Frank drove around for hours and hours. He couldn't go back to Matt and Peter, look them in the eye, not yet, not when he felt slimy and repulsive all over for calling a fucking hotline. What had he been thinking?
So he found some slaveowners and killed that one, and that one, and that one too, pulling the trigger and getting back out of there almost mindlessly, letting all the rage come out of him.
He came back with sandwiches--full of meat and veggies for Matt and Peter both, as far as he could tell they loved just about anything except for olives or jalapenos--and drinks and chips, letting his brain tire itself out.
As he opened the door and got it shut again and locked, he realized that Matt was slowly fucking Peter's mouth and petting his hair while Peter fucked himself back onto a coke bottle, arms flat on the floor, eyes rolling back in his head, knees folded against the chair whose seat the bottle was taped to, and Matt was saying, voice low and amused and clearly quoting something someone had said to him, "I know what you want inside you is real cock at both ends, our master's cock, and I want it too, but you're a dirty slut, and dirty sluts don't get their master's cock until they've earned it, you poor little needy thing, and we haven't earned it yet."
Frank felt something inside of him start to shrivel up and die at the confirmation of what the evil, evil woman had said. They really wanted to be fucked by him.
His traitorous dick twitched at the thought in his pants and Matt's head cocked to the side, listening to Frank, and went on, "I know how good master's cock will feel, I bet it's large enough to even satisfy a pillow-princess size-queen like you, I bet he could pick me up and slam me against a wall and make me scream, hold either of us just by the throat as his cock fucked us open, made us normal again," and then he moaned and grabbed onto the base of his dick, squeezing hard.
Frank thought distantly that he really shouldn't be watching this, much less staring like he was, but after Peter's eyes swiveled around as much as they could and saw him, Peter's whole body shook and Matt reached down to pinch the base of Peter's cock too. They really weren't letting themselves come.
God, what had he done to them?
Frank swallowed and looked away as he set out the sandwiches, and carefully didn't look at either of them as he said, carefully, "You know that you guys can co--orgasm whenever you want, as long as you don't get anything on the guns or the kitchen counters."
There was a second of wary silence in which Frank couldn't stop himself from turning around and then Matt sobbed low in his throat and bent over Peter, holding his cock in place, saying frantically "Thank you thank you thank you master, ohh fuck, oh fuck master thank you you're so kind, thank you," and Peter trembled like an earthquake and his eyes turned soft and adoring too.
Matt reached over and very gently pulled Peter off the bottle and onto the floor, and started to crawl over to Frank, still saying apologies with his eyes fluttering half-shut from exhausted relief.
Frank retreated hastily to his bedroom, locked the door, and resisted the urge to shoot himself in the head just barely. He knew it wouldn't hurt that much. He knew Maria would've wanted it that way.
But this city needed the Punisher, so he took the barrel off his forehead and went back to cleaning it.
FILL, Pt 4/?
So he found some slaveowners and killed that one, and that one, and that one too, pulling the trigger and getting back out of there almost mindlessly, letting all the rage come out of him.
He came back with sandwiches--full of meat and veggies for Matt and Peter both, as far as he could tell they loved just about anything except for olives or jalapenos--and drinks and chips, letting his brain tire itself out.
As he opened the door and got it shut again and locked, he realized that Matt was slowly fucking Peter's mouth and petting his hair while Peter fucked himself back onto a coke bottle, arms flat on the floor, eyes rolling back in his head, knees folded against the chair whose seat the bottle was taped to, and Matt was saying, voice low and amused and clearly quoting something someone had said to him, "I know what you want inside you is real cock at both ends, our master's cock, and I want it too, but you're a dirty slut, and dirty sluts don't get their master's cock until they've earned it, you poor little needy thing, and we haven't earned it yet."
Frank felt something inside of him start to shrivel up and die at the confirmation of what the evil, evil woman had said. They really wanted to be fucked by him.
His traitorous dick twitched at the thought in his pants and Matt's head cocked to the side, listening to Frank, and went on, "I know how good master's cock will feel, I bet it's large enough to even satisfy a pillow-princess size-queen like you, I bet he could pick me up and slam me against a wall and make me scream, hold either of us just by the throat as his cock fucked us open, made us normal again," and then he moaned and grabbed onto the base of his dick, squeezing hard.
Frank thought distantly that he really shouldn't be watching this, much less staring like he was, but after Peter's eyes swiveled around as much as they could and saw him, Peter's whole body shook and Matt reached down to pinch the base of Peter's cock too. They really weren't letting themselves come.
God, what had he done to them?
Frank swallowed and looked away as he set out the sandwiches, and carefully didn't look at either of them as he said, carefully, "You know that you guys can co--orgasm whenever you want, as long as you don't get anything on the guns or the kitchen counters."
There was a second of wary silence in which Frank couldn't stop himself from turning around and then Matt sobbed low in his throat and bent over Peter, holding his cock in place, saying frantically "Thank you thank you thank you master, ohh fuck, oh fuck master thank you you're so kind, thank you," and Peter trembled like an earthquake and his eyes turned soft and adoring too.
Matt reached over and very gently pulled Peter off the bottle and onto the floor, and started to crawl over to Frank, still saying apologies with his eyes fluttering half-shut from exhausted relief.
Frank retreated hastily to his bedroom, locked the door, and resisted the urge to shoot himself in the head just barely. He knew it wouldn't hurt that much. He knew Maria would've wanted it that way.
But this city needed the Punisher, so he took the barrel off his forehead and went back to cleaning it.