Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13652016.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Punisher_(TV_2017)
  Relationship:
      Frank_Castle/Billy_Russo
  Character:
      Frank_Castle, Billy_Russo
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Neighbors, sociopathic_tendencies, Minor_Character
      Death, Seduction, Infidelity, Obsessive_Behavior, Underage_Sex,
      Background_Het
  Collections:
      The_Ladybug_Collection
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-12 Words: 2675
****** Violate All the Love ******
by dollylux
Summary
     Billy Russo's got a crush on his neighbor, Mr. Castle.
Notes
     This is dark. Just so y'all know.
     For my favorite little doll. I fucking love you. ♥
Billy Russo has eyes like glass buttons, black and polished smooth, glinting in
any available light. He’s learned the hard way that men who like to hurt him
always comment on his eyes, talk about them like a little boy can be seduced.
Or needs to be seduced.
He also learned the hard way that he’s in a body too little to decide what
happens to it.
Anyway, his eyes too big for his face for the longest time, made him look like
one of those bulbous, blank-staring things from the 70s with a head ten times
bigger than its body. But at thirteen, he’s starting to grow into them,
starting to appreciate that he has girl eyes instead of regular boy eyes, that
his mouth is soft and a shade too obscene to be named, that he still has the
ability to make men do things they normally wouldn’t. To make men crazy, make
them do dark things like cut brake lines on cars and drive knives into necks
and not feel regret when they’re sent to Rikers for five to twenty-five.
But maybe he’s growing out of his powers. Mr. Castle doesn’t even flinch. Not
even when Billy breaks out the Eyelashes.
“Leave Mr. Castle alone,” Miss Flora says, taking Billy’s still small hand in
her own that is rough, hardened from a life of work that Billy hopes to avoid.
“Can’t you see he’s busy?”
Miss Flora had been in the kitchen when Billy snuck out the back door and
walked across two neatly trimmed lawns to end up in the Castles’ garage where
Frank had been bent over under the hood of his red ‘67 Camaro that he touches
even sweeter than he touches his wife.
Billy had brought an ice cold bottle of water and a carefully feigned interest
in classic muscle cars with him, and he gets in a good half hour of divided
Frank Castle attention before Flora finds him.
He sighs.
“Naw, I don’t mind,” Mr. Castle says, wiping his hands off on the filthy rag he
keeps in his back pocket that does nothing to get rid of the stains on his
wide, calloused palms. He works construction during the day. His action hero
biceps prove it. “He’s good company.”
Flora, who has caught Billy poisoning goldfish, guiding the stupid 3 year old
across the street towards his foster dad’s lawnmower, putting glass in her own
house slippers, and putting Millie’s Barbie’s down the garbage disposal,
frowns.
“Are you sure, Mr. Castle?” She’s staring at Billy, in on his dark little soul
that matches his doll eyes, and Billy watches her right back, carefully blank,
unblinking.
“Anybody that’ll put up with two Seger albums in a row is welcome in my
garage.”
Billy stops his cat-stare at Flora and glances over at Mr. Castle then, his
face sliding seamlessly into innocent warmth. His smile almost feels real.
“I love your music,” he says, his inflection earnest. Flawless. Practice makes
perfect.
Mr. Castle grins so big, Flora takes a defeated step back towards the house.
“Don’t stay much longer,” she says to Billy, glaring at him and pointing at him
with her damp dish towel. “Dinner is in forty minutes.”
Billy chews everything he eats with thirty bites and flushes most meals down
the toilet before they get the chance to digest. He stares at Flora until she
gives up and starts next door.
“Real strict, huh?” Mr. Castle says, stuffing the rag back in his pocket. He’s
wearing a Bruce Springsteen shirt that looks nearly as old as the car, and it’s
so thin and so tight that Billy can see the ripple of his stomach muscles when
he breathes.
There are some things Billy swallows that he likes to keep down.
“Yeah,” he replies, because he’s supposed to. His bottom lip softens into a
pout. “She doesn’t like me.”
“Oh, c’mon.” Mr. Castle digs around through the tools on his table before
dropping down to the rolly thing that’ll take him under the car. Billy watches
him sprawl out on his back from his perch on the table. “That ain’t true.”
“It is,” Billy says, and the honesty in his voice is real this time. “She likes
all the other kids but not me. She says I’m mean. That Mr. and Mrs. Huang will
send me back soon and I’ll have to find a new home.”
He digs under one of his fingernails because he knows fidgeting is cute, but
there’s no dirt under his nails. Ever.
There’s a rustle of movement, and Billy looks up just in time to see Mr. Castle
sit up and point at him with some big steel tool. Billy sits up perfectly
straight and meets his eyes.
“That’s not gonna happen,” Mr. Castle says, more serious than Billy’s ever
heard in his four months of living here, of sneaking over every chance he gets,
whether it’s to help hang Christmas lights or shovel snow or wash Mrs. Castle’s
car or dye Easter eggs with Frank Jr. and Lisa. Billy doesn’t dare breathe.
“It’s not?” he whispers.
“If it does, I’ll take you in myself.” Another few beats of intensity between
them and Mr. Castle is stretching out again and rolling under the car, leaving
Billy to stare at his long legs in tight denim and wonder how long he would
hold out before he started calling Mr. Castle Daddy.
Not long. He already wants to.
 
“Lisa, don’t let him drop that!”
Billy looks up from where he’s hiding on the front porch and scratching out a
picture of Mr. Castle’s backseat with a blue inkpen and squints next door where
Mrs. Castle is struggling to carry five bags of heavy-looking groceries. He
closes his notebook with a snap.
“Let me help, Mrs. Castle!”
He’s got long legs, pretty as a dancer, and they carry him over to the house
next door in a few eager strides. He takes three of the bags from Frank’s wife
and doesn’t let on how heavy they are. His smile is his Sunday best, and she
melts for it.
“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” She brushes his longish hair back from his face and
touches his cheek, such a simple affection that Billy doesn’t brutally despise
her, just for a second.
“Do you just want them in the kitchen, ma’am?”
Her hand is nothing like her husband’s. It’s small and a little chilly and
soft, lotioned with something sweet and citrus. And when she cups his cheek, he
feels nothing.
“That’d be great, Billy. Thanks.”
Mrs. Castle has dark eyes like Billy’s. But she’s old, tired, probably as
droopy everywhere as the bags under her eyes. Billy is tight and nearly brand
new and doesn’t even have to try to be pretty.
He flashes her the white pearls of his teeth, hiding the edges of his canines
so it’s sweet.
Once in the house, he ducks upstairs and into the room Mrs. Castle shares with
her husband, one that is light and airy with plenty of sun. The tub in the
bathroom is huge. And the bottle of lotion on the counter looks brand new.
Fresh Sugar Lemon body lotion.
It barely fits in the pocket of his hoodie.
He washes his hands quickly and darts back downstairs, making a show of wiping
his damp palms off on his jeans. Mrs. Castle is busy putting away groceries,
and the kids pay him absolutely no mind as they settle in the family room and
argue over what to watch.
Billy’s smile is automatic. Serene.
“Billy, do you wanna stay for--”
“Mr. Castle told me about you all wanting to take me in, if the Huangs decide
not to keep me.” He makes sure he looks sweeter than he ever has, but he
doesn’t blink in case he misses a single change in her expression. “I had my
first real night of sleep last night. Just… just knowing that. Thank you, Mrs.
Castle.”
She looks stunned, a package of bloody ground beef drooping from one hand.
Billy’s mask of childish obliviousness doesn’t change.
“...What?” The first hint of coldness from her. Of what she really is. Billy
feels the challenge like a fellow lioness. He tips his head to the side,
letting hurt slide into his expression in increments.
“He told me that…” Tears are easy. They don’t hide very far, and they make his
eyes even more beautiful. His chin trembles. “He told me he couldn’t stand the
thought of not having me around. That… that I’m important to him. He said he
needs me.”
The growing horror on her face makes her look like a witch in a fairytale.
Billy’s tears distract him from how hard he wants to grin.
“Do you not want me in your family?” he finally says. Mrs. Castle’s face is
deep pink.
“Billy, I think you need to go on home. Thank you for all your help.” She’s
trying to sound sweet, he can tell, but she’s probably seconds away from
yelling. He almost wants it to happen, almost wants to see it, but it’s not the
time.
He wipes his cheek with the sleeve covering his hand.
“Okay,” he says quietly.
He’s too old to skip, but he nearly does the whole way home.
 
The sun is sinking low when Billy hears the garage door go up at the Castles’,
and he gives it eleven minutes before he makes his way over.
Mr. Castle is under the car again, legs spread, the boots on his feet caked
with dry mud. He’s making a lot of noise under there.
“Mr. Castle?” he ventures. He can see the bulge in his jeans where his cock
lies in wait. He can’t look at anything else now.
The noise stops.
“Hey, Billy,” Mr. Castle says, like he’s not saying so much. And even though
Billy’s expecting it, it hurts anyway. He pushes past it, tries to sound
cheerful.
“You need any help?”
“Nah, I think I’m good for today. You should head on back--”
“I talked to your wife today,” Billy says. He throws one leg over Mr. Castle’s
body and stands over him, a view only Mrs. Castle’s had before today.
“Yeah. I heard.” Loud clanks fill the air, and Billy chews on his bottom lip in
a flash of indecision before he pushes through.
Billy learned too young that there’s a pretty way to get on your knees. There’s
a finesse to it. And Mr. Castle misses it when Billy puts in the effort to
lower into his lap, but Mr. Castle’s worth it.
He sits right down on the thick line in Mr. Castle’s pants, his knees not quite
touching the ground. Billy arches his back because he’s a natural, his lemon-
scented hands coming to rest on Mr. Castle’s flat stomach.
He sighs in a moment of pure weakness. It’s exactly the way he daydreamed it
would be, down to the heat.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mr. Castle says, but Billy can feel the way his dick
fattens up under his ass. He rocks his hips a little, making the wheels on the
under-the-car thing roll with their weight.
He reaches up to grab the rolled down window just to have something to hold on
to as Mr. Castle pushes out from under the car and drops his tool with a clang.
His face is scarlet and he doesn’t look as horrified as Billy had been
expecting, more just kinda stunned.
Billy licks his lips the way he’d practiced in the mirror hundreds of times. He
knows how good he looks doing it.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, his hands slipping from the car when Mr. Castle
pushes them away from it even more, freeing them up to rub up and down his
thick-barreled chest. The scratch of hair under his wifebeater tickles Billy’s
pampered palms.
“Billy, what the fuck are you--”
“Don’t I feel good?” he asks him, breathy like he’d rehearsed, but the pleasure
is real. Entirely unscripted. The front of his pants are damp. “It’s okay, just
use me. Use me to feel good.”
The wheels drag on the concrete floor as Billy starts to ride him in tight,
hungry rocks, his body so long and little and new that he knows Mr. Castle is
lost, that he won’t be able to help himself.
Men never can.
“Goddamnit, kid,” Mr. Castle huffs, one of his hands cupping Billy’s entire ass
in its grip while the other clamps around his throat and yanks him down. Billy
can’t breathe during their first kiss because Mr. Castle wants it that way, and
maybe it’s been awhile since he’s had a man between his legs, but his body
hasn’t forgotten how to move.
He rides like he’s got a dick in him, and he must be giving a convincing
performance, because Mr. Castle is groaning like he’s in there, too.
“Get it. Go on, get it.” Snarled out like he’s not a suburban husband with
bikes in the front yard, like he doesn’t have a mortgage and baseball games and
a ring on his finger. He slaps Billy Russo’s thirteen year old ass like he paid
for it.
Billy spreads his legs wider and forces his knees to find the ground, looking
for all the leverage he can get to ride deep, to give Mr. Castle as much
friction as he needs, but the throb in his pants tells Billy that he’s getting
plenty.
Dry fingers rub at his asshole. Billy’s thighs tremble, but the hand squeezing
his throat cuts off any noise he wants to let out.
“Mr. Castle,” he sighs, using the last of the air in his lungs for worship. Mr.
Castle’s teeth sink into his bottom lip, and he tastes blood just as he feels
the hard shove of hips beneath him and the spread of damp warmth between his
legs.
Mr. Castle shakes so hard when he comes.
There’s a finger hooked into Billy’s ass, and he’s so in love that it’s enough
to make him creamy just as Mr. Castle comes down and can enjoy the sight.
Fingers salty with the sweat from around his own pale throat find their way
over Billy’s tongue, and he sucks on them while he’s fucked and petted with
them, and spit drips from his mouth when Mr. Castle hauls him back down and
dives in tongue first, sucking him dry with starved, papa bear kisses.
Billy’s been waiting his whole life to be owned.
 
Two weeks later, the Camaro’s running, and Billy’s getting Daddy dick at least
once a day. Mr. Castle talks his wrinkled wife into letting little Billy Russo
from next door come over for dinner one Sunday night, and Billy’s such a good
boy that she doesn’t even hear her husband fucking up into seventh grade cunt
in the laundry room.
After fresh ziti and garden grown tomatoes and a covert trip to the bathroom,
Billy drops down into the passenger seat of Mr. Castle’s beautiful car. The
engine roars to life and vibrates through Billy’s entire body. His grin is
entirely real in the nearing dark when he looks over at Mr. Castle.
“Where to?” Mr. Castle asks, looking more relaxed than Billy’s ever seen him.
He knows it’s because of him, because of his body and his heart and his love.
He nuzzles into Mr. Castle’s palm.
“Anywhere,” he says with a sigh. “As long as I’m with you.”
He’s glad Mr. Castle was okay with skipping dessert. A called in favor and a
very slow blowjob had gotten Billy enough potassium chloride to stop three
hearts in seconds. Two bites of strawberry shortcake, and Frank doesn’t know
that he’s the last Castle left before they even leave the driveway.
The fire started in the basement, and the house will be consumed by the time
they get back. With any luck the Huangs’ will be taken with it.
Billy’s made peace with being a second wife. He’s been practicing his whole
life for this role.
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