- Bound - [Ted Bundy X Jeffrey Dahmer]

Chapter Three

Chapter 3: Two Of The Same

Jeffrey wakes up in a cold sweat to the sound of something dragging loudly across the floors of his home.

It's the early hours of the morning, somewhere between 3 and 5 a.m. but there's no way he can be sure. He looks through the window, the night sky ever-present with only the moon and the stars to keep him company.

The sound continues to resonate through the cold winter air, nearing his bedroom. Jeffrey huffs in frustration as he remains helpless, bound.

He's deeply hungover, somewhat nauseous and confused as to how he could've ever let this happen.
His pained, tired eyes peering through the doorway as he awaits whatever is taking place outside.

What the fuck could this man be doing?
He thinks to himself in growing discomfort. His skin raw from his earlier attempts at freedom, stinging with even the slightest movement.

He sighs, wondering if this is ever going to end. And if it does will his life end along with it? That possibility doesn't seem to faze him in the very least...

...but if it's going to happen could he please get it over with? Enough with the foreplay.

Finally, the dragging stops with sudden thud.
Ted is seen leaning against the doorframe, breathless, across from his hostage. Their eyes meeting for a mere few seconds before he quickly breaks contact, the slightest little grin on his lips as he directs his gaze towards the floor below him, resuming his activity.

He pushes an old armchair from the living room through the doorway, placing it near the footing of the bed where Jeffrey resides.

"So you were dragging furniture across the floors and not a corpse or some medieval torture device you plan to use on me? Wow Ted, I'm impressed"

Bundy ignores this remark, yawning before clumsily letting himself fall onto the armchair, which creaks in response due to its age and condition.

"As much as I appreciate the company, I really wasn't in need of a home renovation y'know" Jeff says jokingly.

"Oh you're in need of a lot of things..."
Ted replies, his voice hoarse and rather judgemental. His usual charismatic tone nowhere to be found.

Although puzzled by this response, Jeffrey remains silent.

Amongst other observations he notes about Bundy to 'help his situation' he can't help but notice how the man's dark, ruffled curls frame his face so perfectly, bringing out his obscure deep blue eyes.

Though it pains him to admit it, given what he's being put through at the moment, he acknowledges that he finds Bundy somewhat attractive. Somewhat.

Of course, he would never say it out loud. He wouldn't dream of feeding the man's already inflated ego.
He observes his features intently, entranced by those eyes.... they portray the wickedness that is him, and he couldn't be more drawn to it.

Like a moth to a flame.

Get too close and you'll get burned.

Jeff would've thought he'd know better than to burn alongside the killer, but he now finds himself alight in the presence of his captor.
Metaphorically speaking, of course... unless the madman develops a sudden taste for arson in the near future...

Through his train of thought, Dahmer can't help but linger on the fact he's wearing nothing but his boxers....
and... Is that my shirt?
Care to explain this one to me? Bundy.

It hangs loosely over his body, wide around the shoulders as it doesn't exactly fit his slightly smaller frame.

"God, my head is killing me" he mutters under his breath, one hand held dramatically to his forehead as he lies back on the chair, practically whimpering.