Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1966

Denny never cared about the news. It was just noise… Politicians talking in circles, reporters dramatizing the same disasters. He never watched it. Not really.

Until him.

Until the first time he saw The Comedian.

It was a small segment, barely a minute long. A quick broadcast about “masked vigilantes” and whether they were “a danger to the public.” Denny had been slouched on the couch, half-asleep, his mind elsewhere—until the screen flickered, and he appeared.

Eddie Blake.

The Comedian.

He stood against the flashing red-and-blue of police sirens, his body half-cast in shadow. A half-smoked cigar burned between his fingers, its glow catching the sharp edges of his grin. He looked bored—not in the way people did when they were tired, but in the way a predator does before it tears something apart.

Denny’s stomach twisted.

The reporter’s voice rattled through the screen:

“And here we have one of the most controversial figures among masked vigilantes, known publicly as The Comedian. After another high-profile intervention, many are asking—does he go too far?”

The camera panned to Eddie, stepping forward, that grin still hanging lazy on his lips. His uniform was scuffed, smeared with something dark at the collar. His broad chest barely fit in frame… And then,

Eddie lifted his cigar between two fingers, pointed it directly at the camera. And in a voice low, quiet, but thick with something dangerous, he muttered:

“Get that damn thing out of my face, or else I’ll put my cigar out on it.”

Denny felt his breath hitch.

It wasn’t a yell. Wasn’t a threat thrown out for show. It was quiet. Calm. Like he didn’t even need to raise his voice to be terrifying.

The camera cut away quickly. The segment moved on. But Denny, Denny couldn’t move.

Something inside him had shifted. His heartbeat pounded against his ribs, his skin felt hot, and he didn’t even know why. He had seen a thousand people on TV before. But never… Not ever had one looked at a camera and made Denny feel like he was the one being looked at.

He swallowed hard. And then, almost instinctively, his fingers reached for the remote… And rewound, Replayed it. Watched again. And again.And again.

His hands started shaking.

Denny leaned forward, almost forgetting to breathe. “Man… Who is this guy?” he mumbled to himself. Eddie’s exterior voice and casual charm hit him like a jolt of lightning, and Denny felt something shift deep inside. It wasn’t just admiration. He wasn’t sure what it was, really.

At first, it started small. Denny’d catch Eddie’s interviews on TV, scribbling down notes in a little notebook. He’d record every appearance, every snippet of conversation, as if trying to capture Eddie’s soul through his words. “I mean, look at him,” Denny would say aloud in his room, talking to no one in particular. “He just says it straight. No bullshit. No hiding.” And independently, he thought to himself.

He liked that.

Soon, the recordings turned into an archive—a chaotic collection of VHS tapes, clippings from newspapers, and hastily printed screenshots. His walls began to resemble a scrapbook of Eddie: every article, every headline meticulously arranged, as if they could somehow bring him closer to the man on the screen.

During one of those long nights, as Denny rewatched an old interview, he found himself repeating lines as if in a ritual

“Eddie, you’re the only real voice in this messed-up world,” he whispered, his voice a mixture of awe and desperation.

Even his everyday language shifted. Instead of the light banter he once shared with friends, his conversations turned laced with references to Eddie. But at home, behind closed doors, no one knew the full extent of his obsession.

For weeks. Nearly months, Denny maintained the illusion that everything was perfectly normal. He still met his friends for coffee and casual hangs, laughing and chatting about everyday life. Yet, beneath that veneer, his mind was slowly consumed by Eddie. He would constantly express strange, obsessive tangents about Eddie’s “realness” and “no-nonsense attitude.” Only ever focused on what was there when he got home. Remembered to bring a TV guide everywhere he went, So he knew when to leave for one of the Comedian’s hearings.

Was this love? Ritualism? It was his life.

One cool autumn afternoon, Denny met his old buddies at their regular coffee shop. They hadn’t seen him like this in a long time. Welcomed him back, Only, was more withdrawn than before. His eyes darting around as if he were waiting for something, or someone. The conversation flowed lightly, with talk of work, weekend plans, and local gossip, until someone mentioned a recent scandal involving the Comedian.

“Hey, Denny,” said Mark, a friend from college, leaning in. “I heard that… Uh, Comedian guy. He’s been in the news again. What’s your take on that guy?”

Denny’s eyes snapped up, and for a moment, the easy smile faded. His tone was steady but his words came out too fast. His brain plagued.
“Eddie isn’t just some news headline, man. He’s the only guy who’s ever said something real—something that makes sense…”
He stuttered, everyone at the table looking at him.

Another mutual friend, always the calm one, frowned. “Denny, you’re not serious, are you? You’re talking like you’ve lost it over him.”

“Lost it?” Denny snapped, his voice rising. “I haven’t lost anything! I just see what everyone else is too blind to notice. Eddie is… he’s the truth in a world full of lies. His whole image is a metaphor of what the world actually is. Which is cruel. And if you can’t understand that, then you’re just part of the problem!”

There was a heavy silence. His friends exchanged uneasy glances, not quite sure how to respond. They had no idea that behind Denny’s calm façade was a raging storm of obsession that was slowly consuming him.

After that day, the casual gatherings dwindled. His friends whispered among themselves, wondering what had happened to the boy they once knew… A guy who had been confident and happy. Now, Denny was retreating further into his own world, where Eddie’s voice was the only sound that mattered.

Back in his apartment, Denny’s life had become an endless loop of recordings and clippings. Every morning, he’d boot up his old TV and VCR, rewatching Eddie’s interviews, replaying every word over and over. His diary entries turned into a mix of mundane observations and feverish ramblings about Eddie’s “real talk.”

One evening, as he sat at his desk surrounded by stacks of newspaper clippings and cassette tapes, Denny muttered aloud while jotting down notes:
“Eddie says, ‘Life’s too short for crap that doesn’t matter.’ And I believe that—more than anything.”

His routine became an obsession that replaced everything else. Meals were eaten mechanically, phone calls answered with short, clipped responses. Friends’ words went completely unanswered; invitations were declined with a vague, “Sorry, I’m busy,” that never mentioned the truth.

He started talking to Eddie’s recordings as if he were in the room with him. “Hey Eddie, you ever feel like you’re the only one fighting back?” he’d ask the static-filled screen, his voice echoing in the cramped space of his cluttered room.

There were moments when the lines between reality and fantasy blurred. Denny would catch himself in a daydream, imagining Eddie turning away from the camera to speak directly to him, offering advice in plain, everyday language. “Listen, Denny,” his imagined voice would say, “You gotta live your life, Don’t let the world drag you down.” But even as these daydreams soothed him momentarily, they also deepened the gap between him and the real world.

It wasn’t long before the pressure of his obsession led to an inevitable confrontation. One rainy evening, Denny was back at that same coffee shop, trying to hide his inner turmoil behind a mask of casual conversation. His friends had gathered for their usual meetup. They chatted about their day, the weather, and trivial plans for the weekend. Denny, however, was visibly distracted. He kept glancing at his hands, his mind elsewhere.

His friend sat in front of him. He tried to lighten the mood. “So, Denny, got any new music recommendations?” A stupid question from an equally stupid person, Denny internally thought.

Denny forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, sure… I’ve been listening to some stuff,” he replied, half-heartedly. Then, as the conversation turned to current events, the topic of The Comedian came up yet again.

Another friend hesitated. “I don’t get it, Denny. You’re always talking about Eddie. I mean, isn’t it just… you know, a guy who does vigilante stuff?”

Denny’s patience snapped. “Just a guy?” he barked, leaning forward so close that his friends could see the intensity in his eyes. “Eddie isn’t just some random guy. He’s the one person who’s ever told it like it is. You think he’s a menace? You think he’s all flash and no substance?”

The same friend who first spoke frowned, trying to reason with him. “Denny, we’ve known you a long time. What’s gotten into you? You’re acting like this… This. Obsession is the only thing that matters.”

“Because it is!” Denny exploded, his voice shaking with anger and hurt. “You all think it’s easy to see the truth when you’re sitting back in your comfortable little lives. But Eddie… he’s real. He speaks to me. Every time I watch him, I feel like I’m actually living. And you- you… None of you understand that at all!”

The table fell silent. The clatter of cutlery and murmurs of other customers filled the space where their conversation had been. Denny’s outburst left a tangible tension in the air. His friends, shocked and confused, didn’t know whether to reach out or retreat further.

His friend finally broke the silence, softly, “Denny, we’re worried about you. This isn’t like you. Maybe you need to talk to someone?”

Denny’s eyes flashed, and his voice softened for a moment before hardening again. “Talk? Talk about what? The fact that Eddie makes me feel alive? That every word he says is a lifeline in a world that’s drowning in crap?” His words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered.

That day, for the first time, his friends saw the depth of his fixation. They realized that the charming, witty guy they once knew had been replaced by someone driven by a singular, unyielding passion—a passion that left no room for the ordinary.

-

After that painful day at the coffee shop, Denny’s life took an even darker turn. The shock of his outburst forced him into an isolation from which he couldn’t easily recover. Every conversation with his friends now reminded him of their inability to understand what Eddie meant to him. The more they distanced themselves, the more Denny’s thoughts circled back to the one constant in his life, Which was Eddie.

Late one night, sitting on his threadbare couch with the TV flickering in the background, Denny scrolled through online forums and old interviews, piecing together clues about where he might actually find Eddie. The more he read, the more convinced he became that the man behind the screen was more accessible than everyone thought.

He found out that Eddie frequented a small, rundown park on the edge of the city… A place where the gritty reality of urban life met the solace of quiet corners. Denny’s heart pounded as he made a plan, speaking to himself in a hushed, excited tone:
“Tomorrow, I’m going to find him. I need to see him. I need to talk to him. Maybe he can tell me what it all means.”

That promise, both a desperate plea and a declaration of resolve, set Denny on a collision course with his own private destiny.

—

Denny chose to wake up that next day, Around 11pm. He didn’t eat, didn’t go to the bathroom. He led and waited. The sky was a deep navy blue, matching Denny’s mood as he walked the empty streets toward the bar.

The bar was the same one he’d seen Eddie visit, Eddie captured visually. Always there with himself. Knowingly he was the only masked adventurer out there still making headlines.

Well, of course Denny knew that.

Denny’s mind was a jumble of anxious excitement and desperate longing. Every step felt like a march toward something monumental. A chance to be close to the man who had transformed his life.

Eddie saw him first.

Leaning against a brick wall, cigar between his teeth, he noticed the kid hovering down the block. Too clean-cut for this part of town, too jittery, like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be here.

But his eyes… those eyes… were locked onto Eddie like he was the only thing in the world.

Eddie took another drag, exhaled slow. “Are you lost, kid?”

Denny took a step closer. Then another. And he shook his head.

Eddie huffed a laugh. “Well, you sure as hell ain’t supposed to be here.” He looked him over… Small, wired-up, practically vibrating where he stood. “What, you a fan of mine, or something?”

Denny swallowed. His throat was tight. He barely breathed, barely moved. But again, he nodded. Eddie tilted his head, taking another drag. “That right?”

Denny’s mouth opened, closed, and then opened again, but nothing came out. His fingers twitched at his sides, nails digging into his palms.

Eddie took a step forward, towering over him, amused by the way Denny had to crane his neck just to keep eye contact. “Ain’t every day I meet someone who don’t start screamin’ at me soon as they recognize my face. What’s your deal, kid?”

Denny barely heard him. His pulse was so loud in his ears, everything else was a blur.

Eddie chuckled. “Spit it out. What, scared now that you’re starin’ right at me?”

Denny’s fingers flexed, twitched. Then suddenly, as if his body, his mind was barely thinking, as he moved with what his heart desired. He lifted onto his toes.

Eddie’s brows lifted. Then, he’d realized. A very slow, knowing smirk curled at the corner of his mouth.

“…Oh,” Eddie muttered, amused, teasing. His voice was tensely deep. Watching the way Denny’s eyes were soaked in something raw, something desperate.

Denny’s hands came up, shaking, completely frantic and grabbed Eddie’s face, pulling him in.

Eddie let it happen.

Their lips crashed together. Messy, hungry, like Denny didn’t know what he was doing but needed to do it anyway. His whole body trembled against Eddie’s solid frame, like he was holding onto something too big for him.

And then, suddenly, Denny let out a sharp, ragged breath. A kind of unhinged, giddy little noise, before he dropped to his knees, pressing his lips to the toe of Eddie’s boot.

He stayed there, panting, shoulders heaving like he could barely contain himself.

And Eddie, Eddie just watched.

Watched the way Denny clung to his leg like a prayer. Watched the way he shook, the way his breaths came out frantic, starved. And then Eddie saw it. That little, precious crack of something he could use.

His smirk deepened, slow and deliberate. He pressed his boot forward just a little. Just to see what the kid would do. Denny whimpered.

Eddie laughed. Low, mean, full of something dark.

“Oh, kid,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You don’t even know what you’re doin’, do ya?”

Denny swallowed hard, pupils blown, gripping Eddie’s boot like he was afraid he’d wake up from this.

Eddie leaned down, cigar dangling from his lips. “Lucky for you…” He tilted Denny’s chin up with two fingers, watching how easily the kid melted under the touch.

“…I like teachin’ lessons.”

—

The next morning, the phone rang. He barely remembered it. It felt like a dream… like something that had been a representation of his dedication to Eddie.

But he could still taste the leather of Eddie’s boot on the tip of his tongue. Could still smell him around him.

He put his hand in his pants…

But then processed the phone still ringing. He slapped himself in the head, stood up, and walked to the line.

“Hello?”

There was faint static over the end, then an exhale. Like smoke releasing from the grip of one’s mouth.

“Come over.”

Chapter Text

That was it. No explanation. No address. No signature. Just two words.

His body went weightless. Then the line cut, That’s it.

For a second, he couldn’t even breathe. His mouth felt dry, his fingers twitched, and his vision blurred at the edges. He swallowed. once, twice. But his throat refused to loosen.

It was Eddie . It had to be… Eddie.

Denny didn’t question how Eddie had gotten his number. He didn’t question a fucking thing. There was no room for questions, no room for hesitation. His entire body was screaming go go go go GO.

So he did.

Like a pap, Denny knew where Eddie was. Located it like he knew the place inside out.

Eddie’s place was exactly how Denny imagined it would be… Dimly lit, cluttered, smelling of old whiskey and smoke. The air was thick with something indescribable, something that made Denny’s head spin. His bulge was slowly hardening.

And then, Eddie.

Standing there, leaning against the counter, a glass in his hand. Watching him. He processed that he was surrounded by Eddie. His walls, his body. His smell. Him.

Denny nearly collapsed.

“You showed up,” Eddie muttered, taking a slow sip of his drink. His voice was low, rough, like he had just woken up or just finished laughing at something cruel.

Denny’s breath hitched. “I—” His voice cracked. His chest ached.

Eddie’s eyes flicked over him lazily, scanning, observing. Then, with an exhale, he reached out—two fingers under Denny’s chin, tilting his face up. Denny’s whole body froze.

His legs shook. His skin burned where Eddie touched him. His heart was pounding, hammering so hard he thought he might pass out.

And Eddie, Eddie just smirked slightly, thumb grazing the edge of Denny’s jaw. “What’s got you all wound up, kid?”

Denny gasped. A sharp, involuntary thing. He had waited, waited for this moment. Dreamed of it. Replayed it a thousand times in his head, and now it was real and his mind was breaking under the weight of it.

He let out a breathy, almost manic giggle. His lips twitched, eyes wide, pupils blown. “You—” His voice was barely a whisper. “You touched me.”

Eddie raised a brow.

“You—” Denny swayed forward, breath shaky. “You don’t—don’t know what you are to me.”

Eddie let out a small chuckle, amused but vaguely intrigued. “That so?”

Denny nodded, Far too fast, too eager, his entire body reacting before his brain could catch up. His hands clenched at his sides, desperate to grab, to hold, to prove that this was real.

His whole body was screaming… More, more, more.

But Eddie just exhaled, shaking his head slightly, still smirking, still lazy.

“Jesus,” he muttered, pulling away. “You’re a weird little fucker, huh?”

Denny’s chest collapsed with the loss of contact. His skin felt cold, his body hollow. But then, Eddie turned, walking toward the couch, dropping onto it with an easy sigh. “Well? You gonna stand there all night?”

Denny stumbled forward, pulse erratic, breath shallow.

He sat.

Waited.

Watched.

As Eddie just leaned back, arms stretched across the back of the couch, eyes half-lidded as he glanced at Denny, sizing him up.

Something deep in Denny’s gut twisted.

Eddie muttered something about how fans were all the same, and yet, somewhere between the breath of a sentence and the flicker of a look, Denny had landed here.

This was real.

Denny swayed slightly, like a man lightheaded from fasting, drinking in the sight before him. Eddie sprawled across the couch, one arm slung over the back, whiskey glass loose in his fingers, the other resting on his thigh, inches from where Denny was sat. His dressing gown was open. Stunk, his hair smothering his body. His boxers peaking beneath. He smelt like smoke and heat and something deep—something that had burned itself into Denny’s mind long before now.

Denny inhaled. Breathed him in. He smells like leather. Like whiskey-soaked violence. Like a man who had never truly been clean. Cum, and something he couldn’t name. And Denny laughed.

It was small at first, just a tremor of sound that slipped out, but then he felt it bubble up, shake loose from the pit of his stomach, giddy, breathless, wild.

He dropped his head. His fingers clenched into fists, his shoulders shook, and still, the laughter kept coming. Eddie tilted his head, watching him, amused but vaguely annoyed.

“The hell’s so funny?”

Denny barely heard him. His chest ached, laughter tearing through him like a wound, shaking him to his core. Because Eddie… Eddie really had no idea.

He didn’t know. Didn’t know that Denny had been waiting for this moment since the first time he saw him on TV, since he first recorded his interviews, memorized the way his lips curled when he spoke, the way his voice dropped when he was pissed off. He didn’t know Denny had read every newspaper clipping, traced his name onto the margins of his notebooks, whispered it under his breath before bed.

He didn’t know Denny had already been here a thousand times… Just in his head. And now, finally, finally, he was here for real.

Eddie scoffed. Then, without warning, his hand shot out, gripping Denny’s face.

The laughter stopped.

Denny gasped softly, eyes blown wide. Eddie’s fingers were rough, the callouses scraping against his skin, his thumb pressing firm against his cheekbone.

“You got a screw loose or somethin’?” Eddie muttered, tilting Denny’s head slightly, like he was trying to get a good look at him. “Came all the way here just to giggle like a little bitch?”

Denny’s lungs seized. His skin burned under Eddie’s touch, his chest felt like it was caving in, his pulse… God, his pulse. Eddie smirked. “Thought you wanted somethin’.”

He released him just as suddenly as he grabbed him, shoving his face to the side like he wasn’t worth the weight in his hand. Denny rocked slightly from the force, dizzy with it.

Then, Eddie pointed down.

A slow, deliberate motion.

And Denny understood immediately.

His breath hitched. His vision blurred at the edges. His entire body lit up like an exposed wire.

He didn’t hesitate.

He bent forward… lower, lower, lower… Until his forehead nearly touched the floor.

And then, with something like reverence, he pressed his lips to the top of Eddie’s bare foot.

His fingers dug into the carpet. His body trembled.

He kissed the arch next. The rough skin of his heel. Then, slowly, slowly, the sharp bones of his ankle, the tendons that pulled when Eddie shifted slightly, watching him like something curious and pathetic.

“Christ,” Eddie muttered, voice low, edged with something unreadable. “You are a fucking freak.”

Denny shivered.

His lips brushed the edge of Eddie’s lower ankle. And he exhaled deeply… breathing in the sweat and filth and weight of a man who had never once let himself be worshipped, but was letting Denny do it now.

…He’s letting me. He’s letting me. He’s letting me…

Denny sighed. Let himself lean into it, let himself sink deeper into something he could never claw his way out of.

Eddie shifted again, stretching his arms out with a groan, rubbing at his temple like this was nothing but a long, tired joke.

Then he chuckled.

And Denny… Denny almost collapsed.

The sound of it, the very sound of it. Deep and rough, soaked in liquor, the same laugh from every interview Denny had memorized.

Denny pressed his forehead to Eddie’s shin.

His fingers pressed into Eddie’s ankle like he needed to hold onto him, to ground himself, to stop from losing control completely.

Then he whispered… “I would die for you.”

The words were quiet, muffled against Eddie’s leg, but the room was so still that they hung thick in the air, heavy and unbreakable.

Eddie’s fingers paused against the rim of his glass.

Denny didn’t move.

He barely breathed.

Slowly, lazily… Eddie smirked.

He took another sip of whiskey.

“Yeah?” He exhaled through his nose, amused. “Wouldn’t be the first.”

Denny shivered.

No.

But he would be the last.

Eddie thought it was a one-time thing.

Some glassy-eyed freak looking for a thrill, some kid who got off on urban legends, chased ghosts through the city until he tripped over one and thought it meant something.

That’s all he figured Denny was. A kid with too much time on his hands, too much hunger.

But Denny obeyed. Expressed devotion.

Like some stray cat that had gotten too comfortable, looking at him with wide, moonlit eyes, begging at his feet like he was something holy. And the funniest part?

Eddie never told him to leave.

He never shut the door in his face, when he came over. Never put his foot down. Never even asked why the hell Denny had shown up like Eddie had some tracking device strapped to his ribs.

Because, honestly? It was funny. It was hilarious.

The first time, Eddie let him stay just to see how far he’d go. How much he’d bend. How much he’d take.

And Denny was something else.

Denny never hesitated, didn’t flinch… just melted like candle wax, waiting.

Eddie had seen plenty of desperate before. Junkies itching for a fix, bypasses who were completely zombified.

But Denny?

Denny didn’t look desperate.

He looked devoted.

Like kneeling in front of Eddie wasn’t just natural, it was inevitable.

Well, wasn’t that just something?

Denny blinked.

Slow.

Empty.

Like the words didn’t even make sense.

Eddie exhaled, shaking his head. “You just keep goin’, huh?”

Denny licked his lips. Opened his mouth. Closed it.

Then, in the softest, breathiest voice…

“…Do you want me to stop?”

Eddie grinned.

“Oh, kid,” he murmured, voice dropping to a low rumble. “That’s the funny part.”

He let the words hang in the air, watching the way Denny shivered. Then, he reached out. He gripped Denny’s chin.

Denny whimpered.

Eddie raised a brow.

Huh.

His breath had hitched the second Eddie touched him. His lashes fluttered, his fingers trembled against each other. And his eyes

Wide, dazed, mouth parted… Like Eddie was the first man he’d ever seen.

Eddie chuckled under his breath. “You like this, don’tcha?”

Denny shuddered.

“Like what?” he whispered, so quiet, so breathless, like he didn’t know, like he wasn’t completely drunk on it.

Eddie squeezed his jaw slightly, smirking when Denny whined.

“This,” Eddie murmured. “Me, sittin’ here, tellin’ you what to do.” His voice dropped lower, quieter. “The way when I told you to get on the floor, you’d ended up dropping like a fuckin’ rock.”

Denny made a tiny, helpless noise.

Eddie’s smirk widened. “See? That’s why it’s funny.”

Denny exhaled sharply, knees visibly trembling, but he didn’t drop further than his fours.

Not yet.

Instead, he just stared.

Stared and stared and stared.

Like there was something else he wanted to say.

Eddie’s smirk faltered.

He tilted his head, rolling his cigar between two fingers. “You got somethin’ to say, kid?”

Denny blinked, slow and reverent.

Then, with the softest, sweetest voice,

“…I know everything about you.”

Eddie’s grin froze.

Denny licked his lips, eyes blown wide.

“I know your first crime. I know your favorite drink. I know where you like to eat and how you hold your fork,” he whispered, voice trembling with pure, unshaken devotion.

Eddie’s grip on his chin tightened.

Denny whined again.

“I know how you sit. How you stand. How you walk.” His pupils were so big, they nearly swallowed the color in his eyes. “I know what you say before you kill a man.”

Eddie stilled.

Denny’s breath hitched. He sighed.

“I know where you were born, where you lived.”

A breathless laugh. A tremor in his voice.

“I know. I know how many men you’ve killed. I know you looked like after you were done.”

Eddie’s hands curled tighter, nails digging into Denny’s skin.

“I know you resonate with war because it makes sense to you. I know you don’t believe in heroes, that you think the world is a joke, that everything’s rigged and rotting.”

He kept going

“I know how you smell when you come home at night,” he whispered, swaying slightly. “I know what you look like when you don’t think anyone’s watching.”

Eddie exhaled through his nose. The kid was gone.

Denny swallowed. Then, with something like prayer, he murmured:

“I know what your hands feel like. I touch myself to the thought of you doing this, and this exactly… I don’t care if it’s wrong. I want to be yours, Eddie. I understand you, Eddie…”

Eddie clicked his tongue. “That so?”

Denny shivered.

Eddie hummed, amused.

Then, without warning, he slapped him.

Denny’s head jerked to the side, body jolting from the impact, but his knees buckled.

A hit like that should’ve knocked a guy down.

Denny just moaned. The satisfaction filling his barely opened eyes like it weighed them to close.

Eddie let out a low, sharp laugh.

“Oh, you’re real messed up, huh?”

Denny giggled.

It started slow, just a tremor of a sound, then spilled out of him, shaking his entire body.

Eddie let his cigar hang loosely between his lips, tilting his head, watching him shake.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re about to pass out just from that?”

Denny nodded. Eddie let out a long, deep sigh.

Then, he pointed down. Denny’s breath caught. And he he dropped immediately.

No hesitation.

No thinking.

Like he’d been waiting for it.

He hit his knees hard, but didn’t even flinch, body trembling, chest rising and falling in quick, uneven gasps.

And when he lifted his blown-wide, trembling eyes… Eddie grinned.

“You really would do anything I say, huh?”

Denny nodded. Eddie tilted his head. Then, just to see…

“Lick the floor.”

And without even a moment of hesitation,

Denny did. Now, Eddie wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

Not a kid who laughed like a prayer, who shook with every touch like it was sacred.

Not someone who melted under him like he’d been waiting his entire life.

Denny was still on the floor, breathing so damn hard, trembling like a junkie with a fix in his veins.

Eddie took a slow drag from his cigar, exhaling through his nose. “Christ, kid,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders, cracking his neck. “You really don’t got a single thought in that head, do ya?”

Denny giggled. Not like he was mocking him. Not even like he was embarrassed.

Like he was delirious. Like he had something wrong in his head.

Eddie smirked. “That funny to you?”

Denny just sighed through his nose, eyes lidded, pupils swallowing his irises. His hair was sticking to his forehead, sweat glistening down his throat, fingers twitching at his sides.

Eddie squinted. Then, with a slow, lazy motion, he reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hair.

Denny moaned.

Eddie grinned. “There’s somethin’ really wrong with you, huh?” And Denny nodded.

Eddie chuckled. “At least you know it.”

He yanked his head back further, forcing Denny to look up at him, and holy hell…

His face.

That pathetic face.

Completely flushed. Lips trembling. Eyes shining.

Eddie licked his teeth. “Hell,” he muttered. “You’re really gettin’ off on this, aren’t you?”

Denny shuddered. Eddie hummed, smirking to himself. Then, just to see, He dragged his cigar down Denny’s cheek. Just enough for Denny to feel it. To know it was there. A permanent scar.

Denny twitched. His breath stuttered. His entire body jolted. As he bit his lip.

Eddie laughed under his breath. Denny laughed, too. Soft and breathless. Completely gone.

Eddie raised a brow. “That do somethin’ for you?”

Denny swallowed, nodding.

Eddie chuckled. “You really are somethin’ else. Then, without warning, He sank his teeth into Denny’s neck.

Denny yelped.

Not in pain.

In pure, uncontrollable euphoria.

His hands flew up, grabbing at Eddie’s arms, fingernails sinking in so deep they nearly broke skin. Eddie smirked against his throat. “Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re sweatin’ like a damn dog.” Denny whimpered.

Eddie ran his tongue over the mark he left, then bit down harder. Denny giggled again, shaking like a leaf, breath hiccuping in his throat.

Eddie pulled back, grinning.

He grabbed Denny’s chin, tilting his head. Examining him. “My… You’re really all in, huh?” he murmured.

Denny nodded, quick, frantic.

Eddie exhaled through his nose.

Then, with a slow, lazy smirk, He pressed his thumb against Denny’s bottom lip.

Denny shivered. Eddie tilted his head. “Open.”

Denny obeyed instantly.

Eddie let out a low laugh, watching as Denny’s mouth parted, tongue peeking out just slightly, shoulders heaving with every breath.

Christ.

This kid was wrecked.

And Eddie had barely even touched him.

Eddie smirked, tapping his thumb against Denny’s tongue.

Denny twitched.

“Shit,” Eddie muttered. “You’d let me do whatever I want to you, huh?”

Denny’s eyes fluttered. His breath was so ragged, his pupils were so blown, his entire body trembling.

Eddie chuckled. “I barely even gotta try.” Denny moaned.

Eddie raised a brow. “That turn you on?”

Denny whimpered.

Eddie grinned. “Christ, kid. You’d let me kill you, wouldn’t you?” Denny’s breath caught. His eyelashes fluttered.

And with a soft, reverent sigh, He nodded.

Eddie let out a low, deep laugh.

Then, He grabbed Denny’s face with both hands and bit down on his jaw. Denny giggled and shook and twitched, whole body shuddering like he’d finally made it to heaven.

Eddie had seen a lot of crazy in his time.

Hell, he was crazy.

But this kid, On the floor with him. His knees scuffed, sweat rolling down his face, panting like a mutt.

Eddie exhaled slow through his nose, taking his cigar between two fingers, flicking ash to the ground. Landing on Denny. “Y’ever thought about how pathetic you look?”

Denny shivered. His back arched, barely, but Eddie noticed. Eddie grinned. “You like that?”

Denny let out a soft, breathless laugh. Not embarrassed. Not hesitant. Like he was overjoyed. Like it was the best thing anyone had ever said to him. Eddie just chuckled.

Then, he leaned forward. Just enough to murmur into his ear.

“Crawl.”

Denny tensed. Every muscle in his body went tight, his breath hitching so suddenly it cut through the air like a gunshot.

Eddie leaned back, smirking. “You heard me.”

Denny swallowed. Then, with a soft, trembling exhale… he moved.

Palms down. Knees forward.

Slow, shuddering, obedient.

Eddie watched. Denny crawled.

His hands pressed into the floor. His legs trembled with every shift. His breath came ragged, sweat slicking down the back of his neck. He was ruined.

And Eddie had barely done a damn thing. He exhaled, then stood from the couch. Walking towards Denny.

Denny stilled.

Then, Eddie pressed his bare foot against his back.

Denny choked on a sound. His whole body buckled.

Eddie laughed. “Jesus,” he muttered, dragging his foot slowly down his spine. “You really are sick.”

Denny whimpered.

Eddie flipped him over.

Denny landed flat on his back, breathing so hard his chest heaved.

Eddie watched him for a moment, rolling his cigar between his teeth. Then, just to see, he lifted his foot. Denny’s eyes widened.

Eddie smirked. “C’mon.” Eddie dragged his sole over Denny’s lips.

Grime. Dirt. Sweat. The weight of everything Eddie was. Denny gasped.nHis lips parted. His eyelashes fluttered.

And then, He closed his mouth over his bigger toe.

Eddie stilled.

Then, he let out a low, slow laugh. “Christ,” he muttered. “You’d really let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

Denny moaned.

Not loud. Soft. Shuddering.

Like he couldn’t believe his own luck. Eddie grinned, dragging his foot away, watching as Denny moved his head forward, not wanting to let go. Then, letting his head drop back.

Eyes closed. Lips trembling. Like he’d just found God.

Eddie took another slow drag of his cigar. Exhaled through his nose. Then, he straddled him.

Denny shivered violently.

Eddie grabbed his arms, rolling his shoulders. “Let’s test somethin’ out.” Then, he yanked.

Denny lost balance instantly.

His head hit the floor with a thud.

Eddie laughed. “Weak. Submissive and dirty fuck.”

Denny giggled. He actually giggled. Denny was shaking. Whining. Sweating. He laughed.

Eddie smirked, tapping ash onto his heaving chest.

Then, without a word… He grabbed the chains that he held behind his back.

Cold metal. Heavy steel. Denny stared at them.

His whole body shuddered. Eddie tilted his head, curling his lips. “You scared?”

Denny shook his head.

“No?” Eddie taunted, clicking the metal links together.

Denny swallowed.

Then, softly, He smiled. Eddie grinned back.

Then, he chained him. Denny shivered the whole time. Giggling. Whimpering. Sweat rolling down his face.

A kid who had been waiting for this. His whole damn life.

Denny didn’t know what time it was anymore. Minutes, hours had blurred into the same, stretched-out feeling of longing, waiting, obeying. Eddie had made sure of that.

He sat on the floor, hands behind his back, wrists bound so tight that he could feel his pulse against the cold chain. He wasn’t supposed to touch, Not himself, not Eddie, not anything Eddie didn’t allow.

“You’re gettin’ very good at this,” Eddie muttered, sitting back in his chair, cigar burning lazily between his fingers. He tilted his head, watching Denny like something amusing, something barely human. “Ain’t even twitchin’ to move anymore. You just sit there, all nice n’ still.”

Denny grinned. His eyes were glassy, unfocused. The high of being here, in this, was enough to keep him breathless. He felt the leather strap tighten around his throat, the cold weight of the collar Eddie had given him.

It wasn’t even humiliating. It was perfect.

Eddie exhaled smoke through his nose. “Been thinkin’.” He reached down, tapping the toe of his boot against Denny’s knee. “Think it’s time you start followin’ orders real proper.”

Denny’s whole body shivered. He looked up… Big, wide-eyed, waiting, practically buzzing with eagerness.

Eddie grinned at that, the edge of it sharp. “Yeah? That excite you?”

Denny swallowed thickly, nodding. He almost whispered something, but his throat was too tight.

Eddie chuckled. “Jesus Christ. You’re worse than I thought.” Then he pressed something in his palm, and Denny jolted.

A sharp, electric pulse shot through his throat. It wasn’t painful, not really… Much more like a sudden reminder of control. His whole body jerked, legs tensing, but he didn’t fall. Eddie watched. Waited.

Denny steadied himself, breath uneven. He was smiling. It was a twitchy, desperate kind of smile.

Eddie tilted his head, considering him. Then he pressed it again.

Denny gasped, body locking up before he dropped to his elbows, laughing. Giggling, actually… breathless and breathy and sharp, like something between delight and total wreckage.

Eddie leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee. He let the silence stretch, listening to Denny’s heaving breaths. “Didn’t even tell you to move,” he mused, tapping the side of the collar with one finger. “But look at you. Droppin’ like a goddamn house pet. Jesus, kid.”

Denny sucked in air, shaking. His forehead pressed to the floor. His whole body felt electric, overstimulated, high on whatever Eddie was making him feel.

Eddie let him sit like that for a long time. The smoke from his cigar curled in the dim light. Then, lazily, he leaned down and grabbed a fistful of Denny’s hair.

“Up.”

Denny obeyed. He scrambled forward, hands still bound behind him, tripping over himself just to get closer, just to get near him, near Eddie.

Eddie let out a low chuckle, almost impressed. “You really are a piece of work, huh?”

Denny couldn’t even speak. His brain felt melted. Eddie tilted his chin up, slow and deliberate, fingers digging into his jaw. “Bet you’d do anything if I told you to, wouldn’t you?”

Denny trembled. He knew the answer. Eddie did too. Eddie smirked. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Then he let go, leaning back like he hadn’t just shattered whatever was left of Denny’s mind. He flicked the ash off his cigar and pressed the remote one more time.

Denny twitched, gasping softly, as if he’d been waiting for it. His whole body tensed, and he let out something so shaky, so breathless.

Eddie exhaled, watching him. “You make the prettiest little sounds,” he muttered. “Hell, you might just be the best form of entertainment sent to me, yet.” Denny let his head tip forward, smiling to himself.

His wrists ached. His throat burned. He wanted more.

And Eddie knew it.

Denny could feel the floor through his knees, cold and rough against his skin, but it didn’t matter. His focus was razor-sharp, locked onto the man in front of him. Eddie. His world. His everything.

Eddie was sitting back, lazy and amused, cigar between his fingers, watching Denny like he was watching something break just right.

The collar was snug against Denny’s throat. Not choking him, just there, just reminding him. The little remote in Eddie’s grip was a godsend, an unspoken rule. Eddie pressed a button—just a little shock, just enough to make Denny jerk—and his whole body shivered like he’d been touched by God.

He let out a breathless little sound, some mix of a gasp and a whimper, and Eddie raised an eyebrow.

“You like that?” Eddie murmured.

Denny nodded immediately, blinking up at him, lips parted. His hair was a mess, his skin damp with sweat.

Eddie snorted, tapping the remote against his palm. “Yeah, I bet you do.”

Another jolt. Denny twitched, shoulders rising, his whole body following the command before he even thought. The collar tightened just slightly when he did, and he whined, quiet and involuntary, breath shaky. His fingers twitched behind the chains.

Eddie grinned. “There it is.”

Denny’s breath was ragged. He was trembling… not in fear, not even in pain, but in something deep, something desperate. He rubbed his cheek against Eddie’s knee, letting himself sink into it. The fabric was rough against his flushed skin.

Eddie hummed, tapping his fingers against the armrest. “Look at you. Gettin’ all comfortable down there.”

Denny felt pain. He loved it.

Denny only pressed closer, his mouth parted as he breathed against Eddie’s leg, his mouth drooling. Warm and damp, mindless. His lips hovered close, too close, but he didn’t touch. He wouldn’t… not unless Eddie told him to.

Eddie watched him, taking another slow drag of his cigar. “Bet I could teach you all sorts of tricks.”

Denny shivered violently, eyes fluttering.

Eddie smirked. “Y’know, if you’re already this easy, might as well make it fun.”

Denny swallowed hard, anticipation vibrating through him.

Eddie gestured toward the floor. “Crawl again, boy.”

Denny obeyed. His arms were still bound behind him, so he had to shift, had to press his chest to the ground and drag himself forward, the way an animal would. He trembled at the feeling of it, at how low it made him, how perfect.

Eddie exhaled smoke through his nose, watching. “Pathetic,” he muttered, not without amusement.

Denny’s fingers twitched behind his back. He liked that.

Eddie smirked. “You wanna say something?”

Denny blinked, struggling to find words. He did—he wanted to thank him, wanted to say something so devoted it’d probably make him sound more insane. But his mouth wouldn’t work right.

Eddie tilted his head. “No?” A pause. Then, slower, “You wanna beg?”

Denny shuddered.

Eddie pressed his foot to his shoulder. Firm. Not to push him away, just to test him.

He leant down and moved his hand to the back of his neck. His hands were so big, covered in sweat.

Denny twitched under the touch, his lips parting, breath shuddering out of him. His knees slipped against the floor, and his shoulders trembled.

Eddie grinned. “There’s a good boy.”

Denny let out a sound before he could stop it—something soft, barely there. His voice caught in his throat, and instead of words, instead of anything human, it came out like a quiet, airy whimper.

A whine. Inhumanely pet.

He froze.

Eddie stared at him, interest flickering behind his gaze. “The hell was that?”

Denny’s heart pounded.

He didn’t mean to. He didn’t mean to. But, God, he couldn’t help it.

His whole body tensed, but then Eddie pressed his foot down harder, forcing Denny against the ground, Denny lost balance and slammed to the floor. Face first. And, the noise came back… a trembling, pitiful little sound.

A low, throaty laugh. Eddie shifted his weight, keeping Denny pinned. “That was so adorable,” he muttered.

Denny twitched.

Eddie smirked. “Do it again.”

Denny couldn’t stop himself. He tried to answer, tried to speak, but his mouth wouldn’t move right, and instead, God help him, he whined. A bark sound. A howl.

It wasn’t a real whine, not high-pitched, not ridiculous. It was breathy, cracked with something raw, something real.

Eddie grinned. “Jesus Christ. You are a whole goddamn mess, ain’t you?”

Denny nodded fast. He barely registered the words, only the tone, the approval.

Eddie was still smirking, considering. “Y’know…” He pressed the toe of his boot under Denny’s chin, tipping his face up. “If you’re gonna act like a mutt, you should sound like one.”

Denny’s breath hitched.

Eddie leaned forward slightly. “Try to actually howl for me.”

Denny’s body burned.

The shame never came. The hesitation never came. He wanted this.

His lips parted, and at first, it was barely anything just a soft, shaky noise. Then deeper, breathier, curling in his throat until it became something else entirely. A howl… Not a strong one, not wolf-like or ridiculous, but needy. Raw and breathless, dipping into a whine.

Eddie stared at him. Then he laughed.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re not even pretendin’ to be normal anymore, huh?”

Denny let his head tip forward, breathing heavy against Eddie’s knee. He felt ruined, completely wrecked, but he loved it.

Eddie grinned to himself, tapping the remote against his palm again.

“Yeah. I could definitely get used to this…”