Let Me Call You Sweetheart

[[A/N: I was scared shitless when I was playing this game. I think anybody with an adrenal gland can agree with me when I say that it was a serious ordeal to get through, especially if they were stupid enough to take that freaking doll. I was… How do we conquer out fears? Psh, I don't know… Personally, I write porn over it, so here you go. WalterxHenry. Maybe I'll be able to get past the second forest level on my own now…]]

Let me call you sweetheart, I'm in love with you.

Let me hear you whisper that you love me too.

Clank, krsht, clang, clang, chrshcrshcrsh, click.

Don't let it get to you, Henry. This is just a dream. The brunette thought to himself, wiping sweat from his brow and continuing down the hallway. He held a crowbar at the ready, frantic eyes darting to and fro in the low light. The gentle patter of his footsteps, sticky with grime, rang through his head, and he stopped dreadfully still when there was a growl behind him. He turned, baring his teeth, then swung the weapon in his hands as hard as he could.

There was a yelp, and the animal-like thing crumpled into a twitching heap on the floor, Henry smashing at its head over and over again until it was limp and bleeding and what he suspected was brain matter was strewn across the floor. His expression became stoic and he turned to the door behind him, trying the handle that he hoped was unlocked.

The minute the door clicked behind him, his muscles tensed, the light of his flashlight shining over the dirty expanse of wall before him. There was something making his vision shake, a sharp ringing in his ears, and he considered returning to the hallway, but there might have been some kind of useful weapon in this room. With a noiseless sigh, the shaking man continued towards whatever was making his head pound furiously.

"Henry." The voice was thick from disuse, the massive, powerful form taking up more space in the room than was possible.

He backed away, tense knuckles tightening around the crowbar, ready to strike. There was the revving of something mechanical and terrifying, but Henry couldn't pry his gaze away from striking green orbs. They were dead. If anything, they were emotionless, but something else lingered there, making everything seem so wrong.

Walter's feet began to move, and even though every nerve in Henry's body screamed for him to run, he was trapped. There was another rev of the chainsaw. A dark blue trench coat fluttered around the towering man's form, Henry's heart suddenly in his throat. He sputtered out something that would have been "stop" had it not sounded like incoherent rambling, and his feet finally obeyed him. He found his back against the door, the awkward angle of his tormentor's approach forcing him into a corner.

The brunette's headache became a roar of white noise, and he blinked slowly, grunting with displeasure at the closeness. He expected to smell human grime, something unpleasant and tangible on his tongue, but the only thing that hit his nose was blood. He had become accustomed to the scent that stung in the back of his mouth, seeing as it hung around everything in the Other Place, and even lingered in the hole in his wall. It was surprising, the lack of dirty, and he found himself inhaling deeply, trying desperately for something to prove that the stranger was a real person. Like that would have helped.

There was a whimper in the smaller male's throat, caught by tight lips, and he was groping along the door for the knob he knew was there somewhere. It disappeared when there was a loud rumble in his ear, every thought mixing into an incoherent scream for escape. He looked up from the spot on Walter's chest that he was boring into and at a face that was so intimidatingly smug it made him have to suck back a scream.

"No." I don't want to die.

He expected for there to be pain ripping into his shoulder, the chainsaw not inches away from it, and he clamped his eyes shut. There was stillness, then silence, then it was as though the other man's presence had disappeared completely. Slowly, Henry pried his eyes open, seeing the same thing he had been staring at before, and a defeated expression washed over his tired features. Walter was still there, just stooped, face level with the Receiver.

Suddenly, there was a hand on Henry's jeans, the chainsaw clattering to the floor with the sound of metal against metal. The brunette beat against a broad chest, kicking with broken futility against a shin that made his foot ache at the impact. It was as though he was made of stone, tediously moving steel that pressed forward and trapped the male in the corner he had so foolishly backed himself into.

The fingers on Henry's groin rolled and he gasped aloud, trying to push away the other male. His mind was screaming "no", all of it trying to push the monster off of him, wanting to wash away the dirty feelings that flooded him at a particularly pleasant motion. There was another large hand working on the button to Henry's jeans, and the brunette wrapped both of his hands around the wrist of his attacker, yanking and tugging and pulling without even the hint of a reaction.

His shirt was disheveled, his pants wiggling from his body, his very blood betraying him and rushing to the place that Walter was pleasing much too quickly. The smaller man looked up from a chest clad in fading blue to a smug face that he loathed, squirming backwards and wishing he could melt into the wall. There was a hand slipping into his underwear, stroking with rough, grime-coated fingers.

The smaller man heard a choking noise and didn't realize it was him until he saw the tight line of the murderer's lips, incapable of making such a breathy sound. There was a large chest pressed against his own, the tickle of stubble on his neck, the pressure of a chin on his shoulder, and Henry was panting. His arms, tightly curled into his body, became sore with the pressure between them, tugging away from their restraining position to shove at broad shoulders.

"F-fuck, get off – hng…" There was a calloused thumb ghosting over the tip, and the brunette's entire body shook.

His heavy breath made matted yellow hair shift under his nose, the speed of his attacker's motions increasing, the ghosting of something stiff and unpleasant moving against his stomach. He found his hands balled into tight fists around rough-feeling fabric, his mouth gaping with pleasure, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. He was close, knees buckling then becoming stiff to prevent him from falling on the floor with defeat.

"You were a good choice." He felt hot breath on his neck, the words not really directed at him, too hazy to decipher.

Henry bucked into the hand, gasping again and groaning. His eyes screwed shut as he tried to think of something to keep him from climaxing at the hands of a monster, realizing that he should have been trying that much sooner. Henry felt tightness in the pit of his stomach, the ghosting of teeth on a neck that was ultra-sensitive from the attention, and came against the murderer's coat.

The brunette faltered against the wall behind him, the pressure of a body leaving him as the monster pulled away. There was a smile on his face, barely perceived through tear-stained eyes and fading pleasure. The exposed parts of the smaller male's body were shocked with chill, and he immediately went to readjusting his clothing. When he looked up, he realized that Walter had left, as though he had never really been there, the only evidence the fact that his victim's knees were weak and shaking.