What about me? Do you think I'm beautiful?

closed for @mintarmmed ➤

Ares finished up his business and flushed. He placed the little pale stick atop the squares of toilet paper that he had already laid out on the edge of the sink. It took every bit of will he had to dry his hands and open the door calmly. Finn stood on the other side, waiting — and the sight of him made Ares' knees collapse. Without warning, he stumbled into Finn, hands clutching at the other's shoulders.

His stomach turned, and Ares fought the urge to throw up. For a moment, he buried his face in Finn's neck. Maybe, if he didn't look, it wouldn't be real. They could continue to say he was sick with a stubborn stomach flu.

While not a full-blown shout, the panic in Finney's tone was no less prominent. He was quick to catch his boyfriend, praying silently that he managed to get a firm hold on him before he sustained any injury. "Ares, what's wrong? Are y-"

And it clicked just as he noticed the stick in the other's hand.

Finn knew exactly what Ares was doing, and if he was clinging to the test that much and all but fainting...

"Shit."

It took a moment too long before Finn realized what he had just said.

Finney kisses him and Albert doesn't hesitate to slide his tongue into his mouth. Greedy, he wants Finney here too, and a laugh crawls up his throat as his thrusts pick up in speed. Slap after desperate slap, Albert works Finney's pussy open, relishing the debauchery of their combined mess spilling out the seams where they're connected. A harder thrust has the tip of his dick knocking against the final piece of resistance deep in Finney's cunt once more, and even when Finney pulls away to breathe, all Albert does is press hungry kisses along the side of his face, his jaw, and his throat.

"Oh, Finney," he sighs, thrusts shallow with his cock buried in deep and nudging so teasingly against his womb, "I love you, too."

Hips circling, Albert's cock carves a space for itself in Finney's body. The hands on his legs slide inward and bracket his boy's slender waist in two big hands, keeping him trapped-- Albert's to fuck, to use, to claim. It took them so long to get here, so long to get Finney to love him (and a little longer for Albert himself to win against the demons in his head). How could he be anything but obsessed?

"God..." Albert moans, fresh from leaving a mark in the milk of Finney's pretty throat. He fucks his boy into the floor, squeezes his waist, and lifts him so he can thrust aggressively into Finney's wet pussy.

"You'd be such a good little wife, hm? Take care of me so good already." He shudders, hopeless with the thought, and presses into Finney's cervix all over again. "I should knock you up, Finney. Really make you mine.

But then, every time he feels himself stretch impossibly around him, or when feels the air knocked from his lungs, or even how possessive Albert gets in these moments, he knows it's where he belongs.

As he's relentlessly pounded into, all thoughts and coherence flees him.

Certainly, he'd outright agree to everything coming out of Al's mouth even if he was of sound mind. Though, in the moment, he simply nods mindlessly and hums in agreement. His eyes are glazed over with unshed tears as he's overwhelmed with everything Al. The air in his lungs is beginning to burn as he gasps for breath. Everything is too much, but he wants to give Albert more.

He wants Albert to take more.

Finney's toes curl in his sneakers, and despite the feeling of his cunt being overbearingly stuffed, he digs his heels into Albert's back as if to push him in even more.

The only thing he knows is he wants Albert to come inside of him- to knock him up like he keeps saying he should do.

Finney watches Al with wide, adoring eyes as the knots in at the base of his belly pool into a fiery want.

By God, at least he never shut her out completely. She would always be her kids' best friend, even when they were hurting ; there was comfort in that.

Harmony realized then she was too quiet. ❝I'm sorry,❞ she said softly, clearing her throat. Her head leaned back, eyes closing for a moment. Almost all of her hair was that pretty pale silver. It suited her, perhaps more so than the blonde she had when he was a child. The bottom of her cup rested briefly on top of her belly. ❝Gwenny was sleep - walking. I tucked her in, tried to check on you, and, well ...❞ Harmony's blues cracked open, staring up at him. ❝Every child in this house is restless tonight. One of you I could get back to bed. These two are taking well to the tea.❞ Harmony's fingertips touched her robe. ❝They're upset, I think ; they're running out of room.❞

How could he tell the woman who did everything she could for everyone she came across that there was nothing that she could do for him? How could he all but say that none of his mother's efforts are good enough to help him? How could he bring himself to break her heart?

Even in his anger, he couldn't do that to her.

Offering a half-hearted smile, he decided to focus on the siblings he was soon to have.

"It's not too far from the due date, right? What, it's about a month or so away, right?" his tone is quiet, yet uncharacteristically excited. Despite the rage seething in his veins, he's grateful that Harmony and Steven get to have their own, biological kids. He doesn't doubt that the love for himself and Gwen will remain, but he knows how much it means to them to have this.

Slowly, the pressure in Finney's skin worsens, digging deeper and deeper and dimpling his flesh. There's an insistent bite now, and a drag of blunt nails that leaves deep pink lines in its wake. Four lines, evenly spaced, spread from Finney's waist to his hip.

"God forbid you lose anything that matters to you, huh?"

It's cold around Finney's throat now, frigid in the shape of a grown man's palm. Two points of pressure find the corners of his jaw, holding him in place as they lift his head. Like this, Finney is forced to watch the messy swirl of leaves in front of him, and the blink-and-you'll-miss-it glimpses of a masked figure watching on the other side.

"I thought you cared about me, Finney. But I should've known you were lying all along. That you were scheming with your fucking sister to leave.

Finn makes no effort to fight- what would be the point of trying, even if he felt the need to?- just simply allows himself to be manipulated as the Grabber sees fit.

And as he sees flittering images of the man who once held him hostage, tears prickle against his eyelids. No, not because he's afraid, but rather because he realizes just how much he misses the older man.

His lip quivers as he hears the biting accusations against his ear, and he wants to figure out how to convince him that he didn't want anyone to be hurt.

Though the only thing that manages to fall from his lips were a soft, pathetic, yet no less sincere, "I'm sorry, Al.

The whisper of a grin kisses the edge of the boy's ear. The touch that caresses the boy's hip is cold even through the fabric of his clothes-- frigid ice seeping into cotton, tender all the same.

"And it's all thanks to you..."

The wind around Finney picks up, swirling leaves across the yard and rustling the branches of a tree. Five points of pressure dig into his flesh and dimple the skin, hard enough to feel the bite of nails.

Despite the serenity, though, when Albert brings up the kills, he ducks his head slightly.

"You were going to hurt Gwen," Finney breathes, knowing that, in the end, it's why he had truly started to act out. He'd accidentally given enough clues to Gwen that she had figured out the general place where he was.

"I couldn't let you hurt her."

With the joint held safely between two fingers, he lowers his hand to cover where the Grabber's hand held his hip.

His fingers shoot up to curl around the grate of the van, needing something desperately to hold onto as he feels the tip of his lover's cock kiss his cervix.

"Fuck, you fill me up so good," he gasps, tears glazing his eyes as he looks down from Al's eyes to where they're joined.

— @mintarmmed, unprompted.

God, even after all these years Finney still feels so fucking good. But he's his good boy, his special boy, born into this world precisely so they could meet, and Albert would never forget it.

Finney swears in pleasure and Albert laughs, pressing a maskless forehead to the boy's sweaty temple and huffing warmly over his skin. Fresh from what should have been a simple trip to the store, the cloth of Albert's black facemask is bunched beneath his chin, exposing lips gone pink from kissing. He and Finney have been in love for so long, though, that his exposed face hardly mattered any more.

"It's because you were made for me," he coos, "my beautiful boy."

And Finney opens up for him like it, too-- his pussy is so soft, so wet, so fucking pliant around the fat length of Albert's cock he feels like a dream. He sighs, sets both his hands beneath Finney's knees, and lifts until the boy's at his mercy.

(Outside, the van keeps bouncing.)

"Mm, you like looking at it, don't you? At how much you have to stretch to take me?" Albert grins, pulling nearly all the way out. His cock, flushed with arousal and shiny with Finney's slick, is swiftly thrust back in until he's balls deep again. "You were so fucking cute today, Finney, helping me pick out bedsheets.

Though, before he can even respond, Al's moving his hips again. Finney bites roughly on his lower lip as Al pulls out almost completely, whimpering and squirming in a silent attempt to get him back inside of him. Though, Al's never so cruel as to keep him waiting very long. As thrusts all of the way in again, the air is knocked out of his lungs, hips bucking and head thrown back as he feels whole once more.

"Uh, huh," he whines out as he forces himself to open his eyes "Wanna be yours."

Turning his face to press his forehead against Al's, Finney's eyes shine as he looks into the beautiful, blue ones looking back at him.

Finney's not stupid- he knows the way they met was frightening and it should've never happened, but he also can't help but be grateful for it happening. Al's in his life because of it, and he'd never regret how it happened.

He leans in and kisses the elder with every ounce of love and adoration his young body could muster into such an affectionate action before breathing against his lips,"'m all yours, Al. Forever and always.

For a second, just a second, the pressure around Finney rises. It tightens, pushing against every cell in his body, and then as swiftly as it had come, it releases like the snap of a rubberband.

"Who taught you how to lie?"

If Finney squints, really squints, he'll catch the silhouette of two horns rising from the foliage at the edge of his yard. Or the gleam of a belt in the branches of the tree above him. Or the glimpse of a mask in his peripheral vision.

He knows the Grabber is scolding him, and normally, he'd make some sort of snarky retort. Finn would absolutely make some sort of comment about he's only as naughty as the Grabber had made him or simply just scoff in his face.

Though, the only thing that falls off of his tongue is a barely audible, "You're actually here?"

Once again, he heard his father hissing in his ear, calling Finney evil and devil-whisperer and just like you, Al, and you remember how evil you always were.

"Everything I do," he said, each word spoken clear and deliberate, "is for your own good.

"You're too young to know what's best for you, Finney. That's what grownups are for-- what I'm for."

The Grabber's elbows rested on his thighs, hands folding together to serve as a rest for his chin.

"I'm sure your parents..." Trailing off, the Grabber's eyelids shut briefly. When they opened again, he offered: "Parent. Yes?" He didn't wait for any proper confirmation. "I doubt they know the first thing about taking care of boys like you. Boys who say they hear creepy phones that aren't supposed to be working.

But then, if the paper had his name, maybe it said something about his dad being a single parent.

Still, everything happening around him was beyond unsettling, and as desperate as he was to finally eat again, the uncertainty made his appetite dwindle far too much for the moment.

There were so many more questions he'd wanted to ask, but the most pressing one came out.

"Did you know I could hear the phones before you grabbed me?"

❝Come here, baby,❞ she said. Her voice was soft but firm. Harmony rocked back and then forward again gently. ❝It's just us, Finney — it's just us.❞ She tucked his head underneath her chin. Harmony's blue eyes unfocused on the pale wall of Finney's bedroom ahead of her.

❝He's not here. There's only me, and you, and Gwenny's asleep in her bed.❞ It tore her up inside, hearing how broken he was. — but Harmony had known from the moment she saw him after his rescue this would never be over for him. A part of him was forever trapped in that basement. All she could do was comfort what was left that emerged from that blackness, now held in the safest place she knew. ❝I have you, baby. I have you. I promise ... you will not get hurt again. By him or anyone else.❞

What a foolish statement from the woman who wasn't there before, when he needed her. That needling thought twisted up Harmony's insides.

He had to make sure that nothing takes her away from him.

After what felt like an eternity, his wails finally began to dwindle into soft sobs. While his grip remained secure, it did loosen up as Harmony's words began to resonate with him.

Finney knew she was right and that she'd protect him from anything that could hurt him. She always did. Anyone who tried to shame her for his abduction was met with sneers and outburts. Not just from Finney, but from Gwen, too.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he finally choked out, pulling away just enough to look at his mother once more.

His eyes were red and puffy, shining with more tears that threatened to fall. His cheeks streaked with trails of salt water that streamed from his ducts. His breaths were shaky, inconsistent gasps that wheezed going out just as much as they were going in.

And yet, despite being absolutely wrecked, a sense of security wrapped him in warmth.

It was strange how swiftly things changed. What felt like an eternity ago, Finney would only ever glare at him when he refused to play. The resentful, scared little thing in his basement used to bite back, but the boy in his lap in this moment looked genuinely remorseful instead. In fact, Albert felt it in the bond between them as acutely as he would a knife in his gut.

Instantly, his stomach twisted with guilt. "No--"

Oh. Oh, God, look what we did to him. (As if this is the worst thing you've ever done to this kid, Albert.)

"No, Finn. Don't be--" There was a note of panic when he took the boy's cheek in hand, but Albert's touch was firm as he guided Finney to look back up at him. The desperation he was sure was written in his own eyes was humiliating, but for some reason Finney's own distress was even worse to witness.

"Don't be sorry. I only..."

His thumb stroked up the corner of Finney's eye, and with a dip of his head Albert pressed their foreheads together.

"Oh, I don't know what I was thinking." You should know how crazy you make me by now. "I just wanted you to make cute little promises... like giving me butterfly kisses, or twenty kisses on each cheek..."

With one hand carding through Finney's hair, the other pressed into the small of his back, tucking him ever so tighter against Albert's own front. "Don't be sad. You're so good, Finney. Too good for someone like me.

"Oh... I'm sorry, I should have known," he murmured softly, feeling like a fool.

Though, despite it, he lifted his hand to cup the side of Al's masked cheek before uttering a soft, "I'd do that, though. I'd give you butterfly kisses whenever you were sad or sleepy. I'd kiss your cheek every chance I got. I'd give you slow kisses every morning I get to wake up with you and every night I get to fall asleep in your arms. I'll kiss the tip of your nose when you've got the sniffles, and your forehead when you've got a fever. I'd kiss along your jaw whenever you need a reminder that I love and want you. I'd kiss the corners of your eyes every time they crinkle because you're laughing. I'd kiss the corners of your mouth whenever they're frowning.

"And it wouldn't be just kisses," he added almost tentatively. "I'd trace my fingers over your cheeks and lips. I'd feel the way your stubble would tickle my skin if it started going in. I'd hold your face so I could memorize each shape and line in it. I-"

Finney swallowed thickly, wondering if he was coming off any type of way for how much he'd thought of what it'd be like to see Albert with his mask off.

(He always shivered when Finney touched him so kindly, though.)

"You're in no position to ask for anything like that, Finney," he muttered, but instead of sounding scolding like he intended, even to himself the words came out half-hearted. Why Finney wanted to see his face was a reason that would elude Albert forever, he was sure; even looking in the mirror to shave made him sick to his stomach, and it made no sense to him how a Good Boy like Finney would think a face like his was worth seeing.

His eyes shut. The grinning bottom half of his mask continued to smile all the same.

His eyes shifted from Al's to gaze upon where the tip of his middle finger laid upon the edge of the smiling mask.

He knew, if he really wanted to see his face, he could just tug it down. Though, he also knew that he never would. Not because he cared about the repercussions, but rather because he knew Al had his reasons for hiding his face.

He'd never hurt Al by ignoring his boundaries.

Hands falling onto the firm chest before him, Finney finally looked down.

"I don't know what else I could give you, Al," he breathed, a part of him resenting himself for not being or having more. "I love you and I want to see you the first time we...