fab_sock (fab_sock) wrote in shslash,
fab_sock
fab_sock
shslash

Some painful porn

Title: That Walter/Henry Porny Thing I Wrote
Fandom: Silent Hill 4
Pairing: Walter/Henry
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Non-con, violence, Walter, misuse of wine bottles, Walter again



Henry was a desperate man; and who could blame him? Stuck in this hellhole, he frantically searched through the drawers in his apartment for anything he thought might help. He had no idea what he was looking for; what he needed didn't always make sense.
And that's when he had found it - an old bottle of lotion in the drawer next to his bed. There was no question what he kept it there for. He was a normal guy, of course.
An idea struck him. Something he knew in the back of his mind would never work but he was willing to try it anyway. After all, with all the other nonsense he might as well give it a try, right? And it was supposed to be good stress relief...
He took a seat on the edge of his bed, pants pulled down just low enough for him to jack off. He didn't fantasize about anything. When he started thinking he couldn't keep his mind off all the crap happening around him, so he didn't think about anything while he pumped up and down, thankful that for once he knew what he was hearing was. He had a moment to himself to lie back and stroke himself.
He had a difficult time finishing. He could imagine why, with how stressed he was. So he tried something he usually didn't, covering the tip of his finger in the lotion and barely pressing it inside of himself. The added stimulation helped, forcing him to concentrate on using both his hands.
After a minute he finished, drops of semen splashing onto his hand. With heavy breaths he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, nothing had changed. He heaved a large sigh. At least he could use the damn sink for something.
He pulled up his pants and got himself dressed. Just as he picked up the tube of lubricant to put it away, he heard three soft knocks on his door. His heart stopped. Without thought he shoved the tube in his pocket and rushed over to the door to check.
He peered through the peephole. Nothing. Just the hand prints on the hallway wall. He didn't waste time trying to figure out the logic anymore. He knew he had heard what he heard.
That probably meant he couldn't ignore what he was dealing with for too long. He went to wash his hands and arm himself. He had to go back into the hole.



"Wait here, Eileen, I'm going to see what I can do."
"Don't leave me alone!" she held onto Henry's arm as he was about to turn to leave.
"It's safer like this. I promise, I'll come back. Just make sure no one finds you."
Eileen still nearly followed him as he backed away, but he managed to to get several feet away with her still behind the broken down fence. He hoped that no one would find her there, but it was too dangerous running around through the woods, and she was in no condition to be fighting. It was better if he went alone.
The gate creaked loudly as he slipped through it despite his efforts to be stealthy. The slower he opened it the louder it seemed to creak. It was like this entire world was built for the sole purpose of mocking him then punching him in the face.
He kept a firm grip on the 9-iron in his hand as he made his way across. It didn't make sense, but anytime he found a clue that suggested he do something completely useless and unrelated it seemed to be exactly what he needed to do to move on. And so rather than sit around and question it he kept going. Eileen didn't have the luxury of time; and neither did he, for that matter.
The only sound he heard as he headed towards the well were leaves under his feet and the soft shuffling of dirt.
"What did you do, Henry?"
The gruff voice came from behind him, almost as if accusing him of something, and he spun around. Walter was standing in the brush, not seeming to care that the burs of the plants were sticking to his pants. Henry could barely see him in the darkness but there was no doubt who it was.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Henry held his club steady. Walter was violent and unpredictable - he couldn't take any risks.
"In mom."
...In mom?
Walter took a step forward and Henry took a step back. He was trying to rack his brain to figure out what Walter was talking about. Had Walter been watching him? It wouldn't surprise him, but he hadn't done anything particularly...
It hit him suddenly. Was he watching him in his apartment?
Walter continued towards him, aggressively towering over him like a dark shadow. The barrel of his gun briefly glimmered under the dim light and caught Henry's eyes. He had no time to play. He took a swing at Walter, hitting the other man on his arm. He heard the discharge of the gun and saw a flash once, twice, three times... He had no idea if he had been hit as he kept swinging. He couldn't hear the club hit, and in the action he could hardly keep track of movements, but he felt it each time the club hit Walter. He hoped the strikes still hurt even through all the clothing.
After some time, which he was sure must have been much shorter than it felt, Walter dropped to his knees and hit the ground. He knew the wouldn't last long. In a moment he glanced at his club... It was bent up and useless now. Dropping it to the ground he quickly ran off to his destination.



Henry had managed to navigate his way through the forest world, get Eileen and move on. He had dreaded seeing this place again... The prison. They found one of the safest looking cells and he had Eileen hide once more. She seemed to be getting worse, but he couldn't blame her. He didn't enjoy exploring these places either. He honestly had no idea that he was the type of person who could manage to keep going in this situation. He usually kept to himself; quietly going about his life. He always thought the people who put themselves out there must have had a lot more nerves than he did. But here he was, bashing monsters and evading ghosts.
It was hard to listen for anything as he ran up the grating outside. The back of his mind still wanted to apply some logic to the situation, noting how dangerous it must have been not having any railing. At points he wondered how some of the grates even managed to stay up.
Thoughts of what Walter had asked were still in his mind, too, especially as he had ducked by something inside the prison that, to him, seemed to resemble some sort of grotesque tentacle-like thing. "Thing" being the best descriptive word he could come up with. He was hoping he had been over-thinking what it was; it wasn't something he wanted shoved in his face.
Perhaps, rather than accusing him of doing something, Walter had actually been asking a question. It was hard to tell with the way he spoke. It unnerved him that Walter might have seen him jacking off. Walter was bad enough as he was; the last thing he needed to know about on top of that was sex. That thought horrified him.
Opening the door to go back inside the prison, he stepped in with his mind still wandering. It all happened in a flash. Something hard struck him across him shoulder and back and he fell forward, hitting the ground hard. His mind quickly became a haze; everything felt distant. The sound of the wine bottle hitting the floor barely registered. He could feel himself being dragged, then lifted into the air, but however hard he fought he couldn't seem to force himself to regain his senses. It almost felt like he was dreaming.


He wasn't sure how long he was out, but as he came to he quickly realized he was lying on his stomach. Immediately he tried to lift himself up with his hands, but discovered they were each tied to the corners of the bed. He couldn't see it, but he figured the ties must have gone underneath the bed somehow.
Lifting his head he saw Walter in the same room, back turned towards him. Everything he had been carrying was laid out on the floor and Walter was squatting next to the items, examining them.
"Walter..." he grunted before it even occurred to him that it was a bad idea.
The other man stood up to his full height and turned to look down on him. Henry tugged on his binds again even though he knew it was hopeless.
"What did you do, Henry?"
He was asking again, in a distrustful tone, as if he was rooting out some great sin Henry had committed. For all Henry knew, that could be exactly what he was trying to do. Henry kept his lips sealed. If it was what he suspected, he didn't want to discuss it with Walter. If it wasn't what he thought, he definitely didn't want to give him any ideas.
Walter turned to the items on the ground again, taking his time as he bent over to pick up the bottle of lotion off the ground.
Henry screamed, "Damnit!" in his head. He had completely forgotten to leave it back at the apartment. Walter seemed to be mulling over what to do with it for a long period of time. Waiting to see what was going to happen was so painful that Henry almost wished he would just get it over with.

Walter looked at the tube, and flipped it over, examining it very closely. The amount of time he took was far longer than it would ever take to read the directions. Walter's stints with lust had been brief and unfulfilled. In his time with the cult, they were watched constantly. He never dared to try anything. In his short life outside, he had never been able to act on anything. Even if he had the curiosity other people were closed off from him. He couldn't approach them without being humiliated and shunned.
Seeing Henry masturbate was like his first time seeing pornography. He didn't know what to make of it. The thoughts were foreign to him. In the real world he would have hidden from them.
But here he was king. Henry was on his territory. He could do whatever he wanted safely.
He finally turned to Henry again, grabbing the hem of his pants and roughly pulling them down. He didn't bother to unbutton or unzip them - with Henry's lack of hips it was easy to force them down.
"Walter! What the hell?!" Henry yelled. He tried to fight back but it was fruitless in his position - he couldn't do anything to get his pants up. He could feel the cool air against his skin immediately. Luckily they were only pulled low enough to expose his rear.
Walter didn't answer as he held the tube up to examine it once last time before opening it. He squeezed a large glob of gel onto his finger. He didn't quite understand what benefit it was supposed to have, but there was only one way to find out.
He nonchalantly spread Henry's cheeks with his hands and slid his finger inside of him. It slid in easily as he pushed in as much of the lubricant as he could.
"Walter, stop!" Henry shouted at him knowing he couldn't do anything about it. One finger wasn't bad, especially with so much lube, but he wasn't used to anyone else putting anything inside of him, not to mention what else Walter might try.
Walter ignored him, moving his finger around. Henry's insides were soft, but he didn't see what this was doing. He pulled his finger back out and put another generous amount of gel on it, pushing it inside again. It was soft, slick, warm...
He still didn't see any effect. Henry made some strained noises but stayed put. Maybe he needed something larger, but it didn't look like it stretched much and he didn't want to kill Henry yet.
He looked behind him to the ground. Henry carried a lot of odd knick-knacks. His eyes fell onto the wine bottle. It had a long, slender top, which slowly got larger further down.
Henry watched in horror as Walter picked it up. In his head he willed him to put the bottle back down repeatedly. But he had no such luck. After a moment of considering it, Walter plucked off the cap. He thought for a moment about how to deal with the cork before taking the bottle to the wall and firmly hitting the bottom of the bottle against it. Henry began hoping beyond hope that Walter was just thirsty as he could see the cork slowly pop out.
After a minute of pounding the cork suddenly burst out of the top. Walter didn't seem to care as some of the wine poured out over his fingers and spilled onto the ground.
He moved back over to Henry with the wine bottle still dripping. Henry braced himself.
Walter nestled the bottle between Henry's legs. He lined up the top and slowly pushed the bottle inside. Henry grunted as it was forced into him. He had a difficult time deciding what to do - he felt like he should be resisting, but if he did he'd probably just get himself hurt more. The initial push in stung slightly, but after that the rest slid in easily. He felt a little bit of the wine splash inside of him, giving him another stinging sensation that caused his muscles to tense.
As it pressed further in Walter watched closely. The skin wrapped tightly around the bottle, but stretched to the contours of the bottle.
Henry's groans could have been mistaken for any number of monsters in the area. It wasn't just what Walter was doing, but what he was afraid Walter might do. One firm shove and he was sure he would never be able to walk straight again, and the fact that Walter had any control over that right now terrified him. The top of the wine bottle seemed skinny but it was more than what he was used to, and solid. On top of that he'd never even considered what could happen with wine. Beyond some random rumor he'd heard before about quick alcohol absorption he didn't know anything about it besides how much it stung. The pain, though, seemed to diminish over time, leaving him with a strange tingling sensation.
Walter pulled the bottle out and he felt some relief. He felt Walter's hand on his cheek, and a wet mixture of the lubricant and wine dripping down his skin. He was trying not to look; he was sure he didn't want to see. The weight of the bottle disappeared and heard it clink as it hit the ground and rolled away.
He didn't have a chance to glance back before Walter reached between his legs and grabbed him, being non-too gentle. If Henry hadn't been tied to the bed he might have jumped several feet. He tried to wriggle away, to squeeze his legs shut... all to no avail. Walter groped him without restraint, examining him with his hands. The brazen squeezing and feeling around caused his body to tremble. As hard as he tried to ignore it, that was hard to ignore, especially when Walter didn't seem to have any particular goal and slid his fingers all over.
He wanted to hide that he was getting aroused. Hell, he didn't want to be aroused in the first place. But he couldn't stop it.
And suddenly Walter stopped. Henry took the opportunity to slide as far away as he could on the bed, even though it wasn't very far.
He watched as Walter turned around, back to him, looking down. At first he worried that Walter was looking through his items again, but he didn't move towards any of them. Instead he stayed in place, hardly moving. Henry didn't get it at first. Then again, it was Walter, he didn't get him most the time. But it suddenly struck him. Was Walter looking at himself? And he didn't want Henry to see?
It was strange to think that an unapologetic serial killer was 'shy'. But he was raised by a strict religious cult. He always wore that heavy coat. When he thought about it, Walter had probably never been intimate with anyone. He'd been mistreated so badly that it made sense he wouldn't want to make himself vulnerable in front of anyone. Henry couldn't help but try to see what Walter was doing, but his line of sight was thoroughly blocked by the blue coat.
Walter was trying to understand why Henry had done what he did. His knowledge of sex was too limited for him to understand it. His mind tried to translate it into terms he understood, but as of yet he didn't quite understand it.
He glanced behind him. Henry was watching him with wary eyes, breathing heavily, pressed against the cell wall.
There was one way to finish this. Walter closed his coat and walked around to the end of the bed. He could see Henry flinch as he made his move, watching as well as he could from his position. Walter climbed over his legs and got in position above him. He knew Henry wouldn't be able to see much from where he was.
He let his coat fall open slightly, his pants only pulled down far enough to be exposed. Even now a third person watching wouldn't be able to see anything - perhaps out of habit he made sure to cover it with his coat. He could feel his skin touch Henry's. It was nice and warm, something he didn't feel often. He clamped a hand just under Henry's chest, gripping the fabric with his fingers tightly.
He leaned forward to catch Henry's scent as he pressed into him. Henry had been stuck in his world for awhile; he smelled of sweat and blood, with some hints of his own unique musk. And he felt hot, moist and tight.
It was his first experience with those sensations, and Walter made sense of them as best he could. He was understanding it now. The feelings; they had to be power, domination, control. Those things he felt when he started his killing spree, started taking what he wanted. Henry was powerless under him. He could do what he wanted to him, and that made him feel good.
He pressed all the way in and stopped, listening to Henry's heavy breathing. It had been a powerful feeling. Overwhelming, almost. It had been a long time since Walter felt his body shudder. And yet here, dominating Henry, it had come so easily.
But the feelings mostly vanished as he stayed in place. Much like losing the adrenaline rush after the kill, it seemed the feeling was fleeting. He waited patiently for it to come back, and when it didn't he finally gave up and began to pull out.
And immediately all the sensations were back. He quickly connected the dots and realized he had to keep exerting his power over Henry to keep the sensations going. And the way it made him tremble almost uncontrollably, he wanted to keep them.
He started laughing, more quietly than normal with panted breaths. It was so easy. All the effort he put into hunting people, fighting with them, overpowering them... and he could get this much of a rush from such small movements. It was almost ridiculous.
He didn't care that Henry was making strange, moaning noises, or that his breath was uncomfortably hot on Henry's neck. Each time he pushed in the sound of skin slapping again skin filled the room. It felt good forcing himself on Henry and pressing his body into the bed.
So good that the mind-numbing tingle building up quickly until it ended in what felt like an explosion. He kept moving, his arms wrapped around Henry tightly and his chest pressed against his back, trying to continue on before he realized it was over.
He pulled out, closing his pants and coat before climbing off the bed.

Henry wondered... no, hoped, he was done. He already felt incredibly awkward and having Walter... inside of him... He didn't even want to think the complete thought. He could still feel the heat inside of him.
His mind was called immediately back when he saw Walter pull out a knife. He tried once again to pull his hands out of their binds, but they were too tight. Adrenaline shot through him as Walter stepped towards him with the same eerily emotionless face he usually had.
Walter reached down and cut the binding off his left hand. He wasted no time in using it to wrench his other hand free.
He nearly stopped in his tracks once he sat up. Walter was still there, right in front of him and armed. All of his weapons were behind him on the ground. If he made one false move he could easily be killed. He froze in place, not daring to make the first move. Maybe if Walter struck first he could dodge it...
But Walter didn't strike. He watched with an icy stare.
"Show me."
Henry considered his options. He didn't think he could wrestle past Walter with his bare hands. Walter was a big man and strong. If he tried Walter might attack. If he just did what Walter asked, he might go away. As insane as it was, it sounded like the less risky option.
With small movements he got himself more comfortable on the bed, a keen eye on Walter to make sure he wasn't making any moves towards him. Walter stayed motionless as Henry fidgeted, following only with his eyes.
He wanted to close his eyes and pretend Walter wasn't there but he knew how dangerous that could be. He turned his eyes down, leaving Walter in the corner of his vision so that he could see if the other man made a move, and hesitantly wrapped his hand around himself. Henry was a conservative person; he hardly ever bothered to talk to other people. Something like this... He would never consider doing it on his own.
He tried to clear his mind and started pumping. In his head he repeated a silent mantra. He was alone in his room, he was alone in his room... It at least distracted him from Walter. He concentrated on the sensations, as he got close to finishing then suddenly lost it, and stroked faster to capture that feeling again. All he could hear was his own ragged breathing and wet sound of his hand going up and down.
After a minute he could feel it coming. He tensed up and quickened his pace. The buildup was fast and as he finally climaxed he subconsciously let out a loud, relieved grunt and took a deep breath. His semen squirted out, drops landing on his hand and thighs. He didn't hesitate to fling as much off of himself as he could, scattering the drops on the filthy bed sheet.
Without a word he turned his eyes to Walter. It was the his move now.
Walter waited in place as he pondered it. Henry's climax didn't look nearly as impressive as his own had felt. And he wasn't dominating anyone; except maybe himself. Perhaps it was a game of make-believe. Either way, he liked it. He thought he might even try it again sometime.
Showing no emotion on his face, he left the room without a word.
Henry listened to the footsteps echo down the hallway. He expected him to possibly turn around and come back at any second, or even walk the entire circle right back to where he started, so he wasted no time in pulling his pants back up and collecting his items. Save for the wine bottle. He decided to never touch that again.
He was shocked by his own sense of perseverance. Or maybe some of that alcohol had seeped into his system. He thought he should be far more upset than he felt, to be curled up in a fetal position in the corner; but maybe over the past few days he had hardened up. Eileen needed his help and he needed to save himself. And was what just happened really worse than watching Cynthia die in his arms? Or countless other things he had seen and experienced in Walter's world?
What was important was he survived the incident in one piece and now he needed to keep going. So he left the room behind and limped down the depressing prison hallway.

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