Stu could have whined, his proud sneer briefly crumpling into a pleading twist of his brow at this devastating teasing, until he recovered enough to demand more gruffly, "C'mon, man--," his fingers tightening in Billy's hair. He had to take a steadying breath to continue, and by then his nails were digging into his own chest, threaded through Billy's pressed against his solar plexus as he said, "When they stop fighting it's so easy to just reach in, everything's soft and wet." His fingers closed tighter into a fist, scraping welts into his skin, clutching around Billy's hand. "I can take whatever I want."