The bed feels empty next to Joey when he wakes up. He can’t really place it for a second, knowing he’s not at home, but having no idea where else he could be. Sleepily, he reaches over, searching for his phone to at least check the time. His hand finds only empty space where he usually puts his phone down to charge, and he raises his head inquisitively to try to find it. It must have fallen off the…
Oh. Right. How could he have forgotten? He didn’t find his phone because his phone isn’t there to find, and even if it was, he highly doubts a modern cell phone would work in a town still stuck in the 1970s.
Joey opens his eyes and looks around the bedroom bleakly. The walls are painted a creamy burnt orange, and the thick shag carpet is a dark yellow color that couldn't be more 70s if it tried. All the shelves and dressers are dark wood paneling. It's not as hideous as it could be, but after how long he's spent trapped here, he hates it all the same.
The chain attached to the bedpost clinks as he slowly sits up on the bed. It's a long chain, connected on the other side to a perfectly fitted and lightweight metal cuff that's lined with soft leather so it doesn't irritate his skin. He can go all around the bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom with it on. It doesn't change the fact that he's a prisoner.
Joey stands, going to the windows and pulling back the thick linen curtains covering them. The house he's trapped in is set up on a hill that overlooks the town, almost as though it's a castle overlooking its kingdom.
No, Joey muses. It's more like a tower with a dragon guarding a helpless princess, and the dragon leaves every morning to terrorize the surrounding town.
The dragon in the story is, of course, Matthew. Joey still feels the aching pain in his chest as he's reminded of Matt and how he's changed. Something went wrong when they brought him back from the dead, like everything that made him Matt was left behind when he was dragged from the afterlife.
Nothing comes without a cost, Joey. That's what Matt told him when it all went wrong, when Matt had revealed he had been with the other side since they brought him back.
Joey sighs, pressing his forehead against the cool glass and trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He remembers it now: Matt leaving early this morning with a quiet goodbye in Joey's ear and a kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth. Joey wonders absentmindedly what Matt had to leave for, but doesn't dwell on it too much. The break from him is...nice.
At least, that's what Joey tells himself. Of course it's nice to have him away. He's always so touchy with Joey, so affectionate in a way that can almost make Joey forget he has their friends trapped somewhere and a whole town under control of evil. Joey should be jumping up and down celebrating Matt being gone.
But...he can't. He misses him. Joey thunks his head against the window lightly as if that will dislodge the thought. He doesn't want to miss Matt. He doesn't want to miss the constant touches and kisses and Matt's hands on him all the time. And yet…
Joey looks out the window again, trying not to finish that thought. It's a cloudy, stormy day over the growing town of Everlocke. New buildings are popping up, quickly constructed houses and shops for all sorts of nefarious business that Matt is helping to advance.
Joey shuts the blinds again and goes to sit back down on the bed. He feels chilly just watching the thick, grey clouds that are piling above the town. It doesn't help that all he's wearing is a thin silk nightgown and matching panties. His cheeks burn just thinking of it. He tried getting into the dressers or closet to find some real clothes, but they were locked, and Joey would bet his freedom that Matt is the one with the key, so he's stuck in whatever Matt gives him each night after his shower.
He glances listlessly over to see what food Matt has left for him. His chain doesn't allow him to go as far as the kitchen, so Matt leaves small snacks and drinks on the bedside table with the explicit instruction not to eat in bed. It's simple enough, and the weird, almost-familiar 70s food isn't all bad. Joey has actually found that the Tid-Bit crackers are very reminiscent of Goldfish, and Toastettes are just PopTarts without frosting. It's not like he has much choice, anyways.
Today it's those two, along with a water bottle full of ice that's slowly melting onto the dark wood of the table. The thoughtfulness of Matt leaving ice water for Joey instead of gross room temperature water makes the ache inside grow stronger. Matt still seems to care about him on a level deeper than just making sure he has access to food and water. It's food he likes, and water that he won't hate drinking.
Joey rubs his face and turns away. He's not hungry right now. He barely eats anymore. All he can think about is his friends. Are they getting fed? Are they even alive? He knows, at least, that Ro is, but he has no idea about any of the others. He doesn't want to believe that Matt would just kill the rest, but he didn't want to believe that Matt would turn evil and kidnap him, either.
Joey lays back down on the bed, burying his face the pillows and hoping to get a little bit more sleep in. If he's asleep, he doesn't have to think about Matt or his friends or the fact that he's trapped here with no way out.
His brain seems to have other plans. Maybe it's the chilliness outside, but all he can think about is Matt, touching him and holding him close. He's been getting near-constant stimulation from Matt for so long that at this point it feels wrong not to have it. Usually by now Matt has him curled up on his lap while he works, or sitting with Joey next to him while he talks with someone about their plans. That, or Joey's underneath Matt moaning until his voice goes hoarse.
Joey presses himself deeper into the bed to try and get away from that thought. He's not even close to being ready to acknowledge it, let alone deal with it. Matt has given him some of the best sex of his life, even if he does have Joey and his friends trapped in a demon-infested town with Joey chained to a bed in a shitty 70s themed bedroom.
Matt praises Joey so much when he touches him, too. Calling him a good boy while he's choking Joey into submission, telling him how pretty he looks when he's got Joey's knees up over his shoulders. He always treats undressing Joey like unwrapping a present, slowly taking off whatever thin, skimpy article of clothing Joey has on that day and eyeing his body underneath as though he's about to eat him whole.
Joey gives a short, frustrated whine despite himself. He doesn't want any of this, but he can't stop thinking about it. Matt's hands fit so perfectly over his hips when he sits Joey down in his lap so he can give teasing little kisses to his throat and chest and jerk him off through his underwear—
Fuck. Joey shifts on the bed as he feels his dick start to harden. He knew he should have just gone back to sleep. It's fine. It's fine.
He'll just ignore it. The thought of jerking off to Matt makes him squirm uncomfortably, and he flips over so he's laying on his back. If he can just stop giving himself the stimulation…
He glances over, looking behind the snacks Matt set out. Matt is also nice enough to leave a pile of books every couple of days for Joey to read when he's gone. It's yet another thing that makes Joey's heart twist in uncertainty. If Matt is leaving books for Joey to entertain himself with, can he really be all bad?
He tries to ignore that, reaching over and snatching up the first book on the pile. It's the Stephen King book Carrie. There's a lot of Stephen King books, actually. Joey supposes it's the perfect aesthetic for newly-minted murderer Matt.
He settles back against the headboard with the pillows behind his back, crossing his legs self-consciously. He knows that no one else can see him, but he still feels the need to hide away the fact that he's getting hard over thoughts of Matthew's hands and that pretty voice in his ear telling him how good he looks when he finally loses control and comes.
Joey grips the edges of the book a little harder, scowling to himself. This is going to be a long day.
---
Joey tried to ignore it. He really did. He tried to focus on the damn book and not the throbbing heat between his thighs, focus on the words on the page and the dialogue between the characters and anything that wasn't Matt with his stupid pretty brown eyes and wicked smile that makes Joey simultaneously terrified and horny.
He tosses the book onto the bed next to him, finally glancing down underneath his body to look between his legs and face the truth. He flipped over again because it was getting uncomfortable holding the book above his head.
There's a bulge where his half hard cock is starting to perk up underneath the panties and nightgown. Joey sighs, angry at himself. He really wishes he could hate Matt's guts.
No matter. He can deal with this. Jerk off quick, get it over with, maybe all that frustration will ease and he can clean up and actually be glad he has some time away from Matt.
Joey closes his eyes, allowing his hips to start a slow, drawn out grind against the mattress. It's a little shameful, humping the bed like he's a highschool boy, but he'd rather do that than expose himself, even if it's just to an empty bedroom. He tries to steer his thoughts away from Matt and towards someone else, anyone else, hoping that it'll get him off faster. Matt makes him feel…conflicted, to put it mildly.
Turns out, so does everyone else. All he's succeeded in doing is getting himself rock hard and leaking into his underwear by the time he gives up with a frustrated whine. He's panting, legs spread so he can press as hard as possible against the mattress and nightgown shoved up around his waist from his movements. Everyone he tries to picture instead of Matt just seems to get him barely to the edge and then stop, leaving him rutting into the mattress as hard as he can.
The thin silk and lace of his panties add another layer of friction and he groans softly as he presses down hard, starting that slow grind back up. Maybe it's better this way. Maybe stringing himself out like this will ease his stress more than a quick one-and-done. He can feel the fabric of his panties sticky and warm where precum is dripping from the head of his cock and knows he's going to make a mess in them, but can't find it in himself to care. Let Matt come home in a few hours and find him asleep with the sheets all tangled up and his panties full of cum. Joey bites his lip to hold in a moan at the thought.
He can feel himself slipping into that nice, warm, blissed-out feeling he gets sometimes when Matt is edging him, every slow movement of his hips sending heated ripples of pleasure through his body. It's no use anymore to try to turn his thoughts away from Matt. He's all Joey can think about. Matt's arms around him or his fingers in his hair while he pushes Joey's face down into the pillows and fucks him harder than Joey has ever been fucked in his life, forcing him to cum until Joey is screaming with a hoarse voice that he can't take it anymore.
He's so lost in those thoughts, in fact, that he doesn't realize there's someone else in the room until one of the old floorboards creaks a few feet from the bed. Joey jerks his head up in a panic, scrambling to the other side of the bed to get as far away as possible, mind suddenly full of thoughts of demons and monsters sneaking into the house to kill him...or worse.
His fears are...well, not entirely unfounded, but he's in no danger of being killed. Joey swallows nervously as Matt arches one eyebrow down at him, crossing his arms.
"I must admit, when I left this morning, I didn't expect to come back to this."
Joey instinctually makes himself smaller, pulling his knees up to his chest where he's lying to try and hide his clear arousal. "I—"
"Oh, don't worry. I'm not mad, sweetheart," Matt says, with one of those sharp smiles. "So don't worry about trying to hide it. I've already seen how needy you are. Humping the mattress? You must be aching for me to touch you."
Joey whimpers softly as Matt climbs up onto the bed. He knows it's no use resisting as Matt bodily rolls him over onto his back and pushes his thighs open, taking note of the wet patch on the front of Joey's panties and the outline of his cock pressing against them. Joey flushes when Matt reaches down to palm him through the thin fabric, giving slow, long strokes that leave Joey limp and boneless underneath Matt, but doesn't try to squirm away. It feels so good that he can't help the urge to beg Matt for more. He bites his lip hard so he doesn’t give in.
"You have no idea how happy it makes me seeing you like this," Matt breathes, leaning down to press kisses to Joey's mouth between words. "Flushed and desperate, waiting for me in bed like you're a treasure I get to find."
The heat that rushes down to pool in his belly makes Joey whimper again, wanting more of Matt's words despite himself. His hand on Joey's cock is warm, giving him gentle strokes through his panties that just barely provide stimulation beyond the feeling of the fabric dragging against Joey's skin. He's got himself situated right between Joey's knees like it's where he belongs.
"You make the end of the day so much nicer, Joey." Matt breaks off the little kisses to nip at Joey's pulse point. "Knowing I can come back home to you is always nice, but this was a welcome surprise."
He draws back, kneeling above Joey and looking down at him with that hunger in his expression. Joey shivers, even though his body is hot with arousal. Matt could kill him without breaking a sweat. He could kill Joey and not face even the slightest repercussions for it.
"You were just going to string yourself out until you filled those underwear with cum, weren't you?" Matt looks down to where the wet patch is steadily growing, sticking to the outline of Joey's cock. "Did you want me to come back and find you like that?"
Joey just whimpers in response. Yes.
Matt throws another smile his way, leaning over and unlocking one of the bedside drawers with a key that Joey can't see. He pulls out a small tube and the drawer is shut and locked again before Joey could even think about looking for whatever key or combination Matt might have used.
Joey's underwear are pulled down his thighs slowly as Matt kisses him again, biting at his lips gently and not allowing him any room for air so that when he finally pulls away Joey feels lightheaded, gasping for air as he realizes that Matt is rubbing the pad of his thumb over Joey's dick, spreading around the precum smeared across it. The touch is like fire to his oversensitive nerves and Joey can’t help but to buck his hips up into Matt’s hand with a broken moan.
This is the man who might be killing my friends, Joey thinks to himself in a sudden flash of clear-headed panic as Matt looks away to squeeze a generous amount of the lube onto his fingers.
Matt looks back up at him, and for a split second Joey sees someone else, someone with static eyes and blood running down his face from a broken nose. Then Joey blinks, and the image is gone, and it’s back to Matt, new and strange and dangerous, but still Matt in some form. He smiles, one hand resting on Joey’s hip and the other sliding one slick finger inside him. The feeling is so familiar that at this point there’s no discomfort from Matt doing this to him. He breathes out shakily, letting his eyes slip closed as Matt leans forward to kiss him again. There’s something tender in the way his hand slides comfortingly along Joey’s leg, or the way he presses his body into Joey’s like he can’t get close enough.
Matt nips at Joey’s lower lip teasingly, enough to hurt but not enough to cause any real damage or serious pain, as he takes the chance to slide another finger into him, working him open slow and steady. He knows just where to press to make Joey gasp, hips bucking down in a futile effort to try to take more. Matt just laughs softly against his mouth, keeping his fingers at that steady pace until Joey is practically writhing beneath him. His cock is hard and leaking against his belly and he feels simultaneously relaxed and frustrated to no end. He needs more. He needs Matt’s dick in him.
The thought makes Joey whimper in shame quietly, hands fisting tight into the bedsheets below him. He’s more than gotten used to Matt’s stimulation: he’s started craving it. What would his friends think if they could see him now, whimpering and moaning, about to get fucked by the man who trapped them here? The shame burns like acid down his throat as Matt pulls away to sit up and admire his handiwork as he slowly pulls his fingers out of Joey, and Joey can’t seem to look away from his face.
Then Matt looks down to open the bottle of lube again, spreading some on his dick before settling himself over Joey’s body. Joey notices with some shock that at some point Matt has pulled his shirt off, but he can’t stop himself from reaching up and wrapping his arms around Matt almost needily. Maybe he is a killer, but Matt has to be in there somewhere, and his skin is warm underneath Joey’s hands, and for God’s sake, it’s the only contact Joey is getting these days.
“You’re so sweet for me, Joey.” Matt whispers, and Joey’s breath hitches in his throat as he feels Matt press inside, slow and so, so gentle. Like he cares about Joey.
Joey can’t do anything but moan as Matt slides inside completely, stilling for a moment. He reaches up to thread a hand into Joey’s hair and tilt his head up so Joey is forced to look directly into his eyes. They’re...they’re not Matt’s. Not completely, anyways. Joey whimpers, half in fear and half in pleasure as Matt starts to thrust, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact. Every thrust drags along all the oversensitive parts inside him, and Joey doesn’t fight – can’t fight – as Matt sits back on his knees and gathers Joey’s legs up over his shoulders. The suggestive pose makes Joey choke, face flushing deep red again, but he still can’t seem to break eye contact.
“I’ve got you,” Matt says quietly, and Joey believes him.
God, he’s falling down some sort of hole, or— or maybe a well, clawing at the sides in that futile attempt to drag himself back to– where? Back to where? His home, his old life? Even if he did somehow, miraculously, escape from this place, where would he go? He can’t just live his life like this. He’s got how many of his friends killed, now? Too many, that’s for sure. And it’s not like he can go to a therapist. They’d toss him in an inpatient facility faster than he could blink. The bottom of the well is coming up fast to meet him and the only way to avoid breaking his bones is to land in Matt’s arms, Matt’s warm, strong arms and his face above Joey looking down at him like he’s all that matters.
Joey sobs as Matt presses into his sweet spot, holding his legs up like they weigh absolutely nothing. He’s got no chance of getting out of this and he knows it and Matt is so gentle with him. He’s been craving this touch for hours and he doesn’t care anymore.
Matt moves faster, thrusting deep and sure in a steady rhythm that has Joey shaking and whimpering in no time. He’s forgotten about everything else except Matt’s expression, unable to tear his eyes away even as they fill with hot, overwhelmed tears. Matt seems to notice, because he leans down to kiss Joey again, bending his legs forward in the process and thrusting in so deep that Joey sees stars, slamming hard into his sweet spot as he whispers bits of praise against Joey’s lips, telling him he’s a good boy, telling him he’s beautiful and handsome and pretty.
It’s too much, it’s all too much, I can’t take this anymore–!
Joey sobs when he cums, hot tears burning the corners of his eyes as they fall and he nearly whites out, grabbing Matt’s shoulders and holding on tight like he’ll sink into nothingness without him. His muscles clench and jerk around Matt’s cock helplessly, thighs squeezing tight on either side of Matt’s body. The pleasure feels like pure heat racing up his spine to flash in front of his eyes, blinding him even as he senses Matt’s hips stutter to a stop and the wet heat of cum inside him. He’s gotten used to that, too.
“Good boy,” Matt murmurs into his ear after a couple moments of heavy breathing, slowly letting Joey’s legs fall out of his hold so he can brush his fingers through Joey’s sweaty hair. “My good boy.”
Joey feels boneless and weak, aftershocks still sending tingles through his body at every contact point between his and Matt’s skin. Fresh shivers roll down his spine as he feels Matt reach over to unlock the cuff around his wrist, unable to muster up the energy to even glance over to try and see what he used to undo it.
Joey doesn’t fight as he feels Matt gather him up into a bridal style hold, hefting Joey’s weight like it’s nothing and standing up to carry him to the bathroom.
When Matt leans down to press a kiss to Joey’s forehead, Joey doesn’t shy away.