Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Simpsons. This is written purely for fun.

Warning: Contains graphic slash, blood and character death. If you don't like, please go back.

My first Simpsons fic. Please don't be too harsh.

My Bloody Valentine

As a twenty-one year old Bart Simpson walked home from college on what the world called Valentine's Day, he looked up at the night sky. The tiny dots that lit up the dark sky twinkled brightly, making Bart wonder if they knew something that he didn't. It was then he noticed the moon. It was full and the white light easily poured down around him. A sigh left Bart's lips as his thoughts began to wander. He knew many people in this town didn't expect him to do much of anything with his life, let alone go to college. Part of him felt so proud, being able to prove everyone wrong, but he had to admit that going to college did have its drawbacks.

A few of the friends that he managed to keep to the end of primary school and throughout high school had now all moved on and Bart was still here, studying. Sometimes he wished he had just gotten a job and moved on with his life but he found himself unable to. Sure, Lisa was the brains in the family, but it didn't mean he had to be the dumb one all the time or do nothing with his life. He was pretty sure that Homer had that title anyway. He knew he would never be at the level his sister was but he also knew he didn't have to fail at everything.

Suddenly, a rustling sound came from the bushes behind him, making Bart stop in his tracks. As he turned, he held his breath, wondering what could possibly be making that noise. As he turned to walk, the noise sounded again. But when he turned this time, things were different. A tall, dark and horribly familiar figure appeared from behind a tall tree. A shiver of recognition passed through him but he gave none of it any thought as he turned sharply on his heel and sprinted towards home. Deep down, he knew that the figure was following.

When he reached his destination, Bart scrambled past the old, sleeping dog, up the stairs and into his room before locking it behind him. Leaning against it, he panted heavily, feeling small beads of sweat seeped from the pores on his forehead. When he recovered, he placed his bag beside his desk and was about to remove his shirt for the shower he felt he desperately needed.

"Hello, Bart."

A startled scream pierced through the room as Bart turned to face the voice. It was the same figure that had followed him and his brain now fully recognised the person for who it was.

"Sideshow Bob!?"

"Oh, come now Bart, surely you can just call me Bob after all these years?" Bob said in annoyance.

"How the hell did you beat me here?" asked Bart, his pounding heart settling quicker than it ever used to in the past.

"Simple, I have longer legs than you do," replied Bob.

"You've always had longer legs than me," Bart said moving to sit on his bed, pulling his shirt all the way down again and running a hand through his spiky hair. "How did you get in?"

"Through the window," Bob replied, hiding nothing. "I also knew Marge, Homer and Lisa would be at Maggie's recital, and that you wouldn't be there because of your class this afternoon."

Bart glanced towards the window, noticing that it was only open a small way and the curtains were fully drawn together. "How long have you been stalking me?" he asked curiously. He couldn't help it.

Bob scoffed. "Longer than I care to admit," Bob said moving closer to Bart, coming to a stop in front of him. "Since getting out of prison seven years ago, I've made sure to keep tabs on you."

Stepping even closer to Bart, Bob stroked the side of the young man's face with his hand, feeling the soft, yellow skin beneath his fingers. Bart quickly pulled his head away and rolled to the other side of the bed before getting off and backing away from Bob until he hit the space of wall beside the window.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bart asked loudly in surprise.

Bob sighed as he dropped his arm back down beside him. He paced up and down the space available to him on the floor as he considered his words. Eventually, he came to a stop and looked to Bart once again.

"I've had a long time to think about things and I suppose... that some of my actions may have been to be close to you."

"Doesn't that make you a paedophile or a pervert or something?" Bart asked, a sly smile appearing across his face.

"Thoughts of that nature did not cross my mind until you reached the age of thirteen but I suppose you could still classify me as one of those, whichever one you prefer. The reason I show myself now is because you are of age and I am now free to do as I please."

"So, you're not going to try and kill me again?" asked Bart, his eyes narrowing briefly.

A breathily chuckle left Bob's wide lips as he looked down at his long feet. Bob shook his head lightly. "No, I am not," he replied, his voice almost inaudible. Bart's face instantly showed relief but a small part of him still doubted Bob's claims. "But there are other things I would like to do."

"Um... don't I have to agree to it though?" Bart questioned quickly. "First off, I'm not gay, second, I didn't know you were gay and third, why would I let you touch my anyway?"

"In prison there are ways you can satisfy yourself but sometimes you need something else," Bob started quietly. "I used some of those means, I will admit. I like women too since as you know, I got married and had a son. Of what's happened to them, I do not know. And right now, it does not really matter."

Bart shifted on the bed uncomfortably. Somehow the size of it seemed to change drastically, seeming smaller than it was a few seconds ago. Deciding not to say anything, Bart closed his mouth, pressing the lips together tightly as he glued his eyes to the floor. The way this conversation was going, he was pretty sure he didn't want to say anything more.

As the minutes went by slowly, Bart felt his chest constrict as Bob approached and sat down beside him, causing the bed to creak softly with the extra weight upon it. Bart's breathing turned irregular as Bob ran a finger down the side of his face and neck, making his body shiver with pleasure and cause his eyes to close again as he repressed a moan.

"Tell me what you want, Bart," whispered Bob in a seductive tone.

"I-I'm n-not sure," he stuttered in reply.

"Then let me tell you what I want," said Bob in a low, deep tone. Bob then leaned closer and whispered in Bart's ear. "I want you naked, hard and begging. Wriggling underneath me with uncontrollable lust and pleasure escaping from every pore of your young, firm, slender body."

Bart's entire body shivered and began covered in goose bumps as the pleasurable words ran through his head several times over. Just picturing it made his cock give an interested jerk. He gave a small startled jump as Bob's hand reached for the hem of his orange shirt and made its way inside while he pressed soft kisses to the back of his neck. The hand under his shirt moved upwards and pressed against the middle of his chest. The skin of Bob's hand felt cool to the touch and Bart hissed through his teeth sharply, trying to get as much air as possible.

A moan sounded through the room as Bob's long, slender fingers soon found a nipple and playing with it gently, flicking it, making it hard. Stopping his kisses for a moment, Bob slipped the shirt over Bart's head and threw it to the floor, not caring where it landed. Instantly, Bob went back to the young man's neck, eager to continue. Many times during his last stint in prison, he had thought about this moment. It felt sweet. Sweeter than he thought was humanly possible.

After several moments, Bart began to feel impatient. He shifted again, this time feeling uncomfortable because of the hardness in his lap. With a little hesitation, Bart put his hand on Bob's leg. His eyes shot to look at Bob's face, or what he could to see if he caught a glimpse of change in his demeanour but there was nothing. Feeling slightly braver, Bart slowly moved his hand towards Bob's groin. When reaching the middle Bart hesitated slightly but after cursing himself for being a wimp, he went for it, cupping Bob's hardness.

A hiss of pleasure reached his ears and a whiff of breath was felt against the back of his neck. It seemed Bob was enjoying the touch. Bob's hips bucked compulsively into Bart's hand. Taking his hands of Bart's body, Bob slowly unbuttoned his shirt and threw it to where Bart's lay on the floor. His attention then turned back to Bart and he moved off the bed and laid Bart down onto his back. Ignoring the faint protests, Bob moved his hands down to Bart's shoes and took them off as well as the socks. The blue shorts, which he noted are a little longer than when he was younger, were next to go along with the white briefs he wore.

Now that Bart was completely naked, Bob stood up and took a step back to admire the young man's beauty. Bart turned his head to the side, facing away from him in embarrassment but Bob said nothing. He wanted a moment to look at Bart. For years, he wanted the boy dead but after a while his deny ran out of steam and he was left with nothing but the rarity of what he felt, which all but sickened him. It needed to end. When he felt satisfied, Bob removed the rest of his clothing and moved back onto the bed, laying his long body on top of Bart's.

He smiled as Bart moaned from the skin on skin contact and he felt the boy wriggle slightly. What he wanted to starting to come true, perhaps a little quicker than intended but still starting nonetheless. Moving his hips upwards, Bart closed his eyes again and moaned as the friction of their cocks rubbing together was overwhelming.

"Tell me, Bart," Bob said as he ran his long fingers through Bart's hair. "Have you ever been with a man?"

Bart could only shake his head to that question as well as turned a faint shade of pink.

"Really?" asked Bob, seemingly amused. "What about Milhouse?"

"M-Milhouse isn't gay..." Bart whispered breathily.

"Are you sure?" asked Bob slowly.

Bart's hips jerked up, trying to get more contact, but Bob stopped it. Bart groaned and tried to respond. "I- I d-don't..."

Bob chuckled low in his throat. It seemed all coherent though had left Bart, leaving him a lustful puddle of goo. "Look at me, Bart."

The words were spoken in an authoritative and firm tone and Bart couldn't refuse them. He turned his head back to its original position on the pillow and locked eyes with Bob. He placed a large hand on Bart's neck and stroked his chin with his thumb before leaning down and kissing Bart. With a little encouragement with his tongue, Bart opened his mouth, letting Bob inside and he caressed Bart's tongue with his own.

Feeling a little more comfortable and brave, Bart placed one arm around Bob and placed it on his back while the other touched his upper arm and caressed it with his fingers lightly. Bob gave a quiet noise of appreciation and moved one knee between Bart's legs, spreading them apart. Reaching down between them with one hand, Bob took hold of Bart's hard length and stroked it languidly. Bart's hips jerked again from the contact.

Feeling his own hardness increase, Bob felt as though he might not last much longer. Taking his hand off Bart's cock and ignoring the protests, Bob put the hand to Bart's mouth and slipped them inside. Bart's eyes questioned him and Bob chuckled softly.

"You need to be stretched," said Bob quietly, his voice still edging on seductive. "I am tempted to take you like you are but I won't do that to you. You'll still be tight."

Once three fingers were good and wet, an obscene pop sounded as Bob removed them from Bart's mouth and moved them down between their bodies again. Reaching behind Bart's testicles, he eased his slick fingers into his hole, spreading, loosening him, preparing him for his hard erection.

As the fingers filled him gently, Bart threw his head backwards as his body arched up into the exquisite touch. As a needy whine drawled from his throat, Bart barely recognised it as belonging to him but all thoughts were silence as the fingers were removed and something much larger pressed at the entrance to his body. Without realising it, Bart pushed back onto Bob's erection, barely giving himself enough time to relax before he was fully sheathed inside him, filling him up wholly.

Bob gripped Bart's hips with twisting, possessive fingers, rolling his hips hard against Bart's as he moved in and out with eagerness. The sounds the wriggling body beneath him produced were like music to his ears. Bart panted out obscenities and moaned every time Bob sheathed himself inside him again and again.

Not wasting much more time, Bob wrapped his hand securely around Bart's dick, jerking him off roughly in time with his own thrusts as harshly as Bart fucked himself into the circle of his skilful yet impatient fingers.

Bart's pants increased, knowing he couldn't, wouldn't last much longer. Within seconds, he filled Bob's pumping hand with strands of his thick release, which also splattered against his chest. Bart screamed Bob's name and shut his eyes tightly. The convulsions of the pleasured orgasm rippled through Bob's body as Bart's still tight channel fitted snugly against his dick, ripping an orgasm from his body and straight into Bart's.

Bart slumped boneless on the bed and Bob pulled his now placid cock and lay on top of him gently. Carefully, Bob stroked the spiky hair beneath him, not wanting to disturb the young man who seemed to be falling asleep. A malevolent smile spread across Bob's face as the realisation set in. He was almost sorry to do this but the one thing he had strived to achieve for years had still not been accomplished.

Reaching under the bed carefully, Bob took hold of something solid and brought it up beside him. The silver glinted in the pale moonlight that shone in through the open curtains. An evil chuckle escaped through Bob's lips as he brought the blade down against Bart's neck. In the past things had been drawn out, and time had been wasted but not this time. He had made sure he had all the time in world and he thought it fair to give Bart one last good thing before he left this world.

Bob leaned down towards Bart's ear and in a quiet voice he whispered, "I'm not sorry about this, Bart. You must understand my position although it is such a shame to lose someone as young and supple as yourself."

At those words, Bart's eyes began to open but they quickly widened as a sudden pain erupted through him. The large silver knife that Bob held steady in one hand smoothly glided over the space of neck it was given and blood seeped through rapidly, staining the sheets beneath him. Shock etched in the lines of his young face as his eyes locked onto Bob's. They were cold and empty. It was a stark contrast to his other features which showed pleasure and malicious glee.

As Bart's eyes glazed over, Bob rolled to his side, propping himself up on his elbow and he placed the knife onto Bart's chest. Slowly, he dipped a couple of long slender fingers into the blood that pooled around Bart's neck and brought it close to his face, looking over the beautiful substance carefully. For years, he had waited for this. Not wanting to wait much longer, Bob sucked both fingers into his mouth and tasted the blood of the boy who had taunted him for too long. It definitely tasted sweet.

A couple hours went by before noises were heard downstairs. It seemed the rest of the Simpson family were home. Bob knew it was time to leave. Getting off the bed, he dressed quickly and unlocked the door, all the while looking at Bart's still, pale form. Even like this he was beautiful, no, especially like this, he was beautiful. Once he was fully dressed, Bob walked to the window and pulled the curtains further apart and opened the window a little more. Throwing one long leg over with ease, Bob went through the window. Before leaving he turned back and looked into the room.

He smiled again as he looked the body over. "Happy Valentine's Day, Bart."

Bob disappeared from sight and as the family entered their son's room, only the howling wind could be heard that carried with it an evil, haunting chuckle that echoed into the night.