Chapter Text
Out of all the adjustments to being in his very own meat sack, Bill thought eating and sleeping were the worst at first. You have to keep stuffing junk into your mouth and try not to choke on it. Or be allergic! How are people like that even alive? Perhaps natural selection hadn’t completed its rounds…
Sleeping was only an option when Bill passed out from exhaustion, which, of course, the Smart guy frowned upon, hypocrite. Bill could recall countless nights that Ford stayed awake to work on the portal or study his anomaly.
So now he has grown fond of coffee, which helps him feel jittery and energized. And if he gets to see Ford more because he’s always making a new pot for himself after Bill steals his, well that’s just a plus.
The next, and by far more difficult challenge. All. The. Fucking. Emotions.
One minute he’s having delightful thoughts about the giant H from the Mystery Shack sign falling and crushing Stanley, the next he sees Ford hunched over the kitchen table scribbling away in his journal. Bill’s stomach turns and his head feels fuzzy. Emotions make his body act funny.
Ford’s face is scrunched up from concentrating, and he occasionally stops to chew at the end of his pen.
He remembers how happy Ford was when he figured out how to make his pens that would withstand his chewing and also last longer.
He missed seeing him excited about things.
The light in his eyes has faded over the years, especially after he came back from his multi dimensional travels. He was wiser, still sharp as ever, and distrusting of Bill.
For good reason but still…kinda hurt.
Bill didn’t know why it hurt, he used to take pleasure in spinning Ford up in yarn of tricks and trivia. Always being four steps ahead.
Ford seemed to enjoy the consistent chase for Bill’s praise and encouragement. It was the way they played their game.
Now, after the frilly guy upstairs had him restart and reform, Ford mostly ignores him. He really only pays him attention if he believes Bill might be up to trouble.
Everyone had their own reactions to his return, after the initial fear that he was back to hurt everyone disappeared, they kinda forgot about him. Like getting a new goldfish, fun for a while then it gets boring.
Expect they hated this fish and wanted to flush him down the toilet.
After a few weeks, the hateful feelings towards Bill had been dulled down to just feeling distasteful.
Mabel was the first and quickest to start spending time with him. She felt bad for the ex demon and even made friendship bracelets to cheer Bill up.
Bill doesn’t admit it but sometimes he still wears it, It’s a piece of yarn with charms on it, all shapes, with a larger triangle in the middle.
Stan was angry at first but was thrilled when he realized he could make Bill an unpaid and overworked employee.
Dipper would glare and whisper under his breath when Bill was around, but after Bill took the blame for breaking one of Ford’s inventions to spare Dipper the trouble he would now acknowledge Bill and even awkwardly thank him afterwards.
He didn’t really know why he took the blame, it wasn’t because he wanted the kids to like him. Definitely not. He just wants to keep Ford on his toes and remember that he’s still as mischievous as ever.
But now he’s on probation, he’s outside on the back porch with Ford and Stan. The two men took the two spots on the, frankly ugly yellow couch, so that left Bill to straddle the couch arm and balance himself. His stupid legs got tired easily.
Stan and Ford were rambling about some fishing trip, Stan was taking the kids to the lake and offered to take Ford as well, “Come on Sixer, get your head out of your books for one day.”
Ford sighs and gives Bill a sideways glance, “Next time, I promise. But some of us can’t be trusted alone. Or with expensive equipment.”
Bill grins at him, “It was a piece of junk and I was fixing it! You know for a genius you suck at making a teleportation gun”
Stan dismisses him, “At least go grab the fishing poles from inside, I’ll watch the demon”
Ford stands up and sighs, “Fine. You'd better bring back the biggest fish of your life.”
“I’m a master fisherman, I’ve caught fish that were bigger than your ego!” Stan laughs and earns a smile from Ford before he goes inside.
Bill watches Ford leave and he twists halfway around. Then he loses his balance for a second but catches himself so he doesn’t fall off the couch. He squeezed his legs around the couch and felt something…different. He looks down for a brief moment before Stan speaks up, “Be real for a moment, we both know Dipper was the knucklehead that broke that sciencey thing my brother was working on,” he looks at Bill, “So why tell him you did it?”
Bill was caught off guard, How did the dumber twin figure that out? Unless he was bluffing. He was a con artist after all.
“Your memory must still be shot.”
The look Stan gave him made him worried he was about to get punched.
“As much as an asshole as you still are, you didn’t have to take the fall and now Ford won’t leave the house until after your done being grounded or whatever.”
Bill leans forward on the couch’s arm and sighs, “I don’t need to give you my reasons.” He avoids eye contact.
There’s a beat of silence. Stan accepts his answer and gets up, “Keep your reasons. But you should know that Mabel wants to see you change. She has hope for you, Dipper has less hope but still…I think you aren’t entirely unredeemable.”
Bill looks back at him and tries not to show that he’s surprised, Now his chest is getting heavy, “I uh…”
Ford comes back, “Here we go, now make sure the kids wash their hands. I studied a few samples of lake water and you wouldn’t believe-“
“Yeah yeah, keep your nerdiness to yourself. They haven’t gotten sick or killed yet.”
Ford and Stan walk off to the car where the kids are waiting, they laugh about something and when they get far enough to where their voices are distant and they’re out of sight, Bill realized he could sit normally.
He pauses and scoots on the couch again, just an inch but it stirs something between his legs again. He never actually bothered down there. He keeps himself clean like he was instructed by Ford to do, so he’s only ever run a hand down there with soap.
He grinds down harder, it’s more sensitive than he remembered. When possessing Ford he didn’t bother with that meat stick flapping around down there.
Bill moves his hips more and his body starts warming up. Usually, he only feels hot when he’s embarrassed or angry.
This was a different kind of warmth.
When he stops he’s left craving. He knew what humans used these parts for, he wasn’t naïve. His true form wasn’t made for sexual activities, just pure energy.
So this was uncharted territory for him.
He stops when he hears Stan’s car drive away. Ford would be walking back and doesn’t need to catch him doing…whatever he’s doing.
Bill ungracfully flings himself off the couch and lies on the ground. He blinks and sees two pairs of boots in front of him.
“Bill? What are you doing?”
“Just laying around.”
Bill stands up and briefly notes that there’s a wetness between his legs. He’s hot and bothered.
Ford studies his face and slightly frowns, “Your face is a little pink.” He presses his hand against Bill’s cheek, “You are warm. You might be getting sick. Makes sense considering your new body hadn’t been exposed to germs and-“
Bill feels his face flush and swats his hand away, “I’m fine! I’m going to lie down.”
Ford’s eyebrow raises in surprise, “You want to sleep? You might actually be sick.”
Bill scampers inside and leaves without a response. He goes to Ford’s room, he’s been staying there while Ford bunks with Stan. He goes into the bathroom and slams the door shut.
He doesn’t waste time taking off his pants and grabbing a hand mirror. He sits on the ground and props it up against the wall. He lies on his back and spreads his legs to get a better look at what he’s working with.
Bill thinks back to his knowledge of the human body, he was made with the traditional female parts. He runs a finger down and he shudders. His skin is hot and wet, he circles his clit almost in awe. His heart is beating faster and he licks his lips. He rubs it harder and his eyes close, the sensation and rush of dopamine.
His other hand reaches down towards what he assumes is his vagina. He slips a finger inside and moves it around.
The feeling is foreign, but not unpleasant.
Bill doesn’t recognize the sounds he’s making but he wants to explore further. He shoves another digit inside and whines as he realizes maybe he should have shortened his nails. But the scraping and wet sounds were making his body buzz with excitement.
He lays his head down on the bathroom floor and thrusts his hips into his hands. His vision starts to get blotchy.
Bill felt himself getting frustrated after another minute, he needed more.
A thought crossed his mind. He could ask Ford, maybe walk out, and crawl into his lap. With six fingers he could get the job done and more.
Shame creeps up and he shakes his head. Fuck. He doesn’t need him. Or his disgustingly attractive voice that Bill imagines whispering dirty ideas into his ear. Oh, what he would give to be worshipped by him again.
He pulls his hands out and they are slick. He looks around and notices a hairbrush by the sink. It was Ford’s but he gave it to Bill when he started getting knots in his hair.
It’s a simple round bush and the handle is decently long. Maybe he would regret this later.
He gets on his knees and the cold tile is welcomed against his hot flesh. He shakes a bit with adrenaline as he washes the brush in the sink.
He stays on his knees and puts the brush underneath him, he attempts to press it inside of him but stops. What did humans use? Spit? Right.
He spits on his hand and lubes up the handle. When satisfied he puts the brush back down and positions himself over it.
Bill carefully sinks down, it’s only a few inches but it reaches where his fingers couldn’t. He moans loudly at the relief of being filled. It was like scratching an itch he didn’t know he had. He rocks his hips back and forth. He uses his other hand to hold onto the counter and steady himself.
His body is sweating and aching. His blond bangs stick to his face and his knees start hurting from being on the hard floor. But he doesn’t let up. He thrust his hips down harder.
Bill gasps and closes his eyes tightly. He can’t stop until he gets rid of the tightness in his stomach. The fire in his belly gets hotter and he’s afraid he might burst.
Until he feels it, like a rubber band snapping. His vision has black dots in it as he looks down and slips the brush out. A clear substance covers the handle and his fingertips. He feels his body slowly cooling down from the high.
Huh. So that’s why humans fuck so much.
There’s a sound off to his side and Bill whips his head around. He’s horrified to see Ford standing there. He must have thought Bill was actually getting sick because he was holding a medicine bottle in one hand and a thermometer in the other.
Bill might have been too loud.
“Fordsy, do you mind?”
Ford looks like a deer caught in headlights. His jaw is slightly dropped and his eyes are blown wide open. He tries to say something but it catches in his throat. He just quickly closes the door and stands on the other side processing what he just saw.
Ford hears the shower turn on inside the bathroom. He had planned on treating Bill for any illness he might have caught. Instead, he caught his ex muse pleasuring himself in HIS bathroom with HIS hairbrush.
He leaves and makes a beeline for the bedroom he’s been sharing with his brother and locks himself in the bathroom.
~~~~~~~~
Bill decided to skip dinner that night. When the twins could be heard in the hall loudly asking questions about Bill’s absence Ford simply told them he was feeling under the weather.
Mabel ran off to start working on a get well card and Dipper followed after her. Ford looks back at Bill’s room, deciding if he should go speak with him or not.
He approaches the door but stops before he knocks.
The image of Bill sitting on the bathroom floor rushes back to his mind. He initially thought the former demon was groaning from pain. Far from it in fact. His expression was pure bliss, the way he was shamelessly simulating himself and being so vocal about it made Ford blush like a maiden.
The fact that he didn’t show up for dinner told Ford that he was probably embarrassed that he had stepped in. Maybe it was for the best if he waited till tomorrow to speak with him.
~~~~
Bill watches Ford’s shadow move away from the door quietly. He was preparing to defend himself, How did that get in there? I fell and slipped on it. I was thinking of you and your fingers the whole time actually.
He lets go of the breath he was holding and stares up at the ceiling. Fake plastic stars were scattered across above him. They were the closest he felt to home.
Bill pulls the blanket up to his face and takes in the scent. It’s Ford’s smell, it was like sandalwood and vanilla.
What would have happened if Ford walked in? Realistically he would have given Bill a long talk about locking doors and maybe even put him down for being perverted enough to use his own belonging like it was the best dick down ever.
Bill groans and pulls at his hair, Why did he feel so angry, sad, and turned on by that stupid old nerd?!
He sighs and his mind wanders, maybe, in one reality or another,
Ford walks in and locks the door behind him. His eyes are dark and he would approach Bill without talking.
Bill shudders and feels the tingling returning between his legs. He bites his lip to resist the temptation.
But his mind continues its fantasy.
Ford sits at the end of his bed and Bill sits up, “What? You gonna tell me that I should use protection next time?” He teases him to get some kind of reaction. But Ford shakes his head, “I was thinking since I can’t stop you from messing around with your body; I should tell you how to do things safely and properly.”
Bill blushes and rolls his eyes, “Relax this isn’t going to be a regular thing.”
Ford raises his eyebrows in surprise, “No? Because from the way you were moaning like a bitch I would think you’d do it much more often now,” He’s suddenly closer and leans over Bill, their faces almost touching, “I would also hate for you to think about sharing yourself with anyone else.”
Bill’s breath catches in his throat, “I’m not fucking anyone. You humans are too stupid and gross to mate with.”
Ford tilts his head and grins, “Most humans, I suppose,” he cups Bill’s cheek with his hand and runs his thumb over his bottom lip, “What about me?”
Bill wants to give him a smart ass response; but this is his fantasy. So instead he melts into Ford’s touch.
“I need you”
“Tell me what you need”
Bill looks at him like he’s his last breath of air and the words barely escape his mouth, “Worship me”
Ford takes that response and kisses him. His lips are salty and move too quickly against his own. Bill doesn’t register the click of his belt slipping off. He closes his eyes and fumbles with Ford’s sweater. That stupid red turtleneck he always wears.
He starts tugging at it, he needs to see his bare skin. The same skin he used to stab with nails and give rug burns to. Back when he only possessed it. Now he wants to create new markings, ones that Ford could wear proudly. Letting everyone know that Bill had been there and claimed him.
Ford grabs Bill’s wrists and suddenly pins them down over his head, Bill whines and glares at him. Ford laughs, it’s deeper than usual, “Keep your hands here, my muse.”
Bill obeys and Ford goes back to stripping off his clothes. He’s left in his boxers and an obvious bulge gives away his excitement. He looks at Bill with an unreadable expression.
He takes away his blanket and throws it to the side without care. His eyes travel down Bill’s body as if he’s about to devour him with his eyes.
Ford gently runs his hands up his shirt and peels it off of him, he lightly traces the scars left from his various adventures. The ones he had before his human transformation that he carried with him. They were harder to see as a floating triangle. But human skin is a delicate organ. And everything showed.
“You are beautiful” Ford whispers and leaves kisses down his chest and to his shorts, “A divine gift from beyond that stars.”
Bill moans and watches him, he shivers as Ford pulls away his shorts and exposes him. He suddenly felt vulnerable. How do humans ever do this without feeling like prey under a predator's gaze? He once believed he would be the one to swallow Ford whole.
Now the coin has flipped.
Ford gently rubs his thighs with his hands, “Shh, my muse. I promise I’ll take care of you,” he kisses his thighs, “I’m honored to be blessed by your presence.”
It’s all going to Bill’s head. He can’t stand it.
“ Sixer touch me now or I swear to the fish upstairs I’ll-“
He bites back his words as Ford obeys his muse and rubs his clit. He grits his teeth and relaxes, “Better”
“You are awfully needy” There’s a light tone in Ford’s voice, he enjoys seeing his god melt into his touch.
“Less talky more touchy”
He hears the smugness in his voice, “Yes my lord.”
A finger slips into him, it’s different. Thicker and rougher than his own hands. It’s almost too much but he asks for more. No begs for more. Ford happily adds another finger, stretching it out. He bucks his hips and grips the pillow below his head.
“Fordsy fuck!”
The fingers move in and out of him at a steady pace and he hesitates to add a third, “Tell me if it becomes too much.” He leaves another kiss on his thigh and stomach.
The stretch and sting has Bill in a high, “So this is why you fuck so much?”
Ford chuckles, “I’ve only shown you the beginning of it,” he curls his fingers inside of him and hits a bundle of nerves that makes Bill’s body bolt, “Did you want me to show you more?”
Bill looks at him, his servant, friend, enemy, and everything in between is asking to mate with him.
He could never understand the hold Ford had on him. But it’s apparent that he will forever want him. He wants him as his loyal follower. As his research partner. As his friend. As his lover.
Bill bucks his hips into his fingers,
“Sixer, Adore me, hold me, and explore me. Mark your territory, tell me I’m the only one you’ll ever have.”
With that Ford pulls his hands away and Bill is left with an empty feeling. He wraps his arms around Ford’s shoulders when he pulls him into his lap. He’s hard and already leaking.
Ford lines himself up and slowly presses into him. It’s all hot and wet and makes sick sounds as Bill gets pounded into. It’s too much to bare. It’s like when stars explode and the space around them gets vaporized.
Ford’s grip on his hips leaves bruises behind and he already knows he’ll be admiring them later. Bill has a death grip on his pillow and moans loud enough to wake the dead.
Bill makes sure to dig his nails into him as hard as possible, scratches and indents scattered across Ford’s shoulders like a work of art.
The animalistic grunts and groans from Ford send goosebumps over his skin, it’s all so beautiful. Like a symphony, their moans turn into saying the other's name. It’s a choir of skin hitting skin and the bed squeaking underneath them. It’s all building up to the grand finale.
“FORD”
Bill is seeing stars and Ford makes a sound like his name, along with praise and prayers for his muse. The sounds are drowning out, and he feels something hot and sticky inside of him.
Ford has a distant look in his eyes as he catches his breath. Bill clings to him, he doesn’t want him ever pulling away. Until he does, “This could have been us.”
Bill snaps out of his fantasy. He feels that clear slick from earlier on his fingers again. He sits up and frowns, he’s still alone.
He doesn’t bother cleaning himself this time. He grabs the blanket that was kicked off and wraps it around himself as tightly as possible. He curls up into a small ball and wishes for a moment that he could disappear.