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Billy watches as Stu thinks. He knows he'll agree, knows he only has to ask. It just takes him a little time to get there.
They're lying on the floor. Stu's parents are out, nothing new there, and Billy has propped himself up on his elbows to look down. Watch Stu fidget. He bites at the skin around his thumbnail and Billy feels his the uptick in his own pulse. His eyes fix on that spot, teeth and skin, pink and tender just ready to break.
Stu pulls his hand back at the first drop of blood, eyes wide like he's surprised by the sting, or maybe the sight of crimson on his skin so soon after Billy made his suggestion. Whatever it is it breaks Stu's focus, and his baby blues turn on Billy instead.
"Practice." He says, not a question but quieter, more reserved than he typically is.
Billy needs to tread carefully. But with Stu, he always knows what to say.
"Yeah, practice." He says, smiling just enough. "We wanna be convincing when they find us, don't we? Just helpless victims left to die."
And there it is, Stu's lips stretching into a familiar grin.
"Well sure." He says, leaning into Billy's space. Lingering there. Waiting.
Billy basks in it. That anticipation, that rush, the electricity in the air when you know what's gonna happen but you're the one in control so you get to decide when.
He flicks his eyes over to the closet. Stu goes.
The knife catches the light, and Billy watches as Stu's breathing picks up as he carries it over. He wonders if the boy will tremble after the first cut. All that adrenaline pumping through his veins. Just making the blood run faster.
He stands and holds out a hand, the familiar weight of the knife comforting as Stu passes it over.
"Sitting or standing?" He asks, voice low and calm.
Stu is bouncing on his toes, shaking his arms out, performing like he does. Billy allows a smile to slip onto his face and sees Stu settle. Still moving, still smiling, but more naturally now.
"Standing." Stu grins. "Hit me baby!"
He throws his arms out and his head falls back, exposing his neck. So goddamn trusting. Billy's blood sings.
He makes a show of chuckling and placing the knife on the bed behind him.
"Now, we don't wanna ruin any clothes before the big night, hm?" His voice dips into condescension and his fingers trail up Stu's sides and back down, brushing softly against the exposed skin of his waist.
Stu doesn't make a move to lower his arms so Billy hooks his fingers under the sweater and tugs it up and over his head. There's no shirt underneath so Stu's chest is bare save for the necklace laying in the dip between his collarbones. He presses a fingernail just below it, drags it down down down just to watch the skin go pink. Almost red but not quite. Not yet.
A tug at the waistband of his jeans.
"These too."
And then he turns to rid himself of his own shirt and pants too, no use waiting and letting his clothes get ruined instead. When he turns back Stu is waiting, arms no longer raised but not covering himself up either, just relaxed by his sides. Confident and relaxed and trailing his eyes over the exposed skin that's just been revealed to him.
Billy grins.
"Where should we start? Baby." The name is teasing, but he doesn't miss the dilated pupils or almost imperceptible shudder.
He grips the knife again, then holds eye contact as he finds one of Stu's hands and pulls it up, moving it to curl around his own till they're both holding the weapon. Billy waits for Stu to catch on, quirking his lips in a smile and giving an approving nod when the boy starts moving their hands, the knife, where he wants it.
Left side, near his shoulder. Perfect.
Stu lets go, arms by his sides again. Billy considers how this is maybe the quietest he's ever been. But he can see the rapid pulse at the prominent vein in his neck, the pretty flush creeping down his neck. His body speaking for him where words fail.
The first drag of the knife is shallow, just enough to bring up tiny beads of blood to the surface. He cuts down, across Stu's peck just to watch red drip down and trail over his nipple. He imagines it's warm. Blows on it, gentle, and watches as the nipple hardens with the cold. Stu makes a sound, a sigh, a whine, a stop it but also a please, again.
He turns the knife so he can trail the cold surface of it across Stu's body without breaking more skin, then digs the sharp point into his right hip where his boxers hang low. Another gorgeous sound, this one a hiss.
"Shh, just a little more." He soothes.
This cut is deeper. Less of a long scratch and more of a wound. Nothing fatal, never to Stu, just enough to burn. More blood runs free, staining his boxers and trailing down across his leg. Billy pulls the knife away and presses a solid palm against it, hard.
"Jesus Christ." Stu moans, leaning into Billy's space till they're chest to chest. Till his blood leaves a mark on them both.
The flow of it eases with the pressure, and Billy can remove his hand. He leans back enough that Stu can see. See his blood on Billy's skin. Watch as he brings his palm to his mouth and tastes it. Stu's eyes home in on Billy's mouth and Billy knows he's chase the taste of himself on his tongue if he let him.
Instead, he guides Stu away, let's him sway a little till he's found his footing and then brings the knife up again.
This time his cuts are focussed. Under Stu's peck and over his ribs where the skin is sensitive. Each line earns him a new sound, and when he's done he traces over his work with the light touch of a finger.
"B." Stu says, breathy, feeling what's been permanently etched into his skin.
Billy can see Stu struggling to stay standing, whether it's because he's lightheaded or something else entirely he's not sure, but he does know how to help. Arms on Stu's waist, thumb brushing over the cut on one hip, he pulls the other boy forwards and steps back until his own legs hit the bed frame. He sits and gives another tug, digging his thumb in much less gently and delighting in the way Stu's legs give way.
The way they're pressed together, breaths heaving in a way they weren't a moment before, hips slotted together, Billy knows it won't be long till he loses his composure. He pushes the knife into Stu's hand and guides it to his own stomach. He makes his own first cut, Stu's hand useless in his hold, yet he praises him all the same.
That's the key, you see. To Stu's mind. To his loyalty, his-
Well.
"That's it, good job. Not too deep, not too shallow. Perfect." He breathes out.
His skin is on fire. It burns where it breaks, sharp, then hot, then dull and throbbing. His hips buck. Stu shakes.
"Now by yourself." He insists, letting go of the knife and grinning when Stu's grip stays strong. "Anywhere you'd like, baby."
Stu chooses his arm. Knows it's him who's doing the killing next so it won't matter if Billy's arm's a little sore. He's light with it anyway, almost a paper cut. Sweet. Billy hums a pleased sound in his chest as Stu digs a thumb into it to drag out the sting. Stu's hips roll then pause, as if he's unsure. Their eyes meet. Blue and brown both lost to the black of their pupils. Billy rolls his hips, slow and deliberate. Stu sighs into it.
Finally, the tip of the knife hits his chest, dead centre.
"Can I?" Stu asks, panting a little.
Often, Billy makes the comparison that Stu is like a dog. Running circles around him, always checking for approval. He can practically see a tail wagging behind him as he asks. And Billy isn't cruel.
"You can." He nods, bringing a hand up to help him.
Together, they carve the snaking curves of an S. Billy moans long and low at the fire lighting his skin. The knife clatters to the ground and Billy grips Stu's hips tight. Relaxing into the sensations, he then takes one hand to his own chest, the one already crimson with Stu's blood, using the other to shift the boy back and forth on his lap. Just tiny movements. Just enough.
Their blood mixes together on his fingers and he brings them up in offering to the pretty pink mouth in front of him. It opens, clever tongue pulling the digits in. Stu sucks, and rocks, and moans and Billy watches. Pink drool makes it's way down Stu's chin.
Billy leans in, kisses, feather light, then licks it away.
"Good boy."