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Jeffery Woods is a bit tired, a bit wet, and more than a bit frustrated with his current circumstances. As it turns out, being a young adult trapped in a constant game of cat and mouse with the authorities was harder than he’d thought it would be that night…
Or rather, he could’ve claimed that if he’d been thinking about it at all.
Truth is, he’s a bit stumped now. The news had called him ‘Jeff the Killer’ when the case was still fresh. Which is, honestly, the laziest moniker he’s ever heard.
“Seriously, would it have ‘killed’ them to be a bit more creative? How about ‘Jeff the Smiler,’ or ‘Jeff the Burned?’ This is like a bad cash-grab flick.”
Jeff mutters this as he makes his way under another bush, this one with some nice hidden thorns to further prick at his pallid skin and tatty, stained white hoodie. His black jeans aren’t faring much better, fraying all over. They have nothing on his nearly undone sneakers and threadbare socks, though.
“Gotta love mall clothes, huh?”
Jeff mutters to himself again, a bad habit from too much time alone. Not like anyone wants him around in a place not replete with razor wire or guns pointed at him. He’d gotten lucky to snatch these clothes two months ago from a mall he’d happened upon near the woods.
He doesn’t exactly know where he is, having kept his head low since making it past one of the northern Louisiana borders. He’s stuck to the wilderness since then, from state parks to less populated areas, hoping he can just… hide.
Honestly, he knows that, deep down, his life is basically over.
If he’s in a no-kill state, maybe he’ll avoid that death penalty, but life in a cell doesn’t sound great either. No way does he want to be the star of some fucked up documentary on cable.
“At least Liu might’ve gotten out okay.”
Jeff has barely kept track of the years. It’s been… fuck. He had maybe been sixteen when it all went down… that movie poster in the mall had said… huh. Three years. Not bad for an unloved lower-middle-class kid, right?
Sure enough, thunder crackles somewhere above the thick foliage, and Jeff scoffs into the mud.
His face isn’t running with puss, thank fuck. That happens way too often. The burns are still the same, more, or less. A duller red, and itchy most days. His raven-black hair is trying to come back, but it’s thin on his burned side, and ratty everywhere else due to lack of care. Not like hair is a big priority when he’s often suffering from malnourishment.
“Pfft. ‘The Killer.’ Like I’ve killed anyone besides those two…”
He hasn’t. Wounded a few night guards, at best. And only avoided getting a bullet by the grace of whatever the fuck is out there.
Jeff’s seen weirder shit than him in the woods. Fuckers in blue with no eyes, a tween cosplaying as that Zelda kid, and… Jeff shudders as he remembers seeing a bald son of a bitch in a tux that he swore to anything didn’t have a face.
None of them had seen him before he scrambled away, thank fuck.
If they had…
Well, there’s spooky, supernatural things all around, and Jeff… is not one of them.
The weakness in his screaming joints, the piss begging to punch through his bladder, and his stomach at once needing to expel a breakfast of squirrel and crying out for supper are anything but.
He makes it out of the foliage to find himself in a clearing. A well-tended clearing. With a dirt road in front of a cabin. A cabin with a bench to the side. Thank. Fuck.
Jeff’s bladder could sing for joy as he watches a burly guy, about mid-twenties if he had to guess, shuts off his kitchen light and lumbers in the dim moonlight creeping through his window towards the back.
Jeff waits for damn near what feels like an eternity before carefully creeping to the window. Unlocked. Jackpot.
Carefully setting his rusted and chipped butcher knife aside, Jeff slides the window, well-oiled by the grace of an unseen god, open, and crawls through after carefully setting his knife down on the counter.
Once inside, he creeps around the place, replacing his cheap ass butcher knife with the fancy one on the rack.
Luxury cabin. High-end tv and computer set-up in the living room come office. Thick walls and doors, as he hears the owner’s loud offkey singing snap off as his bedroom door shuts in the distance.
Guy is loaded, and won’t miss a roll of toilet paper, that’s for sure.
Jeff creeps to the bathroom, and carefully shuts and locks the door. Sure, the place is soundproofed, but he’s not taking more chances than he needs to.
The heating in this place is amazing. It looks like a log cabin, but it’s been souped up into a high-class house more befitting the best parts of a city.
Jeff ditches his clothes, and spies that instead of toilet paper, this guy has a fancy set of wet wipes. Real good stuff, not the cheap crap for single mothers. He tilts his head, and then sees the hose in the shower. Like in the gay flicks he’d sneak sometimes.
After he takes care of his stomach and bladder, and takes the time to clean up nicely, he shrugs. Might as well.
Cleaning himself with a good soaping of high-end products is amazing. He hasn’t felt this clean since… ever, really.
As he rubs the soap in, he feels himself harden. Damnit.
Glaring down at his mediocre dick, Jeff rolls his good eye, the bad one just twitching slightly.
His dick twitches insistently. More importantly, his ass still itches. He glances at the hose.
What the hell.
He uses it to get clean, even looks around the medicine cabinet after, finding some good stuff. He applies the antibiotic cream to his fucked up side, taping some gauze to it to quell the itching, and finds some lube. Good lube.
The fuck is this guy playing at? Some kinda lumberjack playboy? Probably a trust-fund kid looking to play the rough woodsman. And bring back some good tail while he’s at it.
Jeff pauses for a moment, hesitating. He’s well aware that he’s attracted to men. He’s secretly jacked it to enough gay porn to know. He doesn’t know what to call himself, though. He’d kissed a couple girls, made up stories about touching boobs, but…
He shakes his head. His gay awakening, the revelation that maybe the ladies just weren’t for him, is a bit too late.
He stares at his reflection angrily, morosely. He’s a fucked-up guy. Physically, mentally… what the fuck could he do, huh? Who’s gonna fuck this?
…He knows who.
This all started because some snot-nosed, spoiled ass bitch boys got in his business. Might as well get his pound of flesh, or, in this case, dick, from one of them, right? It’s only fair. Call it compensation for his trauma.
He pops the lube, and takes his time working himself open, experimenting to see what feels nice, what’s too much. The edge of pain, the burn of a good stretch, does wonders. His cock bobs and leaks merrily with each pull of his knuckles, and soon, he finds a spot that drops him low, into a nice syrup of horny.
He’s three fingers in when he decides enough is enough. His hole clenches and kinda gapes on the air as he grabs his knife, and creeps out of the bathroom.
The bedroom door is unlocked. Sucker.
He stalks in, shutting and locking it. The curtains are closed. Burly guy’s room is sweltering, the heating on blast to keep autumn’s chill winds at bay.
Burly guy is without covers, his fat cock just laying obnoxiously on a hairy, meaty thigh, just under a big belly. Jeff licks his lips, staring hungrily. He wants that, alright.
Slinking onto the bed, he gives it a dragging lick, savoring the taste, and smell. Burly guy clearly built up a sweat. It’s doing wonders for what remains of Jeff’s nose. He feels burly guy stirring. Pressing the back of the knife to the front of the swelling cock, Jeff meets his startled eyes angrily.
Jeff presses the blunt part of the steel into the meaty pillar, hissing, “Go to sleep…”
Burly guy stares at him in confusion, hope, wonder…
The fuck…?
Burly guys shudders. “I-Is this a dream?”
Jeff tests his teeth on the bead of precum emerging from that mushroom head.
Burly guy hisses and jolts in pain and surprise. “F-Fuck!”
Jeff sneers up at him. Riding his high of anger and horny. “That’s the idea, fat ass.”
Burly guy stares at him for a moment, a darkness in his gaze that takes Jeff aback. Then, his eyes sharpen hungrily. “You’re that kid… from that double homicide a few years back.”
Jeff blinks in bewilderment. How did?! “The fuck?!”
Burly guy grins. “Jeff the Killer? In my bed? On Halloween night? Fuck yeah!”
Jeff’s jaw is slack for only a moment more before that dark syrup of rage snaps him up for the first time since that night. He grips the cock in front of him with white knuckles, turns the blade’s edge around. Cheeky fuck, he’s gonna…!
Burly guy whines.
Jeff’s heart stills. He glances up.
Pure fucking ecstasy paints burly guy’s face as his grin turns maniacal.
Jeff freezes, caught in the proverbial headlights. What in the actual fuck is wrong with you, dude?
Burly guys huffs, “Guess I just have a thing for beautiful men who squeeze my dick.”
Fuck. He’s said that out loud.
Jeff glares as menacingly as possible, waving the knife threateningly. “Give me a fucking explanation before I castrate your sorry ass.”
Burly guy grins. “Name’s Nathan. I like serial killers.”
Jeff blinks.
Nathan is still there, grinning like a dumbass.
Jeff stares. “You… like… serial killers.”
The words are flat. Dead in his throat.
Nathan’s heads bob eagerly. “Yeah! You guys are so fascinating! Hell, it’s part of why I set up shop here!”
Jeff tilts his head. “And where is here?”
Nathan guffaws, “Holy shit! Of course you don’t know!” His smile softens. “You’re about three miles away from a town in Maine, buddy.”
Jeff grunts, “I’m holding a knife to your dick, don’t call me buddy.”
Nathan hums, “Sure, sure.” He stares at Jeff’s body with a certain thoughtfulness. “Say…”
Jeff wiggles the knife again in warning.
Nathan rolls his eyes. Fucker. “I was gonna ask if you think my dick’s fat enough to show up when you ride me.”
Jeff balks. “The hell, dude?!”
Nathan shrugs. “I mean, you smell like my soap, look all shiny and squeaky clean, and I can see the lube dripping down your thighs, man,”
Jeff glances down. Motherfucker.
The distraction is enough.
Nathan surges up, overpowers him casually. He’s got a half-foot and about a hundred and a half pounds on Jeff, so of course it was that easy.
The knife clatters to the floor, and Nathan stares down at him. “Hey. So… I know you like the power stuff, and I don’t wanna like, take that away or anything, but…” He leans down. “I kinda pressed the emergency button under my pillow, so I gotta get up and see the cops.”
Jeff’s jaw clenches as Nathan reaches into a gap in his headboard to pull out… fucking restraints?!
Nathan smirks. “Gotta be prepared for sugar at any time, ya know?”
Jeff does not know. The fucker probably knows that.
Nathan pauses as he’s rising, and then grins down at the now tied up Jeff.
He takes hold of his fat cock… and smacks it on Jeff’s good cheek. “Good boy. Stay.”
Jeff’s cock twitches as he curses at Nathan, who throws on a robe just as red and blue lights hit the curtains. Damnit.
Jeff stews in anger as his cock flags, He glances at the clock. Novel. He can tell time again.
It takes a half hour for Nathan to come back. It’s eleven at night. The lube’s still wet in his ass. Must be really good shit.
Nathan shrugs the robes off, his pecs bouncing slightly as he stretches. He grins at Jeff, pick up the knife and… handing it over…?
Nathan smiles. “So… the cops know to check on me in the morning. Noon sharp.”
Jeff glares, baring his teeth as Nathan undoes the straps and just hauls Jeff onto his chest.
Jeff stares down at him in confusion.
Nathan grins. “So, you can’t kill me willy nilly.” He laughs, “But don’t get me wrong, getting held at knifepoint while you drain me dry is a total dream come true.”
Jeff presses the knife to his throat to draw some blood.
Nathan’s cock swells fast enough to smack his ass.
Jeff stares at the cock, then to the blood running down that throat, then to the stubbled face of Nathan.
Jeff huffs, “Stay still or I cut you.”
Nathan gives a mock salute. “Aye, aye, skipper!”
Jeff grunts, and then lines himself up as best he can. The head gets in easily enough, the burn of the stretch making him groan, his cock bobbing back to life as he begins sinking inch by inch.
Nathan’s hands stay at his side, fisting the sheets as Jeff slides down to the balls, his thin cheeks pressing into the twin globes below.
Jeff breathes through his mess of a nose as he takes in the musk of Nathan again. He lets himself pretend he’s in charge for a moment, that this man’s life is in his hands. It’s fucking perfect.
Jeff bounces on the fat cock in his ass for a good few minutes before he’s let down. By his dick. Again.
He spurts like a fucking fire hydrant, his breath catching in his throat mid-bounce as he’s seized by the hips by Nathan, who shamelessly begins thrusting up to pound Jeff through his first non-fist induced orgasm.
Jeff hisses and yelps through the ordeal, other embarrassing sounds he doesn’t dignify with acknowledgement spilling from his lips as he’s used as a fucking fleshlight, thick, hairy balls spanking his reddened ass with each thrust to his prostate. Something is hitting his asshole. Not important, but weird.
Jeff fists his hands into the tufts of chest hair on those fat tits, knife thrown to the floor once more as he bounces as best he can. His cock is leaking something, probably piss, as he’s pounded for all he’s worth, milked like a cow for his troubles.
Nathan’s musk pulls him in, and he’s burying his nose in a pit, biting and licking as Nathan’s grunts reach a new pitch, his pounding getting stronger, faster, deeper…!
Jeff cums all over the tits he’s fondling, his hands, that hairy chin…
He buries his nose into the pit as he feels warmth flood his asshole.
Breathing in Nathan, a blue-blooded, American made machismo fuckboy, grounds him through his bliss.
He’s slumped over a fat guy in the woods. He’s got an ass full of cum. He needs another shower.
Nathan runs a hand through Jeff’s hair. He grimaces. “This is gonna take a lot of work…” He surges up, scooping Jeff into a bridal carry.
Jeff’s too tired to do anything about it. Son of a…
Nathan kisses his forehead. “Was hoping to find a nice freak like you out here.” He chuckles, his tail wagging.
Wait.
Back the fuck up.
Back all the way up.
Jeff stares. That’s a goddamn wolf tail.
A motherfucking wolf tail.
Wagging and everything.
Nathan sheepishly looks into his wide, disbelieving eye. “Ya see… the whole fascination with serial killers…” He shrugs for the umpteenth time that night. “Kinda how we find our packs.”
Jeff wants to do a lot of things. Coat that knife in silver. Scream his head off. He settles for a glare. He’s been had. Absolutely robbed. “What the fuck?”
Nathan winces. “Hey now, I—”
Jeff smacks him upside the head. “Do over. You think I couldn’t handle a knot? Fuck you.”
Nathan blinks. Blinks again. Grins wolfishly. “Oh… Ma is going to love you.”