Chapter tags: Cannibalism (Mentioned), Blood, Miscommunication, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Age Difference
Feel free to insert whatever Bill design you want for this fool, but I do have canonical art for those interested.
.app/img/feed_fullsize/plain/did:plc:64ahmbyzwm4p3bcqn7t5cido/bafkreicmwy2u2ml5zuogoiritbzsizvgjohgwj5nue5xgocz5kzsgzahze jpeg
Stanford hadn't consciously allowed his eyes to fall on the younger form in front of him. The day's travel had taken it out of him and he was mixed in with his thoughts. Idle eyes traced over toned shoulder blades that flexed and relaxed as Bill shook out a wrinkled, but clean shirt.
Ford couldn't say he had much affinity for this form Bill had attached himself to. He was young, and lean, and of course he had to be attractive. Bill's ego wouldn't allow for him to be anything but a dashing scoundrel with a twist in his smile. He was exactly that too. Attractive enough at a distance, but once you were close he became uneasy. Eyelashes that spread too far apart, and a pupil that was oblong. A yellow eye that burned and a smile that was too wide. It was that delicate, subtle balance that made him such a good 'Mr. Mystery', or that's the praise Ford most often overheard down at Greasy's.
What unsettled others was welcome with Ford. He found Bill's inhuman features the most charming. The singular eye that could roll from socket to socket like a loose marble on a wooden plane, the stretch of his smile he hardly knew how to control. These features were his reminders that Bill was still in there. They resembled his natural form, and everything else was a mask. Deception, to earn attachment, curiosity, fear. Whatever it was Bill wanted from whoever he was approaching. Ford could boast that he liked the honest parts of Bill, but he knew that was giving himself too much credit. In truth, he was bothered because Bill projected himself to be so young. Fresh, clean skin, body fit and toned. Not a wrinkle or blemish in sight. Thick, gleaming hair that always fell perfectly. A fantasy of a perfect man, and one that would have made Ford a flustered mess thirty or so years ago, but at his current age lacked the same appeal. In this form Bill felt more like a student to teach, a young man to help reform. Not a partner to embrace the strangeness of the world with.
But, it was how Bill wanted to present himself, and even if Stanford had issues with parts of it, he didn't feel he had any right to dictate or make change. He'd silently wish that looking him over now didn't make him feel like a lecherous old man, and that the burn in his face was only from seeing him, not from the spike of shame that came along with being that old man.
It was the subtle bend that stretched through Bill's back and shifted his loose sleep pants down that brought Ford back to attention. He snapped his eyes away. Anywhere away. They landed on his desk space well before Bill turned around.
"Earth to Sixer!" He waved his hand in front of the older man. "Jeez, you're not even listening to me." Bill huffed with a half affectionate sigh.
Ford dropped his head, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. "Just a long day. What were you saying?"
"Are you coming with me tomorrow or not?"
Ford searched his memory for any event that would warrant them going out. He'd only been home for a handful of hours. The house was maintained. Ford couldn't think of anything that would demand him leaving again so soon.
Ford's eyes met Bill's, lost for an answer.
Bill frowned, his head rolling to the side. Ford expected disappointment, but was instead met with a flicker of concern.
"You're really tired, huh?" Bill took a step closer, fingers ghosting over the lightest parts of Ford's gray hair. "I'll let you off the hook this time, kid. Pay attention when I talk."
He guided Ford's head back, kissing his temples, his forehead. He rested his lips there, and took in the smell of the others' hair. Ford sat, making no move, but enjoying the softness of his touch.
"I'm going in to finish the rest of my tattoo, remember?"
Ford did, in fact, remember. Bill had told him about it a week ago. Ford was still miles away, on the ocean with Stanley, but that didn't stop Bill from finding him in his sleep.
Ford shifted, enough to rest his head against Bill's chest, turning his head to see the tattoo in question. It had started as a simple depiction of Bill. The same that had been drawn in the banishment circle. Bill had enjoyed the process of getting a tattoo so thoroughly he'd made another appointment to complete the circle. Then the zodiac symbols, and now the black ink was eating a good part of his forearm. It was growing more intricate with every session, and growing on Stanford the more Bill shoehorned symbolism into it.
"Right." Ford hummed, tracing the lines with his eyes. "It's getting really long. Are you going to go up to your shoulder with it?"
Bill shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe someday. I just want it closed for now." he rotated his arm, showing off the gap of free space where the lines abruptly stopped. "I think I'll move to the other arm for a while. Or maybe my neck? I dunno. What would you want to see, Six?" He gave his partner a sharp grin. One that told Ford he was looking for fantasy more than honesty.
In many ways a young body suited Bill. He was as ravenous as a teenager now that he had touch as a sense. His hands dropped to Ford's neck, petting slowly, up and down in smooth lines. It coaxed him to look up at Bill and Ford didn't fight the urge.
"What would you like to see on my body?" he said it with a squint in his eye, and a vicious smile. He pulled one of Ford's hands up to his cheek, and laid into the warmth.
Ford's thumb pet over his face as a thousand ideas poured into him. Crows feet, gray creeping in with that pristine blond and black. God, smile lines. Stubble he could nuzzle into on a fresh sunday morning. Body hair he could run his fingers through. None of this was what Bill was looking for. He wanted to be the pristine hunk on a magazine. Not a person who'd lived a life and had the marks to show it.
"It's not ink I want to put on you." Ford returned a playful smile.
He emphasized his point, pulling Bill close by the small of his waist. He didn't want to have this conversation. More importantly, he didn't want to have an argument. Better to distract his partner with something they both wanted, for the time being.
Bill rolled his eye, head rolling with it. It passed from his left socket to the right in an overly dramatic display of his discontentment with that answer.
"Come on, There's got to be something. You don't want to leave any marks on me?"
Marks. His affectionate term for maiming, scarring, or disabling. While Ford hadn't collected any more severe 'marks' since reconciling with Bill, it was still a topic that came up more than he thought it would.
"What about…" Bill stretched his arms forward as he thought. They laid on Stanford's shoulders loosely. "Property of Stanford Pines. Make everything a little more fair." His smile stretched. This was a taunt.
Ford wouldn't bite at it, though he swore he could feel his own tattoo start to itch. 'If lost return to Bill Cipher' was written in a ring around his neck, in a script no one on this planet could read.
"Shut up." Was all Ford gave back.
"That doesn't do it for ya?" A tone of surprise. Ford got the impression that Bill couldn't imagine anyone not wanting that tattoo on their partner. "Fine. Let me think."
He pushed Ford further back on the bed, and climbed into his lap. He looped his hands around Ford's neck, using it as a support to hang off of.
"Hmm. Maybe something from your nerd game?"
"Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons?" Ford clarified, finger tips running mindlessly over the roundest part of Bill's thighs.
"Yah."
"Please don't. You'll get something wrong and it will drive me insane."
Bill narrowed his eye at the idea he could get anything wrong.
"You're no fun, IQ." Bill pouted, rocking his jaw to the side as he clung to this guessing game. "Okay…" he purred to himself. "What about this?" He grabbed Ford's hand, and laid it over his chest. Ford lifted a brow.
"Your symbol, Smart Guy." His dead tone emphasized the irony in the nickname. "Your hand, from the journals." His fingertips trailed over Ford's knuckles, and down the back of his hand.
He considered it, looking past him. He saw raindrops starting to patter on the stained glass window. A blocky six fingered hand, maybe on his left shoulder. No, maybe over his heart. The flattery of the idea made his face heat.
Bill noticed. He laid his head on top of Ford's.
"You like that idea better?"
"Yeah." Ford's voice was muffled against Bill's chest. He smelled like wood, and dust, and like the piney soap they shared. "I'd like that."
Bill felt a shiver run up his spine. Ford was so single minded sometimes. He was simultaneously the easiest and hardest to tempt. The things that excited Bill very rarely crossed paths with what Stanford wanted. He liked the idea of Ford ogling him without his notice. Attention he didn't know he was already receiving. He wanted to own and collar, and be owned and collared. He wanted toxic, crazy, insane love that threatened life and limb.
Bill eased Ford back. His thumb pet over Ford's bottom lip, pulling them apart just enough to see the white of his teeth. His own were aching to latch onto his bottom lip and bite until he tasted blood. Bite until his teeth touched each other again. He wanted to devour Stanford, his flesh, his bone, and drink him down until he was gone. The only thing that stopped his impulses was that he would be really and truly gone then. Consumed and dead, and the fun would be over.
Bill yanked him forward by his collar, mashing their lips together. A surprised sound ached from Ford. His hands went to Bill's hips and pulled him tighter on his lap. In the same movement, Bill used his shifting momentum to push Stanford to his back. Ford's hips rose to grind against Bill's, who gave an unabashed moan, panting into Ford's open mouth.
"You're loud." Ford warned in a breath. He was always loud.
Bill clamped his teeth down on Ford's lower lip, restraining himself enough not to break skin. The shock of pain made Ford grunt, and back jolt. His cock, already hard, was now testing the strength of his zipper. Damn him for being so rough.
"God forbid Stanley go a night without his hearing aid." Bill dismissed, rolling his hips into Ford's, mind on the taste and heat of what was prodding into him. Not on an inferior twin or his geriatric ears. "Who knows. Maybe he likes hearing his brother get fucked against the walls."
The sentence made Ford's stomach flip in disgust, as did the satisfaction on Bill's face from saying it. He jerked up, gripping Bill's upper arms, ready to throw him off.
"Okay, Okay! Calm down Fordsy." He laughed, jerking him closer by his collar. "I love seeing you all riled up. You look like you want to kill me." he purred lovingly, pressing back in for another kiss.
Ford didn't reciprocate, but it did little to dissuade the blond demon in his lap. He struggled against the hands holding him back, lavishing a long lick over, and forcefully between the others lips. Ford flinched back, halted by a slow, long grind from Bill. His gasp was all Bill needed to go from tasting Ford's teeth, to sliding his tongue as far as it could reach. Bill wasn't trying to be quiet, moaning at the heat. Humans were always so warm, Stanford especially. He sucked his lips, swallowing spit in a greedy effort to make more of that warmth his own. It drew out the softest groan from Ford that sent goosebumps down Bill's entire body. He shoved him back for the second time, now with more force and less patience. He clamped his thighs around Ford's hips and pushed his sweater up, and out of his way.
He enjoyed the view. Scars hugged every angle of Ford's body. Some small, short ticks. Others thick twisted roots that curved with his shape. Branches scattered, broke and reconnected in chaotic, lovely patterns. Many were Bill's work, many were not. They had all healed now, in whatever state his body deemed adequate. Bill wanted to run his lips over every single one, but knew he'd have to pick and choose his favorites tonight.
He lowered himself, hot tongue dragging over Ford's chest, over coarse hair and his soft nipple that quickly stiffened under the touch. Ford hissed, hips jutting forward to press his clothed cock against Bill's. He rocked against the smaller man. It was hardly enough. His bulky hands came down on Bill's hips, demanding his body stay in place and act as a good rubbing post.
"Mmm, Stanford~" Bill drug his tongue in sweeping circles. His free hand mimicked the same movements on the other side of Ford's chest.
Ford's touch slid down Cipher's curving back, slipping below the loose pajama pants he'd shimmied into not 10 minutes before. Ford squeezed his ass hard enough to elicit a heavy, surprised pant from Bill. His tongue prodded into Ford's chest. His teeth plucked his nipple, feeling like a threat. He pressed himself back into Ford's hands and shivered when the groping continued. Bill's cock was pulsing. He could feel precum dripping, and the dry fabric of his pants drinking it up.
"Ah fuck~" He purred, enjoying every ounce of Ford's touch.
He was more aggressive tonight than he was used to. He was glad to know that the months Ford had spent away hadn't only affected himself. Ford was impatient, horny and probably ready to sleep. Bill didn't hide how that thought made him laugh. His poor, sweet little human, stuck in the middle of the atlantic for days on end. He wished he could hear his thoughts. That desperate pleading for Bill to get on with it. He let Ford move his clothes down, and off.
"Tell me you missed me." Bill ordered, hands tugging Ford's sweater over his head.
"You visited me nearly every night, Bill." Ford gave a blunt reminder.
Bill frowned.
"Sure." He huffed. "But it's not the same. I couldn't feel you. Not like this." He emphasized his point by planting his hands low, and running them up the stomach.
Bill was right, of course. In dreams they could experience glimpses of touch. The memory of perceiving touch, rather than the real, physical sensation. Ford often wondered if that's what Bill had experienced before becoming physical. Something close, but still detached. Whatever he felt before, Ford knew it was nothing compared to the real thing. Bill had become obsessed with finding new sensations, and he greatly preferred to experiment with a partner.
Bill felt Ford's body. His eye followed his hands, drinking in the sight. Ford wanted to squirm under the constant gaze, but didn't let himself.
"Come on, you missed me." His fingers pet up his chest, closing around his hair. They tightened and tugged, lighting Ford with sharp stings.
It pulled another gruff moan out of Ford, making his eyes close.
"Yes, I missed you." He didn't know why admitting it felt like losing, but Bill's satisfied laugh didn't make it feel any better.
Bill shifted his weight, a deliberate hand slipping into Ford's pants.
"I missed you too, Fordsy." he giggled, kissing below the older man's ear while his partner gasped at his sudden touch. Bill squeezed, and stroked, fighting the confines of the stiff fabric, while Ford fumbled with the button to give himself some needed slack.
"Oh god, Bill!" he puffed, sliding out of his remaining clothes.
Bill grinned. He was hearing some of that sweet internal monologue. The restrictions on his wrist lifted, pants kicked to the floor and out of sight. Bill watched his hand close around Ford's member, his pink head stretching his fingers, strained hips flinching and trying not to buck.
"Did you touch yourself? Did you think about me?"
"Bill!" Ford growled, not wanting to use his keen mind at this moment.
"I bet you did. I know you did." Bill moaned. "What did you think about?" his hot tongue chased out any answer Stanford had.
It lapped at the softest part under his ear. Bill waited for an answer, hand tightening. When one didn't come, he bit down, hard. Ford jerked, hands going to Bill's shoulders. He shoved him back, but he stayed latched in place. Ford felt that soft spot throbbing with pain. Then something hot, and wet ran into his hair. Another shove, and Bill was shot back. Red outlined his teeth, and a smear of blood ran across his lips and cheek.
Ford covered the new wound on his neck. It felt small, and shallow. He glared, breath shaky as adrenaline started to flood his system.
"What did you think about?" Bill repeated, thumb running over the smear of blood. His smile was wild, as he licked it away.
He looked amazing. Like a deranged and cruel god. It made Ford's mouth dry, and mind dizzy. He wished he were more in the mood for it. He wanted to be held and savor him, but he knew Bill had to be ravenous by now. There wasn't a shot at something soft and slow even on good days, there wouldn't be any tenderness now. Not love made, just carnal, lustful fucking.
"Your mouth. Your tongue. Moving over every part of me." Ford gave in.
Bill was somewhat satisfied with that answer. Enough to continue. He ran his fingers over his lips, and licked between his middle and index. He pushed them into his mouth, making a show of sucking them. Ford was fixated, watching them move in and out, becoming more and more wet with each pass.
Once they were coated Bill's slick fingers dropped between Ford's legs. He traced his entrance, one finger prodding into him down to the first knuckle.
"And here? Was I licking you here?"
Ford closed his eyes, head rolling against the mattress. His body was burning with want, and embarrassment. It spurred on his neglected dick, making it throb in time with his rapid heart.
"Yes." he admitted through gritted teeth.
"And inside-"
"Yes!" Ford barked.
Bill's finger moved deeper, stroking his insides and coaxing them loose.
"You're so disgusting. I love that about you." The sick praise painted Ford's face with delicious shame.
Seeing it now made Bill want to rush, and shove inside of him. He was envisioning those tight eyes springing open and the perfect sound his Sixer would make. Fuck, he wanted it, but if he was too rough he wouldn't be able to use him tomorrow, and the day after that.
Bill sank his finger deeper, eventually adding the second. It earned him a shuttering mewl. Ford's hand covered his mouth, pushing his glasses up. The muscles in his neck tensed, and relaxed as he pressed his teeth together.
"You're so pretty, Sixer." Bill said it before he could stop himself.
Ford's other hand joined the first, his glasses falling off of his head as he hid his face.
Bill gave an amused huff, tongue lapping over his lip. Praise was the easiest way to undo his sweet, egotistical lover. His fingers stroked deep, finding that special spot he knew, and abused too well. He snagged Ford's wrist and threw it to the side.
"Let me see you. I didn't wait this long just for you to hide from me."
Ford was reluctant, but drug the other hand down his jaw, resting it on his neck.
"Bill….please."
Bill knew what he wanted. His fingers spread, making Ford's face twist and hips tighten.
"The way you're begging, I could swear you want me to go in dry." Bill mused.
He pulled his fingers out without ceremony. Ford swallowed the disappointed groans of being empty so suddenly, knowing he wouldn't have to wait long. Bill's foot slipped under the bed, padding for a box he knew was there. He caught its lip with his toes and slung it out from under the skirt. He flicked a few things here and there, retrieving a very spent bottle of lube. Ford lifted himself onto his elbows when he heard it uncap. Bill lifted a brow.
"Afraid you'll miss something?" He mocked.
Ford wanted to refute that…but instead gave him an annoyed, flushed bristle.
"You do it then, if you're so eager." he tossed the bottle to his partner.
Ford caught it, hesitating, before giving the container a squeeze. He let the liquid drizzle over his fingers, and collect in his palm. He sat up. Bill's chest swelled as his fingers wrapped around his shaft, working the lube around him. He rolled his neck to one side, pressing himself further into Ford's grip.
"It feels so much better when you do it~" He praised, biting his lip.
Hearing him was making the fire inside of Ford blaze. He could be so loud and lurid. Bill's hands went to Ford's parted thighs, pulling him to the edge of the bed. Ford pumped him, until he was coated down to the base, then adjusted himself back into a comfortable reclined position. He watched as the demon held his cock, lining himself up with Ford.
"Tell me more Sixer. Where'd you do it? What sad little hole did you lock yourself away in?" Bill . spoke, as he pressed himself inside.
Ford gritted his teeth together, gasping as the pressure built against him. He could feel himself being pushed open. Bill's hands snaked around his thighs, using them as leverage as he sank deeper. He held him tight as he forced his tip to crest inside of Ford. Ford's head fell forward, shoulders tensing, fists tugging at the sheets. He rocked, fucking him with just his tip.
"In whatever sad excuse of a bathroom you have on that dingy?".
Ford nodded, lips closing to keep the shivering sounds of pleasure from leaving him.
Bill sank deeper. More of his dick was being accepted with every pass. The purchase Bill had on Ford's thighs was weighing, as they spread further and further open.
"Alone, in your bedroom?"
"Yes." Ford bit.
He was trying to ignore the wet squelching that was being created between their bodies. He could feel excess lube dripping down.
Bill felt his hips meet Ford's. The more he moved, the more it felt like Ford's body was sucking him in. The merciless squeeze around his dick was breeding new heavy moans from them both. He adjusted his hands, holding onto each side of Ford's hips. He licked over his teeth, a second of hesitation.
"Outside, on the deck…"
Ford lowered his head, lips stretching into a frown. He wanted to vanish.
Bill's brows lifted in interest. He held Ford tight and shoved in more quickly than Ford's body could adapt.
Ford jolted, exclaiming in surprise. The sudden squeeze on Bill's member made him stutter, but not lose his focus. "Did you touch yourself out in the open Stanford?"
"Yes!" he snapped. "Only once!"
Bill slammed into him. He rammed into the sweetest part deep inside of his lover. Ford's head fell back. Ford's breath came out in rolling, eager moans now. He was too dick drunk to remember to be quiet.
"You're such a pervert." Bill folded. He squeezed Ford's face with one hand, and pressed their lips together. Ford's tongue lapped over his, lazy lips unable to stay connected to Bill's.
Ford's hands were in Bill's hair, kneading and pulling at the roots. Bill's were gripping Ford's hips with enough force he knew he could count on bruises tomorrow.
"I bet that felt amazing." Bill could picture it in his mind. Still night, calm waters and a sudden urge. Bill licked the underside of Ford's tongue. His thrusts became shorter, deeper, and fixated on hitting Ford's spot without mercy. "Jerking off, in the open air. I bet some dumb fucking pelican got a good show."
Ford was hardly listening at this point. His mouth hung open, moans flowing out, jumping in time with Bill. Intense pleasure radiated up through him and left him shuttering. It had been a long time since he felt this full, and he'd been missing it more than he realized.
"Fuck~ Bill." he huffed.
His partner could feel his internal muscles flex.
"Are you happy to be home? Happy to be filled up again?" Bill challenged, nipping at Ford's cheeks, lips and chin.
His teeth grazed over him, itching to sink into his flesh, wanting to crack bone. He'd resist. Ford was enjoying himself so much, and making such nice sounds.
"Tell me." he panted against the underside of Ford's chin. "Tell me you missed my cock."
Ford pulled at Bill's hair, hugging him tight with his thick arms.
"I missed you." He groaned. "I missed you so much."
"I love fucking you." Bill drooled the words, hooded eye meeting Ford's. "You feel so good around me."
Ford whimpered, as much as that deep voice could.
"Let me fuck you every day. Come on Fordsy. You make such a perfect cock-sleeve."
The dirty words felt like knives cutting away at his soft state.
"Nothing feels as good as you do. I need you. I need you Ford." Bill layered on more praise.
He was sure he could get Ford to cum without touching his dick at all. Bill slammed into him with new intention to make his partner spill. He was convinced he was the only creature that could do this for Ford. Fuck those beautiful brains right out of his head. Make him a panting, drooling, sweating puddle of a man. Analytical eyes, verbose lips, and perfect intelect all turned into mush by Bill's amazing dick.
"Tell me I can, Ford. Tell me I can fuck you whenever I want." He squeezed his stomach, watching how his body plumed between his fingers.
Ford gritted his teeth. He gave a lazy nod.
"Tell me Ford!" He swung a hand. It landed hard on Ford's ass. He felt him tighten again, and it encouraged him to fuck Ford harder.
"Yes! You can! You can have me whenever you want, Bill!"
Bill gave a delighted laugh that fought against his heavy breathing. He didn't let up. He knew exactly how fast, hard and deep Ford loved it. He watched the conflict and need build on Ford's face. It wasn't registering, the promise he'd made. He'd regret it later. Right now he felt too good to care.
"Bill, wait!" Ford's hand dropped between them. Bill expected him to rub his ignored dick but instead he held it at the base. Beads of white cum were already dribbling down his head. On no, that wouldn't do. Again, he ripped Ford's hand away. He grabbed them both, pinning them above his head.
Ford followed the grab with his eyes, looking back at Bill with a look of surprise and distress.
"You're the only thing I want to torment like this. You're the only human in the world I need to be inside of Ford."
"Don't say th-"
"I'd spend the next eon pinning you down, and fucking you, if you'd let me. I'd be inside you so often, you'd forget what your body felt like without me."
The tension in Ford's teeth, and the far off look told Bill he was winning.
"B-ill I-" Ford choked. He clawed at what he could reach. His head twisted to the side, and he tried to control his breath.
More cum bubbled to the top. Bill could see the pulse in the extended veins. He was doing his best, but that dam was going to break.
"You're perfect Stanford. You're perfect. You're my perfect little fuck-toy."
His teeth ground, brows so tight they nearly touched. His hips bucked, and hot lashes of cum whipped across Bill's stomach. Ford's back snapped the other way, arching off the bed, as more left him. Bill didn't slow his pace until the sound of his moans changed from sweet release to dipped in agony.
He let Ford's hands go. Ford laid there struggling to catch his breath. His eyes fell aimlessly over different parts of the room, hand petting over his sweaty brow as he rode through the high waves of pleasure. Bill waited, watching the way it flowed through Ford.
"Fuck….Bill."
"Yeah, Six." Bill nuzzled under his chin. He lapped at the closed bite, cleaning off the drying blood.
"You didn't finish."
"I'm not done." He laughed. "You don't mind laying there, and letting me use you, right?"
Without the thrum of delirium, and with the growing soreness Ford knew it would be a much different experience, but he didn't want to say no. Bill knew that.
Bill nipped at the previous bite, making Ford flinch.
"I want you to finish." Ford admitted.
"Mhmm." Bill answered, in an all too flippant way. He kissed his shoulder, and started to move.
Ford's body tensed. What was sweet bliss before now felt struggled. His body was tired, and used, and not stimulated the way it was before. It didn't hurt, but there was a level of discomfort to it. Worse, if Bill wasn't fast he knew it would shift again, back into pleasure, and they'd have to start all again. He wasn't sure he had the energy for all of that.
Bill pressed the heel of his palm into the spots he'd been holding Ford, rubbing out some of the built tension. He'd hoped they'd already be blooming into a pretty red, but he looked unaffected. He lifted himself, and grabbed the thickest part of Ford's side, coaxing him to roll over. His partner did so, feeling a lot of the stiffness in his body shift, and relax. Bill lifted Ford's leg and let it drape over his shoulder, shifting his weight and pressing his hips in tighter. Ford swallowed a sound as Bill's dick dug into deeper, previously untouched angles inside him. Bill's head laid to the side, licking over long healed scars that scattered under Ford's knee.
Gradually he started to build momentum again. He felt different at this angle. Bill could feel the release on his stomach quickly turning cold, and sliding down his body. Covered in liquid confirmation that he still had Ford's affection was turning him on. He watched Ford, pushing him to the edge. He knew how much discomfort he could take before it became pain, and was driving him right to that limit. His hands traveled down Ford's leg, to his meaty thigh. He ran his nails over him, hugging his leg tight to his body. He chuckled breathlessly when he noticed Ford grimmise at the cold cum smearing onto the underside of his leg. It must have felt foreign to him now. Bill enjoyed how it slicked between them, making it easy for him to keep pace, and how it somehow brought out the rough texture of every hair on Ford's body. It conflicted with the still warm sweat building on the two that wanted to stick them together like velcro.
Every sensation was helping the last. Tightness, pressure, cold and wet heat. Soft and coarse and the tensing and relaxing of Ford's sore hole.
"I wish I could keep this up all night." Bill gritted. "But you're just too damn pretty. Damn it Ford." He could see his partner's dick jump, even as tired as it was.
"Fuck. Ford. Ford." His nails scraped at the fat of his thigh, as he was pushed over the edge.
The sensations came together and collected in a wash of pleasure that pumped into Ford. It radiated through him and clouded his mind. His hips kept moving, even after it stopped feeling good. Sweet pets morphed into horrible stings, Bill's sensitive parts begged him to stop. His hands hit the bed, his head hanging between them.
"Fuck." He felt Ford shift under him.
Ford didn't know to brace himself as Bill pulled out of him. One moment he was full and the next empty. It sent rippling signals up his spine and made his body shake.
"Oh, sorry." Bill's smile told Ford he wasn't.
Ford was too tired to care. He laid back, wishing he wasn't coated in cum. Wishing more of it wasn't threatening to spill out of him. He knew he needed to get up and clean off.
"That was amazing." Bill praised, rolling his sore neck.
"Stanley is going to kill me." It was setting in how loud they had been.
Bill rolled his eye, unsure how he had the energy to care about that now, or ever.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." he huffed. He let himself flop on the bed next to Ford.
"No!" Ford sat up. "You're messy. Get up."
"Ford~" Bill whined. He was being pulled up by his arm.
"No. Come on. Don't get the sheets dirty." He was using his serious voice now.
Bill was back to pouting, but let his stumbling legs carry him to the connected bathroom.
They cleaned up. Bill wasn't going to admit that he felt much better after washing away the sweat. He hadn't realized his hair was in need of a wash too, so it was nice to take care of that before bed.
He leaned against the side of the shower, letting Ford have most of the spray once he was cleaned off. He watched the water fall over him, counting scars passively.
"Have you seen anything cool?"
"Hmm?" Ford asked, washing the last of the conditioner out of his hair.
"On the boat, the atlantic. Seen anything cool yet?"
"Oh. Certainly. We were finding signs of a colossal squid a few weeks before we were due to return."
Bill didn't seem that impressed, but it was nice to know he was having a good time.
"You aren't sore that you're missing out, are you?"
Bill chuffed. "No. I've got no desire to dick around with you two in the bermuda triangle."
Ford flicked his eyes over him. He knew two things. Bill had something to do with the triangulation, and he avoided it vehemently.
"Well, it's been fascinating. You should look over some of the research, if you have the time. I think you'd be able to contribute to some of the questions that are stumping me."
Bill sighed.
"Yeah, maybe. If you're good." He gave him a cheeky smile.
"Shut up."
He closed in on Bill. He kissed him again. They let the sounds of the shower mix in with the now downpour of rain that was beating the roof.
"I did miss you." Ford admitted.
Bill looked up at him through wet lashes, a pleased, relaxed smile taking over what was usually so sharp.
"Shut up. Of course you did." He threw his arms around Ford, tucking his head into his chest. They stood there, a beat, happy to be with one another again.
Bill didn't bother putting clothes on. He tucked himself into the blankets while Stanford found something loose to sleep in.
"I'll go with you." He answered as he slipped on a decent night shirt.
Bill perked up from the bed. It was his turn to stare blankly.
"Tattoo. Tomorrow. I didn't answer you before." Ford explained.
Bill sat up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. The weather is supposed to clear up tomorrow. It's a good reason to get out of the house. I'll ask Stanley if we can borrow his car."
Bill snarled. "Sure. Because getting stuck on the side of the street sounds awesome."
Ford laughed, feeling around the bed for his long forgotten glasses.
"He's always taken care of that car. I'm sure it will be fine."
Bill huffed, but it did sound better than taking public transportation. He watched the glasses tumble out of a pocket of covers, and handed them to Ford.
"Okay. Fine. Can I drive?"
"No." Ford laid back, lifting his arm on instinct.
Bill squeezed himself to his side, wrapping long legs around Ford's as if he would try to escape sometime in the night.
"Worth a shot." Bill yawned, cuddling his head into the curve of Ford's shoulder. "You really wore me out." He tucked his head in. "You're my favorite little whore."
The other supposed that was the closest he'd get to 'I love you' tonight, or any other, so he accepted it.
Silently, he gave them to Bill. 'I love you, Bill. Goodnight.'
He kissed the top of Bill's blond head, and scooped him closer.
Things weren't perfect between them, but damn it, he loved him. Manipulation, time and a near global catastrophe hadn't changed that, so Ford resigned that nothing ever would. He'd be his punching bag, his lover, his toy. Whatever Bill wanted. Maybe one day, Ford could even be what Bill needed.