When they first start fucking, when it’s more hate sex than anything else, Billy has no problem with degrading Steve, calling him all sorts of nasty things. And Steve doesn’t seems to have a problem with it either. In fact, he probably loves it, always keening and letting out the prettiest little sounds whenever Billy growls “filthy fucking slut,” into his ear.
But later on. Later on, when feelings begin to get involved, when Billy finds that he might prefer Steve’s soft smiles to his menacing glares and scowls, that he’d rather look at Steve’s face while they fuck rather than shove it into the mattress, Billy realizes that it’s increasingly harder to say those things that he normally would.
He remembers, though it was a very long time ago, when Neil and his mom used to fight. He remembers hiding under the kitchen table while they screamed at each other. Neil called his mother a whore. It wasn’t the first time. He would say things like that to her all the time, even when they weren’t fighting. He didn’t care if Billy was around to hear it.
Where the hell is your whore of a mother, Billy? Neil would ask him, every single time his mom left the house without announcement. That bitch better have dinner made when we get home, he’d said in the truck, on their way back from a fishing trip. You’re mother is a useless slut.
Worthless fucking whore.
You’re an evil bitch, Brandy.
I know you weren’t with Wendy yesterday, you nasty fucking slut.
Ugly fucking whore.
Fucking bitch.
Billy doesn’t want to be like Neil. He’d rather die than become the spitting image of his father, but it’s too late. The transformation’s already begun. It began years ago, the second his mom walked out the door for the last time.
He doesn’t want to hurt Steve. He wants to change.
