crazy madman on the leash // willry

or young men who lost their way?

William Afton was a dangerous man, and Henry knew that. There has always been a glint to his eyes, a cold underneath that sparked up in the moments of heated anger, the twitch of his fingers and flash of his teeth that made Henry's mind wander - would he ever hurt him? Would he stalk, stab and strangle him the same way he wouldn't hesitate with anyone else? Would he-?, would he-?, and all that didn't even matter when Emily had the man down on his knees, shifting uncomfortably.

Afton was covered in blood, the brown, already dried specks shattered on the smooth surface of his cheeks, it was in his hair, god damn it, and dripping down his naked chest, soaking into the white, loose shirt he had over his body. A shirt that belonged to Henry, worth mentioning. Now ruined. And it was the only thing covering Afton's scar littered skin from his eyes - so maybe he was willing to forgive this.

"Henry-" there was a wail, a cry for help, desperate and pathetic as it could be, voice shaking to the point of words being hardly recognizable. William wanted to scoot closer on his knees, to shuffle so he could at least get off by humping Henry's leg like a dog - and shit, he was one, especially with that tight collar pressing at his neck and with how the leash pulled him forward; yet he didn't know if he was exactly allowed. "Henry, please-"

"Shut up" a snap. And dull ache throbbing in between his temples (and a throbbing somewhere else, but that he tried not to put much mind to). Henry raised his hand to his face, squeezing the bridge of his nose with the defeated sigh of a tired man, a truly worn out individual. The blunt edges of his nails dug into the skin with a desire to hurt, to scratch the evil from beneath the other's skin, to-. "Fuck"

He didn't quite know if the last word was a thought or said aloud anymore, and it didn't matter, because even if it was it just let William know how fucking annoyed with him Henry was right now. And did it make him throb. The man had trouble breathing, scarred chest rising and falling in an irregular rhythm, fingers twitching yet again but not with a desire to kill, to hurt, no. Rather held simply by the sheer power of his will, restrained from wrapping around his exposed cock and jerking off so frantically, so hard it'd bruise. But he couldn't, no, not when Emily hasn't said a word yet. The mentioned finally released a long held breath, opening his eyes - and when he did, the pupils almost swallowed the brown of the irises.

"Just because" Henry finally started talking, the bare sound of his voice causing William to squirm, a pathetic whine building at the back of his throat "you dresserd yourself so goddamn pretty for me and offered yourself on a silver fucking plate doesn't mean you can get awat with all this bullshit" a strong tug on his leash pulled him forward, accentuating the weight of Henry's words. William choked when the leather strap dug into his trachea, and the flash of pain before his eyes made another thick drop of precum roll down his dick. His hands didn't even fly up to stop the assault, Henry realized with pink-tinted disgust, what a whore.

William scowled, and it wasn't pretty, in contrary to whatever Henry said mere seconds ago, "Fuck, please Henry, I'll do anything-" another pull of the collar cut of the oxygen completely, a gurgle rising in his chest. Afton fell forward, his face now smushed into the floor next to Henry's shoes, blood from his naked body smudging all over the floor, and he trembled with excitement.

"Shut your mouth, I need to think" Henry growled, expression dark when Afton peered up. Instantly, he pressed his lips - separated, mouth open - to the wrinkled leather of the shoe, tracing the rough laces with his tongue as if he was born to do just it. Emily clicked his tongue though, an humorless chuckle rumbling in his throat. "Not like that, whore. Put it to a better use"

William fixed his position, sitting on his knees right before him, eyes up, not understanding. There was a drop of saliva shining on his pink bottom lip, and Henry gave into the urge of smearing it all over Afton's mouth with his thumb. His grip on the jaw was hard, bruising, unforgiving, and soon he stopped caring about getting still warm blood all over his hands, the palm pressing into William's chin - and vice versa - pulling him in closer.