Author's note: a "fuckstop," a concept originating from the Reddit guro community, is a government-run public snuff brothel, where women are conscripted into service as single-use sex toys, after which they are swiftly killed by guillotine, typically to be repurposed as meat. While usually depicted as an indoor facility with an array of guillotines, a solitary outdoor guillotine will sometimes suffice.

----------

Devon's head hits the floor with a dull crack, and the young man falls eerily still, green eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling. Jake stands at the top of the short staircase, looking down at the prone, naked body of his lifelong friend.

"Any luck?" Jake asks.

Slowly, Devon blinks himself back to consciousness. "Nope…" he groans. "Blacked out for a sec, but I'm still here."

"Damn, that one sounded promising," Jake says. "Alright, come on back up."

Devon awkwardly flips back up onto his feet, then climbs the stairs toward his equally naked friend. He not-so-subtly allows his hand to graze Jake's cock as he walks by, but after the years of blatant flirtation and borderline sexual harassment, his straight friend doesn't bother making a fuss.

Both of their bodies are beginning to show wear and tear, with bruises and patches of rugburn starting to appear across their dark skin, and a streak of blood running down from Jake's nose.

Devon lines up behind his friend, the same as he has for each of Jake's previous turns. He gives Jake only a moment to prepare himself before planting both hands on his back and giving a hard shove. Jake misses the first two steps entirely, experiencing the briefest instant of flight as his feet leave the floor and he launches forward.

The sensation comes to an end as his feet catch on the third step. He pivots from this new anchor point, toppling forward like a falling tree. His body twists in the air, and he lands hard on his shoulder before sliding down the remaining few feet to lie on the cold tile floor at the base of the carpeted stairway.

It is at this moment that Jake's mom returns home from her errands. She walks in through the front door, arms loaded with plastic bags, to see her son lying naked at the bottom of the stairs, his equally nude gay best friend right nearby, standing at at least a half-chub.

"Oh, you two finally get over that sexual tension bullshit and decide to fuck each other already?"

Jake groans as he stands back up, both from pain and embarrassment. "No, Mom, I'm still not gay."

The older woman shrugs. "And I'm not straight, but that didn't stop your father." She steps around her son to head upstairs towards the kitchen. Jake follows her up.

"Mom, you're pan. You know there's a difference."

"I'm just saying, anyone as persistent as Devon's been deserves at least a consolation fuck," she replies. "Speaking of: nice to see you, Devon. Loving the new outfit." She pauses at the top of the stairs to awkwardly wrap her encumbered arms around the naked boy, planting a quick kiss on his cheek before proceeding to the kitchen.

As she begins unloading groceries on the counter, she watches with mild interest as Devon turns his back to the staircase, arms crossed over his chest. Her son then grabs him by the shoulders and shoves him backward, and she hears the heavy thud and sharp exhalation as the twink's spine slams against a step, then the resulting series of thuds as he collapses into a heap at the bottom.

"So, if this isn't some weird new S&M thing, do I even want to know what you two are doing?"

"Oh, we're killing ourselves," Jake explains.

"Each… other…" Devon wheezes.

"Each other," Jake amends.

After a moment, Jake's mother sighs. "I suppose it was too much to expect for you to act mature about this."

Devon, 19, and Jake, 20, are the very definition of freeloaders. Unemployed, living rent-free in their parents' homes since graduating high school, spending all day every day with each other - be it in person or gaming together online. The pair has been practically inseparable for as long as anyone can remember.

The start of their friendship had been an unlikely one, with Jake being one of the few big, scary second graders who deigned even to acknowledge a lame, scrawny first grader like Devon. They started playing together in school, and their bond grew even stronger when they learned how closely they lived to one another and began spending time together outside of school.

It was sometime in middle school that Devon figured out he was gay, and since then, not a month has gone by without Jake needing to politely decline his friend's romantic - and later, sexual - advances, even through Devon's various boyfriends and Jake's handful of girlfriends.

By high school the boys' interests diverged, with Jake joining the football team and Devon learning clarinet and becoming something of a band geek, but even this did little to separate them. If anything, with Devon marching in Jake's halftime shows, they spent even more time in each other's presence.

And since graduating, it's like neither one has been willing to move on with their life, just staying in their small town, letting their potential rot away to nothing. Jake had even turned down considerable football scholarships from prestigious schools across the country, just to stay home and goof off with his friend.

And so, through sheer coincidence of timing, both young men were handed down the same ultimatum on the same day earlier this week: go to college, get a job, move out, or die. It was intended as a means to motivate them into doing something with their lives, not a genuine invitation to end them. And yet…

"This is us being mature," Jake protests. "C'mon, Mom, we're like brothers, what else are we gonna do? Start working dead-end jobs all day long and barely see each other anymore? Move across the country to different schools and never see each other? Or, what, go live on the streets together until we die anyway?"

"Trust me, Mrs. K," Devon adds as he rejoins Jake, "we've talked it over, and this is for the best. We aren't really offering much to society otherwise."

She sighs, looking the two boys over. "Well… if you're really sure about all this… Devon, honey, please tell me you at least let your parents know…"

"Yeah, I left my dad a note."

"Originally we were just gonna hang ourselves or something," Jake says. "But this way it's like one last friendly competition sorta thing. Winner's whoever stays alive longest."

"Then the winner goes to a fuckstop to get finished off," Devon adds.

"I take it that's why you're naked?"

"Nah, clothes would get in the way, keep us from getting scraped up," Jake says. "And this way we can clearly see all the damage."

Devon just gives her a sly wink.

"Okay… well, if you're doing this, I can't have you doing it in the house," she says. "One of you is gonna end up kicking a hole in the drywall, or breaking the stairs or something. The whole point was that you're costing us too much money, so don't go costing us even more on the way out."

"Oh! Yeah, for sure!" Jake says. "I honestly think this staircase is a bit too short, anyway."

Both boys head over and give Jake's mom a final goodbye hug, a pair of "I love you"s, and a couple of "thank you for everything"s. On their way out, Jake calls back, "You should probably sell my stuff instead of just tossing it. Won't quite cover twenty years of food and shelter, but maybe you and Dad could afford a nice vacation?"

----------

"Oh yeah, this is definitely the spot," Devon announces.

The pair has relocated to the town park, their battered bodies on full display for all to see, the cool spring breeze sending the occasional shiver across their bare flesh. The green grass of the park is striped with paved walkways and bike paths. Devon and Jake stand at the point where one such path meets the summit of a staircase, overlooking a sparsely populated picnic area below.

Devon points as he talks. "We got a corpse bin right there, a few open fuckstop spots over there, and, what, thirty, thirty-five concrete steps to work with? Yeah, this is it." Without another word, he gives Jake a shove.

Immediately he notes the far more brutal sound of hitting concrete versus carpet. His friend grunts and yelps as he tumbles downward, instinctively trying to break his fall, scraping himself up, landing on his chest hard enough to cause a muffled snap. He ends up rolling on his side down the final five steps, momentum carrying him several feet across the pavement at the base before coming to a stop.

Jake's trip back up is taxing. He holds one hand to his ribs, wheezing slightly by the time he rejoins Devon. "Yo, check this out," he says, holding up his hand, where his pinky is bent at an awkward angle. With his other hand, he grabs the finger and pulls, spreading open the torn webbing to his ring finger and showing off the exposed bone, fresh blood pouring down across his palm.

"Nice!" Devon says, curiously probing the wound with his finger, making Jake wince. He's got a few new scrapes across his body, but this finger is absolutely the best progress either man has made so far.

The few onlookers who had bothered looking over when Jake fell pay no mind as Devon follows suit. He hits his head hard against one of the stairs, waking up about a minute later on the ground - much to Jake's displeasure. Devon stumbles back to his feet and carefully climbs back up toward Jake.

However, blood flows down his face from a deep gash hidden beneath his long black hair, running over one eye and obscuring his vision. He makes it about halfway up before a misstep makes him stumble. He slides down a few steps, trying to grab something to steady himself, before remembering the reason he's there and just letting himself fall the rest of the way.

He makes it all the way up on his second attempt, now sporting an oozing scratch on his bicep to match the one on his scalp. Jake takes a second to help wipe some blood from his friend's eye and says, "Looking good, man. But don't think you get to push me twice in a row just because your klutzy ass tripped."

Jake's next trip leaves a few teeth laying at the base of the stairs and further fractures his already busted nose, demolishing any scabs that had managed to form since the first break. Devon has to limp back after his next turn gives his ankle a nasty twist. Each trip up or down leaves a fresh trail of crimson across the pale grey staircase.

As Jake crashes down the next time, he lets out a scream. When he hits bottom, he curls into the fetal position, writhing and groaning.

"Y'alright down there?"

"I... hit… my balls…"

Devon can't hold back his laugh. "Yeah, dude? Yeah? I mean, I'm sure that sucks, but is that really all that's bugging you right now?"

When Devon's words sink in, Jake opens his eyes to assess himself, only to quickly let out a low, "Oh fuck," as he sees his arm. A jagged spike of bone protrudes from his skin - doubtless from some reflexive attempt at breaking his fall.

That's also probably why his pinky, already ruined from his first fall, is now practically detached from his hand. After a moment's hesitation, he grabs the digit and, with a sharp twist, rips apart the remaining connective tissue, screaming again before dropping his severed finger and hobbling back to Devon.

They pause for a quick breather while a couple makes their way up, indifferent to the mess. After they pass, Jake, breathing heavy, sits down on the top step, with Devon soon joining him.

"Damn," Jake says with a chuckle, "for a guy who looks like such a twig, you are one resilient son of a bitch."

"Yeah, this is harder than I thought," Devon admits. He tries to keep his head tilted, so the blood flows over his temple instead of his eye. "It's the walk back up that's doing me in, honestly."

Jake laughs. "Yeah, next time let's off ourselves on an escalator."

"Each other."

"Each other," Jake agrees. With a sigh, he wraps an arm around Devon's smooth back, resting his head on his friend's shoulder. "You know… I'm glad I'm going out this way. With you."

Devon tilts his head the other way, letting the blood coat his face as he leans against Jake's hair. "Me too."

They stay like that for a minute, not talking, just letting the warm sun bathe their wounds, listening to the sounds of life around them while their own lives softly dwindle, their blood pooling beneath them, mingling as it flows down the steps.

Devon breaks the silence. "Last chance to take me up on that blowjob offer…" he mumbles.

"Okay, jackass, you asked for this one." Still wearing the warm smile of their shared moment, Jake gives another push, sending his friend sprawling downward.

Devon shuffles back up with what he's pretty sure is a dislocated shoulder, to where Jake still sits. Devon extends a hand as though to help him up, but instead he takes Jake's hand and gives a strong yank, pulling him off the step and sending him down the stairs again.

This is a rough one. Jake lands hard on his head, then his back, before coming to rest ass-up on the pavement. He lies still at the bottom… probably unconscious. Devon keeps watching, waiting for him to finally stir. But he isn't getting up.

Is this it? Has Devon won? Is his best friend… his brother… let's be real, the love of his life… dead?

"D- Devon…?" The voice is faint, muffled against the pavement. "I… can't feel my legs…"

Devon resists the initial urge to just throw himself down the stairs. It'd be quicker, definitely easier, but at least one of them needs to be able to reach the corpse bin. Instead, he limps down slowly on his broken ankle, until, finally, he stands beside his paralyzed friend.

"Devon, is that you?" Jake cranes his sore neck, trying to see behind him.

"Yeah, man. Holy shit, did I actually break your spine?"

"I, uh… y-yeah, I guess so." He gives a weak laugh. "Good job, man."

"So, can you move at all?"

Jake does his best to shift himself with his one good arm, but achieves little. "Not really, man. I think you win by forfeit. No fuckin' way I can get back up there and push you again."

Devon smirks. "So… you can't feel… this?" Balancing on his good leg, he kicks Jake's exposed nutsack as hard as he can, sending a fresh shockwave of pain through his own shattered foot.

"I mean… I felt myself get pushed forward a bit."

"Huh," Devon says through the pain. "How about this?" This time he stomps down with his heel, smashing Jake's tender flesh against the concrete.

Jake rolls his eyes. "Get away from my balls, bro. Just drag me up and chuck me down a few more times and finish me off."

Devon places his toes onto Jake's sack, thinking of tormenting him further. Instead… he goes gentler. He rubs his friend's testicles softly, feeling them roll around beneath the loose flesh, scrunching it in his toes like warm dough, watching his own cock awakening.

"Devon…?"

Devon eases himself to his knees between Jake's lifeless legs. While his dislocated arm hangs limply at his side, he plants his good hand on his friend's ass, giving a firm squeeze. "You… can't feel this, either?"

"Come on, man, what are you doing?"

When he's satisfied with massaging Jake's cheeks, Devon leans into him, grinding against him, a droplet of pre already forming at his tip.

"Bro. No. Come on, man."

He lays himself on Jake's back, wriggling his hand underneath to rub the man's pecs, continuing to hump his lower back as he moves in close to his ear.

"I love you."

"Yeah, I love you too, prick," Jake grunts. "As a brother or something."

Devon smiles, resting his cheek on Jake's head. "I've fucked my brother from time to time."

"Not what I fucking meant, man. Come on, don't do this, just let me die with some dignity…"

"What did you think was gonna happen?" Devon whispers. "If you won, you'd be headed to a fuckstop anyway…"

"The fuckstop thing was your idea, asshole…"

"So… are you telling me you lost on purpose…?"

"No, I… I wanted to win…" Tears start to form as he struggles in vain to push his friend off with one hand. "It… it would've been different with a stranger… I still wouldn't've liked it, but… I fucking know you, man, it's different!"

Devon moves in closer, bringing his lips toward Jake's.

"No. Don't you fucking kiss me."

Devon gives a brief smile, but doesn't stop inching forward.

"Kiss me and I will bite you. Kiss me and I will bite you."

He tries to turn away, but Devon holds his head in place. He clenches his teeth as Devon swoops in to plant the quickest peck on his lips, perhaps testing the validity of the threat.

"I will fucking bite you… please don't make me."

But Devon presses in again. Their lips meet, slick with blood. Jake tries to hold back, hoping it'll just end… but when Devon's tongue slithers its way between his lips, Jake snaps. He digs his teeth into the slimy flesh and Devon freezes with a yelp.

Jake expects him to recoil, to pull away - but, after adjusting to the pain, he only kisses more passionately, letting his tongue bleed into both of their mouths. Jake tightens his grip, drawing more blood… if it won't stop him, it'll at least keep his tongue from advancing further. He only lets go when Devon finally pulls back, wiping the blood from his lips and returning his focus to his friend's ass.

"Please…"

"Mmmph…" Devon lines up his cock, pressing his tip against Jake's hole. "You can't feel it anyway… Just let it happen…"

It's true, Jake doesn't feel as Devon's penis penetrates him, but he continues to squirm, trying to get away. As he feels himself starting to rock rhythmically back and forth, his crying begins in earnest.

Part of him - a very small, desperate part - wants to fight. Wants to hurt Devon for what he's doing. But, even if he were physically able… he knows he could never do it. In spite of everything, he really does love Devon. More than anyone else he's ever known. Just… not sexually.

For all the playful teasing over the years, all the lighthearted slapping, the occasional kick in the nuts…he can't make himself hurt Devon. Not really. Even now, he already regrets biting him. And… sure, he may have technically been trying to kill him mere minutes ago… but that was an act of compassion, not a desire to do him harm.

He thinks about trying to claw his way across the ground and escape… but, come on. Even with Devon's broken foot, it's not like Jake can outrun him with no legs and one arm. Even if he could, what else is left for him? The chance to bleed to death somewhere else, alone? Leave Devon to die alone?

This is the last day of their lives. They had decided that because they want to… they need to go out together. Jake… can't… he can't let this divide them. Not now. If he lets this one little thing ruin their friendship… then… is he going to die for nothing? Has he somehow coerced Devon into dying for nothing?

No. Instead of fighting, instead of fleeing, instead of letting the rape break him like it would under any other circumstances… Jake closes his eyes, lets his best friend continue to violate him, and forces himself to remember his mother's words.

Anyone as persistent as Devon's been deserves at least a consolation fuck.

Maybe that's true. But Jake doesn't care. Because it doesn't matter how persistent he's been. Anyone as loyal as Devon's been deserves at least a consolation fuck. Anyone as supportive as Devon's been. Anyone as compassionate, as caring. As loving. Anyone who would rather die than live a life apart from him…

A consolation fuck. Okay. Jake can do that.

Acceptance washes over him. The tears melt away into the surrounding blood stains. He opens his eyes, just letting himself live in this moment. After everything Devon has given him, Jake can give him this. As crazy as it sounds… part of him almost wishes he could feel this. Wishes that there was anything he could do to make this more pleasurable for Devon.

Then again… he may not be able to do anything physically...

"...Devon?"

If it'll help him die happier…

"...Devon? Would you… like to consider this a… a date?"

These words drive Devon over the edge. He lets out a loud moan as he blasts the last load of his life balls-deep into his best friend's paralyzed ass. His… straight best friend. His straight best friend… whom he has just raped.

Clarity hits Devon like a train. Thirteen years of trust betrayed. Thirteen years of friendship thrown away for… what? Five minutes of sexual gratification? Does Jake seriously mean so little to him? What the fuck?

"J- Jake, I…" Devon feels like he's going to puke. Shakily, he withdraws from the hole, a glob of cream leaking out with him. "I'm…"

"Hey. Hey. Devon." Jake speaks firmly, authoritatively. He can already hear the breakdown in Devon's voice, and he needs to shut it down. "Devon. Listen to me."

"Jake… why the fuck did I do that… I… I'm so sorry…"

"Devon. Listen. Come down where I can see you."

"Jake, are… are you okay?"

"Devon. Devon. Devon." With a minor feat of contortionism, Jake reaches back and grabs his friend's hand. "Devon. Listen. Come down here where I can see you."

Hesitantly, Devon lowers himself, lying down on the pavement beside Jake, struggling to keep from hyperventilating as he blinks back tears.

Jake stares into Devon's eyes. He thinks of a hundred ways he could try and fail to express himself - the regret for making him wait so long, the guilt for making him feel like he's done something wrong, the gratitude, the love, the contentment… Instead, he grabs him and pulls him into another passionate, bloody kiss. This time he doesn't hold back; he lets Devon explore every inch of his mouth, for as long as he wants. Ages pass before they finally split apart to catch their breath.

"But I-"

"Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh."

"No, Jake, don't… I just-"

"Devon. It made you happier than it made me upset, so don't worry about it."

"See? You were upset! I shouldn't-"

"Devon!" Jake gives his friend a light shake. "Listen, man! That was nothing, okay? That doesn't matter anymore. All that matters anymore is you're happy and I'm happy. If that made you happy, then I'm happy."

"But… you're straight," Devon insists weakly, his resolve waning.

Jake chuckles. "Man, pretty soon all I'm gonna be is dead. Until then… I can be whatever you want me to be."

"Did… Did you mean what you said… about the date?"

"Would you like it to be one?"

"...I'd like that a lot."

The boys cuddle together as best they can with their broken bodies. No doubt they look like a pair of carelessly discarded corpses baking on the asphalt, blood still slowly pooling around them. They stay like this for a long while, wishing that these final moments of each other's company could stretch on for eternity.

Everything else fades away. The chirping of birds, the chattering of people, the warmth of the sun, the coolness of the breeze. A dog bites at Devon's ear. Uncaring passersby, with places to be and futures ahead of them, kick and trample the boys on their way to and from the stairs. None of it matters. All that remains are Jake's eyes and Devon's eyes. Jake's breath and Devon's breath. Jake's soft touch and Devon's soft touch. Jake's heartbeat and Devon's heartbeat.

As the sun begins to die away above them, Devon finally speaks. "Jake… I've only got one good arm and one good leg. I can't bring you back up those stairs."

"It's okay," Jake says. "You already won. You can just finish me off down here."

"Is there any way in particular you wanna go?"

Jake ponders for a moment, then raises his busted arm, pointing to his neck. "Jugular's… here-ish, I think. Just… gimme a quick jab, pull it back out."

He holds out his arm for Devon to grab, and his friend quickly understands. Devon holds Jake's arm, angling the jagged tip of his compound fracture at the indicated spot on his throat. Their eyes meet one final time.

"Thanks."

Jake's eyes go wide as the broken bone pierces his neck. His weak, instinctual jerking is easily overpowered by his thin friend, and as quickly as it entered, the organic shiv retreats, a fresh gush of hot blood in its wake. Devon holds him tight through the end, soaking in his blood, listening to his gurgles slip away into silence.

Devon gets a painful reminder of each and every one of his injuries as he sets about the task of disposing of Jake's body. He collects his friend's scattered teeth and severed finger and, lacking pockets, deposits the scraps into the corpse's mouth for transport.

With just one arm, dragging the jock over to the bin is agonizing work. He even considers asking some of the few remaining parkgoers for some water, but figures it'd just be wasted on a fuckstop slut like him. He has to wedge himself under Jake's armpit in order to get him up to the side-load door.

It's a tough maneuver, but he finally manages to nestle Jake's body in amongst the dozen or so strangers' already in the bin. His face is still visible through the door - bloody and lifeless, cold eyes staring blankly into the void. Devon leans in gently and places one final kiss on his dead lips.

After all that, the fuckstop is a relief. It's a bit tough loading himself in given his current state, but once he's in, that's it. He never has to walk on his broken ankle again. Never has to worry about doing anything else one-handed. He doesn't have to look for a job, or apply for schools, or settle for another boyfriend who is disappointingly non-Jake.

He just has to wait for someone to come around, give him one final fuck, and separate his head from his body. And as he looks across at the corpse bin, he smiles, knowing that his best friend's beautiful face will be the last thing he ever sees.