Fillathon Post 20
Title: Hurt
Characters: Spoony, Linkara, OC
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Noncon, abuse, violence
Summary: Fill for this prompt. If it's love, that means it can't hurt, right?
Spoony could tell in an instant if it was going to be a bad day.
As the clock ticked closer to 5:00, he stood in the kitchen, washing the mound of dishes that never seemed to end, his body tensed, listening for the footsteps he knew would be coming soon.
On the good days, they were light, almost bouncy, His voice keeping time as He sang loud, cheerful songs. On those days, He would sweep into the apartment and sweep Spoony up in His arms and kiss him passionately, declaring His love and carrying him into the bedroom, pressing him down and making love to him in the way that always left Spoony dizzy and breathless and so, so happy.
Those days were wonderful. Those days, Spoony knew he had made the right choice, that it was all worth it, that no matter what, he would always love Him.
Today was not one of those days. Spoony knew right away by the heavy footsteps and deafening silence as He came up the stairs. He tried to look busy, to keep washing dishes normally, to shrink into the background and hope He wouldn’t notice.
The door opened and closed and Spoony forced himself to relax, to keep breathing, to not betray the fear that clenched his heart at that moment. He would be fine. It would all be okay. It was always okay.
The footsteps had stopped and Spoony could hear the heavy breathing right behind him. He turned his head just a bit. “How was your day?” he asked timidly.
The question wasn’t answered. Instead, the rough voice asked, “Why haven’t you finished that, bitch?”
Spoony tensed a bit. “There was a lot to do,” he answered.
“You’re just lazy,” He spat. “Spending all your time playing those stupid games and making your stupid videos while I support you.” His hand reached out and grabbed Spoony’s arm, whirling him around and forcing him to look up into His angry eyes.
“I get good ad revenue,” Spoony mumbled.
His response was a backhand across the face that left Spoony’s lip bleeding. “Your ad revenue is shit!” He shouted. “You don’t do a goddamned thing around here while I’m out breaking my back every day! You’re a worthless, lazy whore whose only use is to be fucked!”
Spoony whimpered, but didn’t speak. Nothing he said was going to help.
Another punch across the face and he was clutching the edge of the sink for support with his free hand. He jerked him back, forcing him to let go, and then Spoony was thrown to the ground. He barely had time to curl into a defensive position before He was kicking him, hitting his back and legs while Spoony desperately tried to protect his head and stomach.
After a few minutes, it stopped, and He was shouting again. “Get up, bitch!”
Another kick to the side and Spoony uncurled himself, trying to get up past the pain. When he got to his knees, His hand grabbed his hair and yanked him up the rest of the way. Spoony cried out as he was dragged by the hair into the bedroom and thrown at the bed. He didn’t have time to resist before he was shoved facedown onto it, work-hardened hands ripping at his clothes. He whimpered, trying to move away, but then a large body was pressed over his and He was growling in his ear.
“Lie still, bitch.”
Spoony did so. He could never disobey, not for an instant. He bit his lip and clutched at the sheets and his clothes were torn off and He was on top of him, pushing in and thrusting hard. Spoony forced himself to stay quiet, to not struggle, to just lie there and let Him take what He wanted.
Because He was right.
This was all Spoony was good for.
*
Spoony often tried to figure out the best way to avoid this. To stop the beatings and the insults and the roughness. He did little things, trying to make Him happy, trying to keep things peaceful in their home.
He never considered leaving. Whatever happened, no matter how much it hurt, Spoony loved Him. And he knew that He just wanted him to be better. That every bruise and cut was a sign of love, that every tear he shed was deserved. It hurt, but Spoony knew it was his own damn fault.
Once it was over, and He was lying still, having fallen asleep after using him, Spoony got up quietly and returned to the kitchen. He picked up the sponge and started washing the dishes again, scrubbing each one as clean as he could and putting them all away neatly. Afterwards, he didn’t rest, but kept working, cleaning every inch of the apartment in the hopes that it would please Him. Spoony’s legs shook as he worked, and he could feel the bruises from the earlier assault forming, but he ignored all that. This was his place. This was his life.
Soon enough, though, he had run out of things to do and he had to return to the bedroom. He had woken and was glaring as Spoony came back in. “Where did you go?” He asked.
“I wanted to finish the housework,” Spoony mumbled, looking at the ground. “Since I didn’t earlier.”
He grunted. “Get back in bed,” He commanded. Spoony did so, lying down beside Him and trying not to show fear. Never show fear.
He rolled over and wrapped His arms around Spoony, clutching him close like a teddy bear. “’M sorry ‘bout earlier,” He said. “Bad day at work.”
“It’s okay,” Spoony said, allowing himself to be wrapped in the warm embrace. “I understand. And I’m sorry for not getting my work done.”
“You’re forgiven,” He said. “Don’t let it happen again. I love you, Spoony, and I don’t like hurting you. But you can do better, and I want you to see that. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Spoony said. “I’ll do better.
“Good.” He hugged Spoony tighter, petting his hair. “Good night.”
*
In the last few months of being together, Spoony had suffered far worse than simple beatings, and he knew his friends were starting to notice.
But whenever they asked, he just laughed them off and said he was fine. That everything was great. That he was happy and loved. Bruises? Probably from filming the last boss fight. Walking funny? You never got it this good. Scratches on his face and back? Nothing unusual, they pop up all the time for no reason. Cigarette burns, cuts, swelling? You must be imagining things.
Of course, He learned they were asking questions. And He didn’t like that.
Spoony’s cell phone was the first thing to go. After all, he didn’t need it, and the phone bill was too expensive. If he really needed to call someone, he could borrow a phone. Not like anyone makes phone calls these days anyway.
Spoony asked what to do if there was an emergency, and He relented, keeping a track phone turned off in a drawer. He knew how many minutes were on it, so if He came home and found less, Spoony had better have a police report to show for it.
The Internet was cut off next. Not entirely, of course-He wanted access to it, and Spoony’s videos did make a difference in their income. But He put parental controls on it, blocking everything except Spoony’s website, email, and Twitter. No Skype. No videos from anyone else. No other social media.
He had considered cutting off Spoony’s Twitter as well, but then realized that people would worry if the snark stopped. However, He did keep an eye on it, making sure it didn’t say anything out of the ordinary, and He screened all of the private messages. The email was left alone simply because He knew that it got so many messages a day that any questions would be quickly lost in the flood of people sending news about the Highlander reboot.
After that, He started demanding to know where Spoony was and who he was with at all times. This wasn’t too big of a problem, since Spoony didn’t really go anywhere. But all of those things coalesced into trouble.
There was a convention coming, one that Spoony had been invited to as a guest. Somehow, that email had managed to get through the mess of others, and he had accepted. Not because he wanted to leave, no. But he did want to see his fans and friends, to get a breather. That was all.
He objected. He said that conventions were dumb, that He couldn’t stand it if Spoony went away for five whole days. Spoony begged to go. He offered to do extra work, to buy His favorite food, to give Him unlimited blowjobs for months. Finally, in desperation, he said, “Why don’t you come with me?”
He debated for a long time, weighing the money and missed work time against the need to keep Spoony under His thumb. Finally, though, He decided. “I can’t possibly be away that long,” He sighed. “Fine. Go. I can manage.”
Spoony thanked Him in the only way he could, on his knees in the living room, sucking and swallowing without making a sound. He was happy to be allowed to go, happy that He loved him so much to let him.
*
He allowed him to take the track phone. “Call me every night,” He said. “And…and if anyone asks…”
“Boss fight,” Spoony said. He knew the drill. Don’t tell anyone what happened. They would take it the wrong way, think that Spoony was being hurt instead of loved.
“Good boy,” He said. He kissed Spoony outside the airport before driving off.
The flight was dull, but not too long, and soon enough, Spoony was heading toward baggage claim. He had been allowed to contact Linkara to work out details about the hotel room, and he grinned when he spotted his friend.
“Hey,” Spoony said, normally. Casually. Pretending that he hadn’t spent last night lying on the kitchen floor with a knife at his throat while He had His way. Pretending that Linkara wouldn’t notice the bruises during the weekend.
“Hey,” Linkara said back with a slight frown. “You okay?”
“Yeah, why?” Spoony asked, a bit too quickly.
“Just…haven’t heard much from you lately,” Linkara said with a shrug. “Like you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’ve been busy,” Spoony said. He spotted his suitcase and went to grab it.
Linkara didn’t say anymore, but Spoony noticed his frown was deeper.
*
He didn’t hear about it again until later that night, after they had checked in and were changing for bed. Spoony usually slept without a shirt, and Linkara knew him far too well to care, so he didn’t see the need for the pattern to change now. Linkara spotted him and his face melted into a mask of worry when he spotted Spoony’s torso. “Jesus, Spoony, what happened?” he asked in alarm.
Spoony glanced down, at the half-healed bruises and cuts and the small scars that dotted his chest from the times a burning cigarette had been pressed into his skin. “Final Fantasy villain,” he answered. “You know how it is.”
“Pretty sure Final Fantasy villains don’t pin you down and do that,” Linkara said. Spoony could hear the note of panic in his voice. “Tell me, Spoony.”
“Tell you what?” Spoony asked. “I’m fine.”
Linkara sat on the bed next to him. “Is he treating you right?” he asked gently.
“Of course!” Spoony answered instantly and enthusiastically. “He always treats me right, and he loves me, and he tries to help me and take care of me and…”
“And control you,” Linkara finished. “He’s why you don’t have a phone anymore and don’t respond to emails or messages, isn’t he?”
“What are you talking about?” Spoony asked. “I have my phone right here!” He pulled out the track phone. “And I get so many emails and messages, sometimes I miss a few.” He stood up. “I need to call him, he’ll worry.”
Linkara caught his wrist. “You’re a grown man at a con,” he said. “I think he can wait for a minute.”
“No,” Spoony said. “I need to call him, he’ll panic if I don’t, he said he needs me to call every night and…”
“Sit down,” Linkara said. “Please.”
Spoony sat. “Look, I know what you’re thinking and…yeah, it can be rough. He has bad days like anyone else, and I keep doing things that make him mad, and…it’s my fault, really, I should be better, and he’s trying to make me better…as good as I can be.” Tears were coming to his eyes, though he didn’t know why. “He knows the truth, that I’m pathetic and useless and lazy…I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve anyone. I should be alone, but I'm not, and he’s there, and he loves me and…”
“This isn’t love,” Linkara said quietly. “What you’re describing isn’t love, it’s control. It’s abuse. And it’s wrong.” He took a deep breath. “I think…I think you should leave him.”
Spoony shook his head. “I can’t,” he said. “I love him…and I know I can’t do better.” He pulled away and stood up. Before Linkara could say any more, he had headed into the bathroom and closed the door.
*
They didn’t talk about it again until the last night of the con. Spoony had just returned from calling Him to find Linkara still dressed, their bags packed in front of him. “We’re leaving,” he said.
“Leaving?” Spoony said, confused. “But my flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning.”
“You’re not taking that flight,” Linkara said. “You’re coming with me. I’m not letting you go back to him, Spoony. I know…I know you think you can’t do better, but you can. I know you can.”
Spoony sat stubbornly on the bed. “I won’t go,” he said. “And you can’t make me.”
Linkara sighed. “You’re right,” he said. “I can’t.” Linkara sat down next to him. “But I can persuade you.”
“I’m not leaving him!” Spoony said. “He’d kill me if I did!”
Linkara’s face hardened. “Which is why I’m taking you,” he said. “I’m a hero, remember? People don’t usually get past me without some trouble.” He studied Spoony’s face carefully. “I know you’re afraid. I know you’re unhappy, whatever you try to show me. I know you feel like you don’t deserve better. But…but I don’t think you feel that way because it’s true. I think you feel that way because he makes you believe it.”
“Linkara, please…”
“This is the chance I’m giving you,” Linkara said. “Please, Spoony, get away now.”
Spoony lay down and rolled over. “I’m not going,” he said. “So fuck off.”
*
He was almost glad when Linkara dropped him at the airport. His friend still looked worried, and hugged him tighter than he normally would have, and Spoony was eager to be away from his concerned looks and encouragements to run. Eager to get home to Him, to be back where he was loved.
He wasn’t waiting at the airport, but Spoony didn’t mind. He was probably busy with work or something. Spoony took a cab home, using the last of the month’s ad money for it. He didn’t care. He had a new video ready to go, one that would bring in enough.
“I’m home!” he called as he entered the apartment.
He was greeted by a large hand wrapping around his throat and slamming him into the wall.
“You were supposed to be home an hour ago,” He growled.
Spoony managed to get in a breath to answer. “There was a slight flight delay and I had to wait for a taxi…”
A fist connected with his stomach and he fell silent. “I don’t want your excuses,” He said. “You say you’ll be home at five, you’d better be home at five!” Another hit and Spoony’s knees gave out, leaving him supported entirely by the hand around his neck. He struggled to breathe as he was dragged into the kitchen and thrown to the floor.
A sudden hissing and he looked up. The gas stove had been turned on, all four burners heating quickly. Once they were red, He grabbed Spoony by the arms and dragged him up, spinning him around and bending him over the stove. He took Spoony’s hands and pressed them to the back burners.
Spoony screamed, feeling the heat blister his skin, but He didn’t let up, keeping Spoony trapped against the stove. “Hold still,” He commanded. “Don’t you dare move, or it will be longer next time.” They stayed there for another few seconds before He let go, allowing Spoony to move his hands away, but keeping him against the stove, over the heat. “Now tell the truth. You were fucking that stupid bitch, weren’t you?”
He meant Linkara. For some reason, He had never liked Linkara, had always assumed there was more to his friendship than there was. “N-no,” Spoony choked out. “No, I wasn’t, I never, PLEASE!” He could feel the blisters splitting and the burning was running up his arms now. “PLEASE LET ME GO!”
“I don’t think so,” He said. “I know your real reason for going. And you need to be reminded of your place.” He reached around and undid Spoony’s jeans, pulling them down to his knees. “You’re a filthy, stupid whore,” He whispered. “And you will be treated as such.” He undid His own jeans and pushed roughly into Spoony, drawing another scream out of him.
“I DIDN’T!” Spoony insisted. “I WOULD NEVER BETRAY YOU, I DON’T WANT ANYONE ELSE, PLEASE!”
He ignored him, continuing the assault for several minutes. Just before He reached climax, he reached to the counter and grabbed a sharp knife. “I know you’re lying,” He hissed. “And I would rather see you dead than with him!”
The knife plunged into Spoony’s chest, at the point where his shoulder met his collar bone. Spoony cried out once more before everything went black.
*
When he awoke, he was in bed, his shoulder and hands bandaged. He didn’t even try to sit up-he knew that it would hurt too much.
He was sitting there, looking at Spoony sympathetically. “I’m sorry,” He said. “I just…I didn’t want to lose you and…”
“It’s okay,” Spoony said weakly. “I’m sorry I was late.”
He leaned over and kissed his forehead gently. “Don’t leave me,” He begged. “Please…don’t be angry with me.”
And as much as he tried, Spoony couldn’t be.
*
He stayed in bed for several days, drifting in and out of consciousness, his burned hands throbbing painfully almost every time he woke up. He kept him safe, though, changing the bandages every day and feeding him painkillers whenever he cried out. It was fine. It was good.
Of course, being unable to get up or use his hands, it wasn’t long before people started noticing Spoony’s absence from the Internet. And with suspicions already aroused, Spoony really shouldn’t have been surprised one night to hear a frantic knocking from the front door.
He got up to answer it, leaving Spoony lying comfortably in bed. Spoony closed his eyes, figuring that whoever it was would go away soon and leave them alone.
Instead, the next thing Spoony heard was a lot of shouting, some of it from Him, the rest from a familiar voice that Spoony couldn’t quite remember right then. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, only that they were angry.
Soon enough, he could hear them hitting each other, and he felt sure something broke, but it was all distant and he was burning up and his head started hurting and he wished they would just be quiet…
The noise stopped as the bedroom door flew open. Hurried footsteps, and then a cool hand on his forehead…
“Spoony? Spoony, can you hear me?” Linkara. Of course it was Linkara. Spoony murmured something incomprehensible, unable to form words.
A strong arm around his shoulders, then another one under his knees and Spoony was being lifted and carried out of the room.
“You can’t take him!” Him. “That’s kidnapping!”
“Yes,” Linkara said calmly. “But tell me…do you really want the police report to be made?” He started walking. “Get out of the way. And if you ever touch him again, I have a bullet with your name on it.”
A few footsteps, and then Spoony felt himself being carried out of the room, out of the apartment, and down the stairs to a waiting car before his world faded again.
*
When he woke next, he was in bed again, but a different bed. Softer, warmer. It was comfortable and he was almost tempted to go back to sleep.
There was a cold cloth pressed to his forehead and his headache was starting to dissipate. His hands still hurt, but he felt less like he was burning up from inside. His lips moved soundlessly, trying to thank Him for helping…
“Spoony?” That wasn’t His voice.
“Linkara?” he rasped out. “Where am I?”
“You’re safe now,” Linkara said. “You’re safe, and he won’t be back.” The cloth disappeared and then Linkara’s hand was on his forehead. “I think the fever’s gone down a bit…but…Jesus, Spoony, what did he do to you?”
Spoony struggled to remember. “Stove,” he finally said. “Burning…it was so hot…and he…he used me there…then stabbed…and…and…” He broke off. “I was bad. I got home late, he thought I had run off, that I was going to leave him and he was scared and…”
“He was an asshole,” Linkara said emphatically. “He was an asshole who wanted to control you. He never loved you, Spoony, and you have to stop believing that he did.”
Spoony started to cry then, tears falling down toward his ears, but Linkara was there to wipe them away. “It’s okay,” he said. “You’re safe. You’re not going to get hurt again.”
Spoony nodded. “I know I should…I should be happy,” he admitted. “But…I do love him. I don’t want…I don’t want him to be unhappy.”
“If he is, he did it to himself.”
“Linkara?”
“Yeah?”
“Stay with me?”
He did. He climbed into the bed and pulled Spoony close, holding him gently and petting his hair, carefully avoiding the burned hands and bruises. He murmured softly about how good Spoony was, how he deserved better, how he was going to be fine…
And Spoony knew for the first time what it meant to be truly loved.
Characters: Spoony, Linkara, OC
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Noncon, abuse, violence
Summary: Fill for this prompt. If it's love, that means it can't hurt, right?
Spoony could tell in an instant if it was going to be a bad day.
As the clock ticked closer to 5:00, he stood in the kitchen, washing the mound of dishes that never seemed to end, his body tensed, listening for the footsteps he knew would be coming soon.
On the good days, they were light, almost bouncy, His voice keeping time as He sang loud, cheerful songs. On those days, He would sweep into the apartment and sweep Spoony up in His arms and kiss him passionately, declaring His love and carrying him into the bedroom, pressing him down and making love to him in the way that always left Spoony dizzy and breathless and so, so happy.
Those days were wonderful. Those days, Spoony knew he had made the right choice, that it was all worth it, that no matter what, he would always love Him.
Today was not one of those days. Spoony knew right away by the heavy footsteps and deafening silence as He came up the stairs. He tried to look busy, to keep washing dishes normally, to shrink into the background and hope He wouldn’t notice.
The door opened and closed and Spoony forced himself to relax, to keep breathing, to not betray the fear that clenched his heart at that moment. He would be fine. It would all be okay. It was always okay.
The footsteps had stopped and Spoony could hear the heavy breathing right behind him. He turned his head just a bit. “How was your day?” he asked timidly.
The question wasn’t answered. Instead, the rough voice asked, “Why haven’t you finished that, bitch?”
Spoony tensed a bit. “There was a lot to do,” he answered.
“You’re just lazy,” He spat. “Spending all your time playing those stupid games and making your stupid videos while I support you.” His hand reached out and grabbed Spoony’s arm, whirling him around and forcing him to look up into His angry eyes.
“I get good ad revenue,” Spoony mumbled.
His response was a backhand across the face that left Spoony’s lip bleeding. “Your ad revenue is shit!” He shouted. “You don’t do a goddamned thing around here while I’m out breaking my back every day! You’re a worthless, lazy whore whose only use is to be fucked!”
Spoony whimpered, but didn’t speak. Nothing he said was going to help.
Another punch across the face and he was clutching the edge of the sink for support with his free hand. He jerked him back, forcing him to let go, and then Spoony was thrown to the ground. He barely had time to curl into a defensive position before He was kicking him, hitting his back and legs while Spoony desperately tried to protect his head and stomach.
After a few minutes, it stopped, and He was shouting again. “Get up, bitch!”
Another kick to the side and Spoony uncurled himself, trying to get up past the pain. When he got to his knees, His hand grabbed his hair and yanked him up the rest of the way. Spoony cried out as he was dragged by the hair into the bedroom and thrown at the bed. He didn’t have time to resist before he was shoved facedown onto it, work-hardened hands ripping at his clothes. He whimpered, trying to move away, but then a large body was pressed over his and He was growling in his ear.
“Lie still, bitch.”
Spoony did so. He could never disobey, not for an instant. He bit his lip and clutched at the sheets and his clothes were torn off and He was on top of him, pushing in and thrusting hard. Spoony forced himself to stay quiet, to not struggle, to just lie there and let Him take what He wanted.
Because He was right.
This was all Spoony was good for.
*
Spoony often tried to figure out the best way to avoid this. To stop the beatings and the insults and the roughness. He did little things, trying to make Him happy, trying to keep things peaceful in their home.
He never considered leaving. Whatever happened, no matter how much it hurt, Spoony loved Him. And he knew that He just wanted him to be better. That every bruise and cut was a sign of love, that every tear he shed was deserved. It hurt, but Spoony knew it was his own damn fault.
Once it was over, and He was lying still, having fallen asleep after using him, Spoony got up quietly and returned to the kitchen. He picked up the sponge and started washing the dishes again, scrubbing each one as clean as he could and putting them all away neatly. Afterwards, he didn’t rest, but kept working, cleaning every inch of the apartment in the hopes that it would please Him. Spoony’s legs shook as he worked, and he could feel the bruises from the earlier assault forming, but he ignored all that. This was his place. This was his life.
Soon enough, though, he had run out of things to do and he had to return to the bedroom. He had woken and was glaring as Spoony came back in. “Where did you go?” He asked.
“I wanted to finish the housework,” Spoony mumbled, looking at the ground. “Since I didn’t earlier.”
He grunted. “Get back in bed,” He commanded. Spoony did so, lying down beside Him and trying not to show fear. Never show fear.
He rolled over and wrapped His arms around Spoony, clutching him close like a teddy bear. “’M sorry ‘bout earlier,” He said. “Bad day at work.”
“It’s okay,” Spoony said, allowing himself to be wrapped in the warm embrace. “I understand. And I’m sorry for not getting my work done.”
“You’re forgiven,” He said. “Don’t let it happen again. I love you, Spoony, and I don’t like hurting you. But you can do better, and I want you to see that. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Spoony said. “I’ll do better.
“Good.” He hugged Spoony tighter, petting his hair. “Good night.”
*
In the last few months of being together, Spoony had suffered far worse than simple beatings, and he knew his friends were starting to notice.
But whenever they asked, he just laughed them off and said he was fine. That everything was great. That he was happy and loved. Bruises? Probably from filming the last boss fight. Walking funny? You never got it this good. Scratches on his face and back? Nothing unusual, they pop up all the time for no reason. Cigarette burns, cuts, swelling? You must be imagining things.
Of course, He learned they were asking questions. And He didn’t like that.
Spoony’s cell phone was the first thing to go. After all, he didn’t need it, and the phone bill was too expensive. If he really needed to call someone, he could borrow a phone. Not like anyone makes phone calls these days anyway.
Spoony asked what to do if there was an emergency, and He relented, keeping a track phone turned off in a drawer. He knew how many minutes were on it, so if He came home and found less, Spoony had better have a police report to show for it.
The Internet was cut off next. Not entirely, of course-He wanted access to it, and Spoony’s videos did make a difference in their income. But He put parental controls on it, blocking everything except Spoony’s website, email, and Twitter. No Skype. No videos from anyone else. No other social media.
He had considered cutting off Spoony’s Twitter as well, but then realized that people would worry if the snark stopped. However, He did keep an eye on it, making sure it didn’t say anything out of the ordinary, and He screened all of the private messages. The email was left alone simply because He knew that it got so many messages a day that any questions would be quickly lost in the flood of people sending news about the Highlander reboot.
After that, He started demanding to know where Spoony was and who he was with at all times. This wasn’t too big of a problem, since Spoony didn’t really go anywhere. But all of those things coalesced into trouble.
There was a convention coming, one that Spoony had been invited to as a guest. Somehow, that email had managed to get through the mess of others, and he had accepted. Not because he wanted to leave, no. But he did want to see his fans and friends, to get a breather. That was all.
He objected. He said that conventions were dumb, that He couldn’t stand it if Spoony went away for five whole days. Spoony begged to go. He offered to do extra work, to buy His favorite food, to give Him unlimited blowjobs for months. Finally, in desperation, he said, “Why don’t you come with me?”
He debated for a long time, weighing the money and missed work time against the need to keep Spoony under His thumb. Finally, though, He decided. “I can’t possibly be away that long,” He sighed. “Fine. Go. I can manage.”
Spoony thanked Him in the only way he could, on his knees in the living room, sucking and swallowing without making a sound. He was happy to be allowed to go, happy that He loved him so much to let him.
*
He allowed him to take the track phone. “Call me every night,” He said. “And…and if anyone asks…”
“Boss fight,” Spoony said. He knew the drill. Don’t tell anyone what happened. They would take it the wrong way, think that Spoony was being hurt instead of loved.
“Good boy,” He said. He kissed Spoony outside the airport before driving off.
The flight was dull, but not too long, and soon enough, Spoony was heading toward baggage claim. He had been allowed to contact Linkara to work out details about the hotel room, and he grinned when he spotted his friend.
“Hey,” Spoony said, normally. Casually. Pretending that he hadn’t spent last night lying on the kitchen floor with a knife at his throat while He had His way. Pretending that Linkara wouldn’t notice the bruises during the weekend.
“Hey,” Linkara said back with a slight frown. “You okay?”
“Yeah, why?” Spoony asked, a bit too quickly.
“Just…haven’t heard much from you lately,” Linkara said with a shrug. “Like you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’ve been busy,” Spoony said. He spotted his suitcase and went to grab it.
Linkara didn’t say anymore, but Spoony noticed his frown was deeper.
*
He didn’t hear about it again until later that night, after they had checked in and were changing for bed. Spoony usually slept without a shirt, and Linkara knew him far too well to care, so he didn’t see the need for the pattern to change now. Linkara spotted him and his face melted into a mask of worry when he spotted Spoony’s torso. “Jesus, Spoony, what happened?” he asked in alarm.
Spoony glanced down, at the half-healed bruises and cuts and the small scars that dotted his chest from the times a burning cigarette had been pressed into his skin. “Final Fantasy villain,” he answered. “You know how it is.”
“Pretty sure Final Fantasy villains don’t pin you down and do that,” Linkara said. Spoony could hear the note of panic in his voice. “Tell me, Spoony.”
“Tell you what?” Spoony asked. “I’m fine.”
Linkara sat on the bed next to him. “Is he treating you right?” he asked gently.
“Of course!” Spoony answered instantly and enthusiastically. “He always treats me right, and he loves me, and he tries to help me and take care of me and…”
“And control you,” Linkara finished. “He’s why you don’t have a phone anymore and don’t respond to emails or messages, isn’t he?”
“What are you talking about?” Spoony asked. “I have my phone right here!” He pulled out the track phone. “And I get so many emails and messages, sometimes I miss a few.” He stood up. “I need to call him, he’ll worry.”
Linkara caught his wrist. “You’re a grown man at a con,” he said. “I think he can wait for a minute.”
“No,” Spoony said. “I need to call him, he’ll panic if I don’t, he said he needs me to call every night and…”
“Sit down,” Linkara said. “Please.”
Spoony sat. “Look, I know what you’re thinking and…yeah, it can be rough. He has bad days like anyone else, and I keep doing things that make him mad, and…it’s my fault, really, I should be better, and he’s trying to make me better…as good as I can be.” Tears were coming to his eyes, though he didn’t know why. “He knows the truth, that I’m pathetic and useless and lazy…I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve anyone. I should be alone, but I'm not, and he’s there, and he loves me and…”
“This isn’t love,” Linkara said quietly. “What you’re describing isn’t love, it’s control. It’s abuse. And it’s wrong.” He took a deep breath. “I think…I think you should leave him.”
Spoony shook his head. “I can’t,” he said. “I love him…and I know I can’t do better.” He pulled away and stood up. Before Linkara could say any more, he had headed into the bathroom and closed the door.
*
They didn’t talk about it again until the last night of the con. Spoony had just returned from calling Him to find Linkara still dressed, their bags packed in front of him. “We’re leaving,” he said.
“Leaving?” Spoony said, confused. “But my flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning.”
“You’re not taking that flight,” Linkara said. “You’re coming with me. I’m not letting you go back to him, Spoony. I know…I know you think you can’t do better, but you can. I know you can.”
Spoony sat stubbornly on the bed. “I won’t go,” he said. “And you can’t make me.”
Linkara sighed. “You’re right,” he said. “I can’t.” Linkara sat down next to him. “But I can persuade you.”
“I’m not leaving him!” Spoony said. “He’d kill me if I did!”
Linkara’s face hardened. “Which is why I’m taking you,” he said. “I’m a hero, remember? People don’t usually get past me without some trouble.” He studied Spoony’s face carefully. “I know you’re afraid. I know you’re unhappy, whatever you try to show me. I know you feel like you don’t deserve better. But…but I don’t think you feel that way because it’s true. I think you feel that way because he makes you believe it.”
“Linkara, please…”
“This is the chance I’m giving you,” Linkara said. “Please, Spoony, get away now.”
Spoony lay down and rolled over. “I’m not going,” he said. “So fuck off.”
*
He was almost glad when Linkara dropped him at the airport. His friend still looked worried, and hugged him tighter than he normally would have, and Spoony was eager to be away from his concerned looks and encouragements to run. Eager to get home to Him, to be back where he was loved.
He wasn’t waiting at the airport, but Spoony didn’t mind. He was probably busy with work or something. Spoony took a cab home, using the last of the month’s ad money for it. He didn’t care. He had a new video ready to go, one that would bring in enough.
“I’m home!” he called as he entered the apartment.
He was greeted by a large hand wrapping around his throat and slamming him into the wall.
“You were supposed to be home an hour ago,” He growled.
Spoony managed to get in a breath to answer. “There was a slight flight delay and I had to wait for a taxi…”
A fist connected with his stomach and he fell silent. “I don’t want your excuses,” He said. “You say you’ll be home at five, you’d better be home at five!” Another hit and Spoony’s knees gave out, leaving him supported entirely by the hand around his neck. He struggled to breathe as he was dragged into the kitchen and thrown to the floor.
A sudden hissing and he looked up. The gas stove had been turned on, all four burners heating quickly. Once they were red, He grabbed Spoony by the arms and dragged him up, spinning him around and bending him over the stove. He took Spoony’s hands and pressed them to the back burners.
Spoony screamed, feeling the heat blister his skin, but He didn’t let up, keeping Spoony trapped against the stove. “Hold still,” He commanded. “Don’t you dare move, or it will be longer next time.” They stayed there for another few seconds before He let go, allowing Spoony to move his hands away, but keeping him against the stove, over the heat. “Now tell the truth. You were fucking that stupid bitch, weren’t you?”
He meant Linkara. For some reason, He had never liked Linkara, had always assumed there was more to his friendship than there was. “N-no,” Spoony choked out. “No, I wasn’t, I never, PLEASE!” He could feel the blisters splitting and the burning was running up his arms now. “PLEASE LET ME GO!”
“I don’t think so,” He said. “I know your real reason for going. And you need to be reminded of your place.” He reached around and undid Spoony’s jeans, pulling them down to his knees. “You’re a filthy, stupid whore,” He whispered. “And you will be treated as such.” He undid His own jeans and pushed roughly into Spoony, drawing another scream out of him.
“I DIDN’T!” Spoony insisted. “I WOULD NEVER BETRAY YOU, I DON’T WANT ANYONE ELSE, PLEASE!”
He ignored him, continuing the assault for several minutes. Just before He reached climax, he reached to the counter and grabbed a sharp knife. “I know you’re lying,” He hissed. “And I would rather see you dead than with him!”
The knife plunged into Spoony’s chest, at the point where his shoulder met his collar bone. Spoony cried out once more before everything went black.
*
When he awoke, he was in bed, his shoulder and hands bandaged. He didn’t even try to sit up-he knew that it would hurt too much.
He was sitting there, looking at Spoony sympathetically. “I’m sorry,” He said. “I just…I didn’t want to lose you and…”
“It’s okay,” Spoony said weakly. “I’m sorry I was late.”
He leaned over and kissed his forehead gently. “Don’t leave me,” He begged. “Please…don’t be angry with me.”
And as much as he tried, Spoony couldn’t be.
*
He stayed in bed for several days, drifting in and out of consciousness, his burned hands throbbing painfully almost every time he woke up. He kept him safe, though, changing the bandages every day and feeding him painkillers whenever he cried out. It was fine. It was good.
Of course, being unable to get up or use his hands, it wasn’t long before people started noticing Spoony’s absence from the Internet. And with suspicions already aroused, Spoony really shouldn’t have been surprised one night to hear a frantic knocking from the front door.
He got up to answer it, leaving Spoony lying comfortably in bed. Spoony closed his eyes, figuring that whoever it was would go away soon and leave them alone.
Instead, the next thing Spoony heard was a lot of shouting, some of it from Him, the rest from a familiar voice that Spoony couldn’t quite remember right then. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, only that they were angry.
Soon enough, he could hear them hitting each other, and he felt sure something broke, but it was all distant and he was burning up and his head started hurting and he wished they would just be quiet…
The noise stopped as the bedroom door flew open. Hurried footsteps, and then a cool hand on his forehead…
“Spoony? Spoony, can you hear me?” Linkara. Of course it was Linkara. Spoony murmured something incomprehensible, unable to form words.
A strong arm around his shoulders, then another one under his knees and Spoony was being lifted and carried out of the room.
“You can’t take him!” Him. “That’s kidnapping!”
“Yes,” Linkara said calmly. “But tell me…do you really want the police report to be made?” He started walking. “Get out of the way. And if you ever touch him again, I have a bullet with your name on it.”
A few footsteps, and then Spoony felt himself being carried out of the room, out of the apartment, and down the stairs to a waiting car before his world faded again.
*
When he woke next, he was in bed again, but a different bed. Softer, warmer. It was comfortable and he was almost tempted to go back to sleep.
There was a cold cloth pressed to his forehead and his headache was starting to dissipate. His hands still hurt, but he felt less like he was burning up from inside. His lips moved soundlessly, trying to thank Him for helping…
“Spoony?” That wasn’t His voice.
“Linkara?” he rasped out. “Where am I?”
“You’re safe now,” Linkara said. “You’re safe, and he won’t be back.” The cloth disappeared and then Linkara’s hand was on his forehead. “I think the fever’s gone down a bit…but…Jesus, Spoony, what did he do to you?”
Spoony struggled to remember. “Stove,” he finally said. “Burning…it was so hot…and he…he used me there…then stabbed…and…and…” He broke off. “I was bad. I got home late, he thought I had run off, that I was going to leave him and he was scared and…”
“He was an asshole,” Linkara said emphatically. “He was an asshole who wanted to control you. He never loved you, Spoony, and you have to stop believing that he did.”
Spoony started to cry then, tears falling down toward his ears, but Linkara was there to wipe them away. “It’s okay,” he said. “You’re safe. You’re not going to get hurt again.”
Spoony nodded. “I know I should…I should be happy,” he admitted. “But…I do love him. I don’t want…I don’t want him to be unhappy.”
“If he is, he did it to himself.”
“Linkara?”
“Yeah?”
“Stay with me?”
He did. He climbed into the bed and pulled Spoony close, holding him gently and petting his hair, carefully avoiding the burned hands and bruises. He murmured softly about how good Spoony was, how he deserved better, how he was going to be fine…
And Spoony knew for the first time what it meant to be truly loved.