The Devils Bargain | stuilly | billyxstu | stuxbilly

Chapter 19

If someone had told Stuart Macher that he'd end up swapping spit with a boy, giving him a blowjob, AND having that same boy give him a handjob in return, all with the one and only Billy Loomis, at one single moment in time, he'd have cracked up big time and called you crazy for even imagining something so absurd.

And yet, that happened. Stu had to pinch himself a few times to make sure it wasn't some real-feeling dream. Even then, he didn't know if even pinching himself was enough to make him feel like any of this was real. The whole situation had that weird, surreal vibe, like he'd stumbled into some alternate reality where everything was a bit off-kilter.

Wrapped in just a towel, he perched on the toilet seat, fixing up a nasty wound Billy had gifted him, his fingers sliding across the edges of the flesh wounds.

The gash was a real Picasso of pain. Some parts were lighter; others looked like a messed-up cut of meat, with dangling skin bits around the edges. Billy only cut him twice, but he treated him as if he were meat in a butcher shop. He wondered what his body would look like if Billy just didn't stop; the thought made him hot in the face.

Wiping the cloth over to clean up the blood felt like a déjà vu of Billy's slicing skills, the shooting pain making him dizzy. Oddly enough, the pain wasn't exactly a deal-breaker for Stu; he'd happily keep this as a constant reminder.

He clenched his teeth through it, water dripping from his hair, hitting the towel. There is no time for infections; Billy would kill him, so once he wiped as much of the blood away as he could, he opened the med-kit Billy had thrown at him when he ran back to his room. Pulling out gauze and a roll of bandages. He wasn't bothering with the needle and thread; he wanted this to scar; it would be a reminder of their first kiss (plus other things). sticking and wrapping everything on, he hastily pulled on the same clothes—not like he had a wardrobe ready for a quick change, and Billy wasn't his size, and he doesn't think there is a universe where he could explain walking around in Billy's clothes to his mom.

Billy was the one with messed-up clothes anyway, and somehow, despite not going out of his way for it, Stu was left almost unscathed, minus a little blood. Stu couldn't recall what he did to Billy because his bones had temporarily turned to jelly. He doesn't think he could have taken seeing him covered anyway, like how he couldn't look at Billy while he was cutting him, because just seeing that crazy look in his eyes, all for him, would have been enough to make him finish right then and there.

It wasn't like it was the best or first hand-job he'd ever had; he'd had girls do some mind-blowing things with their hands, but there was something about Billy's fingers—maybe bigger, definitely rougher—that made something he's had a billion times feel brand new.

Returning to Billy's room, Stu found him casually perusing a magazine with a big Ghostface mask on the front. The door creaked open, and Billy's eyes lifted. Stu tossed a glance at his clothes pile before stepping in, seeing the clothes Billy was in before; now, he wore the same clothes, minus the polo shirt.

Does this guy just wear the same clothes all the time?

Billy leaned up off his bed-board, closing the magazine and dropping it in front of him. "You need to sneak out and knock on the front door."

"Hello to you as well."

"All work and no play, huh, Bills?"

Billy's nose wrinkled. "Don't call me that; it sounds like I'm some hillbilly trucker."

Stu smirked, his tongue poking out. "So, what? I go knock and pretend I didn't just suck you off."

A magazine sailed across the room the moment the words left his mouth, smacking Stu right in the face. He flinched, watching it flop to the floor. Stu shot up to look at Billy, who just looked at a hair trigger from strangling him—not something he'd fight or complain about. Billy spoke up, serious as ever but now shooting him a very unamused, disgruntled glare. "If you come down from my room, my mom will start getting ideas, and I do not need her getting the wrong ones, dickhead."