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Bill startled awake, jerking up into a sitting position with a rough gasp. His chest was pounding, heartbeat rapid, and there was clammy sweat over his skin.
He couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming of, but evidently, it wasn’t great. Unfortunately, this was par for the course when he managed to actually get his body to fall asleep. Stay awake for several days, body is exhausted, get nightmares, wake up mid-dream, rinse and repeat. It never got less jarring, any of it. He glanced to his left, making sure that–
Ford was still there. Bill let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He dropped his arms atop his knees tucked against his chest, and rested his head atop his arms, scrutinizing Ford’s form in bed beside him.
Ford historically had a rough time sleeping as well. Nightmares, sleepwalking, light sleep as a whole– the works. They usually kept the bedroom door locked so neither of them would terrorize anyone else in the house with their disordered sleep.
However, unlike Bill, Ford had made progress since his return home and everything after. He’d started just by taking off his coat and boots, then making his way into an actual bed, and so on. Small steps getting rid of three decades of conditioning that kept him ready to fight or run for his life any time he dared to stop somewhere to sleep while dimension hopping. He was even becoming a heavier sleeper as a whole, something his body was surely grateful for.
He was snoring right now, actually, drooling on the pillow. Bill huffed out a laugh, his heart rate gradually slowing. Ford’s curls were all messed up and sticking all over as a result of going to bed with wet hair, and he was curled in on himself in a near-fetal position. Bill leaned over a little to peer further, and– yep, he’d fallen asleep with a book in hand again. He rolled his eye and lied back down, scooching closer so he was nearly spooning Ford, and reached over his resting form to carefully tug the book out of his hand.
As he accidentally grazed his fingertips over Ford’s hand, Ford let out a small sigh, nuzzling his head into the pillow and hand gently grasping at Bill’s wrist. Bill’s eye flicked down to Ford’s face.
Still asleep. His eye went back to Ford’s hand on his wrist. Cute, Bill definitely did not think, and carefully set the book on the mattress beside Ford, sliding his hand back a little so he could intertwine his fingers with Ford’s. He pressed his hand down against the mattress and stretched his hand out against Ford’s so their fingers were both splayed, four against six, before dragging his fingers lightly down over his wrist, inner arm, then back up again to his wrist. Ford’s fingers twitched, and Bill ran his hand back down his arm again, pinching it lightly near the inner elbow. Ford stopped snoring and made a quiet, displeased sound; scrunched his face a little, but otherwise remained still.
He was really knocked out…
Bill pulled his hand back and leaned up against an elbow, staring at Ford’s face a minute, thinking. Then he drifted his hand under the sheets atop Ford and slooowly tugged them down, continuing to watch his face like a hawk. He dropped them near Ford’s knees. No movement.
He took in Ford’s sleeping form appreciatively, running his hand slowly up Ford’s side, starting at his thighs. Since retiring from dimension-hopping, he’d been less strict with his workout regime and started eating actual human food again– not just nutritional supplements. He’d put on some healthy weight, and it showed in all the right places– his thighs, ass, stomach, his chest. Ford had on these worn, old green shorts that were just a little too tight on his ass and thighs now, soft flesh squeezed by the fabric in a way that made Bill want to bite a chunk out of the meat of his flesh. He let his hand drift down over Ford’s ass, palming at one of his cheeks, massaging and then pinching it up so his hole would be exposed if he’d looked under the fabric. He slid his hand upward and tucked it under the light sweater Ford had worn to bed, grazing his nails over the softened muscle of his tummy and the fuzzy hairs and scars all over it. He dipped a finger into his belly button before pulling it back out and lightly poking at his stomach, never ceasing to be amused by the squishiness of human bodies.
Bill lied back down, tucking himself up just a breath away from Ford’s body and sliding his hand up to Ford’s chest, fully grabbing his right pec and squeezing, palming, pushing and pulling, teasing at the scars there. Firm muscle under soft fat, he bet Ford’s body was appreciative of the tight muscle there getting a little massage. He tweaked his fingers at the nipple, then pinched it and pulled a little. Ford hissed a soft gasp, brow furrowing. Bill smiled down at him, went to the other pec, and did the same thing. Ford made a sound not unlike a whine, and Bill was suddenly aware of his growing hard-on. He brought his unoccupied hand down to lazily palm at it– he slept nude, so a rather easy task.
He gave Ford’s tits one last, affectionate squeeze before grabbing the fabric at the bottom of the sweater and gently tugging it upwards, eye on Ford’s face again. Twitching, open-mouthed, but still unconscious. Bill let out a shaky breath, squeezed at the base of his cock. He set his hand on his hip and let his eyes take in the tramp stamp etched in on his lower back, just over his ass. It was so trashy, so slutty. He traced over it with his nails. And it was a symbol of his mark on Ford. He was his “flirty gal”. Bill bit back a laugh and pumped at his cock. God knows why Ford hadn’t even attempted to get this covered up, unlike the If lost, return to Bill wrapped around his neck, now marred by that stupid star tattoo. It was comforting to think that despite his attempt to hide it, that ink would still remain in his flesh forever, until he’d died and all of his skin had rotted away. Bill’s influence, his name would be a physical part of Ford as long as he was alive. Bill squeezed his eye shut, bit back a whine as he worked his cock faster. He ran a hand idly over Ford’s back, his side, his chest. Pinching and teasing.
Ford whined, nuzzling into the pillow, and– rolled his hips, his ass rocking back against Bill’s cock. Bill sucked in a sharp breath, glancing up at his face with a predatory stare. No– still asleep. The demon testingly rocked his hips forward, grinding his dick between the cleft of Ford’s clothed ass. Ford made a quiet, contented noise. Bill moaned quietly, pre slowly leaking out of his cock and staining the fabric there as he kept working his hips against him. He tucked his chest up behind him and nuzzled his head against the back of Ford’s neck, tightening his grip on Ford’s hip. Ford made a needy little sound again and Bill inhaled Ford’s scent wrapped up in the sweater’s cabled knots deeply.
Bill had just intended to cum over his back, or ass maybe, but… maybe he could…
He huffed his smell another time, letting out a contented sigh before leaning up to Ford’s neck, mindlessly nipping at it as he jerked off and shimmied two fingers down into the waistband of Ford’s shorts– and started tugging them down.
Ford grumbled something in his sleep, shifting a little, and Bill pulled his mouth off him a moment, stilling his hand, a string of spit connecting him to his skin as he eyed his movements.
He settled after a moment, and Bill tugged the shorts down all at once, just past his cheeks so the fabric tugged his thighs up against one another, fat lips of his cunt on display. Ford’s thighs were wet from his own want trickling down, and Bill was losing any semblance of consideration for Ford’s restful sleep just like that.
He pressed two fingers against his hole, drooling out more lube just from the touch, and slipped them in easily, met with zero resistance. He could take him easy as is. He drifted his fingers up to Ford’s clit– fully erect just from Bill’s easy teasing. Bill let out a shaky breath, pumping at his cock a few more times before resting it in the tight squeeze between Ford’s pussy and his thighs, rutting forward a few times to fuck the space there.
Ford stirred, making a confused noise, and Bill pressed his cock up against his dripping hole.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Bill murmured, hand on Ford’s hip, eyeing the tramp stamp again.
“Bill…?” Ford muttered, voice sleepy, out of it.
Bill nuzzled up against him again, licking a stripe up his neck and– slipping easily in, like Ford was made just to take his length. Ford bit out a sharp gasp, tightening around him, eyes fluttering open and hands clenching around nothing.
Bill nuzzled in closer, wrapping his arms tighter around Ford's midsection and slowly rocking his hips against his ass.
"Won’t be long, honey, don’t worry,” he panted, tugging Ford back onto his cock with a rough grasp on his hips, nails digging in, as he fucked up into him.
Ford pressed his head back against Bill, just making little breathless, fucked out noises.
“Plea– please– too mu–” Ford’s pleading got cut off by a loud moan.
Bill slapped a hand tightly over Ford’s mouth, just fucking him harder.
“Shhh, wouldn’t want to wake anyone up,” he cooed, a sadistic, lust drunk grin on his face. Ford tightened around him at that and Bill laughed.
Ford squeezed his eyes shut, whimpered against his fingers, grabbed at the sheets and Bill’s arm like a lifeline.
“‘M close, just need–” He tried angling his hips a little differently, making Ford whine, before grunting in frustration. “Just–”
Bill suddenly pulled out, making Ford make a needy noise, his slick hole left gaping where his cock had been stuffed a moment ago. Bill huffed a laugh, and sat up on his knees, rolling Ford onto his stomach and yanking his hips up so he was ass-up before shimmying between his legs.
He ran his fingers up over the puffy lips of Ford’s cunt before stretching them out. His hole tried to close around nothing in response, drooling out more self-lubricant. Ford made a miserable whine, looking back over his shoulder at Bill with pleading eyes. Bill’s dick throbbed. He shushed him, pressing his cock up against his hole again.
“It’s okay, Fordsy, I’ll fuck you nice and full again like you need.”
He slid back in fully and grabbed a fistful of Ford’s hair, roughly forcing his face down against the mattress as he fucked him harder than before. Ford moaned, just taking it like he was built for nothing but being a warm, wet hole for Bill to fuck. Bill moaned, nails digging into Ford’s hip. Ford’s legs were shaking, trying to squeeze his thighs closer together to get friction on his neglected cock. He laughed.
“Aww, do you wanna cum, too?”
“Yes, yes, fuck, Bill–” Ford sobbed into the sheets.
“I dunno… I don’t wanna spoil you– pets can lose their training easily if you’re too easy on them! Do you really deserve it?”
Ford frantically nodded, hole squeezing around Bill’s length.
“Please, please, please, please, ‘ve been so good,” Ford managed, breathless.
Bill moaned, loosening his grip a little on Ford’s head to scratch at his hair like a dog. Ford must get more honest when he was tired.
“Okay, just once, though, ‘cause you’ve been such a good boy, getting so wet for me even while you’re asleep,” he cooed, and shifted the hand on his hip down to fingers at Ford’s cock, working it back and forth rapidly. Ford rocked up into the touch immediately and gasped, clutching at the sheets as his body writhed, Bill continuing to fuck roughly into him.
That tramp stamp was in such clear view fucking him like this. He bit back a moan, thinking about how anyone who’d fucked Ford in those thirty years must’ve thought he was so unexpectedly slutty, having something like that. They owed him some thank you s. Ford clenched hard around him, orgasm rocking through him as he babbled incoherently and– Bill’s fingers were soaked, he was–
“Are you squirting?” Bill questioned, delighted.
Ford tightened around him more, fucked out little moans leaving him as Bill kept pounding into his cunt and Ford’s body went mostly limp.
“Fuuuuuuuck,” Bill hissed, he needed to cum, but, that fucking tattoo, he just wanted to–
Bill sucked in a breath and forced himself to pull out and take his hand off Ford’s clit, making Ford whimper, and pumped his fist once, twice, and came, cum splattering all over Ford’s holes and lower back. Right atop the tramp stamp, shiny cum splattering atop the heart. Bill moaned, working his cock until he was fully dry and then settling his hands on Ford’s hips, helping keep him upright. Bill swiped a finger through some of his cum and pressed his fingers inside Ford’s used hole, making Ford grunt in surprise.
“There, best of both worlds,” he sighed, before shimmying over to Ford’s side and flopping down to lay on his side.
Ford gazed at him, looking exhausted, sweaty, fucked out of his mind.
Bill leaned forward and set a hand on Ford’s shoulder, pushing him to roll onto his back and tucking himself in, head nuzzled against his neck. He licked a stripe up it, savoring the salty taste, before looking up at Ford, who was just catching his breath and gazing down back at him. Bill leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss against his lips before lying his head back atop Ford’s chest.
“Your breath stinks,” Ford mumbled, tugging the sheets up over them and wrapping an arm over Bill.
“So does yours,” Bill replied, as though it were a compliment.
Ford let his eyes flutter shut, too tired to nitpick.
“That was fun– with you asleep, it’s almost like I’m with you in the Mindscape again,” Bill mused, unusually quiet, voice vibrating against Ford’s chest. Ford hummed in response, not sure what to say to that. He let his eyes flutter shut.
Bill shut his own, and they were silent for a few minutes, Bill on the edge of sleep when Ford spoke up again.
“Bill, I really need to cum at least one more time.”
Bill looked up at him with a wolfish grin and abruptly bit down on his chest, setting off round two.