Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12288009.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural_RPF
  Relationship:
      Jensen_Ackles/Jared_Padalecki
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Dark, Alternate_Universe_-_Serial_Killers, Serial
      Killer_Jared, Willing_Victim_Jensen, Serial_Killer_and_Victim
      Matchmaking, Blood_and_Gore, Cannibalism, Genital_Torture, Genital
      Mutilation, Stabbing, Drugged_Sex, Necrophilia, Body_Horror, Eye_Trauma,
      enucleation, Amputation, anal_prolapse, Prolapse_Fucking, Glasgow_Smile,
      Face-Fucking, Breathplay, Gut-Fucking, Dirty_Talk, Sexual_confessions,
      Fantasy_Fulfillment, Anal_Sex, Anal_Fisting, Extreme_Fisting, Meatotomy,
      Sounding, Object_Insertion, Imprisonment, facial_mutilation, Knifeplay,
      Past_Rape/Non-con, Past_Child_Abuse, Past_Domestic_Violence, Morbid,
      consensual_murder, Marriage_of_a_Sort, Lots_of_Wedding_Metaphors,
      Elizabeth_Short_-_Freeform, The_Black_Dahlia_-_Freeform, Carole_Voyce,
      True_Crime, Feminization, I_believe_this_is_what_the_kids_call_"torture
      porn", I_Can't_Believe_I_Wrote_This, belly_bulge, Watersports, Fingering
      While_Fucking
  Series:
      Part 6 of Playing_Bingo_II
  Collections:
      SPN_Kink_Bingo, SPN_Kink_Bingo_2017
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-14 Words: 8673
****** The (Next) One ******
by octopussy_(deannawincester)
Summary
     Jared’s more than a serial killer, he’s a second-generation cannibal
     with a spotless criminal record, well-established pattern, and
     refined tastes in victimology. When he attends an anonymous killer
     and potential victim networking event, he expects to have a few
     drinks and watch other baser predators pick off the easy targets
     before returning to the hunt for The Next One. The last thing Jared
     is prepared for is Jensen.
     Written for SPN Kink Bingo 2017. Square filled: Cannibalism.
Notes
     I could not possibly over-warn for this fic. If you don’t already
     know that you enjoy sexualized body horror, I can virtually guarantee
     that this isn’t a fic for you.
     This is a mutilation and gore fic and every bit of it is sexualized
     and/or romanticized. This includes past traumatic experiences and
     references to real life homicides, including the murder of a young
     child.
     This fic is disgusting and disturbing and is approached in a manner
     fully intended to elicit a sexual response. It is the definition of
     “graphic.” If you’re not enthusiastically on board with that, please
     choose other reading material.
     Also there are plenty of medical vagaries and probably inaccuracies—a
     fact that I’ve had to accept in order to enjoy writing this fic and
     that you may have to overlook in order to enjoy reading it.
     Special thanks to Violet for beta reading this on such short notice
     and for being the one person I could truly be certain would
     appreciate this for what it is <3
See the end of the work for more notes
Jared’s not really expecting to encounter The Next One here. Most of the
potential victims who show up to these matchmaking events are women and most of
those women are hookers or junkies or both. Those women almost always find a
man here because most of the men like Jared are looking for that specific
flavor of vulnerability, that rotted femininity. Jared knows because all his
father’s victims fit the same profile: young and aging poorly from turning
tricks and getting high.
Jared’s standards are both different and higher.
But he was offered a free admission tonight and he has been in the market for
an irritatingly long time. Tonight’s gathering is in a refurbished warehouse,
falling into ruins on the outside and styled like a trendy New York loft on the
inside.
Jared settles in at the open bar, reasoning that he may as well have a couple
drinks and people watch for an hour before taking the long way home so he can
scout out potential Child Brides on the local college campus.
Jared’s halfway through his second bourbon when he walks in and, Christ,
whatever Jared expected to find here, it sure as shit wasn’t him.
The boy is a battered angel with really truly green eyes shining bright through
a mottled bruise that seems too big for his thin face. He’s got lips Jared
would eat like candy, dusted with freckles like flecks of spun sugar. And he
wants to be here, Jared can tell. The boy isn’t some desperate, suicidal addict
begging to get out from under a debt or a pimp or a father.
Jared has the wait staff pull him aside for an interview immediately.
The interview rooms in the warehouse are comfortable, intimate. Jared settles
into a plush armchair in front of a floor-to-ceiling one-way mirror. There are
speakers on either side of the mirror to catch what’s said on the other side.
It’s like speaking to the boy with a mask on, like something at the start of a
fairy tale. One of those bloody, eerie, nightmare-imparting Old World fairy
tales.
There’s a mediator in the room with the boy, a bud in her ear so she can ask
Jared’s questions without revealing his identity. Jared hates that the mediator
is a woman, that this boy will first hear Jared’s thoughts in a woman’s voice,
but the boy is the only factor that really matters.
He’s lithe, tiny really. He doesn’t look any older than fifteen, but if he is
fifteen, he’s small for his age like his growth was stunted somehow. He’s
dressed in unremarkable clothes that were probably passed down from someone
older since none of the worn out spots line up with the boy’s body lines. His
eyes are positively luminous above his slightly gaunt cheeks. He’s looking
right at the mirror even though he can’t see Jared like he’s imagining the
person behind it.
“Can I ask your name?”
Jared doesn’t like the feminine echo of his own voice any more than he likes
the idea of this boy knowing nothing else, but he ignores the mediatory,
focused entirely on the boy before him.
“Jensen,” the boy says, his voice accented with a charming sort of twang.
“Jensen,” Jared says, tasting the name and finding it as sweet as the boy in
front of him. “How old are you, Jensen?”
“Seventeen.”
So Jared was wrong about his age, but definitely not about something inhibiting
Jensen’s growth, keeping him delicate and pubescent.
“Tell me, Jensen, who’s the first person who hurt you?”
Jensen shifts at that, sucks at his fat bottom lip.
“My daddy.”
Jared’s not exactly surprised. Most of his Child Brides are too pretty for
their fathers’ likings. Considering Jensen’s accent, Jared can only imagine the
trouble a good ol’ Southern boy would have trying to raise this beautiful, not-
long-for-this-world waif.
“What did he do to you?”
The mediator repeats the question, but not nearly fast enough. Jared’s already
frustrated with the barrier between them and itching to take Jensen as his own.
The mediator is just a reminder that he hasn’t sealed the deal yet, that
they’re courting each other, not engaged, and that someone else could take
Jensen home still.
But with the way that Jensen squirms like he’s chubbing up in his hand-me-down
jeans as he answers, there’s no way Jared is letting this one go.
“Smacked me around. He liked to use his belt on me bare, liked to aim for my
balls.”
“When was the first time?”
“Four. Well, the first time I remember. I have hospital records from before
then though. He broke my arm before I learned to walk.”
“When was the last time he hurt you?”
“Last week at Sunday dinner. Called me a faggot and ripped out a patch of my
hair.” Jensen turns so Jared can see the scabbed over spot on his scalp.
“Who gave you the shiner? Your daddy?”
“My boyfriend. Well, my ex-boyfriend. He broke in so he could fuck me one last
time. He told me he wanted to kill me while he was unloading inside me.”
“Tell me how that felt.” Only the first of many husband-demands Jared wants to
make of this boy.
“Best sex we ever had.”
Jared grins and wishes the boy could see his top-of-the-food-chain smile.
Jensen’s his favorite wet dream cooked bloody and served on a fucking silver
platter.
“Are they the only two who’ve hurt you like that?”
Jensen honest-to-god laughs, genuine and so crystal clear that Jared feels it
in his stomach.
“Hell no. Seems like I’ve been hurting my whole life. When it wasn’t my daddy,
it was my uncle or my best friend’s dad or my PE coach or the trophy wife next
door. People see me and want to hurt me.”
Jared understands the urge.
“Is that why you’re here?”
Jensen shrugs, fiddling with a hole near the hem of his shirt.
“You running away from your old man? Your new man?”
“No,” Jensen is adamant. “Running toward someone.”
Jared gets a little thrill from that, a shiver that he feels at the back of his
neck and the base of his cock.
Jensen somehow looks right at Jared through the mirror and finishes his
thought, “Maybe running toward you.”
Jared swallows. He’s in love. He wants this boy as his Child Bride so much be
can already taste those lips baked with care and served up hot.
“What kind of arrangement are you looking for, Jensen? You need a settlement
for someone? You just suicidal because your daddy bad touched you?”
“I want to be a murder victim,” Jensen murmurs, eyes unwavering.
“You dream of being a murder victim?” Jared asks, but it’s more of a
declaration of adoration.
“Always. It’s all I ever wanted. One of those murder victims who looks
beautiful in their before picture and even prettier after.”
“Who are your favorites?” Jared has to know.
“Elizabeth Short,” Jensen says immediately, emphatically.
Jared can picture Jensen’s cherry-on-top-dessert mouth split into a Glasgow
smile, body cut right through the belly and spine to show all his lovely organs
in their pelvic cradle.
Jared smiles soft, speaks pillow-talk gentle. The mediator doesn’t get the tone
right, but Jared thinks maybe Jensen can sense him even through the glass.
“Ah, Betty. She’s one of my favorites too. Had a picture of her in my wallet in
the clear wife pocket until I had pictures of my own Child Brides.”
Jared literally bites at the tip of his tongue. He hadn’t meant to use the
endearment, to give away so much of himself in this interview, but he can’t
bring himself to regret it with the way Jensen visibly perks up and pinks up at
the sound of it.
“Really?” Jensen sounds thrilled, titillated at the idea that they share this.
“I printed off her autopsy pictures at the library and kept them under my
mattress. The first time I got off it was looking inside her and imagining what
it feels like to be opened up like that.”
“Fuck,” Jared breathes and part of him wishes he could tell the mediator not to
repeat him and the other part wishes the mediator could fully represent the
sound and the feeling of the expletive.
“Who else? Anyone else?”
Jared has to know what made baby Jensen wet and scared under his little boy
sheets, everything that turned him into this vision in black and blue and
green.
“Carole Voyce,” Jensen admits, squirming and biting his lip, stiffy visible in
his pants.
“Tell me about her.”
“She was just four in 1957 when a boy rode by on his bike and picked her up.”
“What did he do to her?”
Jensen gets quiet like he can’t believe he’s about to talk to someone about his
darling idol, someone who might understand, especially in this context where
he’s pushing down on his hard-on with the heel of his hand thinking that the
man in front of him might do him just like Carole.
“He took her out in the woods and put a tree branch up her so hard it ruptured
organs. He’d already had two boys, but she was his only little girl.”
“Did they catch him? The boy on the bike?”
Jensen nods. “His name was Peter Woodcock.”
“Woodcock?” The irony of the surname doesn’t escape Jared.
“Yeah, but he doesn’t matter much. He got caught because people noticed it was
weird he was riding a bike in January in Toronto.”
“You like it better when we’re careful?”
“Yes,” Jensen pauses, mouth open slightly like he’s trying to find the right
words. “Otherwise people only remember y’all’s names—makes it too hard to find
out more about the victims.”
“You want people to remember you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any stipulations? Any requests? I need to know you’re . . .
compatible with my process.” As if Jared could have any doubt of that while
watching Jensen’s freckles become more and more pronounced as he flushes with
arousal and self-consciousness. Innocent and so deliciously guilty.
“I need . . . I want my body found. And identifiable. I want people to know my
name and I want my mom not to keep looking for me.”
Jared usually keeps his Child Brides to himself, but he can already picture
Jensen laid out as a display of his finest work. Maybe in Jensen’s mama’s
flower beds.
“I can do that. Anything else? Anything you want me to do to you?”
“I want you to fuck me like no one else who’s ever fucked me.”
Jared chuckles. “Well that’s a given seeing as they had to stop short of
killing you and I sure as shit don’t have that problem.”
“I mean it,” Jensen takes a serious tone, gaze unwavering. “They just hurt me.
I want you to . . .”
“Change you? Remake you? Bend you to my will?”
“Yes,” Jensen’s response is breathy, undeniably turned on.
“Oh, Jens,” Jared purrs, surprised and delighted at how easily the nickname
rolls off his tongue. “That’s my specialty.”
“Yeah?”
“I can make you mine down to your very soul. I’m very good at it, I’ve had a
lot of practice.” Jared hears his own voice drop and again curses the distance
created by the mediator, wanting his words to vibrate in Jensen’s bones. “And
I’ve never made a mistake.”
Jensen’s hips cant up like he’s already being fucked, like he can’t help it.
“Does it make you excited knowing I’m so careful? That I’ve killed a dozen
other boys like you, but that you’re my first Child Bride I’ll let anyone find?
That everyone will remember you exactly the way I remake you?”
“Yes,” comes out as a whine, desperate and wanting. Jensen’s practically
panting, his hand twitching over his crotch. He definitely wants to go for it,
wants to ask for it too, but he doesn’t know the rules yet because they haven’t
set any rules yet.
Jared takes pity on his tender sweetheart.
“You can touch yourself as long as you tell me what you’re thinking about while
you do it.”
Jensen glances nervously at the mediator, hand frozen mid-action.
“Ignore her. It’s just you and me here, Jens.”
Jensen stays still for only a moment longer. Then he unzips and tucks the
waistband of his boxer briefs under his balls.
Jared’s first look at Jensen’s cock stops his breath. It’s pretty as the rest
of him, uncut, a little on the thin side just like its owner, and perfectly
pink. Even though Jared can’t tell in this lighting, he’s somehow certain
Jensen’s dick is as sugar dusted as the rest of him. Jensen wraps a hand around
himself, dragging down. Jared can see the faint sheen on the head when Jensen
pulls the foreskin back. Jensen’s dick fits in his hand with just the demure-
blush tip poking out. Jared’s hand would engulf it completely.
“Tell me what you picture when you imagine me fucking you, baby.” The
endearment feels even more natural than the nickname in Jared’s mouth, almost
worryingly so.
“You putting things inside me.”
“What kinds of things?”
“Your tongue, your dick, your whole fucking hand-”
“A tree branch?”
Jensen whimpers, the rhythm of his hand faltering.
“If-If you wanted to. I’d take anything you wanted me to even if it cut me up
into ribbons inside.”
“What else, Jens? What are your best dreams made of?”
“You splitting my face—shit!—opening up my cheeks with Elizabeth Short’s smile
as, as a template. Use the extra space to get more in my mouth.”
Jensen’s squeezing both his eyes and his cock hard like he’s trying to make it
hurt and Jared loves him, wants to pull out his own dick and mirror Jensen’s
movement because it feels right for them to share this and everything from now
on, but he stays abstinent.
“And after you’re Betty’s twin?”
“You cutting me open, maybe just a little, but deep,” Jensen babbles. “Putting
your cock in a hole you made in me. Making them do a rape kit on every hole you
leave in me because they can’t tell where your dick’s been. Planting seeds all
over my body.”
“Want me to fill your belly up?”
“Please, fuck. Please?” Jensen whines, getting close if his frantic strokes and
trembling hands are any indicator.
“I promise, baby.”
Jensen comes, head falling back and fist moving over the head of his dick so
the load spreads messy all over his lap. While Jensen is still twitching, Jared
flips the switch on the wall next to him and the one-way mirror slides into the
wall like a pocket door, allowing the two of them to truly meet for the first
time.
Jensen lets go of his cock, but doesn’t bother to wipe up. He’s still half-hard
and gaping open-mouthed at Jared.
Jared stands and walks toward his Child Bride, stopping only briefly to let the
mediator know she can get the fuck out.
“Hi, Jensen. I’m Jared.”
“You didn’t tell me you were gorgeous. Or so . . . tall.”
Jared’s wolf smile is even broader now that he knows Jensen can see it. He
bends down and pins his unique hunter number to Jensen’s shirt like he’s
sliding an engagement ring onto his finger. He wouldn’t want his Bride to stray
on the way out of the warehouse.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” He teases in a whisper, loving the goose flesh
that appears on Jensen’s skin at the touch of his breath.
He can smell Jensen now, the salt of sex and unwashed boy. He drinks in the
scent. It will have to tide him over at least until he can pay his dues and
make arrangements for their honeymoon venue. Jared could touch Jensen now, but
he won’t. He’s a firm believer in waiting until marriage.
Jared leaves Jensen with instructions for his preparation and a hard-on.
===============================================================================
 
Jensen arrives at their Honeymoon Home thirteen minutes early. It seems
appropriate, fortuitous even, to have his baker’s dozen boy be so prompt.
Jared’s assistant greets him. Jared watches them at a distance, noting that the
green shirt Jensen’s wearing pales in comparison to his eyes and that the jeans
are the same ones Jensen wore when they met, right down to the come stains.
Jared’s loath to have yet another woman speak for him, but Marilyn used to work
with Jared’s father. She manages the unfulfilling parts of Jared’s every
relationship, checking that his Child Brides come prepared and travel without
the notice of family members or law enforcement. When the honeymoon ends, she
even handles the cleanup.
Jensen must have followed instructions because Marilyn administers his first
dose of morphine right away before showing herself out of the Honeymoon Home.
Jared would prefer to keep his Brides completely sober and alert, but he knows
from experience that even their commitment ceremony comes with the risk of
death by shock.
Jared observes Jensen quietly for a moment when they’re left alone. He’s truly
a vision too breathtaking for this world.
When Jared comes out of the shadows, he doesn’t give Jensen a warning. Jensen
wouldn’t want one anyway. Instead, Jared swoops in and takes Jensen in a
searing, violent kiss.
The morphine’s turned Jensen’s pupils to tiny dots, but he looks just as
disarmingly aroused and arousing as he did in their interview.
They don’t speak yet. There’s no need. Jared simply begins to undress his Child
Bride. Jensen stays still and pliant, only the shudder in his breathing giving
away any nervousness. Jared removes Jensen’s clothes as though Jensen is a
sleepy child, gentle and methodical. Shirt, shoes and socks, jeans, then boxer
briefs.
Jensen’s chest heaves like he’s run a marathon to get here. Jared admires the
curve of Jensen’s ass, the delicate lines of his childlike chest and arms, the
half-hard jut of his cock. Jensen is truly beautiful, the prettiest he’s ever
had.
Despite Jensen’s heavy breathing, there’s no hesitation when Jared cups
Jensen’s face in his hands and leans in for a deep, wet kiss. Jensen is
perfectly submissive, more than Jared would’ve dared hope from the brash, bold
boy he interviewed. He doesn’t even flinch when Jared chews on his bottom lip
until it splits, just moans faintly and swallows the blood that Jared tongues
into his mouth.
When Jared feels Jensen fully hard against him, he pulls back, enjoying
Jensen’s whine, and strokes down Jensen’s sides before leading him by the hand
into their suite. The rooms are decorated in all-white, the better to
illustrate the progression of their passion over the next few hours or days if
Jared’s patient and lucky.
He seats Jensen in a comfortable, upholstered accent chair that sits above a
basin, not unlike a soaking tub in a nail salon. Jensen’s legs spread apart as
far as the arms of the chair allows, tempting Jared to touch his thighs,
scarred from years of belt welts and bruised from the last encounter with his
ex. Inviting Jared to worship his tight, bare balls and innocently freckled
dick. Begging Jared to explore the peaks of his nipples and plains of his flat,
too-thin stomach.
Jared will claim every inch of Jensen, but he takes Jensen’s feet first.
It’s an old habit, one born of his father’s insistence that Jared exercise
every precaution when taking after his old man. The amputation started when he
was still paranoid that his Child Brides would somehow find a way to leave him.
Jensen never would, he knows, but after so many years, Jared loves the
symbolism.
Each Child Bride gives him their mobility, their only means of escape, and it’s
more beautiful and binding than any vows they could recite, rings they could
exchange, or legal documents they could sign. Once he makes that first
alteration, a Child Bride belongs to him.
Besides, Jared loves carrying his Child Bride over every threshold in their
Honeymoon Home. He sends the feet to a friend in the death industry who
preserves them for a niche market of fetishists and perverts. The income from
his Child Brides' dowries alone means that Jared and his little wives never
want for anything.
The tourniquets are hospital grade but custom-covered in lace and blue ribbons,
the perfect wedding garters. The garters suit Jensen’s pale legs and bird-bone
delicate ankles. In addition to the garters, Jared secures straps around
Jensen’s arms and legs to keep him still.
Jared kneels before his Bride, evaluating for signs that the morphine’s
completely kicked in—shallow breathing, pinprick pupils, glassy eyes. He hates
to inhibit all the sensations Jensen will feel during their honeymoon, but he
also knows from experience just how disappointing it is to lose a Bride to
shock following the first amputation.
He’ll save the blood that collects in the basin beneath the chair, have a glass
after his time with Jensen ends, then use the rest to add richness and
complexity to his cooking. Jensen moans when Jared tells him as much.
The electric bone saw is quicker, less intimate than Jared would like, but he
doesn’t want to risk Jensen losing too much blood during the removal itself. He
wants his Bride conscious to enjoy every moment.
Too many things happen at once when he starts cutting, a swath of blood spatter
hitting him across the face, a stream of blood draining into the basic, the hum
of the saw filling the entire suite. Jared expects Jensen to scream. After all,
even with everything Jensen’s had done to him before, the boy has never
surrendered a body part.
But instead of a scream, Jensen gasps, an identical noise to his so-close-to-
coming sounds that makes Jared’s cock jolt almost painfully. He doesn’t pause
between severing one foot and beginning on the other. He likes bondage as much
as the next man, but the tourniquets and straps are just perfunctory. Jared
can’t wait to relish the fact that he doesn’t have to tie Jensen down for the
rest of it.
Jared notices as he reaches for the actual cautery to close the wounds that
Jensen hasn’t gone fully soft in spite of the pain. Jared is a lucky man.
The actual cautery is an outdated, but effective tool that’s perfect for
Jared’s purposes. After all, he hardly needs to worry about potential tissue
infection when his Child Bride may only live for a few hours or days more.
Jensen may lose consciousness for a few moments when Jared seals the stumps of
his ankles with a sizzle and unpleasant smell of burned flesh, but when his
eyes flutter back open, Jensen smiles happily, dazedly.
He sprawls as Jared unstraps him, runs his fingers down his own thighs like
he’s feeling all the places the pain echoes in his legs. Like he likes it.
When Jared surges up for a kiss, Jensen grins into it.
“Am I yours now?”
“Oh, Jens,” Jared purrs. “You’ve always been mine.”
When he pictured taking Jensen to their marital bed in his head, Jared was
carrying Jensen in traditional bridal style, but now that Jensen’s hard and
wrapped around his waist, Jared can’t be bothered to conform to his own
daydreams. They pale before reality anyway.
Jared warned his Child Bride that any prep he wanted should be done before
arriving at the Honeymoon Home. By the look and feel of Jensen’s body, he very
intentionally didn’t do anything to make the consummation of their marriage any
easier on himself except tuck a little lube into his hole. Jensen will probably
bleed early, leaving popped-cherry stains all over their sheets. But Jensen’s
also probably thought of just that and found the idea of appealing.
It takes a couple tries to even get the head of Jared’s dick in Jensen, almost
painfully tight once he does. The first time Jared pulls out, his dick is
streaked a little pink already.
Even though Jared knows Jensen’s been fucked plenty, he almost believes he’s
taking Jensen’s virginity. That Jensen’s giving it to him, not his redneck
daddy or his possessive ex.
Without his feet, Jensen has no leverage, can’t lock his ankles around Jared’s
back. He has to take everything Jared gives him like a good wife should. And
Jared gives him plenty, tipping Jensen’s pelvis up so he can hammer in as deep
as possible.
Jared kisses and bites at Jensen’s neck, feeling almost like a normal couple
for a moment. Like they fuck like this most Wednesday nights and every other
Sunday afternoon. He imagines that Jensen feels it too somehow and realizes
he’s never thought overmuch about how his Child Brides feel about him on their
wedding night.
Jensen chooses that moment to pull Jared away from his neck by the hair, so
they can kiss and breathe together and gaze into each other’s eyes. Jensen
looks up at him like Jared’s the world, dragging their foreheads together to
just touch.
“Where are you, baby?” Jensen’s voice is quiet but clearly a little hurt.
Shit, Jared’s never been this pussy-whipped and he’s only just started to claim
Jensen.
“Right here, Jens. Right here.”
Jared reaches down to touch where they’re connected. Jensen shivers.
Jared feels a sudden urge to get deeper, force more of himself into Jensen’s
body. He spits on his fingers, reasonably certain they won’t go in without some
coaxing, then twists two in next to his cock.
“I’m right here, baby, can’t you feel me?”
“Yes, fuck.”
Jensen ruts against Jared’s hand and pelvis. He’s at a disadvantage when it
comes to controlling the situation, but that doesn’t seem to stop him. He needs
and Jared delivers.
When he comes, Jared uses his fingers to shove the load deeper inside, to catch
and retrieve the drips that escape.  He lets his dick slide free, but doesn’t
let up, adding a third and fourth finger. He’s going too fast but, clearly,
Jensen isn’t the only one feeling a little desperate.
Jensen comes the moment Jared’s hand slips into him.
Before Jared’s first Child Bride, he’d tried to fulfill his needs with the men
he dated. Plenty of them let him fuck them, let him fist them even. But there
were too many limitations, even when playing with a masochistic partner who
never safeworded. It was never enough.
It’s different with his Brides. They can’t or simply don’t say “no,” regardless
of how far Jared pushes them. And Jensen, Jensen seems eager to take anything
Jared might want to give him.
Jared slides his hand into Jensen, easy as pie with the way he’s been
stretching Jensen’s hole out, only he just doesn’t stop pushing. Jensen takes
the first half his forearm fairly easily, but he groans and wriggles like he
might try to get away as Jared’s arm gets wider and goes impossibly deeper.
Jensen’s asshole is stretched tight and thin, bloodless and white, like a
rubberband ready to snap. There’s no room for more of Jared in Jensen’s body
and as the reality sets in, his inner muscles start to frantically contract in
an attempt to push Jared out, the muscles in his legs and arms twitch with the
strain of not pulling away, his bladder empties in a hot, unexpected gush as
though trying to give Jared even the smallest amount of extra space. Jared
catches the head of Jensen’s dick in his mouth, savoring his Child Bride’s
full-body shudder at the feeling and the knowledge that he’s experiencing the
last time Jensen will ever take a piss.
Jared’s not certain of the anatomy of this, where his hand goes, but he
imagines that if he keeps on pushing long and hard enough, he’ll eventually
hold Jensen’s heart in his hand.
Jensen’s body fights him harder every inch deeper he gets. Jensen sobs as he’s
being gutted, but he’s tiny and doped up and Jared doesn’t let up. Jared forces
his entire arm, all the way up to his shoulder almost, into Jensen’s body.
Jared gives his arm an experimental twist and Jensen squirms, tries to shy away
and just ends up hyperventilating, smashed against the headboard with his
stumps scrabbling for purchase in the ruined sheets.
“‘s hurt, baby?”
“M-more than anything, ever.”
Jared hums and nuzzles against Jensen’s flaccid cock just to watch him flinch.
On a whim, he grabs Jensen’s nearest hand with his free hand and lays it across
Jensen’s belly.
“Feel me inside you?”
The bulge is too big to miss, distorting the entire shape of Jensen’s abdomen.
When Jensen realizes, he gasps, pressing down to feel. Jared angles upward so
they’re touching hands through Jensen’s belly.
“Fuck.”
Jensen’s hand follows the bulge as Jared finally draws back.
When Jared withdraws his hand, Jensen’s guts inevitably follow with a deep, wet
squelch. His rose is true red, striped white with Jared’s load. The darker
shade of Jensen’s blood is only just visible on Jensen’s rose petals before it
drips from his flesh onto the white sheets.
Jensen slaps a hand over his mouth, blushing red as his insides. To Jared’s
surprise, the rose withers almost as quickly as it bloomed, though Jensen’s ass
stays gaped open. Jared thought the bloom would be more permanent.
“Oh my god! I didn’t–I . . . Oh my god.”
Jared almost laughs at Jensen’s shock and embarrassment. He hadn’t realized
that there would be anything he could do to turn his self-admitted rape-slut
Bride into a shy virgin.
“You’ve never prolapsed before?” He guesses.
“No, never.” Jensen probes at his own center with curious, tentative fingers.
“Want to do it again?” Jared grins conspiratorially.
Jensen nods and folds his hands preacher’s daughter proper on his stomach like
he’s putting them out of Jared’s way.
Jensen’s loose enough now that he can take Jared’s fist with just a little
twisting and a moan. Jared shoves it in and pulls it out a couple times, real
fast so that the motion starts to turn Jensen inside out. He digs his fingers
in on either side of Jensen’s hole, the pressure keeping the sphincter from
clenching back up and Jensen blooms so prettily.
Before Jared can lean in for a taste, Jensen reaches down, fingers scrabbling
between his own legs to touch his own guts. And when his fingertips find the
fold between his petals that opens up and allows his fingers to sink in, Jensen
moans.
Jared laps around Jensen’s knuckles, indulging in the taste of blood and flesh
that’s never seen the light of day. And when Jensen sticks his fingers right
into Jared’s mouth, Jared enjoys the salt-sweat-ass taste of them too.
While Jensen’s eyes are closed, in pain or bliss it doesn’t matter, Jared grabs
a knife from the bedside table. When he catches sight of the blade, Jensen
bites his lip.
“Remember how you said you wanted me to put anything I wanted into you?”
Jensen nods, eyes fixated on the knife.
“This is going to hurt more than a tree branch.”
Jensen swallows hard and Jared thinks he might finally balk, might finally
require Jared to take what he wants by force.
But then Jensen grabs his own thighs and pulls them wide.
Jared kisses at the pale, freckled flesh Jensen put on display for him.
“God, what did I ever do to deserve you?”
He thrusts the knife right into the center of Jensen’s rose.
Jensen howls, but doesn’t let go of his legs.
Jared’s tempted to stab him a few times, to cut right through Jensen’s rim to
ensure that his rose never vanishes, but he doesn’t want to push Jensen too
far. Not yet. They have time.
Instead, he pushes, shoving until the knife is sitting deep in Jensen’s guts.
Then he leaves it there.
The sheer permanence of it is intoxicating and Jared knows the thought has
occurred to Jensen too. There is therapy for the kind of love they have and
prosthetics to replace Jensen’s feet, but nothing that can repair what Jared
does to Jensen’s insides. Taking away his Bride’s ability to walk is sweet, but
ensuring that he’ll never eat or take a shit again feels like true love.
Jensen trembles so violently even the parts of his insides that bulge out of
his body quiver.
“You want me inside you. Every way possible, right? Want me to fill your cock
up too?”
“Please. Please, baby.” These’s no hesitation, even as Jensen strokes at the
slippery texture of his his ruined asshole.
“Shh, I’ve got you.”
Jared would usually start with a sound. He has a set—surgical steel and every
bit as custom as the garters, albeit less pretty—waiting on the bedside table.
But he can’t wait, feels like when he was a teenager jonesing for the next
animal he could kill, the next time he could whack off. He feels out of control
in the best, most world-changing way.
Jared probes at Jensen’s rose, finding the opening where it’s hidden by blood
and guts with his fingertips. When he forces his hand back inside, the sound is
obscene, both Jensen’s gasp of a scream and the suck of his body. Even Jared’s
entire hand and forearm can’t quite take the bloom off Jensen’s flower now.
It’s not hard to find the knife handle, but it’s too slick to grab easily in
such a tight space. Jared would ask Jensen to help, but he’s pretty sure that
it’s not physically possible for Jensen to flex the muscles that deep inside
him intentionally.
Jared presses down just above the visible bulge of his hand in Jensen’s
stomach, trying different levels of pressure in order to maneuver the knife
into his waiting fingers. Jensen whimpers and Jared thinks he might try to shy
away, but instead Jensen spreads his legs wider.
The knife comes out slower than it went in, the handle snagging on Jensen’s
insides and prompting a series of tremulous, pained sounds. Jared imagines that
Jensen’s insides look like ribbons now, just like Jensen knew Jared would want
them to.
The knife comes free in a rush of blood and loose tissue, creating a new slick,
hot puddle on their wedding sheets, deeper than any before. The logical part of
Jared’s mind recognizes that Jensen is probably approaching the threshold of
too much blood loss and that the internal bleeding will probably kill Jensen,
but as he indulges for a moment, sucking and slurping the blood directly from
the source, Jared can’t feel anything but turned on.  
Jared slips his cock back into Jensen’s pulsing, bloody body and leans up to
give Jensen a taste, letting his Bride kiss and lick at the mess dripping from
his lips. Jared finds Jensen’s cock blind and places the tip of the knife right
into his slit.
Jensen screams and writhes when Jared splits the glans all the way down to the
shaft, but he screams into Jared’s mouth, winds his hands tighter into Jared’s
hair, and writhes up into Jared’s grip in a perfect, instinctual reaction that
Jared couldn't’ve have predicted even after watching Jensen love every moment
of pain.
Jared tosses the knife aside and finds Jensen’s urethra by touch, forcing his
finger into the cleft head, feeling the tear widen as he goes, and then
pressing deeper, right down to the web between his fingers. Jensen’s soft and
may never get hard again, but the way he begs for Jared to stay inside him says
he’s every bit as turned on as Jared.
Jared fingerfucks Jensen’s dick, in awe of the fact that he’s touched Jensen in
so many virginal places and still found one more. He comes with his dick
pressed against Jensen’s rose, his tongue in Jensen’s mouth, and his finger
buried in Jensen’s body right where it belongs.
===============================================================================
 
Jared moves his Bride to a relatively dry spot on the bed, lets Jensen sleep.
Jensen’s face is so relaxed and untroubled that Jared wants to lay right down
next to him and doze off. But he has equipment to retrieve while Jensen’s
resting.
Jared empties the blood basin into a watertight container, leaving it in the
Honeymoon Home’s fridge for later. He cleans Jensen’s disarticulated feet
reverently, marveling at the few scattered freckles there, and begins the
preservation process. The routine is familiar, comforting and somehow domestic
with Jensen’s sleeping peacefully waiting for him. Most of his Brides pass on
before Jared begins tidying up, but none of his other boys have been Jensen.
Few of them have had specific requests and none except Jensen have accepted
what Jared gives them with so much enthusiasm.
Jared wants to make the next transformation special, even though Jensen must
certainly already know it’s coming. He sets out two framed pictures of their
shared inspiration—one of the rarer photographs of Betty wearing lipstick and a
close-up of her manmade smile. He’ll use a scalpel to replicate Betty’s Glasgow
as closely as possible. Jared wants to make this perfect for Jensen, he
deserves it.
Jensen wakes suddenly, with a pained groan. He touches his own body with
shaking fingers and his brow furrowed as if he’s checking that what he
remembers is real. He notices the framed portraits first, then the scalpel and
Jared leaning patiently against the headboard.
Jensen reaches out to touch Jared like he’s not sure that Jared’s real either.
Jensen’s tiny, aimless circles on his thigh fill Jared with an overwhelming
sense of affection. He could have loved this boy forever, he realizes. Jensen
could’ve been The One. The thought is both alarming and comforting. He wishes
he’d taken more time with Jensen. His Bride is already dying and some part of
Jared is already mourning.
“Is it time?” Jensen asks, sweet and quiet with a smile and Jared’s heart
breaks a little for this fragile, tender, shattered boy of his.
Jared nods. “Lie still, baby.”
Jensen smiles and then seems to conscientiously check himself, relax his face
into a more neutral expression to let Jared work. Jared sits astride him,
ignoring his half-hard dick where it’s pressed against Jensen’s solar plexus.
Jensen grips Jared’s hips, fingers digging in like Jared’s already fucking him
instead of cutting him.
Jensen’s breath picks up as Jared slides the scalpel into his mouth, letting it
rest between his teeth for a moment so Jensen can touch his tongue to it if he
wants.
The cuts through Jensen’s cheeks are easy, but Jared still takes them slow to
give Jensen as close to Betty’s look as possible. Jensen’s breath sounds like a
burbling brook as the blood drips into his mouth.
Jared holds his Bride’s face in one hand as he performs the final cuts to
remove a portion of Jensen’s top lip. With the two of them breathing blood, it
feels more intimate than any kiss Jared has ever given or received.
“There,” Jared says when he’s finished, grinning and giving Jensen’s nose a
quick kiss. “You could be her long-lost brother.”
Jensen’s words come out mangled and wet, but Jared understands.
“Am I as pretty?”
“Pretty as Betty?”
Jensen nods, tears welling though from pain or hope or self-doubt Jared can’t
be sure.
“You’re even prettier, baby. You always were.”
Kissing him is like drinking blood from a flesh goblet and Jared drinks
greedily. Without Jensen’s cheeks in the way, Jared can force most of his face
into his Bride’s mouth, putting his entire tongue into Jensen’s throat. Jensen
struggles to breathe, but makes no move to push Jared away.
Jared drinks his fill, grinding against Jensen until he’s aching and hard.
Jensen looks confused when Jared begins to position him, but once his head is
hanging over the edge of the bed, his eyes light up with understanding.
Jensen relaxes and opens up. He opens his mouth unnaturally, almost
preternaturally, wide like a snake unhinging its jaw, heedless of the blood
that streams into his nose and eyes before dripping to the floor.
Jared uses his fingers first, fitting his entire hand into Jensen’s mouth just
the way it fit into his ass, fingers getting acquainted with the smoothness of
Jensen’s throat. So different from his ass and yet somehow the same. To Jared’s
delight, his Bride appears to have virtually no gag reflex, blinking contently
through blood while Jared fingerfucks his throat.
Jensen does gasp for air when Jared removes his fingers only to replace them
with his cock, but he seems entirely, wholeheartedly willing to let Jared shove
anything that fits down his throat. Jensen’s composure breaks finally with his
air completely cut off, but he doesn’t tap out, just swallows and swallows like
he’s trying to acclimate to not breathing, holding onto Jared’s thighs with
every ounce of strength he has left.
It’s a struggle, but Jared manages to fit his dick down Jensen’s throat and
both his balls into Jensen’s mouth, pressed painfully tight against teeth. They
fit together in ways not even his or Jensen’s sick minds had dreamt up before
this, too seamlessly for Jared to deny it, not now and not in any future he can
foresee.
===============================================================================
 
They’re laying together with Jensen’s mutilated face resting on Jared’s chest
when he finally lets Jensen in on his final wedding present, the real surprise.
“I’m going to take your cock, Jens.”
Jensen looks up at him, eyes widening, pupils dilating in spite of the morphine
coursing through him.
Jared pillow talks, stroking the raw edges of Jensen’s new smile.
“I’m going to eat it. Your balls too, probably. You’d never imagine how
satisfying phallus is when prepared correctly. The question is: am I taking it
now or waiting until after our honeymoon?”
Jensen’s definitely feeling pain and the dope, eyes unfocused. Jared gives him
all the time he needs.
“Will I survive our honeymoon?” The words are misshapen but unmistakable.
“No, baby. It ends when you do.”
“Then take it now. I wouldn’t want to miss it.”
No Child Bride has ever asked so much of Jared and he’s never been so happy to
keep his Bride happy.
Amputating a phallus is so much simpler than feet, no bones or ligaments or
major arteries to deal with. Once Jared decides to do it, all he has to do is
take Jensen’s junk in one hand and slide the knife through the place where it
all connects.
Jensen’s cock and balls are surprisingly light in his hand. Jared sets them
aside to be taken to the kitchen. Later, though, because he can’t miss the
mesmerizing writhing of Jensen’s almost-finished-masterpiece of a body. The
gash left between his legs is a startlingly violent red, pulsing and bleeding
above his flexing, irreparable asshole.
Jensen’s gasp seems to call on every muscle in his body, leaving him tensed and
twitching. Jared worries that he might have a seizure like some of the other
Child Brides have when their morphine levels climbed too high, but Jensen just
sighs, the twitching turning into something resembling aftershocks from a bone-
deep orgasm.
Jared watches for a moment with fascination. He’s turned most of his Child
Brides into cherry-popped little girls, but never while one was alive. The only
other time he’s tried, the Bride died of shock almost immediately.
Jensen is different. His eyes are already open and back on Jared, clearer now
and almost frighteningly focused.
He reaches for Jared with weak, trembling hands.
“Eat me out?”
Jared would never dream of saying no.
The inside of Jensen’s groin is smoother, hotter, wetter than anything in the
world. Jared’s tongue glides so easily over Jensen’s bloody cunt that he has
almost no control of the motion so instead of attempting finesse, Jared fits
his mouth over as much raw flesh as he can and sucks.
Jensen screams, then sobs, tearing into Jared’s hair with his fingers. Jared
expects to be pushed away, to have to fight for this meal after all, but Jensen
pulls instead, using what little leverage he has to grind his newborn-tender
pussy against Jared’s face.
Jared yanks at Jensen’s hips, helping pull until he’s all but drowning in
Jensen’s slick. It pours down his throat and face, irony and hot. Jared can’t
believe his new Bride is a squirter.
When Jensen’s grip fails, Jared flattens out his tongue, moving his head up and
down to cover as much of Jensen’s cunt as possible. Jensen’s hyperventilating
in front of Jared’s eyes, eternally smiling and spattered with his own
menstrual blood.
Jared pulls back just enough to lick his lips and kiss at Jensen’s thigh.
“What does it feel like?” He hasto know.
Jensen pets his hair, looking blissful, chest still heaving.
“It’s like losing my virginity.”
Jared groans for that and buries his face back in the bloody flesh of Jensen’s
brand new gash. He’s dying to know if Jensen can come with no cock.
===============================================================================
 
Jared knows their honeymoon is ending. Jensen needs more morphine now to stay
conscious through the agony, but the injections make him itchy and irritable.
Jensen’s breathing too shallowly and turning too blue around his nail beds to
make it much longer.
Before he lets Jensen go, Jared knows he needs to fulfill one last promise. He
doesn’t ask, doesn’t warn Jensen, just leans over him in their blood-soaked
marital bed and slits his belly.
Jensen looks up at him wide-eyed at the sudden pain and then seems to
comprehend what Jared’s doing. Jensen toys with the new wound absently, pulling
it wider with just fingertips as Jared strokes himself to hardness.
This hole takes Jared easier than any of Jensen’s others, congenital or Jared-
made. He bottoms out too-fast, pelvis flush with Jensen’s side. Jensen seems
unable to speak, but he makes little noises, begging, thanking, showering Jared
with love. The whimpers are more than enough.
The angle is wrong for Jared to pull out more than a little so he just ruts in
deeper with brutal snaps of his hips, half-straddling Jensen with one leg
folded up underneath him and the other leg stretched out with his foot braced
against the bed.
Jensen’s mouth stays open, and not just because of his Glasgow, like he’s
surprised by each new sensation as Jared’s cock rearranges his abdominal
cavity. He looks at Jared with wonder, with awe. With a honeymoon kind of love
Jared’s dreamed he saw in his other Child Bride’s eyes but never actually had
before.
“Baby,” Jensen breathes and Jared comes.
Jensen’s brought him off so many times that the climax hurts in Jared’s stomach
and balls, and the come that dribbles out of Jensen’s wound after his soft cock
is runny and virtually clear. Pink where it mingles with blood. Maybe it’ll
still be enough to give them a honeymoon baby. After all, he’s filled Jensen’s
belly right to bursting.
Their honeymoon is ending, but they still have some time together just the two
of them. Jared wastes a little of it pressing feathery kisses to Jensen’s
stomach, smelling the familiar heady scent of the inside of a body, and
enjoying the near-to-dead weight of Jensen’s hand resting in his hair.
===============================================================================
 
Jared often misses the exact moment that death parts him from his Child Brides.
He has no qualms about lying with them after and so has no need to capture
their last breaths.
In this, as in everything, Jensen seems to be the exception.
Jensen is close and Jared loves how much close to death looks like close to
climax on Jensen’s pale, split open, bloodied face. They’re kissing, Jared
spooned around Jensen’s broken body to tease his finger around the wound in his
side and tongue into his mouth. When Jared pulls back to look, Jensen is
smiling easily, gently like Jared has just woken him from a restful night’s
sleep.
“You ready, baby?”
Jensen’s head lolls forward lightly and then back in what Jared accepts as a
nod. Jared slips between his Bride’s legs, half-hard and tender-hearted at the
sight of his sweet, sleepy love leaking come or blood or both from every
natural orifice and a few new ones besides.
Jared ruts against Jensen’s rose and gash, hips moving tight and fast, fingers
plunging as deep as they are long into Jensen’s abdomen. Jared kisses at
Jensen’s smile, tongue sliding into his throat and the edges of the wounds.
Jensen last breaths are shaky, but his fingers clench with every bit of
strength they have left to hold Jared to him.
Like true love, Jensen doesn’t die until Jared comes.
Like any good husband, Jared keeps kissing Jensen until he begins to cool.
When Jensen is resting peacefully, Jared uses a grapefruit spoon to take both
eyes from their sockets. He severs the optic nerve with the knife he’d let sit
in Jensen’s guts just hours before. He pops the right eye into his mouth,
rolling it like a fine chocolate.
The first time he’d taken a Child Bride’s eyes, he expected the Eating Eye to
be much like a peeled grape. To his delight, however, the organ mostly melted
away like butter on the tongue with a little sucking and pressing against his
teeth.
Though eyes have very little flavor, Jensen’s green ones are the sweetest, most
succulent Jared has ever tasted.
Jared considers sticking the tip of his dick into Jensen’s Keeping Eye socket
and seeing how far it’ll go, but he’s too rubbed raw and spent yet. Instead, he
leaves the small amount of muscle and gristle left over, as well as the
inedible lens, in Jensen’s empty eye socket so the investigating detectives
will know precisely why Jared claimed his Bride’s eyes.
He carefully prepares and preserves the left eye for display. Jensen’s Keeping
Eye is truly spectacular, unique in color. Jared gives the jar a place of honor
on his bedside table to keep his Child Bride close.
Jared retrieves and saves Jensen’s dick like a piece of their wedding cake, to
be eaten when the missing of him really sets in.
===============================================================================
 
Jensen’s mama doesn’t have any flower beds, Jared checked. It seemed only
appropriate to leave Jensen to be found among the flowers. A wedding bouquet
and funeral arrangement all in one. But the Ackle's yard is a tasteful,
drought-resistant patch of dirt, gravel, and cactus, no place for Jared’s
Bride.
Jared takes Jensen to an overlook in the nearby nature preserve instead. The
area is secluded enough that Jared’s flower arranging is uninterrupted, but not
remote. Wild flowers grow thick by the side of the road and beyond the safety
rail stretches a spectacular view of the valley below. If they were the average
couple, Jared might have taken Jensen here on a date and parked with him and
made it to third base.
Jared poses his Child Bride exactly the way he knows Jensen wants to be found,
empty eyes open to see the stars above them and the sun when it rises, legs
open to the overlook visiting area so that it’s impossible to see him without
seeing the goriest details of what Jared made him.
In a fit of sentimentality, Jared plucks a handful of flowers and leaves them
on Jensen’s chest, held in place by one powdered-sugar-freckles-dusted hand.
Jared takes wedding pictures for his album since he won’t be back to visit
Jensen unlike his ex–Child Brides and brings some of the same flowers home with
him to keep until they die. Like a faint, pale echo of Jensen.
===============================================================================
 
The newspapers call him “The Flower Boy” until detectives identify his body.
It’s appropriate, even if it demotes Jensen from bride to wedding party. Jensen
must love how reporters take his story and run.
One columnist dubs him the Black Dahlia’s brother and speculates some relation
between her never-caught killer and Jensen’s. The columnist publishes pictures
of Betty and Jensen side-by-side, pointing out the similarities in their
smiles, both before and after.
Jared takes his ex–Child Bride pictures out of his wallet and tucks them into a
wedding album. The only picture that belongs in his wife pocket of his wallet
is Jensen’s.
End Notes
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