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This is the first request and fill post. Please go here for the sticky post containing the rules, how this meme works, frequently asked questions, request and fill index, etc.

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Inspiration from this (!/marblehornets/status/49706148542156800) twitter update, but you can place it anywhere in the timeline you want!

[Found something that makes me not want to go through the rest of these tapes. Headache. Laying down for now. Uploading it tomorrow.]

J finds a tape (heavily distorted) that, upon closer inspection, contains questionable content between himself and his masked stalker.

Hey, I am so on this. I started to write something kind of like this already. Might as well finish it!

Awesome prompt. Hope it gets filled. ;D

“Right from the start I was stabbed in the heart.”

Jay couldn't believe what he was seeing. After over three hours spent sorting, viewing, and reviewing the tapes he had salvaged from the hotel safe, the only thing he had managed to get for all his effort was a stiff neck, an empty, queasy feeling in his stomach, and a tape whose footage might have been promising except that the last half hour had consisted of nothing but watching himself and Alex walk through some nondescript woods, walking and walking and walking but not saying anything to each other, even during those brief moments when they were talking.

Not for the first time, Jay wished he could leap through the screen and demand answers – from himself, from Alex, from the whole damned situation. The urge to throttle someone was also quickly becoming familiar.

After fifteen more minutes of shots that were like something out of the world's most disappointing, frustrating nature program, Jay had finally seen enough. Removing the tape from the camera, he leaned back in his chair, scrubbing his hands over his face and back through his hair hard enough that he could feel strands sticking up in the front.

He should get his hair cut.

He should get something to eat.

He should change his name and move out of state.

His stomach only agreed with one of those suggestions. The pleasure of scarfing down some candy bars and a gas station sandwich of dubious origin aside, Jay wasn't sure if he was up for the anxiety-bordering-on-panic that leaving his new location so often presented him with now. Just the thought of it was enough to start building the tight, painful feeling sitting behind his eyes into a full-blown tension headache. Hoping to divert the need for another Ibuprofen – he understood, now, what the bottle of pills had been doing in his bag - Jay picked up another tape, this time from a smaller stack on the other side of the flimsy hotel table. This was the security footage from his own room, which he now recorded and examined with a regularity bordering on pathological. Slotting the tape into place and turning the camera back on, Jay had a moment to register the familiar, hair-raising, high-pitched crackle of audio distortion before the image on the screen wholly captured his attention.

In retrospect, he was glad his stomach was empty, as it immediately plummeted to the soles of his feet.

Wide eyes ringed in black peered out from the static-ridden screen. Jay, despite his exhaustion, felt his heart jackhammer and his whole body go cold. He was suddenly and disconcertingly reminded of the eyes of a rabid coyote he had seen in the woods, and the fact that he was now able to put a name to the person behind the mask, that this was Tim, the guy you could always count on during those three long-ago months of filming for sarcastic remarks and stupid t-shirts, only made the feeling in his stomach lurch from queasy to nauseated. His skin growing tight and prickling with the rush of adrenaline, Jay glanced around the small hotel room he was staying in. From where he was sitting he could easily see the deadbolt that he locked and re-locked and compulsively checked several times a day, the chair braced against the doorknob, the latches turned on every window, the heavy flashlight long since removed from his bag and tucked under his pillow. But despite all of these precautions, he still couldn't shake the dreadful anticipation welling up in his chest, as if he expected to catch those same empty eyes staring back at him from just behind his shoulder.

Looking around, though, there was no one in the room but him. Of course, it would be impossible... But as he turned back to the camera feed, watching through the jarring effect of frequent visual tearing as Tim moved from standing in front of the camera to standing at the foot of the bed where Jay lay sleeping, the sinking feeling in his stomach and the headache pounding against his temples reminded him that everything about this situation was impossible.

But what he saw next forced Jay to re-evaluate that assessment. He thought that maybe he was being too optimistic, that maybe nothing in his life would ever make sense again, because the video feed jumped, the audio distortion spiked to some unbearable pitch meant for communicating with dogs and bats, and at the end of it Tim was leaning over Jay's sleeping body, knees on either side of his waist, that disturbing mask pressed up just as close against his face as it had been against the camera a moment ago.

Jay flinched as if he could feel the cool plastic touching his skin, bracing himself even as he sat at the table, waiting for Tim to turn violent despite the fact that Jay could remember waking up that morning completely unharmed. He could see how the guy was still favouring one leg, had spent some long, uneasy nights with that horrible scream in his ears and the arc of that slab of concrete playing behind his eyes, recalled the knife smeared with Alex's blood and expected to see its shine at any moment – but when Tim instead reached out and ran his fingertips down the side of his face, Jay felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

Because Jay's life was now a loop of unhappiness, the video chose that very moment to become steady, the audio crystal clear, so that Jay could see with unwanted clarity how Tim's fingers first touched just above the arch of one of his eyebrows, moving gently down along his eyelashes and the curve of his cheek, his pinky finger snagging at the corner of Jay's mouth. He could hear the cheap, stiff hotel blankets through the tiny camera speakers as he watched himself shift in his sleep, but Tim seemed unfazed. As Jay watched, too dumbstruck with disbelief to even be horrified, Tim's fingertips continued to meander down Jay's jaw, neck, and chest while with his other hand he started running his fingers back through Jay's hair, almost as if he was... no, it was too bizarre to think that Tim could be petting him. In some distant, shell-shocked part of his mind, Jay was thankful that at least he always wore clothes to bed.

And then he woke up.


Omg yes. Just yes.

Part 3 of ?

Author Note: Glad you guys are enjoying it so far. Thanks a lot for the comments.

Jay and Tim jolted as one, as if they had been suddenly pierced through and then jerked back by the same wire. After taking a moment to recover Jay leaned closer to the screen, not sure what to think. It was clear that, as impossible as it was, his eyes were now wide open. The occasional tear interrupted the footage's progress as he watched Tim's hands pull away, fingers flexing, curling and uncurling like some sort of nervous tic in slow motion. Behind the lifeless mask, Tim seemed to take a moment of his own, head tilted to one side, before gradually reaching out again.

Jay found himself watching the movement of Tim's hands with rapt attention. Despite his better instincts, some sick sort of anticipation was welling up in his chest as they moved closer and closer to his face, skimming over his lips just as they parted, his own sleep-hoarse voice whispering something that Jay could barely discern through the speakers of his camera and a low, buzzing drone that was steadily gathering in volume.


One of Tim's hands came down firmly over his eyes, the video jumped and warped and fragmented, and the tape ended. Jay moved without even thinking, fumbling for the next tape in his stack, distractedly glancing at the date and time penned on the front before switching it out...

He was laying on his back fast asleep in his bed, not a hair out of place. According to the time stamp still counting down in the corner of the video feed, over half an hour had passed by completely unrecorded. Jay sucked in a deep breath, feeling shaky and sick as he turned off the camera completely. His head was pounding as he sat back in his chair, trying to wrap his head around what he had just seen. He only gradually realized that his head wasn't the only part of his body that was pounding. He was well on his way to being more than half hard, and as he shifted, trying to ease the pressure, his jeans pinched uncomfortably.

How could this have happened? How could Tim have found him again so soon? Why would he touch him like that when every other time they'd come into contact Jay was at least 45% sure he'd been fighting for his life? He had been as careful as he could after the hotel, after Jessica and the safe full of tapes, he had hardly left his room, never staying in the same hotel for more than a few nights... Hunching over somewhat painfully in his chair, Jay started to run his hands back through his hair, a habitual gesture borne of frustration and exhaustion, both of which he had in spades at the moment – but he froze halfway through the motion, feeling at the same time a vague, half-remembered touch.

Tim's hands running through his hair, careful yet possessive, and the pressure of his nails scratching along his scalp.

As if the situation couldn't have been any more surreal and unbelievable, Jay felt his cock distinctly twitch against the fabric of his jeans. He took a few slow, deep breaths, then logged onto his Twitter account, posting a few short sentences that were, he felt, appropriately vague when it came to exactly what he had seen tonight. There wasn't any reason anyone needed to know about what he had found. Hell, Jay wasn't sure that he wanted to know.

He reached over and picked up Alex's camera. He had gotten into the habit recently of wanting to have something recording him even when he was just reviewing old tapes and security footage, and had been pretty successful thus far at not wondering how objectively crazy this meant his life had become, that he needed to have a camera recording his life in case he found himself in a hotel months from now with no idea what had happened to him.

Jay turned the camera off.

Re: Part 3 of ?

I listened to "Creeper" and "The Arm" while I read this. It was perfect.

Re: Part 4 of 5

Thumbing open the button of his jeans, Jay slipped his hand past the waistband of his pants, gripping his cock with a dry palm. The drag of skin against skin was almost painful, but it wasn't enough to stop images of Tim from filling his mind, and now that he wanted them it was easy for Jay to recall, or imagine - god how he hoped he was imagining all of this – the touch of Tim's hands on his body, the heat from his legs where they hadn't quite been pressed against his hips.

Letting his head fall back, Jay pictured the way Tim had looked bent over him, his long, slow hands the only point of contact between them. But in the scene that played out in his mind, Jay was no longer asleep. He was free to lift his head up, to press his lips against that thin, flimsy, but still impenetrable mask. The cool plastic slid over his lips before Tim pressed back – too hard, smashing Jay's lips against his teeth so that he had to part them, his tongue slipping over the raised imitation of a mouth like he could lick the black marker off of it, swallow it down, slip his tongue past the plastic and lick his way into Tim's warm, wet mouth. Those insistent hands were moving up and down his body in a way that, even in Jay's fantasy, gave the impression not of comfort or of sensuality but of a mind permanently stunned and fragmented, needing to check that the skin it had touched just a moment ago hadn't set itself into some new and impossible configuration. Tim's eyes, flat with barely restrained madness and shining like something diseased, flashed through Jay's mind. He groaned helplessly as his hand sped up in response, the movements coming easier as pre-come gathered at the head of his cock.

Spreading his legs as wide as his jeans - half undone and caught around his knees - would allow, Jay let his free hand travel up his chest and neck, in much the same way Tim had done just before the tape cut out. Instead of laying the palm of his hand over his eyes, Jay slipped his own fingers into his mouth. He sucked at them hard, imagining Tim's eyes locked on his, pinning him in place he moved his fingers in and out of Jay's mouth. This time Jay wasn't surprised by the jolt of pleasure and fear that made his heart race and his cock jerk in his hand, but his resulting moan was one of frustration. It wasn't enough.

Far past the point of being able to, or even wanting to, rationalize his own thoughts, Jay imagined taking Tim's hand by the wrist, picturing the heavy weight and heat of it, the coarse feeling of wiry hair against the palm of his hand. He continued sucking at Tim's fingers even as he withdrew them from his mouth. He licked a long, broad stripe up the middle of Tim's palm, up and then down, running his tongue along the curve of the heel of Tim's hand and the webbing of his fingers until it was glistening and wet all over. There was a subtle shift in tension as Jay sat up, holding Tim's gaze with purpose, watching as his sharp eyes grew half-lidded and glazed. They were no less dangerous than they had been when they were wordlessly pinning Jay to his back, and that knowledge made a shiver run up his spine. Jay slotted his knee against Tim's growing erection, rubbing and pressing there until he could see the flutter of Tim's eyelashes in the poorly-lit hotel room, the way his chest began to rise and fall a little harder, a little faster.

Then he neatly flipped their positions, pressing Tim back down into the hotel mattress, bearing his weight against those broad shoulders, letting their hips settle flush together. Tim's hand was still slick and warm with spit and sweat, and Jay guided it to his aching cock, watching that expressionless mask for some sign of... of consent, of dissent, of desire, anything – and was rewarded when Tim tried to jerk his hand away just as Jay started to slide his heavy cock through the loose grasp of Tim's fingers. Jay refused to let go of Tim's wrist, and Tim refused to move his fingers, to give Jay what he wanted – but Tim's other arm was free, his legs were partially pinned by Jay's weight on his hips but not immobilized, and Tim wasn't fighting. There was that violent, unhinged look in his eyes again, like a rabid animal just before it bites – but he wasn't, wasn't striking out.

Re: Part 5 of 5

They sat in that moment together, balanced on the edge of some precipice, a gulf as wide and cold and alien as an unfamiliar night sky spreading out between them -

“Come on, Tim.”

His body was humming and his face was flushed. Jay didn't even realize he had spoken out loud. Not commanding, not begging. Quiet, almost intimate, like they were the only two people in the world. Like Tim could be counted as a person in a scenario like that. Like Tim hadn't just been watching Jay all this time. Like Jay had maybe been watching him too.

Something came alive, then, in Tim's eyes, something that wasn't a product of delirium or psychosis, something that didn't make Jay want to instinctively grab for the nearest blunt object – and in response Tim tightened his fingers around Jay's cock, squeezing when it jerked against his palm, a thumb pressing against the underside of his shaft, rubbing over the slick head. Jay moaned, driving his hips forward helplessly – then did it again, and again, fucking into Tim's hand. Heat built in his abdomen, curled low at the base of his spine, and Jay imagined settling his weight back against Tim's hips, imagined the answering heat and hardness of Tim's cock shoving up against his ass through Tim's jeans. Even when he came all over Tim's fist and stomach he didn't stop, his balls drawing up against his body as he kept grinding himself down on Tim's cock. Tim moaned low in his throat when he finally came, thrusting up against Jay's ass and cock even after his jeans had grown damp and sticky with come, making harsh panting sounds behind his mask like he couldn't get enough.

Jay came two more times that night, one right after the other, then passed out slumped over the table amongst his laptop and tapes – literally fell unconscious, too drained and fucked out to even stand up and fall into bed.

He woke up with the cheap hotel comforter pulled up to his chin, his head resting on a pillow only nominally softer than the surface of the desk had been, come dried, itchy and uncomfortable, where it had smeared inside his boxers and up his inner thighs. Jay stumbled out of bed and into the tiny bathroom, throwing on the light and then blinking at the contrast it made with the early morning/late evening gloom filtering in through the curtains.

Then he blinked a few more times, turned the light off, shucking his pants and boxers all in one go before fumbling with the still-mounted chest camera. After a moment the little red light turned on, and he collapsed back onto the bed.

In the bathroom, a message was smudged on the surface of the mirror.


Jay drifted off with a smile on his face.

Re: Part 5 of 5

OP here. So glad you finally came back and finished this. The way you capture Timasky here is so incredibly perfect.

Re: Part 5 of 5

I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for the awesome prompt!

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