Disclaimer:Silent Hill and all its characters belong to Konami, and I earn nothing from this fanfic.


Walter x Possession!Henry, Walter x Henry

A/N:This was only supposed to be a harmless, short one-shot inspired by an idea I had… but it turned into a monster. XD; Don't read if you don't like yaoi or graphic man sex. X3
Feedback is appreciated, but go easy on the criticism~
And finally, I apologise if Walter seems a little 'soft'… but I personally think he's still a gentle wee soul at heart, and I'm not a huge lover of angst fics. So, I'm sorry if you were hoping for one.

-Toxic-Star x


To Corrupt a Fragile Psyche


The first clue that something was amiss –not that much was simple to begin with, anymore- was the dull pain that was accumulating in Henry's weary head.

He was already well familiar with this, the sign that another haunting had occurred in his not so familiar apartment.

Padding cautiously towards the source, which turned out to be his fettered door, the young man stopped by the laundry room, bracing himself with one hand against the off-white wall.

The peephole was seemingly oozing a trail of what was almost definitely blood- that in itself was creepy enough, but the way Henry's headache worsened forebodingly indicated that there was more to this possession.

He didn't know why he decided to look.

He found himself gliding forward, oddly compelled and apprehensive at the same time. He'd already seen some irrefutably twisted apparitions around this tainted flat, and was fairly certain that nothing could shock him anymore.

Placing one hand gingerly on the wooden surface of the door, Henry leaned in and blinked through the spy-hole, holding his breath to avoid inhaling the coppery aroma of the blood just beneath his sensitive nose.

The man frowned and recoiled immediately, covering his mouth with an uttered curse of disbelief.

"What the hell…?" after allowing his quickened heart to resume a slower pace, he leaned in again, hardly able to believe what he was seeing.

It's me. But how..? What the hell is it? An illusion, or a monster? Or just Walter's idea of a joke…?Henry thought as he gazed, stricken, at the disturbing sight before him.

A perfect mirror-image of Henry Townshend stood at the other side of the door, with the only visible differences being the smattering of blood over his visage and clothing, and the way his head was tilted back to give Henry a clear view of his rapidly mumbling lips.

He wasn't sure whether he was more distressed by the blood or the muttering. He strained his ears, trying to decipher what his 'clone' was saying, but there were only incoherent mumblings.

Henry eventually stepped back from the door, misty hazel eyes still riveted to the peephole and its trail of blood. Swallowing as he drew his gaze away, he retreated into the living room and sat heavily on the couch.

How he wished he had been more frugal with his holy candles, as he sat there rubbing his sore temples. Fortunately, he had at least one saint medallion in the apartment, and he leaned over to retrieve it from his coffee table as he remembered this. Slipping it on over his head, he sighed in minor relief as his headache gradually subsided.

It was probably time to head back to the 'other' world, where he had abandoned Eileen. To be fair, he had instructed her to remain in a reasonably secure place, but he wasn't stupid enough to believe she would be safe and sound if he left her alone too long.

Sighing again as he got to his feet, Henry stretched out the joints in his aching body and headed back over to the laundry room, where the ominous hole leading out of here subsisted.

His hand was only an inch from the door handle when he heard a soft, precise knocking on the front door, and froze in his movements.

Glancing towards the sound, Henry felt his stomach lurch. So now the apparition was vying for attention…?

Henry frowned, growing impatient, and strode over to the door. One hand clutched the saint medallion instinctively as he peered back through the spy-hole. His frown immediately faded into shock.

The clone was still there, but now he had company, in the form of Walter Sullivan.

So… now the crazed murderer was here to torment Henry, too.

What is he up to…? Henry wondered bitterly, as the blonde man stood facing the clone, not really doing anything. The faux Henry, for his part, also remained more or less motionless, save for the constant muttering.

Walter's dulcet voice broke through, grasping Henry's wavering attention, crystal-clear despite the wooden barrier between them. "My Receiver of Wisdom. Shouldn't you be… on the other side of this door…?"

Walter thought that… thing, was the real Henry? No, the serial killer was much too sharp. He was probably all too aware of Henry's observation, and was simply putting on a show. Henry 'hmph'ed under his breath.

The clone didn't even react to Walter's enquiry, and the other man smiled eerily, as was his custom. His hand lifted from his side, and stroked a slender finger along the apparition's bloodied cheek.

Henry's eyebrows winged up. What the hell was that? Walter, displaying affection for what he was 'pretending' was Henry?

The young man was no longer sure what to expect, or whether it was even wise to remain watching. His body, however, refused to move from the door. Either it was morbid curiosity, or more trickery on Walter's part, but he was apparently stuck where he was.

Walter didn't glance in the real Henry's direction once, as if unaware of his presence. His other hand cupped the back of the fake's head, tilting it towards his own face as he went on smiling that placid smile. Then he closed the distance and pressed a forceful kiss to the clone's now stilled mouth.

The real Henry's mouth dropped open, his eyes widening another notch. His immediate reaction was revulsion, and he averted his eyes.

This wasn't happening. He was being ridiculed. Was Walter demonstrating Henry's weakness right in front of him? Why else would he…?

Unbidden, he found his eyes roaming back towards the view outside his door, and he swallowed thickly. He could actually hear Walter's heated breathing, the sound of two sets of lips merging. He shuddered, wishing they would stop.
He was dimly aware of the way the saint medallion around his neck was crumbling to the floor in a shower of silver dust.

The pseudo-Henry was like a puppet, lifeless and unresisting as its mouth was pried apart with a tongue and plundered thoroughly.

"Stop it…" he whispered against the door, not expecting either of them to hear. He watched helplessly as Walter pulled the clone tightly against his strong body, wrapping his arms securely around the slighter thing's frame.

Breaking the possessive kiss, Walter smiled again, and then there it was- a flicker in his sultry green eyes, and they were suddenly staring right at Henry.

The younger man gasped as they made direct –of sorts- eye contact. Now there was no doubt at all that Walter was aware of him being there. And as always, Henry was captivated by that strange gaze, his body wracked with a sensation caught somewhere between fear and vague longing.

…It was a thought that the introverted man tried not to entertain, due to it leading to the questioning of his own sanity… but he was slightly attracted to Sullivan. He didn't even want to imagine why, or how it happened, but something about that calm demeanour and enigmatic voice drew him in. And of course, those eyes. Eyes that sparkled far too much considering Walter wasn't even really alive.

It troubled him to no end. Of all the people to develop an attraction to. It was too cruel and too warped to be true.

And yet it was, he inwardly admitted in resignation and defeat, as he vaguely recognised the feeling growing in his gut as suppressed desire.

Still maintaining the piercing gaze in Henry's direction, Walter pushed the apparition against the handprint-covered wall with one arm, and proceeded to slowly unbutton the ghoul's shirt.

Henry numbly shook his head, mildly incensed. He didn't want to see himself being exposed like this. Walter was sicker than he thought- taunting him like this, only to inevitably kill him.

And why the hell couldn't he look away, already!

The poor excuse for a doppelganger was listless against that wall as the white shirt was removed and dropped to the floor. One of Walter's murderous hands then slid under the hem of the fake's t-shirt, pushing it up to reveal Henry's toned abdomen to his own eyes.

Walter's feline smirk widened ever so slightly, slyly looking away at last in favour of licking a slow path up the column of the faux Henry's throat.

Pressing his forehead against the door, Henry's brow creased in distress. He noticed how the clone's stomach trembled when the killer's fingertips caressed it, just the way he himself would react, being particularly sensitive there. Even more upsetting was the growing realisation that he was becoming faintly jealous at the attentions his double was receiving.

"You're softer than you look, Henry…" Walter said suddenly, his voice slightly muffled against the thing's neck. There was a low chuckle to accompany this.

The younger man clenched his fist, feeling how his palm was sweating. "Stop it…" he muttered again.

Obviously, Walter had no intention of stopping. Sliding the t-shirt up further, he fluidly moved around in front of the apparition, being deviously careful not to obscure what he was doing, and lowered his head to circle a nipple with his tongue.

"Stop it!" Henry shouted this time, slamming a closed fist against the door. He knew Walter could hear him… he probably took pleasure in the young man's discomfort.

As it was, the blonde actually had the audacity to moan against the ghoul's chest, sucking the hardened flesh into his mouth feverishly.

Henry almost sobbed from frustration. He glared at the pseudo-Henry and its lack of emotion and response. If it were him…

His eyes briefly lost their focus as he allowed himself to visualise just that. He subconsciously tightened his fist where it lay against the door.

"Henry…" came the teasing voice, "Henry."

Letting his gaze roam back to Walter, Henry's jaw clenched when the blue-coated man's hand suddenly descended downwards on the clone's body, coming to rest on the waistband of his denims. His fingers lingered there deliberately, stroking along the edge of the fabric.

"Oh, no… no," Henry pleaded, mostly to himself. That was going too far. He wasn't sure he could take it if Walter started with the below-waist activity.

But evidently luck did not favour him, judging by how Walter was now unfastening the button and unzipping the fly. The doppelganger's head was tilted back as before, blank stare fixed somewhere above it.

Henry covered his mouth with a hand, biting back an aggravated groan. "Walter…" he uttered, pressing closer to the door. The movement caused his now awakened arousal to bump against the hard surface, making him hiss between his teeth. He had to stop himself from reaching down.

Instead, he watched in dismay as Walter's deft hand delved down into the fake's jeans, visibly forming a tight fist even through the denim as it grasped that accursed clone's sex.

Walter's eyes were back on him again, his face still painted with that infuriating smirk. The hand that was down the front of the fake Henry's jeans began to steadily move, much to the real Henry's chagrin.

He began to wonder just how far Walter was going with this.

The long-haired man tilted his head as his hand worked, now regarding the doppelganger with a curious look. "You're quiet, Henry… very quiet. Don't you like my touch?" his lilting voice went straight to the real Henry's groin. "Or perhaps… you're the type to hold back…" There was something darker in his tone when he said this, and his shifty gaze slid back over to Henry once more, like a hand creeping over wanton flesh.

Henry involuntarily leaned back from the door a little, frowning. He shivered in spite of himself. That lime-green gaze bore straight into his core.

Walter wasn't finished. "What would it take, Henry? This?" His other hand ran up the clone's chest and pinched a wet nipple. "…This?" He leaned in and nipped at the pale throat, licking and sucking on the smooth skin earnestly.

Henry watched, powerless, virtually able to feel every touch and caress. His face felt too warm, and he knew that he was flushed with desire. His voice failed him by this point, not that there was any use in further pleading anyway.

"…No?" Walter voiced in mock-disappointment, shaking his head and causing strands of dark blonde hair to brush against his coarse face. The smile returned, and he made a point of very slowly descending to his knees, tugging on the waistband of the fake's denims as he did so.

Henry shook his head in denial, licking his suddenly dry lips. When had his hand crept down to grasp the heated length pressing painfully against the fabric of his jeans?

…No. This was depraved. He wouldn't stoop to that level, wouldn't give Walter that satisfaction. Even if he took himself to the 'privacy' of his bedroom, he knew Walter would know. There was just no way for him not to know. He had even heard evidence of this.

"I'm always watching you… I'm always watching you."

Not wanting to see Walter's inviting mouth closing around an erection that wasn't his own, he managed to pull himself forcefully from the door at last, practically staggering away in the direction of his room.

Unbeknownst to the poor man, Walter ceased his ministrations, turning his head to gaze upon the door of room 302 with a shrewd smirk. He rose to his feet and looked at the bloody apparition of Henry.

"You're nothing more than a doll, with no purpose other than to prove a point. The pleasure will be his, not yours."

The clone did nothing, then its lips resumed their formation of a hushed and insignificant mantra.


Henry didn't glance back at the front door as he stumbled around the corner and into the hallway that led to his room. If he could just lie down for a while, just sleep a little… maybe he could forget what he'd seen and go back to what he'd been doing.

Inside, though, he knew it would take a hell of a lot of willpower to make the aching between his legs go away.

The sexually frustrated man let out a startled cry, halting in his tracks when he looked up, seeing Walter standing casually by the hole Henry had previously knocked into the wall.

He had his head canted ever so slightly, regarding Henry with a predatory look. It was a mystery how he'd even got in.

"Leave me alone! Leave me the hell alone!" Henry yelled frantically, throwing open the door to his bedroom and lunging inside.

Before he could slam the flimsy barrier shut, though, Walter's arm crashed against it, slamming it into the wall and effectively shattering the wooden frame.

The eerie smile never left the killer's face.

"Henry, what's wrong? It's your turn," Walter said, his eyes glittering with what could be either affection or madness.

Henry reeled backwards, away from the murderer. He knew it. The man had mocked him with that display, and now he was going to die in such a mortifying state of disarray.

He manoeuvred himself clumsily around the bed, trying to maintain a safe distance from Walter.

The older man chuckled, following with unhurried steps.

Cornered, Henry glanced desperately towards the only escape route, and without hesitation, attempted to climb over the bed and make for the ruined doorway.

It turned out to be a stupid idea, as he found himself roughly grabbed from behind and slammed onto the mattress face-first.

"Such a waste of energy, Receiver…" Walter chided, his hot breath spilling directly onto Henry's ear.

The vulnerable man said nothing, his deafening pulse pounding in his temples.

"Let's see…" the madman purred, sounding playful. A strong hand reached around Henry's middle and stroked down, until it came to rest firmly between the younger man's thighs. "Good… I'm glad my exhibit didn't leave you unaffected, as you previously had me believe." He chuckled.

Henry scoffed, his voice exasperated. "You knew damn well what you were doing to me."

He felt Walter lean closer, if that was even possible, as his hair tickled Henry's neck.

"You're displeased."

Henry growled quietly under his breath. "What are you doing?"

"I told you, Henry… it's your turn, now." The hand over his arousal squeezed, making his intentions all too clear.

Henry went rigid. He hadn't been referring to his death…? Oh, God.

Seemingly satisfied with Henry's mollified silence, Walter eased himself off the other man just enough to roll him over onto his back. He smiled down at the susceptible man benignly. "I find you… most intriguing, Receiver…" he bit his lower lip thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes. "Such a struggle you put up. Foolish, but so beautifully endearing," he dipped his head and nuzzled Henry's neck in a bizarrely loving manner. "My beautiful Henry."

Henry didn't dare move. He had no idea how to react, or what to say. The sensation of Walter's rough, unshaven face brushing against his sensitive skin made him tremble slightly, and when he felt surprisingly soft lips press gently against the same place, he failed to hold back a subtle moan.

Pleased, Walter placed both hand's on either side of Henry's face, and kissed him passionately.

Inwardly cursing his lack of self-control, Henry's mouth opened obediently to let Walter's eager tongue in. Without the blonde's hand on his lower body, Henry inadvertently arched his hips, striving for more contact.

Walter grinned against Henry's lips at that, and obliged by pressing closer and grinding his pelvis into the smaller male's. He seemed delighted in the quiet but arousing grunts each thrust gleaned out of his victim.

The Conjurer's hands left Henry's face and migrated down to his chest. His fingers began undoing Henry's shirt, with more vigour than he'd shown with the pseudo-Henry. Without breaking the contact of their mouths, he peeled off the garment and tossed it away. His fingers immediately slipped under the second layer, rubbing small circles onto Henry's quivering flesh.

"So much warmer…" Walter said simply, pulling back from the kiss to admire the sight below him.

Henry stared back up at the other man, his eyes bright and intense. The words came before he could stop them. "Are you going to kill me?"

Walter said nothing, his long digits still tracing idle patterns on Henry's skin. In the end, he merely lowered his head and started kissing the nervous man's stomach, flicking his tongue into Henry's navel.

Henry groaned, his hands coming around to sink into Walter's long hair. "Don't try to distract me!" he protested, giving the blonde strands a slight tug. He was dutifully ignored, though, and given a light nip for his troubles. He meekly stayed silent.

Next to come off was the white t-shirt still covering most of Henry's torso. It was discarded to the floor to join the other item of clothing. Walter's eyes roved over the exposed upper body greedily, lingering, before he came down again, licking at a nipple this time.

Henry hissed, his hands tightening and his breath quickening. His arousal was painful by this point, and he silently urged Walter to take off the damn jeans before he begged him to.

But if he'd learned anything lately, it was that Walter was extremely patient; it was becoming apparent that the murderer was content with leisurely exploring the unresisting man's body, and at an achingly slow pace.

As it was, he was happily dealing a lot of attention to the oversensitive bud of flesh in his mouth, alternating between sucking, licking and gently biting. It was driving Henry crazy, and he uttered a needy whine.

"Relax, Henry. You're so tense," Walter said in his oddly soothing voice, moving onto the other nipple. When Henry's grip on his hair tightened further, his own hands pulled them off and pinned them to the bed, not slowing down in his actions even slightly.

Now well and truly helpless, Henry allowed his arms to go limp in Walter's iron grasp, knowing that the effort of resisting would be futile. "W-Walter…?"

The other man lifted his head at last, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

Momentarily distracted by the sight of Walter's temptingly wet, parted lips, Henry inhaled shakily. "…Uh, uhm…"

Walter smiled thinly. "What is it, Henry? You shouldn't interrupt me." His tone implied that he was not bluffing.

"Kiss me again," Henry whispered, blushing faintly in spite of himself.

Walter tilted his head, seeming to consider this. He smiled wider and complied, leaning closer once more and sealing their lips together with increased fervour.

One hand ran into Henry's chestnut-coloured tresses in a way that was so unexpectedly tender that Henry's heart-rate sped up. He couldn't return the affectionate gesture with his wrists pinned, so responded in the only way he could, licking along Walter's lips before dipping his tongue inside to tangle with the other.

It was Walter's turn to moan this time, and his hips pushed sharply against Henry's, letting the other man feel how hard he was by now. Then at last, blessedly, the older man's fingers were suddenly upon the fastenings of Henry's jeans, his hasty movements hinting at the loss of some of that patience.

Henry actually felt a small smile growing on his face, at the undeniably human side of Walter than he was bearing witness to.

The smile was abruptly replaced with a sharp gasp, though, when his denims were pulled right off and a warm hand coiled around his length without missing a beat.

Walter stared down at Henry, his eyes clouded with lust. "You didn't stay around long enough to see what happens next, Henry."

The smaller man blinked, picking up the reference to the display with that damned doppelganger again. He wasn't sure how to reply to the odd statement.

It seemed that Walter hadn't been expecting an answer anyway, as his mouth just quirked upwards at the corners, before he scooted down far enough to give Henry's arousal an experimental lick. The manoeuvre resulted in the release of Henry's hands, and they immediately slid down to grasp the covers loosely.

The Receiver of Wisdom gasped again, afore-mentioned hands tightening their hold on the thin bedding.

It was then that he decided he wanted a chance at doing the touching.

Sitting up, Henry pushed lightly on Walter's shoulders. "Take your clothes off," he said boldly, earning an amused raised eyebrow from Walter.

"Henry, you're giving me orders?" his voice wasn't without a tone of warning.

The other male paled slightly. "…I just wanted to… see you."

Walter considered him, running his eyes up and down the man's naked body. With a slight shrug, he sat up further and set about taking off the heavy blue coat he wore.

Henry watched with rapt attention. Underneath that top layer, Walter was wearing a sleeveless black shirt, and he had to swallow at the sight of those dangerously strong arms. Then, that was off too, dropped onto the rapidly growing pile of their collective clothing.

Henry's dark eyes scanned the taller man's torso, his gut wrenching in amatory longing. Walter's body was more or less what he'd expected it to be, but the reality of seeing him shirtless was still enough to leave him breathless.

Apparently, The Assumption wasn't taking off any more for the time being, as he was quickly on top of Henry again, smiling in pleasure at the stunned look on his victim's face. He kissed him firmly, sucking on the younger man's lower lip.

Henry responded instantly, arms wrapping around Walter's hard shoulders and rubbing the skin there with his fingertips. The blood was thrumming through his veins so hotly now that he was beginning to forget everything- his entire predicament, impending death, Eileen… everything. Nothing else seemed to matter compared to what was happening now.

Fingers were tracing his abdomen again in soft strokes, and Henry was almost too far gone to notice any particular pattern.

When he did, though, his blood ran cold.

Numbers… 2…1…1…2…1… 21/21…? Walter was marking him as the last victim- the realisation brought all former panic crashing down on the man beneath the killer.

Oh God… What am I DOING? Of course he's still going to kill me! As if this was some sort of truce… I've been so stupid… Henry thought with increasing alarm, beginning to struggle again. Attempting to slide out from under Walter, he didn't get far before hands clamped down on each of his hips.

"Where do you think you're going?" Walter said in an unreadable tone of voice, his eyes somehow managing to shine with a combination of amusement and foreboding.

Henry swallowed audibly, his eyes inadvertently dropping to avoid the steely look, and gazing instead upon firm planes of the man's upper body. He was momentarily distracted again, taking in the rippling stomach muscles and sharp hip bones just visible about the waistband of his trousers.

"Don't you realise how important you are?" Walter said suddenly, leaning closer and planting a light kiss on Henry's forehead. "My final sign… my Receiver."

The younger man parted his lips to speak, but Walter lifted a hand to press a finger against them. He tutted as if berating a child.

"Don't worry," he smiled, in a voice reminiscent of the one he'd used on the manifestation of his boyhood, 'Little Walter'. "Nothing can keep you from me."

Henry's brow furrowed slightly. What did he mean, by that?

Walter sighed a little, taking his finger away and replacing it with his mouth. He moaned against Henry's soft lips. "Mmm, Henry… be still. Stop fighting." His hands ran down the length of Henry's shaking body, coming to rest on his hips again. One curved in towards the other man's aching erection.

Henry's own hand snapped down and grabbed Walter's wrist. He shook his head at last, submitting. "…Just… please, just… finish it."

There was a long silence. Walter regarded him with a blank gaze.

Henry inhaled slowly. "Either way you look at it… you've caught me. Whether you're going to kill me, or… or fuck me, I don't care anymore," he let the breath out again, dejectedly. "But don't draw it out any longer… please, Walter."

The blonde man stood without a word, kicking off his shoes and removing the last remaining garments with calm swiftness. Now as naked as Henry, he resumed his place on the bed, tapping two fingers against the other man's mouth.

"Hm?" Henry intoned his confusion.

"Suck them, Henry," Walter said softly, patient as ever.

Henry's face reddened slightly, but he did as he was told, opening his mouth and drawing the digits in with his tongue. Although mildly embarrassed by the way Walter stared at him as he did so, he sucked on the fingers, coating them with as much saliva as he could manage.

When the killer was satisfied, he slipped them out from Henry's warm mouth, then slid his hands under Henry's thighs, lifting them up until they were draped comfortably around his sides.

"You're going to relax, aren't you?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Henry did the only thing he could, and nodded. He fixed his gaze on the ceiling, trying not to tense up when he felt the wet fingers pressing into him. Though not as painful as he'd been expecting, it was strange, and he had to bite back the grunts.

Walter pushed in and out slowly, repeating the motion until Henry's body was more pliant. When he added a third finger and thrust upwards, the other man arched slightly off the bed, gasping.

The murderer smirked in satisfaction, gently increasing the speed of his fingers.

With his mouth open and panting harshly, Henry desperately drank in the new sensations, his hands finding their way back to Walter's shoulders, where they clutched on for dear life. He realised at once that this wasn't enough.

"Walter… uhnn, please… can you…?" Henry managed to utter.

The blonde man peered at Henry from behind strands of hair. "What do you want, Receiver…?"

"…You already know…"

Walter lifted his head further, withdrawing his fingers and edging closer. He adjusted Henry's hips accordingly, leaning down to kiss the smaller man hungrily while he slowly pressed in.

Predictably, Henry tensed up in mild pain, but Walter promptly covered his victim's throat with kisses, shushing him gently.

Henry's jaw was clenched and his eyes closed, trying his hardest to accommodate the foreign intrusion in his nether regions. He felt like he'd been impaled with a Sword of Obedience.

But Walter was being surprisingly gentle, considering his 'profession'. He wasn't moving, just watching Henry carefully, dark blonde hair hanging down at either side of his face.

The other male found himself relaxing under that saturnine gaze, wanting nothing more than to proceed.

Seeing Henry's barely perceptible nod, Walter began to move slowly in and out of the warm body beneath him.

Henry's eyes were out of focus, shallow breaths speeding up slightly from the friction. He blinked, staring up into the face of the man he was rapidly becoming enamoured with. He almost smiled at the absurdity of it all- if someone had said to him that he'd eventually sleep with the serial killer, he would have called them crazy. And yet…

Walter suddenly changed the angle of his thrusts, abruptly jerking Henry from his thoughts and wrenching a loud cry from him as his prostate was assaulted.

That accomplished, Walter began to speed up, pounding mercilessly into the other man who could only gasp and moan with each direct hit.

It suddenly occurred to Henry to wonder how the hell Walter was so adept at this, and he would have asked if not for the dizzying pleasure currently shrouding his mind.

Walter himself was much better at concealing his emotions. His forehead damp with perspiration, his expression was purely concentration, the only indication of his pleasure being the glittering of his eyes.

Henry reached up to stroke the older man's rough face, wishing he could coax even a small moan from him. He doubted, however, that it would even be heard above his own frantic groaning.

A smile slowly started to spread across Walter's features, as one hand released Henry's hips to cover the one on his face.

"My dear," came his voice, thick with lust, "You will always be mine." The hand let go, stroking a path down Henry's heaving chest, thumbs rubbing circles into the pale skin.

The possessive declaration only hastened Henry's approach to the edge, and he turned his face to the side, barely able to get enough air into his lungs. "W-Walter…!" His hands dropped from Walter's face to grab his waist tightly, letting out a low groan as he released with a long shudder.

The murderer's eyes lit up at the sight of his victim undulating beneath him, and with a hiss, thrust into Henry one last time before also letting go.

He eased himself down, lying on top of Henry's slick body and breathing harshly into his neck.

Henry was silent now, fingers automatically threading into his 'lover's' hair.


Henry sleepily blinked his eyes open, just in time to see Walter finish dressing. He didn't lift his head, fatigued as he was, but voiced his disappointment.

"You're leaving?"

He didn't know why he had ever supposed Walter would stay and languish in the post-coital warmth with him. He put it down to wishful thinking.

Walter looked up, zipping up his coat. He licked along his lower lip hesitantly, as if reconsidering the temptation of lying next to Henry and soaking in his presence. "Nothing can keep you from me," he repeated enigmatically from earlier, and said nothing more before leaving the room with calm, controlled steps.

Henry listened to the silence that followed, closing his eyes in consternation. There were a number of things that could happen next, none of which he wanted to dwell on right this moment. All he could really do was continue the struggle, with the dim hope that this could end in something other than death.

At time likes this, he was aware of just how much of a fool he could be.