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hysteriaTitle: Another Man’s Trash is Another Man’s Treasure
Author:hysteria
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Skunty/Jones
Word Count: 963
Warnings: Explicit Torture, Inappropriate Banter, Non-explicit Mention of Necrophilia, Un-beta'd
Summary: Jones likes to take his time; but Skunty is tired of waiting-- and Jones hates when he gets all bitchy.
A/N: My moral compass may be broken, but what a fine, fine state of brokenness it is.markenzeichen talked me into writing this, and seeing as I enjoyed doing so the next fic will include her favorite, Gravy. Also credit to the wonderful morlockiness for reminding me how much I loved this series.
Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters or the comic.
“Would you hurry the fuck up? I’m going to die of boredom over here.” Skunty groaned, popping another french-fry in his mouth.
“I hurried with the last one, fucker; this one is mine… and I’m going to take my sweet time,” he ran the ice pick up the boy’s tan arm “isn’t that right Marcus?” Jones smiled widened, “I spent a week stalking this little boy; I ain’t givin’ him up because you’re itchin’ for a good dead fuck.”
“Damn right dead; he’s no fun to play with alive.” he moved from the couch and plopped down in the seat near Jones, “I don’t get why you like this; they talk this way. I hate it when they talk.”
“Look I already gagged him, so quit your fucking complaining. Besides, I mean how do you know if they don’t like it?” he let the pick slip an inch into the skin, savoring the whine the kid was making, “See, ya hear that? S’all I need to hear to know I’m doing it right.”
“You know what they say ‘another man‘s trash is another man‘s treasure‘ and all that, besides, you need justification for your actions? You’re such a fucking girl.” he snorted leaning back in his chair, “Should call you Jonesy.”
Skunty looked up when he heard the boy cry out particularly soundly, seeing the ice pick firmly planted in his shoulder; Jones’ face twisted in anger, stomping towards him. “Do I look like a girl to you?” he shoved his foot between Skunty’s legs, slamming the front two legs of the chair back to the floor.
He laughed putting his hands on the black boot planted between his legs, “The tent in your pants either means you’re a guy, or just an ugly fucking tranny. I haven’t really decided yet.”
“Maybe I should find out why you like fucking dead bodies so much, huh?” he shoved his foot forward and listened to the other man groan at the contact, “Slit your throat and have a go? What do you think it’d feel like to be on the receiving end for once?”
“Maybe,” Skunty grinned “didn’t think you swung that way sweetheart.”
Jones looked down at the bludge forming in Skunty’s pants and laughed, “You’re fucking getting off on this shit aren’t you?” his laughter drops off and Jones looks back to his face, “Maybe,” he says.
“Maybe you want me to fuck you dead?” Jones pulled his foot back from the chair.
“Maybe,” he says again “maybe I just want you to fuck me.”
It was quiet for a minute aside from the groans coming in behind them, “Thought only fucking dead things got you off?”
“It’s more of a past time,” he shrugs “like baseball.”
He bit his lip to keep from breaking into a smile, “I’ll fuck you, but you don’t get to bitch for the next fifteen minutes while I finish with my boy over there.”
“I don’t bitch.” he sigh, “I just politely suggest you hurry the fuck up.”
“Exactly, and I just want a few more minutes ‘fore I cut him up for good. Then I’ll take real good care of you.”
“Will you keep him in at least two pieces so I can play later?” he asks, looking of Jones’ shoulder at the tear-streaked face. “I won’t complain if you want to keep him even after we’re through for the night.”
His eyes widened, “You want him to watch?”
“If ya’ want.”
He laughed again and nodded, “Let me finish part of my work, sweetheart then I’ll set him up at a real good angle for the show.”
“Get to it then,” he leaned back in his chair again “I ain’t getting any younger.”
Jones didn’t say anything as he walked back up to the support beam the kid was tied to, gripping the pick and pulling it out; “You’re gonna get one hell of a send off, kid.” he threw the pick to the ground and grabbed one of the steak knives pressing it against his left index finger, “You know, it’s easier this way-- if you start cutting at the first knuckle.” The boy screamed from behind the gag, “The skins tighter, easier to cut.” he pressed his hand firmly against the back of the knife, pushing it back and forth until he heard it crack the bone. “See, clean cut.” he pulled the tip of the finger off, ripping the skin the rest of the way. “It’s all about thinking things through, you never know what you may get.”
The boys head hung low, chest rising and falling rapidly; mumbling from behind the gag. Jones looked over his shoulder to see Skunty watching with disinterest, as if he were watching the knitting channel or some shit like that. He sighed and lifted the blade to the boys throat, pressing hard and dragging it full across, letting the blood splatter onto his chest and face.
Skunty stood up suddenly, “Thought you wanted to take your time?”
“You’re a big fucking bitch even without opening your mouth. I just can’t have no fun with you watching.” he sighed walking towards him, “You’re like a cock-block, except, I’m still going to fuck you.”
He grinned wide, “Aw, and I was really looking forward to havin’ him watch.” he titled his head to look past Jones, “He was kinda cute, in a girly way.”
Jones’ bloody hand reached down and unzipped his pants after popping the button, “Fuck you,” he rolled his eyes “just suck my cock so I can forget about how I just wasted that poor kid, he could’ve lasted at least another week. You and you’re fucking bitchy face.”
Laughing he dropped to his knees, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jonesy.”
Author:
hysteriaRating: NC-17
Pairing: Skunty/Jones
Word Count: 963
Warnings: Explicit Torture, Inappropriate Banter, Non-explicit Mention of Necrophilia, Un-beta'd
Summary: Jones likes to take his time; but Skunty is tired of waiting-- and Jones hates when he gets all bitchy.
A/N: My moral compass may be broken, but what a fine, fine state of brokenness it is.
markenzeichen talked me into writing this, and seeing as I enjoyed doing so the next fic will include her favorite, Gravy. Also credit to the wonderful morlockiness for reminding me how much I loved this series.Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters or the comic.
“Would you hurry the fuck up? I’m going to die of boredom over here.” Skunty groaned, popping another french-fry in his mouth.
“I hurried with the last one, fucker; this one is mine… and I’m going to take my sweet time,” he ran the ice pick up the boy’s tan arm “isn’t that right Marcus?” Jones smiled widened, “I spent a week stalking this little boy; I ain’t givin’ him up because you’re itchin’ for a good dead fuck.”
“Damn right dead; he’s no fun to play with alive.” he moved from the couch and plopped down in the seat near Jones, “I don’t get why you like this; they talk this way. I hate it when they talk.”
“Look I already gagged him, so quit your fucking complaining. Besides, I mean how do you know if they don’t like it?” he let the pick slip an inch into the skin, savoring the whine the kid was making, “See, ya hear that? S’all I need to hear to know I’m doing it right.”
“You know what they say ‘another man‘s trash is another man‘s treasure‘ and all that, besides, you need justification for your actions? You’re such a fucking girl.” he snorted leaning back in his chair, “Should call you Jonesy.”
Skunty looked up when he heard the boy cry out particularly soundly, seeing the ice pick firmly planted in his shoulder; Jones’ face twisted in anger, stomping towards him. “Do I look like a girl to you?” he shoved his foot between Skunty’s legs, slamming the front two legs of the chair back to the floor.
He laughed putting his hands on the black boot planted between his legs, “The tent in your pants either means you’re a guy, or just an ugly fucking tranny. I haven’t really decided yet.”
“Maybe I should find out why you like fucking dead bodies so much, huh?” he shoved his foot forward and listened to the other man groan at the contact, “Slit your throat and have a go? What do you think it’d feel like to be on the receiving end for once?”
“Maybe,” Skunty grinned “didn’t think you swung that way sweetheart.”
Jones looked down at the bludge forming in Skunty’s pants and laughed, “You’re fucking getting off on this shit aren’t you?” his laughter drops off and Jones looks back to his face, “Maybe,” he says.
“Maybe you want me to fuck you dead?” Jones pulled his foot back from the chair.
“Maybe,” he says again “maybe I just want you to fuck me.”
It was quiet for a minute aside from the groans coming in behind them, “Thought only fucking dead things got you off?”
“It’s more of a past time,” he shrugs “like baseball.”
He bit his lip to keep from breaking into a smile, “I’ll fuck you, but you don’t get to bitch for the next fifteen minutes while I finish with my boy over there.”
“I don’t bitch.” he sigh, “I just politely suggest you hurry the fuck up.”
“Exactly, and I just want a few more minutes ‘fore I cut him up for good. Then I’ll take real good care of you.”
“Will you keep him in at least two pieces so I can play later?” he asks, looking of Jones’ shoulder at the tear-streaked face. “I won’t complain if you want to keep him even after we’re through for the night.”
His eyes widened, “You want him to watch?”
“If ya’ want.”
He laughed again and nodded, “Let me finish part of my work, sweetheart then I’ll set him up at a real good angle for the show.”
“Get to it then,” he leaned back in his chair again “I ain’t getting any younger.”
Jones didn’t say anything as he walked back up to the support beam the kid was tied to, gripping the pick and pulling it out; “You’re gonna get one hell of a send off, kid.” he threw the pick to the ground and grabbed one of the steak knives pressing it against his left index finger, “You know, it’s easier this way-- if you start cutting at the first knuckle.” The boy screamed from behind the gag, “The skins tighter, easier to cut.” he pressed his hand firmly against the back of the knife, pushing it back and forth until he heard it crack the bone. “See, clean cut.” he pulled the tip of the finger off, ripping the skin the rest of the way. “It’s all about thinking things through, you never know what you may get.”
The boys head hung low, chest rising and falling rapidly; mumbling from behind the gag. Jones looked over his shoulder to see Skunty watching with disinterest, as if he were watching the knitting channel or some shit like that. He sighed and lifted the blade to the boys throat, pressing hard and dragging it full across, letting the blood splatter onto his chest and face.
Skunty stood up suddenly, “Thought you wanted to take your time?”
“You’re a big fucking bitch even without opening your mouth. I just can’t have no fun with you watching.” he sighed walking towards him, “You’re like a cock-block, except, I’m still going to fuck you.”
He grinned wide, “Aw, and I was really looking forward to havin’ him watch.” he titled his head to look past Jones, “He was kinda cute, in a girly way.”
Jones’ bloody hand reached down and unzipped his pants after popping the button, “Fuck you,” he rolled his eyes “just suck my cock so I can forget about how I just wasted that poor kid, he could’ve lasted at least another week. You and you’re fucking bitchy face.”
Laughing he dropped to his knees, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jonesy.”
