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These deliveries are getting more stupid by the day.
Sam has skimmed through enough life stories told throughout mails to his cuff links to be able to get to the point of the message with barely a glance. Something-something wife loves pizza, something-something acting as if they know Sam personally, something-something forever in his debt. He wishes Deadman had never slapped these stupid cuffs on him.
The journey from the Timefall Farm east to the Prepper’s Shelter is one Sam’s now become familiar with in the weeks he’s been running Bridge’s deliveries across the map. Which is why he knows that there shouldn’t be unscheduled timefall along this route.
BB hums in its pod, twisting to face forward as Sam’s Odradek unfurls, flapping to indicate BT presence in his vicinity.
It’s all the warning he gets before a black cloaked figure snaps into existence before him, nearly toppling Sam over. He clutches the delicate cargo to his chest so as to not drop it, stumbling over craggy ground.
“If it ain’t the Great Deliverer himself!”
Higgs stands imposingly within Sam’s personal space. The teeth of his golden mask bared into a grin, and Sam can hear the joyous tone beneath it. He reaches for his Assault Rifle, and Higgs’ hand shoots out, holding Sam's wrist tight as he wags his other finger in front of Sam’s nose, tsking.
“Now, now, none of that. I’m just here to talk, y’see.”
Higgs steps back, and Sam feels like he can breathe easier.
If Amelie is comfort and safety, Higgs is the direct opposite of that. Unpredictable, impossibly powerful. Sam is all too aware of just how much destruction Higgs is willing to cause, just for the sake of it. And, while he can’t die, Sam would rather not cause a voidout in the middle of one of his most walked paths.
Timefall continues to patter noisily down Sam’s plastic hood, but not noisily enough to drown out the grating sound of Higgs’ voice.
“Delivery in under twenty minutes! Someone will be gettin’ a nice tip.” Higgs walks around him, slowly, like an animal circling its prey. Sam stays where he is, the space between his shoulders tingling with the wrongness of turning his back on an enemy.
“I ain’t got time for this shit.” It’s true, not only is the countdown on his cuff links blipping as he reaches another 10 minute travel time mark, but he’s also just not in the mood for Higgs’ inane bullshit today.
“Take a seat, let’s talk business.” Higgs chiral jumps backwards, appearing seated on a crag of rock a couple of metres in front of Sam, a convenient space next to him. He pats the empty spot, beckoning.
Sam stays where he is, wary of getting any closer.
There’s this thing about Higgs. Something about him that stops Sam from completely writing him off. Maybe it’s his power — DOOMS higher than anything he’s seen. There’s also the fact that he’s got such an interest in Amelie, acting as if he knows something Sam doesn’t, and that’s got Sam curious, despite it all.
“I said,” Higgs says, voice firm, “‘sit’.”
A pool of tar appears below Sam’s feet suddenly, and three human-like figures half-rise from the inky darkness, their arms reaching for him.
Hands grip at Sam’s calves, forcibly tugging him towards the ground as they creep further, pressing into the backs of his knees. The Power Legs whine mechanically under the pressure, and with a cnk give way, sending him sprawling to his hands and knees before Higgs’ spotless boots, his delicate cargo tumbling to the ground and skidding away from him. His fingers curl into the tar pooled below him, and he forces himself to look up at Higgs, all too aware of his vulnerable position.
As if satisfied, the BTs retract back into the ground, with their cold fingers trailing along his legs as a reminder of their presence, warning him not to move.
Higgs leans forward, elbows on his knees, body language the picture of casual. ”I’ve been feelin’ a little bad, seeing you traipsing up and down the country for little ol’ me. Thought I could save you the trouble, meet you halfway. Plus,” Higgs reaches to tap the case of beers that have fallen at his feet with one finger, “I didn’t wanna risk you damaging the goods if you tripped and cracked that pretty head of yours.”
Sam ignores him and cuts to the chase. “Where is Amelie?”
“Oh, Amelie, Amelie. It’s gettin’ boring, Sam, the two of you jabbering on about one another. Though, I’d think you’d be more concerned about what I’m doing to sister-dearest, rather than delivering pizza. But family is funny, huh?”
Sam doesn’t like that Higgs knows that Amelie is practically his sister, doesn’t like the way that Higgs leers down at him. The tar around his hands bubbles and shimmers, a threat if Sam’s ever seen one. He grimaces up at Higgs’ golden mask.
“I thought I’d offer you a deal.” Higgs spreads his arms, “Call it a change of heart, an act of kindness. See, you’re important to our girl, and she doesn’t want me causin’ any kind of lasting damage to you, no matter how hard I try. So, fair’s fair. How’s about you head back to whatever god-forsaken cave you’ve been living in before all this UCA shit, and I leave you alone. Scouts' honour.”
There wasn’t any reason to believe that Higgs was here to cut a genuine deal, but Sam’s a little disappointed nonetheless.
“Get fucked.”
Higgs tuts, the sound warped through his mask. “I thought you’d say that, what a shame. Well, I can’t say I didn’t try.” He stands, brushing himself down from invisible dust, before picking up Sam’s cargo from his feet.
“What do you want, man?”
Higgs approaches slowly, gait swinging as he opens the seal of the cargo, taking out one of the dewy-cold glass bottles of beer. “I told you, humanity’s over and I’m here to enjoy the ride! What, you don’t believe me? C’mon Sam, would I ever lie to you?”
Sam leans back onto his haunches to try to move away from Higgs, his Power Legs crunching, a metal-on-metal grind. “You’ve got five seconds to fuck off before I start shootin’.”
“So inhospitable! When I’ve gone to all this trouble, too!” With a flick of his thumb, Higgs flings the cap off the bottle of beer. “How ‘bouts you take a load off, Sammy? Have a drink.”
Sam recoils, subtly trying to pull his hands free from the tarry fingers creeping their way up his wrists. “I’m doing good.”
“It wasn’t a request. Drink.”
All of a sudden, Higgs is back in his personal space, kneeling in front of him, masked face too close. Sam can see eyes behind the mask, blue. It shocks him for enough time that he’s unprepared for when Higgs grabs at his face with one hand, tugging his face close as he lifts the bottle up with the other.
Higgs’ gloves are rough against his chin, pushing with just enough force to part Sam’s jaw and force the rim of the bottle in. The beer is cold and rich across his tongue, pricking his nose, flooding his throat. Sam rears back, beer flowing down his chin as he chokes, coughing wetly. The alcohol splatters across Higgs’ boots, and he gasps for air.
“Always gasping out such pretty noises for me, ain’t ‘cha?”
The words turn Sam’s stomach, a cold chill dipping down his spine. There’s something in Higgs’ voice like wonder, like he’s flicking through memories of all Sam’s grunts and groans as he makes his way across the country. Sam thinks about the times he’s felt like someone was watching him when he was alone.
“Fuck off.”
Higgs snorts. “That’s not very nice, now, is it? Especially on our anniversary,” he leans back, still keeping the rim of the bottle pressed to Sam’s lip. “How many months of this little dance has it been now, four? Time sure flies when you're having fun.”
Four months of trekking across the country, more than four months since Bridget died. Four months of walking from city to city, town to town, shelter to shelter. Four months since Central Knot City was destroyed. Four months with his BB.
“Yeah. You sure can make some pretty noises there, Sammy. I could try, and try, and try, and you still wouldn’t die. How about that?”
There’s no correlation between those two statements anywhere but in Higgs’ mind. Higgs knowing he’s a repatriate works well in some ways; he doesn’t bother trying to kill Sam, obviously knowing he’ll just come back. But just because he can’t stay dead doesn’t mean he can’t die, can’t feel pain, and from what he did to Fragile, Sam feels like he’s walking a fine line between refusal of this game and long, drawn-out torture.
"Here we go, last bit," Higgs tips the beer forward again, his hand making sure that Sam stays in place. "There. Much more relaxed now, aren't we?" Higgs caresses Sam's cheek mockingly, the discomfort of his touch already heating Sam's skin.
Higgs stares at him, the hooded figure hovering too close for comfort as Sam swallows the last of the alcohol, finally pushing the bottle out of his mouth with his tongue once he's done. Higgs shakes his head like he’s brushing off an unwanted thought. He drops the bottle by Sam’s knees and stands up straight. The silhouette of him is imposing, tall and clad in all black. “I’d love to stick around but…” Higgs hovers in front of Sam for a second, half turned. He snaps his fingers, and the tar pool below Sam instantly retracts into the ground, Sam’s wrists and legs freed. “I’ve got places to be. Thanks for the pizza!”
Higgs snaps out of existence, and immediately the skies clear.
BB starts giggling in their pod as Sam drags his legs up beneath him, trying to set them straight again. He can still feel the press of Higgs’ fingers against his face, the gentle threat in his words. After all that, Sam still has no idea what the hell Higgs wants from him, other than to just be a pain in his ass.
Sam stays seated on the ground for a little while, trying to figure out what the fuck all that was about. His mouth tastes like beer, and his cheek is burning from where Higgs touched him.
Eventually, Sam gets up, retrieving the rest of the beers to take back to his Private room. “C’mon, kid, let's get going.”
There’s a series of beeps from his wrist, and Sam looks down to see a message on his cuff link.
ORDER CANCELLED
100 Likes Docked By Peter Englert
Irritation rolls in his stomach as he reads the message. Has Higgs been Englert all along? It would make sense, someone fucking with him between all the critical missions just to deliver pizza like one of those pre-Stranding delivery drivers.
In the end, it takes him an extra half an hour to get back to Lake Knot with his Power Legs busted. It wasn’t until he got there that Sam realised that Higgs had actually made off with the pizza, too.
—
The water runs black with tar as Sam washes the day’s work off of himself, scrubbing a little too hard at his face.
His chin is already red and blotchy under his beard, but he can still feel the ghost of Higgs’ gloved fingers along his jaw. Sam rubs at his face some more, knowing that the touch can’t have marked him, but wanting to scrape all evidence of his afternoon encounter from his body.
He finally emerges from the shower after a good ten minutes of washing, long after the water had run cold. If nothing else, at least there’s no tar left under his fingernails and his rubbed-raw shoulders are feeling soothed.
BB seems disconcerted, not settling properly in their pod. Sam feels disconcerted, too. Even after spending the entire long trek back to Lake Knot trying to work out what the hell had happened in that interaction with Higgs, Sam couldn’t work it out.
He knew that Higgs is the type to enjoy the sound of his own voice, all bravado and posturing, but the whole conversation had seemed like talking for the sake of talking.
And plus, that thing with the bottle.
It might have been a power play with just whatever Higgs had available, but if that were the case, there were so many other ways he could have tortured Sam. Making him take a few mouthfuls of beer was hardly up there on the list of traumatic experiences Sam had suffered over the decades.
Also, Higgs had called him pretty, twice.
Sam’s not under any illusions; he knows that pretty isn’t how anyone would describe him. Rough-around-the-edges, reliable, stoic Sam, who hauls ass across the country getting wind-chapped and frost-bitten for the sake of the good old UCA. Nah, Sam’s not pretty. And if he’s being more specific, Higgs had said that the noises he made were pretty, which is altogether even worse.
“Sam.”
Fragile announces her appearance, tucking her umbrella into the corner as she approaches where Sam’s been lying on his bunk, staring at the white ceiling of his private room. He sits up, appreciating the way that she keeps a respectful distance. “Are you doing all right?”
“I’m fine, just got caught up a little on a delivery.”
“Higgs,” She says, nodding. “I know, I can smell him.”
Elevated chiralium levels leave a septic kind of smell, bitter, like static solidified. Higgs is all chiralium, and Sam should have known that Fragile would recognise his tells anywhere after working together for so long.
“Yeah, well, he’s gone now.”
Higgs is gone, as should be all traces of him. Sam’s cargo suit is being decontaminated, his hair and skin are washed, his feet bare. No part of him is stained from Higgs’ touch, so why does he still feel the ghost of his fingers on his chin?
“What did he want?”
Sam smiles inwardly. “Pizza.”
Fragile looks at him, her face impassive. That woman is hard to read sometimes, swear to God. Her expression twists into something more like concern, and Sam’s guard immediately comes up, his back tensing.
“Sam, I don’t need to warn you that he’s dangerous.”
Sam thinks of what Fragile had told him about her collaboration with Higgs, evidenced by her skin marred by timefall, her body existing on borrowed time. He wonders if Higgs had done the same with her, this game of cat and mouse, back and forth until it all turned sour. His heart beats a little harder in his chest.
“I know how persuasive he can be. He’s got a charm.”
Fingers rough on his chin, cold beer running down the side of his mouth.
“There’s no charm,” Sam spits, shuffling a little away from Fragile.
He’s lying, and Fragile knows it. Higgs is intriguing, magnetic. For all the nonsense he talks, Sam can’t help but listen, waiting for a glimpse of reason in it all.
“Interest then.” Fragile puts her hand next to Sam’s on the bed, not quite touching. “Be careful, that's all I’m saying. You forget what he’s capable of. The rabid dog will play docile, up until it bites.”
If this is Higgs playing docile, Sam doesn’t want to see him rabid.
He was docile, though, teasing, conversation for the sake of it. No guns, no death. Even his use of BTs was entirely performative.
Fragile is still looking at him, and Sam can’t read her. He knows what she wants to hear, and so he stands, turning to look at his equipment on the wall, the BB pod glowing a soft orange. “Good thing I’m here to put it down then.”
“Make sure you remember that, Sam.”
With a crack, Fragile jumps out on her umbrella. Sam is left alone with his thoughts, his BB, and the lingering sting of Higgs’ touch on his face.
—
At the end of it all, Higgs is just a man underneath the mask.
He looks younger than Sam expected, younger than Sam is himself. He hadn’t had a reason to look closely, had avoided it, really. There’s tar smeared across his cheeks, a split lip swelling as it oozes blood between his teeth. His blue eyes dart from Sam’s face to over his shoulder — Fragile hovering behind with her umbrella clutched in her hand like a lifeline.
“I want to talk t’ him.”
Sam’s mouth feels sore as he speaks, jaw clicking uncomfortably, teeth throbbing. The corners of Higgs’ eyes crinkle as he begins to laugh, high-pitched and breathless with pain.
“He’s not worth it,” Fragile says, her voice firm. “He’ll just try to poison you.”
“Come on, Sam,” Amelie beckons, taking a step backwards so that the sun turns her into a silhouette, radiant. “Let’s go home.”
“Sam,” Fragile insists.
“The man’s got things to say, I say let him,” Higgs calls out, and Sam ignores him. He turns to face Fragile; she knows what he’s feeling better than anyone.
“I’m just going to talk,” Sam says, “then he’s yours.”
Higgs laughs, and Sam begins walking over to him, ignoring Fragile’s aborted movement to grab his arm.
“Five minutes,” Fragile says. Sam will take it; it won’t take long.
As he approaches, Sam sees Higgs shift on the ground, and a small thread of panic runs through him. Is Higgs playing weak, about to snap the moment Sam gets close?
But then he squats down next to him, and can hear the wince in Higgs’ breaths as he rearranges himself. If they had fought much longer, Sam could have killed him.
“You come to comfort me in my dyin’ moments?” Higgs drawls, turning his head so he can look at Sam’s face. “You could hold me in your arms, see the life dim from my eyes. Won’t that be a damn shame.”
Sam wonders if Higgs knows that Fragile is going to kill him, or if there's some kind of fairytale ending he’s concocting for himself.
“What is it, huh, Higgs? You get your rocks off on fuckin’ up my life?”
Despite everything, Sam still doesn’t understand. He has more questions than answers, even here, at the end of everything.
Higgs grins, shaking his head. Sand and tar stick to his hair, undoubtedly uncomfortable.
“Not everything is about you, Sam Porter Bridges Strand whatever-the-fuck-else…” Higgs starts coughing, turning his cheek into the wet sand as he curls up into himself. He looks pathetic, stripped of all that made him powerful.
“That bunker sure as shit looked about me.”
When Sam had first entered Higgs’ bunker, his blood had run cold at what he’d found. Photos upon photos, printed out and stuck to the walls. His name repeated across the walls and lockers. Red strings mapping out — what exactly? It had been easy to picture Higgs in the room, tracking routes and deliveries. Higgs had always seemed so prepared, one step ahead, but when seeing exactly how he managed it, Sam felt almost disappointed. Higgs wasn’t omniscient, all-powerful. He was a lonely terrorist, repulsive, obsessive, clinging desperately to a bit of power to feel something, no matter the source.
“Don’t like my interior design?”
Sam is beyond words.
He had spent weeks wanting to talk to him. He’d wanted to put this whole thing to rest, one way or another. Killing Higgs had been just within grasp. Looking down at the bloodied man sprawled below him, Sam doesn’t have much to say anymore.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing, it’s done. You lose, I lose, we all lose.”
Higgs truly is insane, Sam realises, like a click in his mind. He’d been holding on to the idea that he was this quiet genius, that there was a method to his madness. The reality is disappointing, and he hates himself for feeling disappointed that there was nothing more.
“Should have taken me up on that offer. You’d be napping on some rock, enjoyin’ the way the sun burns you into dust. Can you repatriate back from that, I wonder? Guess we’ll never find out…”
It's the last thing Sam hears from him. Sam doesn’t say goodbye. He simply rises to his feet, turns his back to him, and begins walking to where Fragile and Amelie stand off in the distance.
“All done?”
Fragile looks at him warily. Sam had always wondered if she had thought that he might give in to Higgs, the way that she had needed to. Would Sam have made the same choices if he knew he could die? She’d always been the braver of them both.
“Yeah.” Sam takes one last look at Higgs, feeling a discomfort in his chest, and hands over the gun. “Put the dog to sleep.”
—
Eleven months later.
Sam wakes up on the Beach. It’s familiar enough to him that he knows where he is before he’s even registered the feel of sand beneath his bare skin.
He stands, looking around for any evidence of Amelie — Bridget. The dead whales and fish that populate the sands stare back at him silently as the dark sea laps at the shore.
“Amelie?” Sam calls out, just in case. Silence answers him.
And so he walks. It’s been a while since he’s been on the Beach, mostly staying out of trouble now that he’s got Lou to look after. It’s familiar in its eeriness, the waves lapping at the shore in an almost comforting rhythm.
Sam doesn’t know how long he walks for; time doesn’t matter here. He walks and walks until he is tired, and takes a break against an outcrop of rock, toes digging into the sand in front of him.
There’s movement in his peripheral vision, and Sam turns to see what it is.
Someone is scrabbling over the rocks, a manic cascade of body and limbs hurling towards him. They’re a few hundred metres away, dressed in a black cargo suit, dark hair on their head. That’s all he can really make out, and Sam stands to get a better look.
As the figure gets closer, Sam realises with a sudden start who it is.
It’s Higgs, his hair grown out and face bare of any eyeliner, bounding over the final tor and down onto the sand, heading straight for Sam.
Sam is naked, as he often is in his dreams. Usually, he doesn’t mind, the body is just that — a body — here on the Beach, but seeing Higgs, fully dressed and heading for him at full pelt, Sam feels vulnerable.
He braces his body and makes the first move, grabbing Higgs as soon as he’s within arm’s reach and flipping him over before he can do anything to Sam. Higgs falls hard onto his back on the sand, winded.
“Sam Porter Bridges,” Higgs gasps, pushing himself up onto his elbows with a grimace, “just the man I wanted to see.”
Sam knew that Fragile hadn’t killed Higgs, but he was supposed to be on Amelie’s Beach, not his own. Was this Amelie’s Beach?
”You bring me here?” Sam asks, standing over Higgs’ prone body.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Higgs begins trying to sit up, but Sam stops him with a foot on his chest. Higgs frowns. “What? You think I’m going to do anything to ya? Come on now, can’t you see I’m ‘bout as useless as a baby kitten?”
Sam keeps his toes pressed into Higgs’ chest, thinking. He really can’t sense anything from Higgs, no chiral energy, his DOOMS not prickling with his presence. But that doesn’t mean that he really is weak. Higgs lies, and plays tricks, and it may have been months since his big showdown with him, but Sam isn’t even sure if he’s dreaming or on the Beach at this point.
“You could even say that I’ve turned over a new leaf.”
“A ‘change of heart’?” Sam asks dryly, then steps off his chest to crouch down next to Higgs’ head. “You ain’t nothin’ but a sad little boy, damaged goods.” Sam presses his finger into Higgs’ temple, hard. It’s warm. “You got what you deserved.”
“I want out.”
“‘Out’?” Sam echoes. “There’s not an ‘out’. You either stay here or die, Fragile said it.”
Sam is haunted by the ghosts of his past more than most, and he’s had a fair few conversations with the dead. Higgs may as well be dead, and Sam had barely spared a thought for the terrorist since he’d left Bridges, up until now. Leaving him stranded on the Beach wasn't an act of mercy, and he hadn't been prepared to deal with this kind of ghost.
Higgs uses his strength to push up so that he’s face to face with Sam, his hair hanging in damp strands around his face.
“There’s always an out,” Higgs insists, eyes wide. He places his cold hands on Sam’s bare knees, leaning close enough for Sam to feel his breath. “You have to let me out.”
Higgs is begging, on his knees, pawing up at Sam’s front.
It feels wrong to see the man who’d acted immortal, who had brought so much pain and suffering to everyone he met, finally brought down to begging.
“I’ll do anythin’ you want, really, I—“ Higgs suddenly lunges forward, finally attacking, his hands scrabbling around Sam’s neck as he tugs him close. Sam brings his knee up into Higgs’ rib cage, winding him once again as he topples onto his back.
“Anything at all,” Higgs gasps, “Just lemme out of here, c’mon. The nightmares.”
He says it like Sam is supposed to understand, like their DOOMS abilities have meant that they have the same dreams. Sam has nightmares, but whatever has reduced Higgs into this scared, desperate animal is obviously beyond all that.
“I can tell you everything you want to know," Higgs barters, "Amelie, Lou, anything, just dear God, take me back with you.”
Sam looks around the empty Beach, half expecting Amelie to appear. “Why am I here?”
“That’s what you’re asking?” Higgs turns onto his front to crawl back towards Sam on his hands and knees. “Why do you care? It doesn’t matter. What matters is it’s been, it’s been years, I can’t do this no more!”
“I’m not taking you back with me.”
It doesn't matter how much Higgs begs, there’s no way in hell that Sam would ever let him out of his isolation, no matter what he promises.
“Please,” Higgs stops at Sam’s feet, fists balled up and pressed into the sand. “I can’t with this goddamn place!”
“How ‘bout you just end it then, cause I’m not taking you back.”
There’s a brief pause, then Sam sees the instant Higgs switches tactics, shifting on his knees in the sand, leaning back a little. It looks like he’s trying to make himself look attractive somehow, his head tilted a little to the side to let his hair tumble over his shoulder. “Sam, look, I’ve got— I’ve got skills, right? The kind of thing that can make all our bad times blow over, if you catch my drift.”
Pure desperation. Sam’s heart beats a little faster.
Higgs is serious. Sam considers it. It’s cruel, but Higgs has been nothing but cruel his entire life.
Sam thinks back to when Higgs had him on his knees, bottle pressed to his lips, watching with perverted interest as he forced the drink in. He thinks of the dreams he’d had for weeks after, waking in some shameful state of half-arousal.
“Alright.”
Higgs freezes, blinking a couple of times. Sam watches him take in his body, eyes lingering on the scar on his abdomen, before trailing down below.
“Alright,” Higgs says. “Alright, I do this and you’ll take me with you, yeah?”
Sam can’t bring himself to say the words. He nods. “So get on with it.”
Sam nearly vibrates out of his skin when Higgs rises up onto his knees, moving forward so he’s fully kneeling in front of Sam.
“Delivering all kinds of packages nowadays, ain’tcha,” Higgs hums, “guess it’s true what they said about the delivery guys in those old pornos.”
He’s trying for jovial, relaxed, but Sam can see the way his eyes aren’t quite fully focused, how he keeps flicking from Sam’s cock to his face. He’s nervous, weighing up the best course of action, and a Higgs with any kind of rational thought is a dangerous Higgs.
“How about you get on with it?”
Sam watches Higgs steel himself before he shuffles forward on his knees, getting his face up close to Sam’s groin. For one terrifying moment, Sam pictures Higgs’ teeth sharp around him. His cock twitches with the first hint of arousal, rising slightly.
“Gonna be honest, not how I thought we’d do this,” Higgs mumbles, stalling for time. “Always thought we’d do some kind of fighting-fucking situation.”
“Can punch you if you want.”
Higgs takes a sharp breath, almost a gasp, and that sends arousal flooding through Sam’s veins, his cock thickening with the thought of Higgs getting off on a punch to the face. Sam could do it, wants to do it. Higgs would let him punch him down into submission, fuck his throat slick with blood and spit.
“That’s it,” Higgs breathes, long and drawn out. He finally parts his lips and brings up one gloveless hand to wrap around Sam’s half-hard dick, taking the tip into his mouth.
Higgs sucks cock like he’s waiting for direction. He watches Sam’s face, unblinking with his blue eyes as he forces himself down his length, then back up. He’s unhurried, almost cautious, and Sam realises that Higgs didn’t expect him to agree to the bargain.
A filthy thrill runs down Sam’s spine at the idea of finally having one up over Higgs.
“That’s how you want to do it, slow?” Sam asks dryly. Perhaps it’s a risk to play this game with Higgs’ mouth on his dick, but Sam can’t stand to hear the wet sounds and soft noises of Higgs trying to pleasure him for his freedom.
His mouth is hot and wet. Sam can’t remember the last time he was given head, not that he particularly cares about how long it’s been. Higgs isn’t exactly making the wait worth it with his technique, unpracticed and clumsy. Sam wouldn’t be surprised if he were his first, couldn’t think of anyone who’d be willing to shove their cock into someone so twisted.
Anyone other than him, anyway.
Higgs finally does something with his tongue, swallowing around him, and Sam grunts, a spike of pleasure rippling up his body. He wants to thrust forward, to fuck Higgs’ face until he’s sobbing with it. The uncharacteristic sadistic urge should scare him, but it doesn’t. He just wants to take.
Sam pushes Higgs’ hair back from his forehead with one hand, then helps set the pace with a gentle guidance. He watches a flush take over on Higgs’ pale skin, followed by a couple of chiral tears when he tugs Higgs forward just that little too far. Higgs makes soft noises each time he's tugged forward, and Sam hates how good he sounds, his toes curling into the sand every time Higgs' tongue flicks at his tip.
The air around them is quiet, too peaceful for the depravity of what they’re doing. Sam pictures it, himself naked, fingers tight in Higgs’ hair, Higgs fully dressed on his knees, conquered. He rolls his hips forward, the head of his cock pressing hard into Higgs’ throat. Sam can feel the wave of panic that overtakes Higgs in the way he tries to pull back, but Sam holds him firm, fucking his throat for a couple more strokes before letting up.
Higgs inhales noisily through his nose, glaring up at him.
“Thought you’d like it rough,” Sam says, not apologetic at all. He lets Higgs breathe for a few seconds before pulling at Higgs’ hair, hard, dragging him down the length of his cock until his nose is pressed into Sam’s pubic hair.
Higgs’ throat constricts, and he chokes and gags, unable to do anything but dig his nails into Sam’s thighs like he’s trying to tear the skin. Sam’s fingers tighten in his hair, straining with tension he’s putting on Higgs’ scalp, forcing him down on his cock. Now that he’s started, Sam doesn’t want to stop — he knows how cruel this is, how wrong it is to take advantage of desperation, but this is Higgs. Higgs, who tortured him time and time again, who hurt Amelie, Fragile, Higgs, who tried to kill Lou.
Teeth graze on the underside of Sam’s cock as Higgs’ struggles turn that more desperate, and Sam pulls him back. Salvia pools from the sides of Higgs’ mouth, his face smeared with tears and tar.
“You tryin’ to kill me, Sam?”
His voice is rough, his throat wrecked. Sam’s cock obviously jumps, the blood in his body rushing, making his knees weak. Higgs’ laugh is scratchy.
“Man, you really are fucked up, huh. And to think, all of America is out here thinkin’ you’re some kinda hero.”
Sam lets him talk, tight fingers holding his head back like one would an animal from a carcass. Sam wants to kill Higgs, choke him to death on his cock. It feels like a punishment for them both, Sam’s own disgust at how much this is getting him off, fueling him on further.
“How ‘bout you shut up,” Sam grouses, bringing his other hand down to stroke himself, his grip tight.
“Think you love to hear me talk,” Higgs says, eyes sharp on Sam’s. “I think that Sam Porter Bridges wants to fuck me into silence.”
Higgs has always been able to read him like a book.
He’s almost there, stroking himself tight and fast as Higgs pants wetly over him. An impulse overtakes Sam, and before he can decide against it, he’s slapping Higgs hard across the face.
Higgs makes a sound like he’s wounded, like Sam’s slap had pushed him over the edge into orgasm, and that’s what does it for Sam.
Sam roughly shoves Higgs back by his forehead, pushing his hair back so his face is bare, and comes across his face, half curling over him with the intensity of his orgasm.
“Fuck,” Sam gasps, stroking himself jerkily as he trembles through it.
Higgs half opens his mouth to catch it, his tongue darting out. A fierce, possessive, wanting thing races from Sam’s ears to his toes, his fingers curling into Higgs’ hair. He lets Higgs push forward to tongue at the head of his cock, cleaning him up as Sam starts to go soft.
In the aftermath, shame allows itself to creep in.
Higgs is hard, his cargo suit tented around his crotch. It makes sense that he’d be the kind of person to get off on being so used, Sam thinks. The come on his face has begun to smear into the mess already there, ruined.
Sam doesn’t think he’s ever fucked up so badly. He recoils from the repulsive sight, desperately trying to quash any sense of guilt. Higgs deserved this. This is Higgs, he’s barely human, worse than all the BTs and monsters and Mules he’s ever dealt with. The worst of the worst, unhinged. Only an unhinged man would get on his knees for someone he’s tried to kill as a bargaining chip.
Only an unhinged man would go through with it.
Sam takes another step back, putting a safe distance between himself and Higgs as his brain tries to catch up with what he's done.
“Feel better?” Higgs asks from his knees. Sam wants to be sick. When he doesn’t respond, Higgs quirks a small smile and cracks his knuckles, somehow able to look casual. “Well, now that you’ve got that outta your system, time to uphold your side of the bargain. Let’s get outta here.”
Sam swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. “No.”
Higgs is silent, his expression contorting into anger before smoothing out, then he huffs a long breath.
“You lyin’ to me now, Sam? Ha,” he barks out a laugh, humourless. “Well played. I didn’t think you could stoop so low. More my style.”
Usually, Amelie would send him back from the Beach, or he’d find his body to return from the Seam. Sam doesn’t know how to get out of this situation, and he’s slowly losing the control he'd gained as he watches Higgs grow more angry.
“Nah, really, that is low. That’s real, real low. We had a deal, see. I don’t get on my knees for just about anyone.” Higgs wipes at his face with his sleeve, unsuccessful in fully clearing away the evidence of what Sam’s done.
“I can’t get you out, even if I wanted. Which I don’t.” It feels good for Sam to say, to admit he wants Higgs trapped, stranded on the Beach.
“You said— We had a deal!” Higgs’ voice cracks, and he scrabbles in the sand as he tries to right himself. “You said you could get me out!”
“Fuck you,” Sam grits out, nauseous, his insides trembling with something more than post-orgasm shakes. “I don’t owe you nothing.”
Higgs tugs at Sam’s leg, pulling him down into the sand. Immediately, his hands are on Sam’s throat, tightening as he clambers up Sam’s body. Sam’s own hands crush the bones in Higgs’ wrists. “Fuck you,“ Sam repeats, “Fuck you, fuck yo—“
Suddenly, void.
Water swells around Sam, the pressure crushing as he sinks deeper and deeper, he can’t breathe, can’t see. The darkness and silence stretch out forever, eternity of nothing — is this what death should feel like?
He’s sinking fast into the yawning blackness, faster, faster, until—
Sam sits upright in a rush, gasping. His body is moving before he’s even fully conscious to register it. The lights gently brighten in his shelter, his heart pounding in his ears.
His room is quiet, the warm orange glow soothing as Sam waits for his heart rate to calm. He turns on his side to look over to where Louise is babbling in her crib, woken by the lights.
“You alright, Lou?”
She gurgles in response.
A nightmare, Sam is relieved. Out of the two, he’d rather be dreaming about Higgs than actually meeting with him on the Beach. A nightmare in which he’d acted in ways he never would in reality, he reassures himself.
His boxers are wet.
After he showers and gets dressed, Sam is still feeling unsettled. He’s thinking of Higgs as he cooks breakfast, wondering if he really is still trapped on the Beach, desperate to escape.
He thinks of Higgs' face, splattered with come and tears.
Sam needs some air.
“C’mon Lou,” Sam says to her after they finish their eggs, wiping her mouth of yolk, “Let’s go catch the sunrise.”