Work Text:
"So you weren't kidding.. There's like, NOTHING?" Jack pressed his head closer against Dave's chest.
"Heartless as Henry ever was, Old Sport! I don't have much of anything in there. Last time I went to sell a kidney, the back alley surgeon freaked the fuck out and ran off after one look at my guts." Dave traced a finger over his scars. "I meant, the lack of 'em. Had to sew myself back up with a spaghetti noodle!"
The mouldy bed two men sat upon in their days of drinking, hard drugs, and fucking cheap hookers held itself weakly on rotted wood in the quiet room. Traffic outside rumbled the popcorn-texture walls, casting brief light inside with their halogen bulbs. 4AM, just past the witching hour and Vegas club closing times. The air within stank of used condoms and cigarettes, dank and thick. It left the two unbothered, already having spent a full week in the below-average motel. Their single bed was warm with their presence, a newfound feeling to both in their loneliness prior to fleeing that god awful Pizzeria.
"That's..." Jack lifted his head from Dave's chest, taking in the view. The shoddy sewing work of whoever last vivisected Dave was obvious, but Jack could see how methodical the surgical scarring was. A "Y" shaped seam across Dave's chest, leading down to his stomach. "Huh. So," Jack's eyes lingered at Dave's crotch.
"Wait, so if you don't have blood, how do you get a boner?"
Dave's eyes shoot open, glaring at Jack, "You don't ask a man about his boner situation!" jabbing a gnarled finger at him. Dave's expression quickly softens, and turns into a sly grin. Dave props his head onto his hand, and leans closer to Jack's face. "..'nless you're curious for a reason."
"No, no! God, you're such a creep." Raising his hands in defense and shuffling away from Dave, "A creepy... Creep!" The poorly worded insult left Dave unphased, even a little delighted.
"Don't be such a prude, Sportsy!" A purple finger twirls a loose thread upon the bed's duvet, nearly ripping the fabric with his sharp nails. "Man to man, I'll tell ya."
"Please don't actually--" Jack shields his eyes as Dave begins to unbuckle the worn leather belt and unzip his own alcohol-blood-mucus stained pants, "--Ugh!"
"Now listen, it's nothin' to be ashamed of."
"Don't patronize--I don't need 'The Talk' from you of all people. We're grown men. We're 30 and-or 40, and I don't need this." Jack peeks between his fingers, desperately trying to keep his attention to Dave's face.
"Well you ASKED!" Dave huffs in exasperation, "So I'mma tell ya."
Dave shuffles across the bed to the nightstand, his naked body crawling over Jack, and the orange man desperately trying to keep his dinner inside his body, rather than on the vomit-scented carpet. Dave opens the drawer, and pulls out a large bottle of Viagra™...
Jack looks on curiously as Dave struggles to pick out the last object. Given a puzzled look on his face, and an oddly blue tongue stuck upwards from his mouth, Dave reaches his hand to the back of the drawer, pulling out a...
...a grody blood bag with a well used needle.
Jack perks up, recognizing it. "So THAT'S why we snuck into Scott's office? I thought we were just giving him a fear for Nosferatu."
"That too, Old Sport, that too!" Dave plucks two Viagra pills from the bottle, and throws them into his open gullet. Was he half python? Jack's attention steers to the needle, curious and confused. "Am I high enough for this? I don't know if I wanna remember what you're gonna do, or," Jack gestures to Dave's naked body before averting his gaze. "--this."
"You ain't got nothin' to be worried about. Now help me find a vein." Dave outstretches his legs, groping his inner thighs. "I'd get a hooker to do it, but you, I quote, 'didn't want any STDs worse than Chlamydia'! Where's the fun in that? So now, I gotta settle for you."
Jack grimaced. He'd helped Dave with so much worse, sure, but where was his limit? Nonetheless, he's drawn to assist the man. He scooches his body forward, hands hovering patiently.
"So, what do I..."
"Jus' hold my leg right here." Dave points close to his knee.
Jack's hands wrap around Dave's knee, almost surprised by the texture of the purple scales mixed with smooth skin. "Woah." His hands wander across tentatively. Thumbs brush against the hairy bristles that cover Dave's body and the fresher scars from animatronic and toddler attacks.
Dave, preoccupied, takes no notice to his partner's explorations. A claw picks up the rusty needle, careful to align it to the artery along his inner thigh.
"Keep 'er still." Dave says, soft but direct for the other.
Jack's hands press harder into the scarred up leg, steadying himself.
Dave jabs the rusted needle deep into his leg, spasming on reflex. "FUCK! Ggaahh--"
Jack grimaces once again, turning his head away. His hands remain on those strange legs, still entranced by their inhumanity.
"Has anyone told you you're a complete weirdo?"
"Plenny o' times, but you seem into it." Dave smugly nods his head towards the hands lying closer to his upper thigh. Jack's face flushes, hoping it's not visible under the smudged concealer, and retreats to crossing his arms.
"That isn't fair, you told me to!" Jack eyes the orange handprints unwittingly left upon the other's legs, curling into himself further and squeezing his own thighs together. "Listen, I mean-- It's not something you see every day. I just..."
Dave cocks his head.
"I wish I knew what was," What was wrong with him. Why he acted so erratic, why he had clean surgical scars across his body, why he worked with-- Jack reconsidered his words. "Why you're purple. And stuff." An awkward grin flashes, a shrug and crinkled together eyebrows shot towards Dave.
That gangly man simply smiled, and with a voice dripping sweetly he mutters, "C'mere kid," He pat the space next to him, urging Jack to clamor closer to his side. "What'dya wanna know?"
Jack was already overwhelmed with the choices.
The scaly-fleshy hide.
The bristly hairs.
His long, pointed nails.
His crotch.
The scar along his cranium.
The vivisection-like scar on his torso.
The purple skin.
His groin.
The abnormally long, veiny neck.
His dick.
Oh god, why does he keep thinking about Dave's dick?
Sweat accumulating in his palm, Jack blurts out "SO, HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN TALL?!"
Dave cackles, "I've been tall for a while. Y'know, I've been 6 feet tall since I was 12! Got me into all the fun places. Bars, amusement parks, strip clubs, I was a free man! I lived how I wanted! And chicks dug me like crazy."
Jack tilts his head, "At twelve years old?" his lips curl into concern. He really hoped that wasn't entirely true.
"Broads love it when you've got act all innocent, but I was well versed, if you catch my drift."
Christ...
Quickly trying to change topic, Jack points to another part of Dave's body. "What about your neck?" There's been times during work where he could swear it's longer than usual, almost as an intimidation tactic or to peeping on bathroom stalls of unsuspecting customers opening a toilet full of lit fireworks. Phonehead really gave them shit for the lawsuits, all three of them! The other four didn't make it out of the ambulance to sue... Not that it matters. Those days of sabotaging that infested pigsty of a restaurant are long gone. It was just Jack and Dave now.
"Y'never seen an extendin' neck before? You're missing out on all the fun! Here, hold my chin." Dave's hands guided Jack's to rest under his chin, and quickly yank it from his body. A loud, wet snap accompanied the twice-elongated neck, and Dave grinned crazily. "It's fuckin' awesome!" Jack couldn't help but gag. "Nice." Dave comments, taking his own head back to snap into a relatively-normal place once again.
"Old sport, you're the only person I've had be so curious about me without payin' for entry! You're a special case, y'know..."
"And why's that?"
"Cus you're my fuckin' lackey!" Cackling again, he brings his arms to his chest, before a choke and cough. Dave starts to beat his chest with a single fist, and cough up a cigarette. "Woah, score!" placing it back upon his lips and fishing a lighter from underneath his pillow.
"You're the most fucked up guy I've seen in my life. And I mean like, I've seen a lot of people."
"Take a look at yerself before judging me! You fuck robot faxes on the daily, THAT'S weird." The lighter snaps open, a flame flickers close to the end of the cancer stick hanging from Dave's lips.
"Wh-- NO! Listen, I'm not a furry, but--"
"We do it as a JOB, don't act slick!"
"Used to, we used to."
"Never too late to start again, baby."
"Baby--? No, it's, you go to Foxy strip clubs all the time with me. They have an audience!"
"Y'haven't noticed that you're the only one not wearin' a costume in any of those joints?"
"What about YOU then?"
"Hole's a hole, old sport." Dave blows a puff of smoke into Jack's face, who remains unbothered by the act. "'N tell me, what's got you so hot about that fuckin' rusty pirate anyway? You're just obsessed with the thing."
A memory surfaces, of a poor, lonely drunk taking his 5 year old sister to the new 'pepperonerie' in town. She ran off to play among other kids, delighted by bootlegged toys and moldy pizza. It was too expensive to come to often, but it was her day. As she explored, Jack sat at one of the neglected attractions, some stupid pirate fox that couldn't even get off the stage.
"--Yuuurr-hee-huuurr--!! Yaaa--aa--rre Ye ready te' be b-b-b--" The animatronic sizzled, sparks flew and the motions of its metal limbs slowed. The drunk sat there, and gazed around the empty room. Almost on instinct, he walked up to the robot, and looked at it's figure. Looks like no one's taken care of it in a while, it was covered in mould and stains. Didn't anyone want to take care of it?
A little shout echoed from the doorway. "Bro!! Broooo!!!" A little girl ran up and clutched his leg, rubbing her face against his jeans with a smile. "I barfed."
"Oh, sis-- Jeez. Let's get you home."
Jack looks blankly at Dave, "He's got thicker thighs than the chicken."
Dave, flabbergasted, retorts "NO WAY! I know for a FACT that ain't-- Well..." Dave ponders again, index and thumb to his chin.
"He's got those thickum thighs and slim waist! It's smexy!"
"So's the toy chicken!"
"Yeah, but that came AFTER. I'm an Oh Gee Fazbender's patron."
"'Oh Gee'? Listen, you had to be there when HENRY was runnin' Fredbear's! He made miracles!"
"But did he make sexy robots?"
"You know it! That spring bonnie was a CATCH! What, you don't think the ones we had back in Cali were all that?"
"No?"
"Cus you're fuckin' right! Those cheap excuses of springlock suits paled in comparison to Henry's old designs. They came with their own outfits, they had better pizzazz, they had a nostalgic charm!"
"...uhuh..." Jack can't help but rub the nape of his neck.
Dave's face contorts, squinting his eyes in a strange way. "Ooh, I think the Viagra's finally workin'."
"What? Oh, god I forgot about--"
Dave picks up the bloodbag attached to his thigh, "Check this out, sportsy!" and points to his crotch. "It's like a balloon."
Like a dog on command, Jack snaps his attention to Dave's cock as the blood bag is squeezed violently. 6 inches of purple glory rise, it's exactly like a balloon.
"Oh that's just SICK!"
"Y've seen the other shit I can do, haven't ya?"
"Yeah but--urgh.."
"You can touch it if ya like." Dave's voice quiets, almost shy.
"No, I.." Jack's attention fixed upon Dave's erection. Curiously, he prods at it with his index finger. "How long's this last?"
"'Til I'm outta blood."
"It's just.. And you can really orgasm with it?"
Dave points a thumb to the floor, dotted with used condoms and their discarded wrappers.
"Huh... Hm." Jack strokes his chin for a moment, leaning a little closer to Dave's length. He's able to see the unique texture the rest of his skin provided, and a throbbing vein across the side. Jack's hand palms the base, feeling across Dave's pelvic area. Five fingers wrap and unwrap against the shaft, testing the skin before moving to stroke the head's underside. Uncircumcised, and somewhat rigid in its structure. Jack pulls back the hood of the other's foreskin to oggle the head some more before turning to face Dave. He sees his purple complexion has turned a deep red, a hand across his mouth and sweat droplets forming across his forehead.
"Oh, sorry." Jack's hand lets go, ready to move away, before a hand clutches his wrist.
"Keep goin'."
Jack scans Dave's face once again, noticing his furrowed brow and anxious movements. His calloused fingers have begun to rub against Jack's wrist, coating themselves with the orange makeup covering his skin. A smile creeps onto Jack's face, as Dave's lips tremble as if to speak once more. With a toothy grin, Jack leans closer to Dave's cock playfully, "I don't hear you saying 'please'~"
"Sportsy..." Dave takes a long drag if the cigarette he's been nursing, darting his eyes across the room, before falling back onto Jack. "..please?" The grip around his wrist tightens with those words, and doesn't soften. They tug Jack's hand back towards Dave's cock to no avail, as Jack tests the waters of his partner's desperation.
"What's in it for me?"
"F-fuck, uh.. I'll getch'ya the GOOD coke!" Another tug at his wrist, still unmoving. Jack leans on his spare hand, and smiles.
"Hookers! I'll pay for yer casino chips! I'll-" Dave tries to rut against air.
"I'll do anythin'."
"Anything?" Finally, a thumb moves to the slit in the head, wiping the precum and sweat down across his length. An act that grants a choke from the taller, his finally grip falters and moves across to the back of Jack's hand. "A-anythin' you need, old sport! I'm your--" Jack suddenly strokes Dave's cock hard and fast a single time, ending at the head and massaging it with the heel of his palm. A yelp and hips jerking forward follows, "K-kid, you're killin' me here!"
"Tell me again what you'll do for me."
Dave's hands move to clutch the sheets of the bed, trembling lips barely open to a whisper. "I'll do anythin'..."
"Good." Jack's smile remains, placing both hands onto the member in front of him.
His fingers clasp together, the groove of his palms enveloping the shaft and giving drawn out strokes from the base to the tip's underside. Gradually squeezing his hands together with each stroke, he thumbs against the head slowly with a feather's touch. He pauses his strokes to use the tips of his fingers against the head, teasing with fleeting touches. Claws grasp and ungrasp the sheets, sharp nails leaving holes in the bed's covers. Pained gasps and sighs exhaled from the recipient, and white pupils fixed upon the smiling face situated near his hips. Jack's hands wander south, fondling Dave's testes. They're a wrinkled, somewhat hairy texture with an odd--oddly intoxicating--scent. "Your balls are pruny as fuck. Is that normal?" Jack faces Dave, who's staring unblinkingly. He can't quite process the words Jack's saying, leaving them in silence between wet stroking.
"Dave?" Jack slows his pace, moving closer to Dave's face, switching his stroking hand to his left. Swallowing thickly, he studies Dave's face, how unusual this behaviour is from him. He's never been quiet for more than 2 minutes, not unless Jack caught a glimpse of him stalking around his house. Suddenly, a rough set of fingers wraps themselves around Jack's waist, wiggling under the hem of his shirt and poking his skin with those dirty claws. Dave's own dark eyes studied Jack's, faces slowly inching together. Jack plucks the burnt cigarette butt from Dave's mouth, tossing it to the carpet floor. Suddenly, a manic grin appears on Dave's face. "Why d' I even BUY hookers if you're so good at this? I mean, sportsy, you should enter the olympics or somethin' for handjobmgnhfh--" Jack slowly places a hand over Dave's mouth, and releases it again. "--mnnfand you've got the hands of an angel. Do you use a moisturizmnnghf--" Back the hand goes. It's already getting covered in spit, he feels Dave's teeth and tongue thoughtlessly grazing his skin, and the stink of his smoky breath thick in his sinuses. This was awful. There has to be a better way. Cautiously, Jack begins to remove his hand once again from Dave's mouth, "--mmmghgjobs don't count if it's with a pal either, so--" Quickly, Jack presses their lips together. Spit accumulated around Dave's mouth mingles with Jack's, dripping to both their chins. Jack's hand presses against Dave's chest, smearing the leftover drool and orange foundation across his ribs. Jack's strokes get faster, wrapping a single hand around the other's cock to reach from the base to tip. Dave writhes under the sensations, digging his nails into Jack's hips and rolling his eyes back. His dialogue has become grunts and moans against Jack's teeth, tonguing the gums where his central incisors used to be.
Pressure is applied from Jack's palm to his fingers, squeezing Dave's shaft to feel the grooves of his veins, accumulating warmth to his already hot dick. Just as he reaches the tip again, he squeezes once more with short rub against the head of Dave's cock, pushing the heel of his palm against it until,
Dave shoves Jack's head away, another hand still grasping cuts left at his hips. "Meant t' tell ya, but," Dave chuckles. Jack raises his hand to look at the milky fluid left across his fingers. "It's fine." He wipes it off on his shirt, already dirty from the spit and booze accumulated from the week.
"So, about doing anything for me.." His clementine hand rests back onto Dave's thigh, threatening to press a bruise into the injection site of the blood bag. "I need a dildo, some ziplocks, and a pineapple."
"What're ya planning, ya crafty bastard?" Dave's brow raises, curiousity and excitement returning to him. Dave pushes himself off of his pillow, sitting upright to meet Jack's face again. "I bet this is about those fucks down at the blackjack table."
"Of course it is! They swindled me!"
"Not their fault ya can't play."
"How'm I supposed to know the ace was good?" Jack feigns a frown, but there's a smile in his eyes.
Dave laughs, and reaches to unhook himself from the needle lodged down his inner thigh, forgetting Jack's soft hands rested there too. "Alright, get offa me you slut. I gotta shower."
Jack laughs too, bumping an arm into Dave's playfully before getting up. "I'm gonna go grab a new shirt, and YOU should get some pants."
"What, y'don't wanna go streaking tonight?" Dave plucks the needle out from his thigh, throwing the empty bag across the floor, startling a stray rat picking at the takeout boxes scattered along the room.
"Too much walking today. Can you even walk after stabbing yourself like that?"
"Please, I'm lean, aubergine, an unstoppable queen!"
"Queen?"
"Y'kno, like the musician! Maamaaaaaa~"
"You know plenty about poor boys and killing men too."
"Y'get me. Now help me up, I gotta shower."
"You? Shower? Where's the purps I know and love?" Jack dramatically 'faints' with an arm across his forehead, dropping himself onto the bed. A cloud of dust and dirt erupt from the sheets, leaving Jack to cough up the air around him. "God--Maybe we should of splurged a little more on the room."
"Ya think I'm made'a credit cards or somethin'?!"
"Just go shower, stinky."