quiet. Too quiet. There hadn't been a peep out of him. When Ford checked up on the boy, he found him napping peacefully.
He trailed a finger across Bill's upper lip and the boy's eyes fluttered open in response, grabbing the hand and holding it loosely.
"What happened?" Bill asked, dazed.
"You fell asleep."
"Oh, damn."
"You got pretty far. Are you enjoying the book?" Ford asked, shaking off Bill's hand to move the hair from his eyes. The eyes were beautiful, always managing to capture Ford– even if only for a second.
"Yeah… it kinda reminds me of the Count of Monte Cristo."
"It's often called the Count of Monte Cristo in space." Ford said, pleased Bill noticed the similarities.
"Really?" Bill laughed, attempting to sit up, but Ford pushed him back down.
"You can go back to sleep. I was just taking a short break and thought I'd catch up with you."
"Ah, no, I gotta get up and leave." Bill sat up, hair messier than usual.
"Do you want to stay the night again?"
"Wah?"
"You should head home and fetch clean clothes, at the very least." Ford turned to leave and Bill stopped him by taking his hand. "I can stay again?"
"I don't see why not. You aren't much of a distraction as I thought you'd be." Ford replied. "You don't want to?"
"No…no I'd love to. Yeah, yeah, I'll head on home and fetch clothes."
He knew Bill was clingy and this would only encourage it, but the boy's company was pleasant and the need he approached Ford with came off as more childlike than smothering. He wondered if the reason he interpreted Bill's actions as childish was due to his own continuous reminding of Bill's age. Perhaps if he stopped thinking about it…
Before he could return to his desk, Bill gripped his belt and tried pulling him to the couch. He succeeded and attempted undoing the belt before Ford stopped him. "What are you doing?"
"I want to…"
"There'll be plenty of time for that later, Bill." He rubbed the boy's head and all Bill could say was, "Don't go anywhere, Ford…"
"I'm not. I'm just going to be at my desk. Go fetch your clothes."
Bill reluctantly let Ford go. Straightening his clothes and half-heartedly fixing his hair, he turned to leave.
"Oh and Bill." Bill turned his head to meet Ford. "No guns."
The boy left laughing.
The mansion was quiet, as usual. Upon entering the grounds, Bill was immediately bombarded with questions regarding his whereabouts. Bill dismissed them, fleeing to his room before they could bleed him dry.
On his way, he spotted 8baller, up to no good loitering by a big window. Passing him, Bill made sure to comment how glad he was at 8baller growing his hair out. Apparently, both 8baller and Paci-fire were growing their hair, in an attempt to try something new. Bill wondered why he only noticed it now.
They were preening, most likely, to ensure they looked their best when they returned to NYC, even if for only a day or two.
When they parted ways, 8baller revealed he had a surprise for Bill that would be ready soon. Bill wondered if today could get any better.
Once Bill entered his room, Xanthar was there, awaiting him. He wasn't surprised.
"You didn't come home last night." Xanthar's voice had a disapproving edge that Bill laughed at.
"I didn't indeed." He winked at Xanthar and the man's lip curled in annoyance.
"Did you fuck Stanford Pines?"
"Nah."
"Did Stanford Pines fuck you?"
"Nah."
"Bill. If you neglect your duties because your health is compromised, I understand. But if you're going to fuck off and at Stanford Pine's house doing God knows what, I'd like to be informed in advance."
"Duties. Did you really just use that word with me? Yikes. "Bill winced.
"Bill."
"I don't like the tone of voice you're using with me, Evan." Bill's eyes thinned. "Come on, lighten up. I'm finally in a good mood."
He shuffled through his wardrobe, packing clothes into a bag he'd grabbed off the floor. It was one he'd brought from New York, and hadn't bothered storing after he'd emptied its contents. He wanted to finish quickly, and return to Ford's house. The sooner he returned, the sooner they could have X-rated fun together.
"What happened between you and Stanford Pines?"
"Just fucking say 'Ford'. Christ." Bill swung the half-opened bag at Xanthar and the man caught it with one hand. "We sucked and jerked each other off. Happy?"
Xanthar sighed, holding the bag open to allow Bill to pack more items in.
"I know you wanna give me an earful, so why not do it?" Bill picked out a yellow shirt, scrutinizing it. "Things were a lot more fun before I came back here. Now it seems like you're too scared to talk to me like I'm…your friend? Is that it? Ah, forget it. What do you think of this shirt?" He held up a silk black shirt. "Too flashy?"
"Too flashy."
"I was thinking..." Bill tossed the black shirt back into the cupboard, grabbing a cotton white one instead. "Remember when I mentioned getting your hands tattooed? Maybe I might do it. Have you handle things when I don't feel like that."
"That's allowed?"
"Sure, my grandfather did it frequently with my father. Mainly to prepare him for taking over…" Bill rummaged through his ties, trying to remember what colours Ford liked.
"Flattering, but that's not what we came here for Bill…"
"What did we come here for?" Bill asked. "Money, right? Money."
A goofy tie, which had been given as a gag gift, caught his eye. "There's plenty of time for us to milk this family. We're in no rush. Okay? No rush."
Xanthar couldn't argue. They had arrived recently, but he was getting impatient. There was already much to deal with. The last thing he needed was Bill to gain the habit of playing hooky.
"So what happened between you too? Did you convince him? …Did he force himself on you?" Xanthar had worried that Bill's extra-curricular activities had bled into business. If he'd somehow provoked Ford into forcing himself on Bill– no, provoke was not the correct word…neither was force. Bill just liked to play pretend.
"God I wish." Bill muttered, fixing his tie in the mirror and watching Xanthar. "Then I could've killed him and be done with it."
"But it turns out he's a real softy." Bill said "And not yet, he doesn't seem interested. Thinks it's a joke."
"Once I convince him to join though, you wanna have a three way?" Bill asked, facing Xanthar. "I could take both of you, it'll be something else."
"Ford all soft and gentle, you all rough and hard…" He grinned while Xanthar raised an eyebrow. "Hey, then we can both fuck him. He's a virgin and all. I'd love to break him in, teach him how to take dick like a pro."
"I'll consider it." Xanthar had no interest in such a thing.
"Anyway, I'm postponing my trip to New York." Bill said, packing a flask filled with whiskey into the bag along with lube.
"What?" Xanthar's voice hardened. "You can't."
"I can. Ford can't come with me this week. So I'm moving it."
"Bill, Ford has nothing to do with this."
"I think 8ball and Pyronica should go see what's up first, before I personally head on down." Bill said, looking for excuses. "Don't you think that's a good idea? It's best to have them scope out."
But Xanthar was accustomed to Bill's last-minute attempts at excuses. "No."
"Okay, tell you what. I'll try and convince Ford to go this weekend. If I fail by Thursday, I'll postpone it."
"And if he doesn't?"
"I'll make him say yes." Bill said in a tone that had Xanthar believing him. "New York is the ideal spot. Isolating him from everything he's familiar with is an important tactic if I want to get him to agree to my...demands? My demands. I like it. Demands."
Bill slung the bag over his shoulder. "It's like I'm holding him ransom."
As he walked out the door, he gave one last look towards Xanthar. "Hey, don't miss me too much. I'll keep my phone on this time. I'll be busy, but you're welcome to send me dumb shit. Tell everyone else, yeah?"
He finger-gunned Xanthar. "Ciao Evan."
Instead of knocking, Bill tried the front door first and it was unlocked. Risky. He'd have to have a talk with Ford about that. Even if the man was expecting him, he shouldn't be so careless.
As he walked in, Ford greeted him. "I heard you out in the front. Your car's quite loud."
"Yeah…your door was unlocked."
"I unlocked it when I heard you outside."
"Oh." Damn. Now he couldn't reprimand Ford.
"If my car is so loud, then you must've heard me last night."
"I didn't."
"You were in the Ford Zone, right?"
Ford rolled his eyes and Bill, after dropping his bag on the couch, went to stand opposite him at the kitchen counter.
"I've been waiting for you." Ford pushed a mug towards Bill. It was filled with a dark brown liquid with little white pieces.
"What's this?" Bill asked, swirling the strange, warm liquid in the cup.
"Hot chocolate with marshmallows." Ford replied, taking a sip of his own. "You like hot chocolate, right?"
Bill frowned. "I guess…? You like sweet things?"
"I do."
"Then why's your coffee so bitter?"
Ford looked confused.
"That time I drank your coffee, when we first met?"
"Oh! I was having a rough day."
Bill sipped the drink and it was delicious. More sips followed, the marshmallows livening up the beverage and adding a twist. He'd never had anything like it.
"I have a surprise for you." Ford produced a DVD. Who watched DVDs anymore?
"It's a film based on Lovecraft's work. In the Mouth of Madness. I hope you haven't seen it or I'm going to look incredibly foolish."
Bill hadn't seen it.
"Do you want to watch it tonight?"
"Is this…a date?"
Ford laughed and Bill is sure the man's cheeks reddened. "It can be."
"Oh how your attitude has changed. Did time apart make you realize how much you like me?" Bill joked, a colourful bag on the counter catching his eye.
"Are those jellybeans?"
"Yes, I'm a big fan."
Bill eyed the bag. "I prefer them sour." He popped one into his mouth and kissed Ford intensely. He pulled away, leaving Ford a blue sweet passenger on his tongue. Ford chewed it, swallowing it with a red face.
"I can't believe you're blushing. You're so cute." Bill tugged on his shirt, arms soon surrounding Ford. "You're going to regret letting me into your home, Stanford Pines."
"I already regret it." He kissed Bill, tasting unbelievably sweet. Cannibalism was a thing because of men like Ford, Bill thought.
"I missed you, Ford." A needy hand slipped beneath Ford's shirt, his lower back trembling at the sudden cold of Bill's skin.
"You're so clingy, Bill."
"I don't mind…" Fingers clawed into his skin as Bill kissed his neck. "Do you?"
"Not particularly."
"Tell me you missed me."
"Of course, I did Bill." Ford looked away, not wanting to meet Bill's eyes.
Bill bit his neck– both as punishment and to get his attention. "Tell me."
Ford's breathing sped up, exciting Bill. "I missed you."
Bill kissed the spot he bit, tongue coating the area multiple times as an apology.
Ford tried to pull away, and Bill knew why; the hardness forming in Ford's pants was hard to ignore. "We'll watch the movie and then we'll do this, alright?"
"Looks like I've already jumpstarted your engine. Let me take you for a ride..."
Ford couldn't argue when Bill took his mouth.
He licks Ford's neck as he strokes him, most of Ford's clothes still on. Had to make this quick.
Ford's on his back. He straddles a leg, grips grey hair to let Ford know he can't escape; lets his tongue lick and suck a nipple while he squeezes Ford as hard as he can without breaking the man. Breaking Ford sounds amazing, but not yet. His tongue becomes greedy, venturing across Ford's chest, eventually returning to his cheek and ear.
Ford cums, hips bucking in a way that makes Bill harder. If only Ford had been inside him…
What a waste.
He forces eye contact with Ford as he jerks himself off in front of him, not allowing the man to touch him. He cums on Ford's face.
"You're mine. Had to mark you in some way."
Ford doesn't seem happy, but he shuts the man up with a wet, disgusting kiss, his cum in both of their mouths. Knowing Ford's going to complain, he deepens the kiss anyway. Fuck consequences.
Ford's washing out his mouth and face and Bill's drawling, "It came out while thinking of you. The least you could do was taste it…"
They watched the movie, with Bill never initiating anything sexual. The level of restraint and disinterest he held at the time surprised even himself.
Was it the movie or Ford?
He didn't care either way.
Holding hands in bed, they discussed the movie. Both fell asleep before either could instigate things further.
"Ford…?"
Ford's hands go to his crotch.
"Ssshhh, morning wood."
"Are you serious…?"
With Ford breathing in his neck and his own hand submerged in grey curls, he cums still half asleep.
Ford doesn't kiss him. Morning breath most likely…
He's disappointed.
But there was plenty of time for payback later…
Ford holds his hand and he falls asleep again.
It's the early hours of the morning, still dark outside and inside. They'd gone to bed too early, both of them waking now.
"My grandfather gave them to me." Bill muttered, turning to face Ford. The pillow supporting his face obscured half of it, making Bill seem more mysterious in those few moments.
Ford didn't know what to say. He regretted asking, imagining that he must've forced Bill to conjure painful memories.
"I'm sorry…"
"Don't be. It was such a long time ago, Ford."
"Where is he now?"
"Dead." Bill's hand caressed Ford on the cheek. "Dead." Ford took the hand, pulling Bill into his arms. The boy wiggled down to let his face rest in Ford's neck. A need to protect Bill came to him again, but he expelled it. Emotions were confusing and nonsensical, and here, with Bill in his arms as though they'd been lovers for months…
Ford worried about the future.
It was nearly 11am, and they still hadn't left the bed; both falling in and out of sleep.
"Hey, change your mind. Go to New York with me this weekend. You said you're only horse-loading yourself because you're like, a victim to procrastination. 2 days won't kill you."
"Yes, but…"
"Come on, Ford…live a little." Bill flicked his cheek and Ford caught the hand, holding it close to his face. "I know there's a part of you that likes getting weird."
"How's getting weird related to this?"
"You'll see." Bill smirked. "Well…?"
Saying no to Bill, when the request was harmless, turned out to be surprisingly difficult.
"…Alright."
"Ha! You actually said yes! Holy shit!" Bill grabbed Ford's hair and began tugging on it childishly. "You said yes! You said yes!"
Ford managed to restrain his hands, while topping Bill.
"Oh, what's this…?" Ford kisses him before he can talk further.
"You haven't brushed your teeth! You're an embarrassment to mankind, Ford."
"How am I the embarrassment? You haven't either."
"I'm not the one kissing people. Go be disgusting elsewhere. Sheesh!"
As Ford gets up to leave, Bill pulls him back into bed.
"I never gave you permission to leave…" He wrestles the man down, pinning him. "I'm going to have to punish you…"
Ford pulls him in until their chests touch and rolls them both over. Ford's on top now, fingers interlaced in Bill's own.
"My bed, my rules." Ford's voice nearly sounds dangerous.
Bill laughs at how the words don't suit Ford while a certain six-fingered hand wanders between his legs. "Look how excited you are already…"
Dammit.
Ford watches Bill dress.
"Bill?"
"Yessir?"
Yes sir? Ford rolls his eyes, smiling at Bill's silliness.
"Does Fiddleford know?"
Bill looks at him, and in the most facetious manner possible, says
"Who?"