Chapter Text
For the first time in forever, everything felt right.
Thomas was driving and you were in the passenger seat; he kept one of his thick, callused hands on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh, right where the ivory satin hem of your miniskirt met your soft bare skin. The autumn wind carried the scent of the season's last sunflowers, and the Texas back country was painted red and gold in brilliant autumn splendor. The two of you had a destination - Plainfield, TX, two counties away - but were in no hurry to get there. There was no rush, for once; no looming countdown, no chores that needed to be done. Just complete freedom.
So you spent the afternoon meandering through the countryside, listening to the travel radio and enjoying the scenery. Thomas stopped several times so the two of you could stretch your legs and share some sweet tea from the thermos you’d packed. Per Luda Mae’s instructions, you took plenty of photos; a stack of Polaroids in the glovebox showed you wading in a creek, picnicking under an old oak tree, holding a bouquet of wildflowers that Thomas had picked you. You’d even convinced your husband to pose for a few pictures, something he nearly always refused to do. It'd been difficult to talk him into it - a lot of batting your eyelashes and reassuring him he'd never looked more handsome - and you'd treasure those particular photos forever. You were very grateful that Luda Mae had sent the camera along with you.
Finally, as the afternoon sun was just starting to sink in the sky, Plainfield came into view. You’d picked this particular town because you’d passed through it on your journey back to the Hewitt homestead all those months ago, and it had two significant benefits: it was far enough away from the Hewitt homestead to feel truly free, and while it was still small in the grand scheme of things, it was absolutely big enough to find a cheap motel and some decent food.
As the two of you approached the bustling small town, you were easily able to find what you were looking for - a moldering one story motel on the side of the highway with a handpainted plywood sign out front that read ‘$10 PER NIGHT. VACANCIES AVAILABLE.’ Thomas parked and the two of you started for the front office; he held the door open for you and you walked up to the counter, where an elderly woman sat engrossed in a paperback.
“Hi, my husband and I would like to rent a room for the evenin’.” You beamed at her. She looked up and jumped a bit in her seat, visibly startled at the sight of you and Thomas. Even you had to admit you were an odd pair, with you in your scandalously short wedding dress and dingy homemade cast and your long-haired, fully masked mountain of a husband towering silently behind you.
“Oh, of course! We got plentya rooms available. Let me get my sign-in sheet.” She set down her book and grabbed a clipboard from her desk, holding it out to Thomas. You grabbed it instead, fully aware your husband had dropped out of school to start working at such a young age he could barely write or read.
“The sign outside says $10 - that price still good?” You asked, reading over the paperwork she’d handed you. The clerk nodded in response and you quickly filled out the short form, writing a false name without thinking twice. You didn’t have any specific plans to misbehave, but it never hurt to be on the safe side. You passed the clipboard back to her while Thomas carefully counted out ten dollars. “How about food around here? Anythin’ real cheap n’ half decent?”
“There’s an old diner a few blocks south of here. $.25 burgers, free coffee refills.” The woman offered, scanning the form and slowly counting the money before passing you back your room key. You thanked her and the two of you headed back out into the evening sunlight. You jangled the room key at your husband and gave him your best seductive look.
“You wanna go back to the room?” You batted your eyelashes, and you were surprised when he sternly shook his head. You frowned, and he shook his head.
Food now. Baby needs to eat. He signed, and you couldn't help but smile.
---
To your annoyance, the diner the clerk had recommended was packed. Thomas tensed up the moment you stepped through the doorway and into the din of the small restaurant and you grabbed his hand, holding it tight. It didn’t feel unnatural for you to be in a place like this, but it’d been years since Thomas had been around this many people at once, probably since the slaughterhouse had closed.
“We can leave. Go get some food at the gas station ‘n eat it at the motel.” You whispered to him, but he resolutely shook his head - he figured he should at least be able to handle a restaurant for his wife. He took your arm in his and lead the way to a worn Formica table in the corner; you could feel everyone’s eyes following you, and you knew what they were probably thinking, but to hell with ‘em all. You were going to enjoy your honeymoon, and if trouble came looking for you, Thomas had a freshly sharpened hunting knife in his pocket and your gun was stowed in your purse.
“What’re you thinkin'?” You asked Thomas, scanning the menu board. “Damn, it’s an extra $.10 for cheese on a burger? Practically highway robbery.”
Chocolate shake. Thomas signed, and you smiled.
“Definitely. We can share one, with a basket of fries if you want? That should be cheap enough we can still get breakfast tomorrow." You totaled up food prices in your head, ensuring your remaining cash could cover your order, before rolling your eyes and adding, "I can’t believe Mama talked Hoyt into givin’ us $15. You know how he is, just cause he’s 'the man of the house'. Bet he's gonna hold this over us for the next decade."
Thomas stiffened across the table from you, an immediate anger in his eyes.
Don’t call that bastard the man of the house. The butcher signed forcefully, silverware clattering on the table as he slammed his hands down. You blinked, surprised at his reaction. You'd made similar complaints a dozen times before and Thomas had never seemed upset by them.
"Sorry, Tommy. I was just teasin’." You apologized, and guilt seized in the butcher’s chest. It had been out of line for him to speak to you like that, and he didn't understand why rage had flared so suddenly. Hoyt was the man of the house, of course, and it had never bothered Thomas before. He had never even questioned it. But you were his wife now, and he was supposed to be the man of the house; no other man should hold a role of power like that. And what life was that, even? Unending poverty in the harsh Texas environment? You'd chained yourself to him for eternity and he couldn't even provide a decent life for you. The ever growing buzz in his head - animal, freak, idiot took over the ambient noise of the cafe and the familiar black hole of his thoughts began to pull him in, drown him
And then you grabbed his hands and smiled at him from across the table. Like always, you cut through his turbulent emotions like a knife and brought the sunlight back in.
“It’s no big deal, Tommy - we can talk about it later if you want to. I’m gonna go order, okay?” You said, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. He nodded and, despite your protests that you could handle it by yourself, followed you up to the counter. There were far too many people here for him to leave you alone, even if he could still see you. Things could change in a half second - he knew that too well to risk it. So he stood behind you and stared down the visibly nervous teenage clerk while you ordered without a care in the world.
Soon enough the two of you were enjoying your meal, two cheeseburgers with fries and a chocolate shake to share (although your husband had taken a single sip before insisting the rest was for you and the baby.) You were busy eating fries as you discussed baby names with your husband.
“If it’s a boy, what about Michael?” You asked your husband, and he shook his head.
No boy names. It’s a girl.
“What makes you so sure?” You laughed. Thomas’s eye caught something over your shoulder and he tensed up, his grip tightening on his table knife. You turned to see what had caused his reaction and internally groaned. Two people, a man and a woman, were approaching your table.
“Couldn’t help but notice you’re not from around here. Where ya’ll visitin’ from?” The woman asked. She was a picture perfect all American, pretty and slim with long straight hair. Her white blouse was beautifully embroidered, and you wondered if it would fit you - although you figured it’d be incredibly hard to kill her without getting blood in it.
“We’re on our honeymoon. We just got married today!” You smiled widely, avoiding her question.
“Aww, how … nice. Bobby and I took our honeymoon in Niagara Falls.” She said sweetly at the man she’d walked over with before looking you up and down. “What an interestin’ choice for a dress. Your husband’s, er, mask is a bit of a choice too, huh? I guess you two must make a great pair.”
You flushed red. Why was the cruelty of the world so damn unrelenting? You caught Thomas's eye, and he stared across the table at you while calmly signing:
I'm killing them.
“That’s a great idea, Tommy!” You beamed at him before turning to face the girl. “My husband wants to know if y'all would like to share some beers? We got a case in the truck if you got a place to drink em’.”
“He don’t talk?” The girl asked you, suspicious.
“He sure does. Just not a way you understand it, that ain't his fault.” You stared her down, unflinching. After an awkward moment her companion shrugged and laughed.
“Well hell, Cheryl, we ain’t do anythin’ better with our day and a free beer’s a free beer.” He said, bumping her shoulder before turning to you. “We got a great spot to drink at, if ya’ll want to follow us out?”
—-
The two of you followed Bobby and Cheryl’s Chevy out of town, first a few miles on the highway and then down a series of winding dirt roads until you finally arrived at an overgrown, unused old hunting access road. You were off the map, surrounded by miles of field.
Perfect. You almost couldn’t believe it had worked out so well. Thomas parked the truck behind the Chevy and the two of you stepped out into the sunset.
“So where’s those beers?” Cheryl called. You smiled at her, baring your teeth.
“Right here!” You said cheerfully, grabbing your backpack from the truck. She started towards you, and you waited until she was only a few feet away before you pulled out your handgun and shot her in the head without warning. Blood spread across her embroidered blouse as her body hit the ground with a thud, her skull bearing three new holes.
“Hey, what the FUCK!?” Bobby yelled, stumbling back before turning to run. Thomas was on him before he could take another step, lodging his hunting knife into the man’s chest. He fell to the ground and let out a choked gurgle, staring up at Thomas with wide eyes as you walked towards them. You watched as Thomas signed.
“He says you should be nicer.” You translated, smiling down at the man as Thomas leaned on the knife, blood spraying upwards in a fountain. He waited until he was thoroughly sure that Bobby was dead before he wrenched his knife from the man's chest cavity and stood up, looking you dead in the eye. The stoic and buttoned up man you had married at the courthouse earlier that day was gone now, and the Thomas you knew so well had returned - chest heaving, arms slick with thick maroon, hair wet with sweat and gore. This was the Thomas you had always loved, your whole life. The setting sun painted the endless sky in a blur of pinks and blues and illuminated your husband in gold as he he licked his lips, sprayed with blood.
“Does it taste good?” You asked him dreamily. “I’ve never tried it fresh."
Without response, Thomas dropped back down to his knees and plunged his knife into the body of the man he'd just killed, slitting him from pelvis to neck like the butcher had done to meat all his life. He reached in and split the ribs apart with his hands, cracking open the chest cavity with a visceral noise. Then the butcher shoved one of his massive hands inside the corpse and grabbed what he had been looking for - the heart. You watched in awe as he pulled it out with ease, holding it to his mouth and ripping into it with his teeth.
Still chewing, he stood and walked toward you. The heart - the most crucial organ of the body, the giver of life - looked so insignificant in his palm. He extended it to you and you took it from him without hesitation and bit in, fresh blood gushing into your mouth and dripping down your chin.
My wife. He signed, and you smiled with gorey red teeth.
“My husband.” You whispered, dropping the heart to wrap your arms around the butcher. Thomas felt your hands slide through his hair and to the ties of his mask. He didn’t even flinch as you untied them; his mask fell on the gravel as you kissed him on his real lips. You had to stand on your tiptoes to manage it, pulling the butcher down by the neatly pressed lapels of his wedding shirt to close the difference. You broke away and gently stroked his bare face, smiling up at him. You had everything you'd ever wanted in life, standing right in front of you.
Thomas watched as you kneeled down in front of him, bare knees scraping against the dirt road, and unbuttoned his pants. His breath grew heavy as you freed his cock; you locked eyes with him in the hazy light, gently stroking it in your hand before taking it into your mouth. He knew that even if he lived forever, he'd never see anything more beautiful than you on your knees in the gravel, sucking his cock with blood still dripping from your lips and the eviscerated corpse of your victim just a few feet away.
He was too big to fit entirely in your mouth so you used your hand and mouth in unison, pumping your fist up and down his shaft while you swirled your tongue around his tip. You choked as you struggled to accommodate more of his shaft and he involuntarily bucked against you in response, forcing himself even deeper into your throat. The blood that trailed down from your lips seeped across your neck and bust, spreading crimson against your white dress. How many times had he thought you deserved a different life, a normal man? But you had steadfastly loved him anyways; you had seen the worst parts of him and still chose him. He was a freak of nature, inherently wrong, and you were his wife. He tangled his fingers in your hair, right at the root, and began roughly guiding your mouth up and down his cock. He could feel your nails bite into his thigh as you tried to steady yourself, determined to keep up with the pace he had set for you.
The feeling was incredible, and the butcher held on for as long as he could - he was determined to make it last. But finally he couldn’t help himself and he finished with a stuttered growl, roughly pulling your hair. You swallowed his cum without question, obedient to him and only him.
I love you. He signed, hands shaking.
"I love you too, Tommy.” You replied, standing up and brushing gravel off of your quickly bruising knees. The two of you immediately got to work; Thomas dragged the bodies off of the road and out into the fields and ditched their car behind a crumbling old shed while you kicked loose gravel over the bloodstains and tire tracks on the road, hiding all immediate evidence of your crime. A farmer or hunter would stumble across your prey eventually, but you and Thomas would be long gone by then. The only thing you’d leave behind was a fake name on a hotel sign in sheet; even if someone had bothered to record your license plate, that was fake too - borrowed from a stolen car with a current registration. You had nothing to fear, and you knew it.
The air in the truck was electric as Thomas pulled off, tires spitting gravel. The chilly evening air rushed through the cab of the truck, the scent of the last sunflowers of the season mingling with the iron tinge of blood as your travel radio blared the latest rock music. Thomas left his mask off, his true face illuminated in the moonlight. You couldn’t stop staring at him in awe.
The drive back to the motel felt far too long, and you were ready to jump out of your seat the moment Thomas parked in front of your room. He stopped you, signing: stay. You did as instructed, and the butcher hopped out and came around to the passenger side. He opened the door for you, slid his arms around you and picked you up.
Thomas carried you into the hotel room cradled against his chest, carefully avoiding your broken arm. The room was carpeted in green shag and the knotty wood paneling on the walls was stained by a decade’s worth of cigarettes, but you barely processed that. Your eyes were locked on your husband as he set you down gently. He reached for the zipper of your dress before stopping himself.
Camera? He signed, and you pulled the Polaroid camera out of your bag and handed it to him. He pointed it at you and you grinned as the flash went off. He handed the photo to you after it finished printing; you barely recognized yourself in it. Your immodestly short white dress was covered in rapidly drying brown blood, your knees were visibly bruised, and your hair was a wild mess. The knotty wood paneling combined with the light of the flashbulb gave your skin an odd tone, and your pupils were the size of dinner plates. You looked crazy - and free.
Beautiful wife. Your husband signed, carefully tucking the photo into his shirt pocket. He proceeded to unzip your ruined dress, desperately trying to be gentle as he pulled it off you. You stood nearly naked before him, your eyes locked on his unmasked face as he ran his calloused hands over your body, broad palms crossing your suntanned skin. He grabbed the camera and took one last photo - you, in only a pair of panties, slightly rounded stomach and swelling breasts on full display. It was a lascivious, scandalous display, and seeing it in full color made you turn bright red in embarrassment.
Then the butcher ushered you to the bed, laying you down on top of the scratchy top sheet before pulling your panties off without a second thought. His heart thumped as he looked down at you, spread out across the mattress. The two of you had made love dozens of times, but never in a bed - he’d rutted you outside or in the basement. This was new territory. He started to unbuckle his pants, and you sat up and began unbuttoning his shirt. He never took his clothing off when you made love, but you wanted to see all of him. He allowed you to continue, helping you remove his clothes until he stood fully naked before you, glorious in the incandescent motel light.
“You’re so handsome, Tommy.” You petted his broad chest as he gently pushed you back down against the bed and nudged your thighs open, kneeling between them. You could see his cock, huge and hard between the two of you, and you shivered in anticipation. He dropped down to kiss you, capturing your lips before biting into your neck. You moaned as he continued down to your breasts. They’d gotten a little bigger thanks to your pregnancy, and your nipples were particularly sensitive. He gently licked one and you arched against him, squirming at the sensation of his stomach pushing against the spot in between your legs.
He traveled down your body until he’d settled between your thighs, licking you tenderly from your opening to the top of your clit. You shivered and he grabbed your legs to steady himself as he buried his face against you, his tongue working magic. You bucked and cried out his name, grinding against him. He’d never done this with his mask off and the feeling of his skin against your thighs lit a fire in you. It didn’t take you long to cum, moaning out his name.
He rocked back up on his knees, smiling wide across his unmasked face as he speared his cock into you. He’d never grow tired of this sight - you, back arched, moaning in a mix of pain and pleasure as he entered you. You looked so incredible like this, your legs spread to accommodate his massive thighs, all of your strength nothing compared to his. He started to gently thrust and you managed something in between a whimper and a moan as he thumbed your clit.
Your belly was swelling just so slightly now, a physical reminder that you were his, and tit drove him crazy. He couldn’t help but run his hands over your stomach and pinch your puffy, swollen nipples between his fingers as he pumped in and out of you. Then he wrapped one of his thick hands around your neck, his fingers stained with dried blood. He didn’t squeeze hard enough to cut off your air - after all, he would never hurt you - but he knew you were completely and totally at his mercy. You gently rested your hand on his wrist, your wedding ring shining in the dim motel light, and smiled up at him.
“Tommy.” You moaned. He wasn’t going particularly fast, but he was bottoming out with every stroke, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he stuffed you impossibly full. It didn't take long for you to turn into a whimpering, wet little mess underneath him; all you could do was desperately grind against him, arching upwards only to be held down by his hand on your throat. You begged for more and then gasped and cried when he gave it it to you, setting a punishing pace.
When you came again, it was a sensation you’d never experienced - like every star in the universe had exploded at once. You bucked wildly against your husband, pressing as close to him as you could; when you came down from the sensation, your face was wet, and you realized you’d cried. You reached up and grabbed at Thomas’s hair, determined to pull him down to you, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as you kissed him, your hand pressed against his unmasked face. That sent the butcher over the edge, and he pinned you down to the bed as he came inside you, growling ferociously in your ear.
You both paused for a moment, catching your breath, before he pulled out and dropped down next to you on the bed. You rolled over to face him, cuddling against his naked chest, and he raised a hand to lazily stroke your hair.
It had been the perfect honeymoon.