He looked at me baffled, finally pulling away. The glow of his eyes dimmed to a light smolder.

"Stop messing around." He warned, looking at me awkwardly. The comment had come out of left field, and it was unprecedented in this situation. In his mind, this was probably some hot, steamy foreplay. But in my mind, this was still an interrogation, and I was just getting the scoop.

"Not kidding. I've even got a girlfriend." He hissed painfully at my comment.

" Blasphemy!" I bit my lower lip, unable to fully hold off on the growing snicker in my chest.

"Hey, you never asked about my sexual preference."

"You were in a gay strip club!" He threw his hands up, lifting himself from me. "How was that not suspicious?!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. I was there for missionary work, buddy."

"You said you worked the corner." He shot.

"And you said your name was Mr. Fang, but something tells me life isn't that coincidental."

He took a step back, obviously shocked by my new found bravery. Where had this mouth come from all of a sudden? Well, if I was being honest, it came from fear of a nervous breakdown. I still shook, watching those fiery eyes die and flame in an unorthodox fashion, all the while the grinding of teeth scraped about. If I was standing, my knees would've buckled beneath me already. They only jiggled though, falling to one side as I forced a smile along my features. I couldn't panic.

" You were a lot more charming at the bar." Mr. Fang spat, a glint of white teeth shining in the black room. I looked up, noting a tiny hole above the space where the smallest of lights streamed down. It was like a single string of hope, seeing the barest of smoke lift from Mr. Fang's canine as it bounced off the sunlight. He moved forward, having not even felt the slight burning of his enamel. Damn it.

"Funny. I was thinking something similar." I leaned forward, glaring in his direction, placing either of my hands on the floor with the intent of looking prepared. Ready to run at him, even with the leash still tightly wrapped around my throat. Mr. Fang hissed at me.

" You bitch! " His voice became gruff, eyes cold and glossed over with a shade of red completely alien to me. It was like crimson on heroine; so bright and vibrant they could have heated a football stadium during heavy snow. " You ready to know true darkness? " My bravery was quickly snatched from me. He snapped his fingers, and flashed of flames overhead brought light all around.

The room was visible to me now. The walls were brick stones. The floors swam with orange and yellow, reflecting the light portrayed by torches snapped along each wall. The room was much smaller than previously assumed, only about as large as the dance floor and the bar's isle combined. There was an old chandelier overhead, lit by hundreds of tiny wax candles that drizzled down, clung to the metal holders, but never seemed to drip to the floor. Just ahead of me was a spiral staircase, overdone in design and dizzy to look at.

That wasn't what caught my attention, though.

It was the rattling of chains. To the left of me- the right- were dozens of thin, pale bodies chained by their wrists to the walls. Boney. Gangly . Eyes shutting against the light they hadn't seen in what for some was probably months. They had bite marks all over them. Not just on their necks, but on their stomachs. Arms. Legs. The soles of their feet. Even one poor fellow who'd been sucked straight from the heart. I choked on a scream, eyes adjusting to the light as something became horribly obvious to me.

Their mouths had been sewn shut.

The look on my face said it all. I couldn't close the gaping hole that was my mouth, in part fearing he'd stitch me up too. I could only shake my head in disbelief, eyes growing misty in the presence of such torture. The blood dribbling down their chins looked fresh.

" Do you like what I've done with the place? I didn't want them to make a racket when you came over ." I felt a sharp twist in my stomach before I started dry heavy uncontrollably. Luckily, I hadn't had anything to eat all day, and every bit of alcohol from last night had gone down the toilet one way or another. It forced my body to convulse though, unable to relieve itself of this growing despair that bubbled, burned, and slashed at my gut.

Is this my fault?

God, no. No, Dipper. Not your fault.

His fault.

" You-. You did this. " I let out a shaky breath, turning to face the monster before me. Mr. Fang grinned back with soft, genuine features. "You're crazy." it came out like a whisper.

"Don't be rude. I ruined my best shirt for this." He walked over to one of the captives. A scared blond male in his mid-thirties, sprouting a four o'clock shadow and drooping, pitiable bags. Mr. Fang placed his hand atop the man's head, rubbing it playfully. "Thought you'd sleep better without all the crying going around."

" You're fucking sick !" I lurched against the collar, choked out for only a moment. I could feel the devastation engulf me. The chains jingled about, and I saw few still struggling to break free. Most simply sat there, accepting their fates. Flies, nats, and maggots ate along the untended to wounds of men and women, bleeding and dripping endlessly. I began to dry heave again. Spit dripped from my lips when nothing came up, and I was overcome with an unbearable need to disappear." You're fucking- !" I began again.

That was enough time for him to reach me.

He grabbed me by the cheeks, squishing me as I was forced to look into his eyes. He was furious.

"I did this for you . I was trying to protect you!" Mr. Fang snarled, shaking as he screamed in my face. I couldn't help it. I started to tear up once more, whimpering helplessly as his grip pressed along my teeth. He could've knocked my molars out if he wanted to. "And, you-... You don't deserve my hospitality." His left hand went up to pet my hair softly, only to leave and reach for his breast pocket. He pulled out a needle and thread.

" Close your mouth ." He ordered. I didn't, blinking rapidly as I tried fruitlessly to free myself. He took out the needle with one hand, string already tied through its tiny eye when he led it to my lips. " Close your mouth, damn it !" I broke out in a cry of pain, feeling the pressure around my jaw burn into me. His fingers had left my cheeks, giving me room to shut my trap as he waited with demanding eyes. No way. No way no way no way !

" Fuck you!" I spat on him again, this time hitting his cheek. Mr. Fang snapped, lifting his hand to clack my mouth shut by force. It would've cut off my tongue if I weren't so quick about sliding it back in. I could feel the barest of shrieks strain in my throat, unable to pour over as he held my lips together.

"Let's make this nice and neat, okay pine tree?" He leaned down to whisper into my ear, giving me one final kiss at the lobe. When he pulled away to face me, a kind of resolve had crossed his features. He was ready to throw me away. My eyes were blown wide, nostrils flaring as I tried my hardest to say something. Anything that would get him to stop. Nothing came out, though. Just the animalistic, throaty whine of something far away and lost on deaf ears.

The heavy slam of a door startled us both. Mr. Fang turned just slightly, still cupping my face in his hand, needle pressed against my lip, looking curiously towards the staircase.

"That's odd... I don't remember anyone scheduling to feed at this time." He mused, needle sliding just slightly from my mouth.

I felt pure gratitude in that instance for whoever had interrupted us, eyes rolling forward in hopes of catching a glimpse of my savior. Loud, almost obnoxious footsteps could be heard bouncing downwards, like a show pony trotting along a stoney passage. I could make out a simple whistle. A few snaps of the finger as the mysterious figure seemingly jammed his way down the winding staircase, periodically tapping his feet and drumming his hands along the stoney walls.

I looked to Mr. Fang, who shot up a brow after registering the noise. The happy tune was definitely out of place in this scene, and almost uncomfortable the way he waited. His eyes shifted towards me for an instance, catching my gaze already on him, only to clear his throat and look away. He felt very awkward all of a sudden.

"Um... Hello? " Mr. Fang called out, his voice echoing upwards. Bill's head poked out, peeking around the corner as he smiled cheekily, lifting his hand with a wave.

" Howdy ." He popped, giving the man a once over. Mr. Fang grew pale as a sheet, whatever blood was left in his system instantly seeping away as his mouth fell open, staring at him. I'd never been so happy to see such a piece of shit in my life. "Sorry I'm late. Seems I lost my invitation in the mail." Bill cooed.

" B-Bill ?! But- but, I ordered my guards not to let you in!" Mr. Fang stammered, mind unable to properly grasp the situation. His hands faltered, allowing me to rest and flex my jaw just slightly.

"Should've paid them more." Bill shrugged. "I bought them off with a Sam's club gift card." He swung around the corner, holding the edge of the stoney wall like a light pole. He looked smug as ever, seeing me helplessly mushed against the wall, literally speechless as I stared at him with what I'd never admit was admiration. I'm sure he already knew, anyways.

"How did you find this place?!" Mr. Fang snarled, his grip returning with a new flame in it. I hisses softly, praying to god he wouldn't crush my jaw.

"You kidding? These walls aint sound proof, ya know. Isn't that hard to echo-locate your precious little hideout when you're screaming ." Bill chanced a single step forward, arms crossed, gaze lowered to view me. A deep, cruel smile slid along his lips. " Both of you." He finished, looking right at me.

I flushed against the realization, remembering how pitiful I'd been just moments before almost getting my mouth clamped. It was understandable, but the shame was still there. Not very manly of me. Not very manly at all.

Mr. Fang shook, hand sliding from my jaw to my neck, pressing his white thumb along the hollow of my throat. I could feel my heartbeat vibrating off of him, as though he were a stethoscope. His gaze met mine for a moment, and I noted the obvious desperation he suddenly felt, which was odd. Why was a vampire afraid of Bill?

"St-stay back!" Mr. Fang warned. "Or-! O-or I'll kill him!" His grip tested a light squeeze, only to loosen instantly, as though not really wanting to do it. Which, maybe deep down, he didn't.

"I think we both know that's not gonna work on me." Bill laughed back, smiling happily at the pale man's worried features. His lip began to tremble. For once, that dapper exterior didn't look quite so dapper. He looked stale. Plastic. A bit on the flimsy side, and not at all worth the price of a real gentleman. He looked, for a moment, like yet another trailer park rat.

Angle slid out a silver pistol.

" Bill... " Mr. Fang began, letting his fingers slide away as he stood. I felt an amazing amount of relief, able to breathe properly and rotate my jaw. I put a hand up, massaging the strained muscles. "Buddy, come on. We were-. I was your friend , right? We were friends."

Bill kept smiling, one hand in his pocket, eyes glazed with the glint of an uncaring killer. I could feel a lump in my throat, watching him tap his thumb against the fire arm's base like it was all up to him. Everything. Everything that ever was or would ever be was all dependent on this moment. And, he'd already chosen an outcome.

"Remember Two-bite? He was my cousin, remember? Back in the day, you know." Mr. Fang tried to smile, but his lips wouldn't work right. Bill was busy looking over the gun's muzzle, flicking carelessly at bits of soot stuck between gears. "A-and Salem! We went to Salem that one time together! Come on, you have to remember Salem!" He begged.

"Sure. I remember Salem." Bill shrugged with an uncaring tone. That only seemed to make Mr. Fang frantic. My partner sighed tiredly, aiming the gun just ahead of him, right at Mr. Fang's chest.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Careful where you point that!" Mr. Fang jumped aside, the gun's barrel following.

"I'm always careful, friend. That's why I know you're about to die." Bill responded. "You know, I think I get why I don't remember you all that well." His tone was light, hand going to his pocket as he fished out a cigarette. He bit into it awkwardly, holding it between his molars without so much as sparing Mr. Fang a glance. He only looked at me, holding his focus before lowering it to his lighter, guiding the flame to his roll.

"You remember me, buddy! You do-." Bill cut in.

"Nah. You're an impersonator, I can tell. Whoever I used to know is-." He paused, using his hand to wave at the air as though to shoo away Mr. Fang's very existence. " -Gone . You're just playing pretend now. The suit. The tie. The ' Mr.' It's all dress up for you. You've got no real class." He sucked in a breath, taking the smoke with pleased lips before huffing it back out. "I'm not into that." His index flexed, resting lax against the trigger as he watched Mr. Fang with indifferent features.

"Come on, pal ! Don't shoot! We were buddies back then, come on! Don't shoot me! Please. "

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic ! You know bullets can't kill vampires." Bill's aim instantly went away, his arm bending up as he ceased his position. The look he held was something like comical relief, as though to say ' Gotcha, pal! Just joking around! '

Mr. Fang's knees buckled, only for him to fall to the ground completely limp and relieved. He was huffing now, kneeling before Bill as his eyes slid closed and he took in the moment of recollection like a gift. Oh yes, a simple bullet couldn't kill a vampire.

"But, sunlight can." He finished, reaiming his weapon. It was pointed at the old chandelier of a hundred candles, where the smallest cracks lay. The same beam of light I'd seen moments before spilled from it; a tiny stand still that sliced through the air peacefully. He fired at the crack.

At first, nothing happened; simply the smoking of Bill's gun rising to the ceiling with the appeal of grey children clambering for heaven. Mr. Fang was startled, getting to his feet after registering my partner's words. But, when nothing happened, he broke into a grin. That was when the crack grew. First chipping, then caving. It stretched along the roof like an endless stream of rivers diverging from one single stream. They were thick, fat and long, hitting each corner of the room with the revenge of clashing rivalries. Mr. Fang stepped away from the otrasity, hoping to shield himself from what was to come.

But, there was no escape. It crumbled above him, raining down in chunks of debris and insulation. Sunlight broke through, streaming in like a grandmother's warm kisses. He only shrieked, though. Tore at his clothes and replaced them above his head in an effort of self preservation. It didn't work. Soon, the shield was gone.

I wasn't sure what I'd expected from the situation. The movies had always displayed it like melting away. Turning to ash in an amazingly agonizing, torturous manner. Slow and painful, sizzling at the skin and bones as they only lied there, curled up and trying to cover themselves against the sun's assault.

I hadn't expected him to just *Poof* disappear. Like a magic trick. He was there one minute, gone the next. No fuss. No mess. Just-... Gone. A small pile of ashes sprinkled down where Mr. Fang had been standing before, lying out over the floor in the outlining of a man. It was almost beautiful. Bill leaned over it, shrugged at the mess, and flicked his cigarette into the pile.

[]

We sat in Bill's car, having stopped by a drive thru to grab a burger on our way home. I'd insisted on calling Mabel to let her know I was okay, but Bill assured me she knew I was. Of course she didn't, but she could stand to practice patience. Besides, I hadn't eaten all day . Bill made the rules: Burger now. Family later. I bit into as much as my mouth would allow.

"I hope this isn't a recurring thing with you." My partner tilted his head from me, puffing a long stream of smoke out his rolled down window. I'd begged him to if he demanded I eat in his car. "The whole 'getting kidnapped ' thing." I halted, delaying the next bite into my partially devoured meal to glare at him. Bill only grinned back with smooth, propper lips.

"I got kidnapped once. That doesn't mean anything." I wiggled a little in my seat, seeing a mother trail one of her children behind by the cuff of her sleeve. It'd be a shame if the little girl saw a grown man wearing this. I slouched down.

"I'm just making sure. They usually go for the twinks in these situations." I scoffed at him, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. At the moment, I wasn't allowed to outright hate him, on account of his saving me. But, I could sure as hell sneak in a thing or two.

"Oh, is that what you think of me?"

"Just keeping it honest, baby." He laughed, tapping his cigarette against the steering wheel. "You're everyone's ideal damsel in distress." Bill flicked at his burger's wrapping, but made no move to eat it or his fries. He didn't drink any of his soda, either. Come to think of it, I hardly ever saw him eat, whether it be a meal or snack. Maybe he was fueled by tobacco.

"Okay, first off I'm not a damsel , smartass. Don't even go there." I bent down, cramming the last bit of my sandwich away. It made a slight bulge in my cheek before being chewed up and swallowed.

"Second?" Bill mused, looking at the garbage bin we'd parked in front of. It was getting remarkably dark outside, and the light from the restaurant seemed to dim in some areas. They would probably lock up soon.

"Second off..." I began. I looked down at his lap, noting his untouched meal. "You gonna finish that?" There was no point being modest around him. He didn't care for courtesy or generosity, not even when directed his way. It was all very annoying to him, I could tell. Someone with his mind set would always hate the human race. Bill only hummed, looked to his lap, and grabbed it up.

"Have at it, ' pine tree.' " He offered, waving the burger in my face. I couldn't help but feel surprised by the name as it rolled off his tongue so easily. Almost everyone had called me that once I'd introduced myself to Mr. Fang, and it'd become a kind of status symbol for me. A name to pin to the face. But, hearing him say it... felt odd for some reason.

"Ha. Pine tree, huh? That my new name?" I kept it light, ignoring the ping of gut-wrenching fear that seemingly sprung out of nowhere. Bill's sudden cackle had me jumping in my seat.

"You bet your ass it is! I'll have it inscribed on your grave stone if I can!" A sudden shock ran down my spine, burying itself in the pit of my stomach to cultivate and sprout, only to shoot back up and ring my neck. That was a terrifying thought. "I mean, seriously! ' Pine tree?!' You couldn't think of anything else?"

The fear instantly died away.

"Well, I wasn't gonna tell him my real name." I defended myself.

"Don't go saying your name's really Dipper now, hun. That's a load of horse shit." Again, he leaned out the window, puffing out a bit of smoke. This time, he streamed it from the nostrils, all the while making perfect eye contact with an old woman walking her dog. She sped away from him.

"Who's to say it's not?"

"Your ID." He mused, sitting back down. "You want my fries, too? I'm not feeling fast food tonight." He held the red box up to me, shaking it side to side as the golden wands met my gaze.

"Seems to me you're never feeling any food. I hardly see you eat." I took it from his hands, quick to slide a single chip into my mouth. I hadn't eaten all day, after all.

"What I do with my mouth is my own business, pine tree."

"Again with the nickname." I rolled my eyes, casting them out the window. One of the employees was chucking a giant bag into the moldy green garbage can.

"It fits you." Bill put his hands out.

"It really doesn't."

"It really does." He protested, shoulder slanting as his body became closer to mine. He was wearing a navy blue suit today; black tie. Tiny gold lines sewn into the fabric. I could only imagine him getting dressed this morning.

'Hmm. Which color absolutely screams kidnapped partner?' I would have laughed. I didn't.

"That name means a lot more than you think it does."

"Makes it all the more special, sapling." His hand went out to pat my knee, but I flinched away reflexively. That didn't seem to deter him, instead petting at my arm hairs when he looked at me. "It sounds good on you. You should keep it."

I said nothing of his insistence, pulling my arm away when I sensed even a slight shifting upwards. Bill didn't care, going back to his half-burnt roll like it was the most precious thing to ever touch his lips.

"Mabel's probably worried sick." I mused.

"She's always worried about you, pine tree. Nothing new."

"How would you know? Has she said anything?" I placed another fry against my tongue, savoring the salt before pulling it in.

"Doesn't have to." Bill shrugged his shoulders, passing me a cocky grin when he spoke. "I can read her like an open book."

"Sure, you can. You're William Angle: The brightest man to ever jerk himself off." I paused, looking at his Pitt Cola. "You gonna drink that?" I pointed.

"Well, I am, aren't I? Have you met anyone smarter?" Bill asked, simultaneously handing me his untouched drink.

"I've met high school dropouts with more brain cells than you." I took a sip of the soda, my senses instantly overwhelmed by how thirsty I actually was. The throbbing at the back of my throat almost had me crying.

"Quality over quantity, pine tree. Those kids have as much brain power in their whole skull as I do in half a cell." I laughed at him, rolling my head against the car's headrest to see the self-centered asshole who'd bought me dinner.

"You ever been diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder?" I mused.

"Not yet."

"Mind if I do it for you?" I took another sip of the bubbly beverage in my cup, smiling all the while Bill cracked a smirk of his own.

"You're a real wonder sometimes, I'll give you that. I haven't been talked down to like this in a while."

"It's a specialty of mine."

"What? Being a brat ?" My partner chuckled, leaning in to face me more fully. The gesture wasn't alien at this point. He'd never been a fan of personal space around me to begin with. It never truly was a talk with Bill unless he crossed a line. The thought was almost charming, somehow.

"No, just being the boss ." Bill raised a brow at me, only to lean in just a little more. His elbow sat on the arm rest, body tilted forward as I did the same. He smiled at me smuggly.

"You're not the boss." Bill cooed, eye lidding as he stared blankly. "You're all about following the rules." I could smell his breath from here; the deep smolder of tobacco and burnt paper made my nose tingle, while the simple whiteness of his teeth gave me a different kind of chill.

"What's that supposed mean?" I furrowed my brow, but remained otherwise playful. I set my drink between my thighs, placing an elbow of my own on the arm rest. I leaned in.

"It means you like being controlled ." Was his response. It was something to be laughed at, I was sure; something to pick at me with. I was so easy to rile up, after all. Bill just wanted to tease me like he always did. He wanted to see me snarl. To growl. Show him just how arrogant I really was by dragging me down to his level; like he always did.

Something, tightly wound and knotted, came loose inside of me. Deep within the confinements of my belly, releasing the most wonderful sensation as it spread across my chest, between my fingers, and through the sturdy flesh of my calves. It was like a giant dam inside me was cracking. The tight faucets and tied hoses were being undone, and the build up behind it was overwhelmingly strong.

Didn't Bill have the nicest teeth? Oh my god, yes. He was just so fresh-looking all the time, even with the unmistakable scent of ash he always carried. Come to think of it, I didn't really mind that either. At least, not with him. Not attached to his shirt collar; his bow tie; his pants; belt buckle and shoes. It was quite pleasant, actually. So pleasant, I couldn't help leaning in again to get another whiff.

" And, what if I do? " I said something; I'm not sure what, only that I felt amazingly out of breath all of a sudden, looking into his single eye. I was always curious how he'd lost the other. Without thinking, I placed a single finger against his eyepatch, not entirely sure what I was doing, but sure I should be. The smoke engulfed me, each breath he took fanning out over my lips with a subtle tingle of moisture. He cocked a brow at me.

His eye shifted from my face only momentarially, looking into my lap. I wasn't sure what he saw, but when he did, the most wonderfully satisfied grin came over him. Bill looked back at me, a new found sharpness about the way he sat up, slanted his eye, and rolled a tongue over his lips. He pressed his forehead against mine.

"I'd like to see that." Bill slid a hand behind my neck, holding me there with searing determination. It hurt the way he pinched at my flesh, but I couldn't find within me the strength or desire to swat his hand away. "Why don't you show me?"

[]

Dipper registered a fuzziness about his mind. Somewhere deep inside a wooden box, forgotten and shoved to the very back of the closet; behind the fur coats and winter boats; the christmas wrapping; the secret magazines and family photos; was that tingle he always got. A thing that came out once every two or so months to stretch its legs, before slinking back in the old chest and entering a sleep like death. For months, it would stay there, ignored and denied. Around women. Children. Family members.

But, not Bill. No. It liked to peak its head out then.

The soft slide of Cipher's hand behind Dipper's neck sent a wave of heat dripping over his shoulders, and the feeling crept out like a child from time out. First, timid. Then, vengeful. For being rejected; excused. He would come back with a bang, stronger and more demanding this time; aware of the consequences, and more than willing to bear them at that moment.

Dipper paused, feeling the cruel warmth of his partner's fingertips as they flicked the baby curls sprouting at his nape. Bill was bold, twirling a large coil around his index finger, even tugging slightly when it became tightly wound against him. Dipper's breath hitched, subconsciously tilting his head as the small pain dinged along his senses. His eyes were closed, huffing at the plainness of the touch as well as the stimulation it gave him. It was so good, even being a simple nothing to others. He hadn't known ' touch' could be so warm.

Bill's lips met his first. Hot like the sidewalks of Piedmont, pressed against Dipper's, who felt his own were cold and chapping. For a moment, he tried to save himself the embarrassing shame fish-lips could get a person, curling them in just slightly against Bill's ever-soft arches. But, his partner was persistent; appreciative of the soft young skin he finally got around to tasting for a second time. To him and the newly achieved vessel he'd received, his pine tree had a wonderful flavor.

Dipper lifted his elbows from the arm rest, cautiously placing either hand on Bill's shoulders. He was slow about it, sliding his palms over the woolen design of his suit in hopes of catching sight of flesh. A sudden nip at his lower lip had him digging his nails into Bill's skin, yelping indignitively at the mild pain. Bill couldn't help but groan at the sensation.

His hands were all the more demanding, gripping Dipper's neck like something he owned. A thing he could bend and twist freely, all the while its owner was compliant and willing. Bill slid a hand down his partner's back, fingernails trailing along his exposed skin, loving the worthless shivers it invoked from the other party. It felt as though Bill would slide his hand over Dipper's ass, already at his lower back rubbing circles and teasing the zipper of his latex.

His hand shot up though, catching the smaller off guard when Bill dug into the forestry of Dipper's curls, yanking his head back savagely. His partner gasped, mouth opening just in time to feel Bill's snake-like tongue slide inside. He froze from the shock only momentarially before a groan was ripped from his throat. He wrapped his arms around Bill, hoping to bring him closer.

Wherever Bill's hand jerked, Dipper's head followed. A little to the left. To the right. Coming closer or popping off when he needed to catch his breath. Bill's breath. Dipper was fine to breath whenever, as long as he could continue tasting the wonderful burn of tobacco. A trail of saliva connected their tongues, something Dipper was quick about consuming, all the while staring his partner down with heated eyes.

" Jesus, kid ." Bill groaned, pulling his lips away with a vulgar smack. He couldn't hold back the lopsided smirk morphing his features. "When was the last time someone fed you?" A dark chuckle peppered the space between them, making Dipper both clench and sigh as he brought Bill impossibly closer.

"Never." Was all he could say, closing the distance between them once again. He delved into Bill's mouth, as though the two seconds of separation made up a lifetime without him. He couldn't stand how disconnected the kiss slowly became. The smooth lips; the slick tongues; the groping hands. It wasn't enough to cater to his ever growing need. His starvation.

He'd never been fed before.

" Bill." Dipper moaned between switching head positions, clutching his partner's shoulder and neck like a life preserver. It wasn't enough, though. The fabric felt like a barrier, sliding his hands over a finely tailored jacket, dress shirt, and bullet proof vest, all the while his nails dug into Bill's heated flesh. The skin of his throat. Strands of hair. Where he pressed his thumbs against Bill's wonderfully prominent cheekbones.

Wasn't enough.

Dipper found himself pressing his legs together, shot with the heavy tremble of his mounting erection. He should stop, he knew. In the back of his mind, he was still under control, and his brain chanted for him to stop, stop, stop. What are you doing, man?! What is this?! Quit it!

But, for all the messages shot from his frontal cortex to his fingertips, ordering them to halt all practices, he couldn't stand letting such a good thing go. Not like this. Not without a proper taste. Bill's hand slid from the back of his neck, getting a firm squeeze of Dipper's ass. He pressed into the open hand automatically, moving on autopilot as his heartbeat quickened. The entire situation had the appeal of falling down a length of steep, spiralling steps that plunged the party down too quickly to process. Too fast to stop or cling for reasoning, even if all it took was grabbing onto the railing to save yourself from the fall.

So, when Dipper broke from the kiss, trailing his lips along Bill's jawline, over his neck, down his chest only to stop at the fly of his pants, it was those steps that had led him there. The pounding of blood against his ear drums. The boiling sensation in his chest. The strained, painfully restricted erection caught tightly between his thighs. He laid an enthusiastic kiss against the peek of Bill's bulge.

Cipher hissed at the stimulation, an odd sensation rising from that one spot in his groin. It was wonderfully new to him, the toe curling rush that zapped over his very skin, leaving even the smallest of touches amplified. He couldn't help himself as he balled Dipper's hair tightly, pressing him down just a little more against the hooded tip of his penis. There was a kind of satisfaction in feeling his puppet moan into his lap.

"Is that good? Do you like that?" Bill would never admit how genuine the questions had been, unused to human anatomy. Why did these things have to feel so hot ? Were they supposed to? Nevertheless, Dipper ground his cheek into the erection, sliding a hand up his thigh before massaging his own dick beyond thick cotton. Bill sucked in a breath, head rolling back as he breathed out the smallest ' fuck.'

Dipper made his way to the metal zipper, sliding it down slowly. That seemed to dash any doubts he had on the matter, watching the proud, thick tower sheathed in black boxers rise before him. He let out a strained huff, lips attacking the underside of Bill's clothed dick while his hands cupped him at the base, stroking him with his forefingers.

It didn't take long for the boxers to be pulled down as well, sliding back to showcase Bill's fully erect cock throb in Dipper's slender fingers. And, in that instance of suspense; finally reaching the point of no return as he felt the rhythmic beat of Bill's heart through every vein that decorated his length; he looked up at the man.

Sharp, dangerous features watched him with animalistic hungar. He was waiting for Dipper to get on with it. Succumb to the humiliation of providing himself freely to the same man he couldn't stand, like it was required in some form or other. Was it worth his pride? Did he want it that badly?

A strong tug at his curls made up his mind.

Dipper's pink tongue tested a small poke at the head. It was salty, a single bead of precum pebbling at the tip where he leaned in, tasted the bodily fluid, and shivered. He kept the head there for a moment, still just outside of his mouth, breathing and stroking and tasting as he looked up at Bill staring back at him with a grin. The hand in his hair slowly led him down, encouraging Dipper to take it in.

He did, wrapping his tongue around its hot pink tip to clean up the clear dripping. His eagerness was instantly rewarded by a smug groan from above, followed by his head being lifted and lowered manually. It stung; the burning push and pull of hairs on his scalp, tugged and yanked whenever Bill forced his head down just a little more.

Dipper tried his best to keep up with the pace of his partner's hand, sliding his tongue over whatever came into his mouth. Mainly the tip. A little bit of the length, but there was so much of it, he couldn't imagine downing the whole thing. Not on his first time, at least.

A sudden jerk of Bill's hips had him gagging softly, bits of saliva creeping from the corners of his lips while his eyes pricked with tears. His face was red now, neck growing hot against the continual assault of his nape, as well as the overwhelming embarrassment he felt. But, for all the shame shooting through the underside of his stomach, he couldn't release the large length. It was something completely new to him. Unmarked territory he'd never before allowed himself to indulge in. And, by the way Bill shifted to reangle himself, Dipper wasn't half bad.

Another shove down, this one much farther than the last dozen, forced his eyes up as he choked harshly around Bill's cock. It hit the back of his throat even as Dipper trained himself to relax, and it made him tighten up. In a squirming fit, trying his hardest not to bite down, he willed himself up away from the intrusion, shooting Bill an annoyed glance. He only smiled back, chuckling darkly as his hand slid from Dipper's hair to grip his ass.

" What?" Bill asked innocently, other hand going to lift his puppet's chin up. The pout on Dipper's face was perfect for his already sorring mood.

"Don't push so hard." Dipper shot at him.

"Or what? You gonna bite me?"

"I might."

"You won't. This is the only part of me you like ." Bill cooed, giving his ass another squeeze. That was when he noted the pink little head sticking out of Dipper's own zipper, held loosely between his partner's free hand. Bill was flattered to say the least, seeing just how happy he'd made the boy, so much so that he couldn't even help touching himself. He swung his hand around Dipper's front, caressing his partner's untended to 'friend'. It wasn't big per say, but it had a charm about it. Cute. Well-shaped. Not too short. Not too large. Virtually hairless at the base, and wonderfully responsive. A single touch had Dipper almost screaming as he bit his lip, maintaining his cold glare.

"Fu-ck you." Dipper said.

"My pleasure." Bill leaned in, getting a sloppy taste of what clung to Dipper's bottom lip. Bill sensed Dipper's hand jerk up slowly, holding himself as he tried relieving some of the tension he'd built up within his ignored piece. A smile spread over Bill's lips. After a few short breaths, teeth sinking into soft peddley lips, Dipper soon found himself craving the original attention he'd been giving his partner. As low of him as it seemed, he shoved his pride away as a means of chasing after pleasure. Bill's.

His lips wrapped around the tip once more, free to move as they'd wish without Bill's hand guiding them. It was almost scary trying to blow without Cipher's hand to direct him. He quickly lost his inhibitions as the flavor overpowered his senses. It didn't necessarily taste good. On the contrary, it was bitter; a strange texture that rolled over his tongue like marble beads, flowing to the back of his throat and dribbling undignified down his lips. Something about the skin, though. It was the silk-soft skin clasped around his gaping mouth that kept him entertained, and more than aroused.

He let go of it with a vulgar pop, a fat string of saliva connecting the hot tip to his drooling chin. Dipper didn't seem to notice, growing confident as he abandoned the head in exchange for the underside of Bill's dick. He pressed against the base, slowing gliding his tongue upwards before once again engulfing Bill's cock with a swirl. All the while looking Cipher dead in the eye. What could make this scene more perfect?

Bill lit a smoke.

He sighed, tilting his head back as he watched his puppet go to work. Bobbing sloppily, cheek bulging periodically as Dipper tested out new techniques. Turning his head. Stroking what couldn't fit down his throat. The thick, clear lines of spit sliding down his shaft. It was all too wonderful to watch, Bill thought as he took a heavy drag. He blew it out over Dipper's lifting head, loving the muffled groans of protest his partner choked against his cock.

Bill wasn't sure how much longer he'd last, looking into Dipper's pretty little doe eyes as they rolled up at him, meek yet strangely proud of the whole situation. He drew on his cigarette, just barely catching himself before a deep moan slipped out. Dipper started sucking, cheeks hollowed as he grew used to Bill's impressive length. He could get a little over half way down now, airways opening up as the tip repeatedly entered and exited freely. Bill felt the tremble of moans around his cock, looking down to see Dipper's free hand placed between his own legs, tending to his leaking organ.

There was a strain in his throat, like trying to suck in air that wasn't there. Dipper paused, lips still curled around Bill's throbbing dick, breathing heavily as yet another groan cut through him. He bobbed his head in sync with how quickly he jerked himself off, feeling a massive wave of heat build inside of him. He grew closer with every second, tone rising in pitch as he met Bill's gaze, still sucking and bobbing, animalistic and almost misplaced with such a prideful grin. His partner replaced his hand behind Dipper's head, willing him to speed up.

Dipper tensed, eyes shutting, muscles hardening as he wailed tightly around the dripping length shoved deep within his throat. He released with overwhelming satisfaction, hot ropes of white come shooting out to coat his hand and the knee of his pants. His cries were choppy, cut in pieces as Bill continued entering and exiting Dipper's mouth freely. And, it was that: The submissive tone of his pine tree being used, and getting off to being used, that had him coming undone. He cursed sharply, only to pulse over Dipper's tongue, forcing a flood into his cavern while the excess leaked from his lips to dangle at the chin.

Bill stubbed out his cigarette.