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Deviant	By : Closet Category: S through Z > Sky High Views: 5744 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sky High, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Deviant
- 1
Will had never considered himself to be a particularly violent person. Okay, so he had gotten in a
few fights. And yes... he had once beat his girlfriend senseless. And okay... so he destroyed a
school cafeteria in an attempt to maim/hurt/and possibly kill his rival. And yes, he had tied
someone to a telephone pole, smashed another into said someone, and thrown one of his friends
dangerously close to what could really only be described as a meat grinder from hell.

But he wasn’t a violent person. He just got in circumstances that required great violence and a
great exaggeration of said violence. Really. It just sounded really, really bad. Really bad.

But now here he sat, half naked, on his own bed, and his boyfriend was calmly looking at him,
making the strangest request.

“Hurt me... please?”

Will took a deep breath, then let it out again. “I heard you,” he said slowly. “I’m just... stuck.”

“Stuck?” Warren repeated, lower jaw jutted out.

“Yes. See, I was just thinking. I try to avoid violence.” Will paused. “And now you say you want
me to hurt you.”

Warren nodded. “I’ve told you a million times before, I can take a hit. I’m almost as impervious
as you are. Which means... you’re really the only person who can actually hurt me.”

“Mm-hmm.” Will nodded slowly. “And you say you actually like that.”

“You’re the only one who can do it,” Warren replied. “And I trust you. Besides, I like it, and
trust me, you will too.”

“But how do you know you like it?” Will pointed out, triumphantly. “You said you’d never
actually done this before.”

“I liked it when you smashed me through the wall last year,” Warren admitted.

Will face-faulted. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Warren shivered. “The amount of power that took.... mm. That’s what I want. That
power, used against me, just... mmm.”

Will blinked. A lot. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

Warren nodded.

Will took a deep breath. “Well... you’d have to tell me, if it’s too much. I mean, I don’t really
know my own strength half the time.”

Warren grinned. “We’ll have a safe word. If I say... ‘hippie’, you have to stop.”

“Hippie.” Will snorted. “After that fiasco last year, yeah, ‘hippie’ puts a stop to my sex drive.”

Warren smirked, and flopped onto his stomach on the bed, holding his hands up above his head.
“Are you going to tie me up, Stronghold?”

Will swallowed. “Tie you up?” Was it a bad thing that the idea of that was actually appealing
more to him than he would have thought possible?

“It’s traditional,” Warren answered.

“Okay.” Will looked around his room for a moment, trying to think of something good, then his
eyes lit up when they fell on his dress tie, slung over the back of his chair from when he’d had to
wear a suit to his aunt’s wedding a couple weeks ago. Frankly, he hated the tie, so if Warren
decided to, oh, I don’t know, burn it or something, he would be happy! Grabbing the silk thing,
he twisted it round Warren’s hands, even weaving it between his wrists, then tied it to the middle
of his headboard as tightly as he could. Tugging on it a little, he asked, “Is that too tight?”

“It’s fucking perfect,” Warren answered, voice husky and deeper than normal, flexing his hands
and tugging on it experimentally. “God, Stronghold. Hurt me.”

“Right.” Will swallowed, trying to think of the best way to do this. Slap Warren, maybe? Oh
man, that seemed horrible. He didn’t like that. But what else was he supposed to do? Hit him
with something? Pinch him? Punch him? What? Okay, right, asking might help. “Warren?” he
whispered. “What do you want me to do?”

“Anything,” Warren hissed. “Just hurt me, please?”

Will swallowed, looking around the room for a moment. Then something caught his eye, and he
had to grin. Oh, how very ironic.

A few moments later, he crawled up along the length of Warren’s body, grabbed his waist, and
flipped him over onto his back. Warren stared at him, confused, but Will just grinned, and
yanked Warren’s pants and boxers off. Tossing them to the side, he reached over and grabbed the
taper candle he’d grabbed off his dresser, running its unlit wick down the side of Warren’s face
lovingly. Warren’s eyes widened when he realized what his lover held, and Will held it up to
Warren’s hands. “Light it.”

Warren swallowed, but a small flame flared from one of his fingertips, and Will lit the candle on
it. Pulling it away from Warren’s hand, he held it upright for a moment over Warren’s chest, then
tipped it, just a little.

Hot wax spilled from the candle, dripping down onto Warren’s sternum, and the firethrower
screamed, arching off the bed, gasping.

“Too much?” Will asked, nervous. He didn’t want to do anything Warren didn’t want.

“God no, not enough,” Warren panted. “God, Stronghold!”

Will took that as a good sign, and tipped the candle again, for longer this time, and he decided he
must be a very sick person, because the way Warren’s stomach ground across Will’s groin when
he arched up, screaming, thrashing, eyes squeezed tight and chest rapidly turning red and burnt...
was really really really turning Will on. He was painfully hard.

Swallowing, he moved the candle over a little, and this time when he spilled the wax, he made
sure that it fell directly on Warren’s dusky left nipple.

The scream that produced when straight to Will’s groin.

Okay, it was official. He was disturbed.

Didn’t stop him, though. Warren’s other nipple got the same treatment, then his collarbone, the
hollow at the base of his throat, a line to his belly button, then down that trail of dark hair, lower,
the inseam of thighs and hips... then he crouched down so that he was flush with Warren’s body,
and he all but crawled up him, candle dripping all the way, then spilled a generous drop on
Warren’s lower lip before taking said lip - and still hot wax - in his teeth and biting down as hard
as he could.

Blood exploded on his tongue, and he and Warren exploded elsewhere simultaneously.

A few minutes later, Will reached up to tug the tie off of Warren’s hands, noting tiredly that the
wrists were red and raw. Warren reached down to rub a bit of the crumbling wax off, revealing
red, shiny burnt skin. “You are a pervert,” Will muttered, dropping the now unlit candle to the
floor.

“And what does that make you?” Warren murmured, rolling over so he could spoon with the
other.

“Mm.” Will sighed, contented. “Deviant.”
- 1
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Deviant