10. Show Me What’s Mine
10
SHOW ME WHAT’S MINE
KRYPT
It’s not my identity that shocks him because he already knows. It’s the black eye and busted cheekbone that makes him gasp. It’s my eyes and what lives within them. When my mask falls to my bedroom floor, Remiel’s gaze doesn’t drop with it. It stays on mine, maintaining eye contact despite how hard it is for most people to hold eye contact with me.
Oh… wow. His eye contact…
When the beasts within me surge to the pale silver of my irises, his throat rolls with a swallow and his fingertips touch my eyelids, forcing them closed.
I wait a single heartbeat, willing away my monsters, before opening them again. Remiel’s breath hitches, and then he looks at my injuries. I didn’t have them the last time I saw him in his music shop, but I got them shortly after. Minutes after exiting through the front door.
Because of Soren.
Because our worlds are so woven together that Remiel has no idea what kind of bargain he’s struck with me. Everything he knows is about to change, and I’ll be the conductor of his new life.
“Keegan,” he whispers.
I lean back and stand up. “Not here. Here, I’m Krypt.”
“How is this even possible? How can you live a double life and no one knows about it? Not even Soren or your brother?” He’s rambling, but again, he does not know how deeply his world is about to change. “How do you do it? How do you keep such big secrets?”
“Stand up,” I demand. “Show me what I own, Remiel. You aren’t the hero here.” I back away from him, admiring my name tattooed across his collarbone. Menace drew the designs for me while Remiel was passed out and Cain was chained up, and it fucking bothered me to watch another man touch him. I picked which one I wanted to ink on him forever in the heat of the moment. If I had my way, I’d tattoo them all on him and cover every inch of his skin with my name.
I don’t fully understand why I’m suddenly so drawn to him, but he looked into my eyes and didn’t look away…
Remiel stands on shaky legs, but that’s all he does. He stares at me until I lean against my dresser, waiting for him to show me all of his body. His eyes fall to the floor, but I won’t stand for shyness. I’ll expose him so thoroughly there won’t be a single part of him hidden from me.
“Remiel,” I warn, lighting a joint to calm my mind. “Now.”
He tucks his fingers into the waistband of his boxer-briefs, but not to pull them down. He holds them up like the fabric is the only thing protecting him. He’s masculine yet beautiful about it, and I love the way his body looks.
“I’m… I’m not gay. There shouldn’t be anything sexual here.”
Shouldn’t isn’t a word I live by. If I want something sexual, it’ll be sexual. He doesn’t get a say.
I just stare at him and smoke my joint. He’s lucky I’m even smoking it. I cross one foot over the other and bask in the glow of my neon light, enjoying the way he fears me even more now that my identity is confirmed.
His hair is a dark blond that doesn’t offend me like most blonds do. His baby blue eyes are too big for his face, but fuck me, they look nice while wide with fear. Glazed and glossy, they sweep my body and linger on my abs. My cock thickens inside my pants, and Remiel looks away, fingers still gripped in his boxers.
“Please, Kee-Krypt. You already took everything from me. My car, my house, my dignity, my fucking life. Don’t make me do this, too.”
“Took it from you?” I ask, trying to keep myself contained a bit longer. “Did you not bargain it away freely? You gave it to me, Remiel.”
“Just Remi! No one calls me Remiel.”
“I do. And if you aren’t naked in the next ten seconds, you’ll find out what else I can freely take from you.”
His red boxers hit the floor, but his hands cover his junk. “I’m not gay,” he repeats.
Up until the night in the cemetery, I didn’t think I was either. I wasn’t sexual at all. Had fucked a time or two just to see what all the fuss was about, but otherwise, I’m inexperienced and acting on instinct. And my instincts all want him. It’s the reason I have a black eye and bruised cheekbone.
I finish the joint and drop the butt into an empty water glass on my dresser. Sighing, I tilt my head at Remiel. “What part of you do you think you can keep from me, hero? Your cock? Is that why you cover it?”
He shakes, trembling on the spot. I press my sliced fingers together just to feel my blood ooze.
“What happened to the guy who held my own blade to my throat and told me to run?” I push off the dresser and take a single step closer. “Show. Me.”
“No.”
I close my eyes and welcome the darkness that pulses through me. An adrenaline surge feeds my monsters and wakes up the sinister parts of my brain. For how many people have called me sick throughout my life, Remiel is about to get firsthand experience. My exhale comes out of my nose shakily, resembling the grip I have on my sanity. It’s about to slip, and when it does, Remiel better have good survival instincts. He might wish to die eventually, but he’s not ready yet. Not until he knows his brother is protected.
When I open my eyes and meet his, he chokes out a sound of fear and moves his hands to his sides. His soft cock hangs heavy between his legs, bigger than I imagined while flaccid. His hip bones are fucking beautiful, and all I want to do is dig my fingers into them from behind. Covered in marker, he looks harsher than he is, grungy and contaminated. It bothers me that Menace’s marks are still on him, so I focus on the tattoo on his collarbone and admire the cut of his abs.
Licking my lips and getting a taste of his blood again, I swallow him down while walking a circle around him. No other tattoos mark his skin. A taut, tight ass and a muscular body taken care of. The only other marks on him are scars, and I plan to add a few more to his flesh. The red and purple of the bigger ones look perfect with his skin tone, but the white lines from former stitches look delicious enough to run my tongue over.
“What do you want with me?” he asks quietly.
Everything. To learn him. To figure out how he responds to fear and pain. To cut him off from everything and everyone in his life until he is solely mine and relies only on me. To warp his mind and force him to understand my sickness so I can understand myself—so I don’t feel so alone in my sickness. To use him until he begs for me, and then to dangle him in front of death’s door without ever letting him cross through. To teach him to take his own power and use it to his advantage.
“To remind you what it means to live before you die,” I say, walking around to his front. When I look down, he tries to cover his dick again. His hands move, but fall back to his sides when I look at them. Because he’s hardening now, cock filling with all the blood not going to his head.
Fear. It’s his aphrodisiac. Interesting…
“Krypt, you fucking fuck!”
Remiel’s eyes dart to the door at the sound of the voice. He bends to pick up his boxers, but I stop his hand and push him behind me just as the door bangs open. I’ve been waiting for this.
Remiel gasps, truly shocked, but I pull a gun from my pants and hold it against Soren’s forehead.
“Don’t do this, Ghost.”
“My fucking brother!” he seethes. “I warned you not to, Krypt.” Yeah, he told me to drop the bargain, but he’s fuck if he thinks I’m gonna listen.
Soren has been my best friend since we were thirteen, but he became my brother when we were seventeen. When we pledged to Vile House together. When we got our new names—he became Ghost and I became Krypt—we made a vow to always protect each other. Remiel was never supposed to know, but now he’s staring at a new version of his brother, afraid that he’ll learn the terms of our bargain. Ghost demanded that I end this bargain, and I didn’t listen, so here we are.
Wedged between the two of them, I realize how different they are despite their physical similarities. They definitely look related, both having the same blue eyes and tanned skin tone, but Remiel’s hair is more golden-hued compared to Ghost’s dirty blond. It’s their energy that differs vastly; Remiel is all vulnerabilities and hidden darkness, but his brother lets his darkness take centre stage. Ghost does nothing to hinder his sinister personality, but Remiel hasn’t learned to be comfortable in his yet.
“Soren!” Remiel gasps.
“Ghost,” we both say, even though my gun is still between his eyes.
“One beating wasn’t enough,” Ghost says, his evil eyes not wavering from mine. “Fuck you for doing this, Krypt. Fuck you for all of it.” He wraps his hand around the barrel of the gun and presses it harder against his forehead. “We had a deal.”
“And now I have a new one,” I tell him. He knows what it means. For as long as I’ve known him, he’s tried to keep his brother alive. He pushed him away four years ago after their dad died, but it was a way to protect him. To give Remiel space while Ghost tried to figure out how to end their family curse.
“Fuck,” Ghost seethes, shoving away. The gun drops to my side, and Ghost peers around me. “Fuck you for making this bargain, Remi. You were never supposed to come here!”
But Remiel isn’t answering because he not only just found out that I’m a Vile Boy, but that his brother is, too. Remiel thought Soren was in The Misfits gang, but that’s just a cover. I warned him that everything he knew was about to change…
Ghost reaches around me to grab his brother, but I grab his wrist and warn him away. “Remi, look at me,” Soren demands. Remiel whimpers, but he must look at his brother, using my body as a shield to hide his nakedness. Funny how he swapped me from villain to protector so quickly. “He won’t tell me what you bargained, but I swear to fuck if you do anything to get yourself killed, I’ll end this fucking world. Got it?”
Remiel is quietly crying behind me. Up until this moment, Remiel figured Soren hated him and would use him to avoid the curse. I can feel his body shaking against my back, so I look at Ghost and warn him with a look. “Get out.”
“Fuck my brother and I’ll kill you, Krypt.” He backs out, grabbing the edge of the door. “Can’t fucking believe you.” He slams it shut and I lock it now that the confrontation is over and out of the way.
When I turn around to find Remiel staring at the floor, trying not to cry, I grab a fistful of his hair and force him to his knees. He cries harder, but his eyes meet mine when I jerk his head back. Such brilliant blue mixed in with all those tears.
“Truth hurt, hero?”
“Yes!” he yells at me. “Fuck you! Fuck all of you!”
“Feel left out?” I ask, my voice taunting. “Hurts finding out your whole life is a lie, doesn’t it? When those you love keep secrets from you and always push you to the outside.”
Remiel’s eyes shift down my body, but he’s not seeing me. He’s mourning the truth he just lost. He’s reworking the puzzle pieces of his life to fit this new reality. He’s wondering if anything is as it seems and who else has been lying to him. While he breaks, I crouch in front of him, ready to grab all the jagged bits of him and rework them to my liking until he’s put together in a way that benefits me as much as it does him.
“What’re you gonna do now, hero? Break all the rules of our bargain and tell the town who we are?”
He wants to spit out the word ‘yes’ just to hurt me, but he purses his lips together, knowing that won’t benefit him. Remiel is smart, but he succumbs to stupidity and irrational behaviour just like the rest of us. Anger creates chaos, and when it’s all churned up with hurt and pain, the destructive path always looks most appealing. I understand that. Have taken that path more than I care to admit.
“How long?” he asks. “How long have you two been in Vile House? How long has my brother been lying to me? Who else in my life is a fucking traitor?” His questions grow louder the more brazen he gets. “Why’d you kill that girl? Why’d you rape me over her body? Why the fuck did you take my bargain, Krypt?” He shoves at me, and I love it so much that I force him to stand and push him onto my bed. “Why?!” He kicks at me.
He has a lot of information to process, but now isn’t the time.
“Where’s Cain?!” he screams, voice cracking.
I flip him onto his stomach, push his legs together, and sit on them. He fights it, but the struggle just makes my dick harder. His tight ass rests between my legs, and fucking hell, I’ve never wanted to fuck something harder. The way he bucks beneath me only heats my blood and draws the attention of my monsters. I don’t know where they come from or what they are, but I know they’re what people see and call me sick for. There’s something inside me that isn’t right, and I used to think it was a festering illness I needed to heal and purge, but I’ve become attached to it. I’m comfortable with what lives inside my head and taints my heart. We’ve learned to coexist.
But I still crave understanding. I still want a diagnosis.
“Please,” Remiel begs. “Just tell me where Cain is.”
Probably at Menace’s mercy, but I don’t say that. “I told you he was alive. I also told you not to ask about other men while you’re naked.”
“Then let me get dressed!” he shouts, but I push on the back of his head to drown his words in the blankets.
I have no idea what I plan to do with him. Out of some attachment to Ghost, I want to take it easy on him and give him the rest of the night to come to terms with everything he’s just learned. But the other part of me wants to remind him that he belongs to me now, and choice is no longer an option for him.
That he chose this. He made the bargain and agreed to the terms. That he sold his life away with the hope of being fucking murdered, and instead of murdering him, I’m going to make him feel so tragically alive he’ll start actually living.
“Krypt,” he cries into the sheets. “Please.”
I grind my cock against his bare ass, unsure what to do with him. Yeah, I assaulted him, but I also know very little about sex. All I know is that I want him.
“Please what?” My hair falls into my eyes when I lean over his back, running my nose against the knobs of his upper spine. He smells like smoke, reminding me how insane I went earlier. I burned his goddamn house down just to trap him with me.
My hips move, dancing on his body. Each rub of my cock against his ass dampens my pants with leaking precum. I fist my hand in his hair harder, pinning him down because I’m afraid he’ll flee. I’m not in the mood to hunt anymore. I’m in the mood to fucking take. But I don’t want him to look at me while I do it. I don’t want him to witness my insecurities—my inexperience.
“Please, just let me process this alone. I need to be alone.”
Like hell. I undo my pants and sit up, pulling my heavy dick free and slapping it against his ass. Menace’s marker litters his back, and I hate it. I hate that he’s covering more of Remiel than I am. So, I fist my cock and press the wet tip to the crack of his ass, burning with a sensation so strong I don’t stand a chance of resisting it. He tries, squirming beneath me and muttering sobs into the blankets.
I want him on his stomach, his dick hidden from me. Because I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s not hard. I don’t know how to handle sexual rejection, and it will enrage me and scare me if I’m so into him when he wants nothing to do with me. I already know he’s not gay. He’s told me. Asked me not to assault him. Begged for time alone.
But I’ve never been a good person, and my monsters are stronger than my morals.
I slide my cock through his ass crack, enraptured by the way it looks. Spreading him open with my free hand, I grind against him, slathering slick precum over his supple skin and into his crack. When he cries out, I press his face into the bed even harder, unwilling to understand if his cries are pleasured or pained.
He’s not fighting me anymore, but he’s tense all over. The muscles in his back ripple with apprehension, and his ass wiggles beneath me. The material of my pants scrapes against his balls as I fuck his crack, keeping my pace slow but gripping him so hard he turns red. I like the way his thick thighs feel between my legs, shifting and writhing because he can’t stay still and take it.
“Krypt.” He pushes his head into my hand, forcing me to let him breathe. He turns his face to the side and tries to look at me, but I refuse to let him. I want him to fear me, not pity me. Not mock me. “At least add lube or something. It hurts.”
I don’t care if it hurts. Do I?
I don’t think about it. I spit, letting it fall to his pink hole, spreading it up through his crease with the head of my cock to mingle with precum and turn him into a slippery mess. Letting go of his head, I pin his hips down and lean forward, fucking my cock against his ass harder.
Remiel’s breathing changes. His breaths come faster and grow shorter, and I don’t know what they mean, but I become frenzied. I spread him wide open and slide through his crack, pushing his cheeks together to fuck the tight space.
Tainted pleasure fills my body and entices my mind, and I spit again just so I can fuck it into his skin. It’s been a long time since I even touched myself, and the last time I came was down his throat, but fuck me. I’m there. On the razor’s edge of madness and pleasure, un-fucking-willing to pick a side. I want madness. I want pleasure. I want them both together.
Remiel hisses, maybe in pain, possibly in pleasure. Most likely in fear.
I need to brand him with something other than Menace’s marker. I fall over him, fucking against him and sucking a mark to the side of his neck. When my breath hits his skin, I realize I’m panting. Rasping. Going goddamn mad with the need to claim him.
My cock slides over his ass and my teeth sink into the flesh of his shoulder, and when he cries out in pain, I lose my fucking mind. I latch onto him with my teeth and come all over his ass and back, gliding through it because I can’t stop. I won’t stop.
My body trembles on top of his, and I breathe around his skin, biting down hard enough to draw a little blood.
“Krypt! Jesus,” he complains, squirming.
I lick his blood and keep grinding. I don’t know how to stop. The warmth of his body and the slickness of my cum is such a perfect feeling that I need more. I want to spread him open and fuck into his tight ass, taking and taking and taking until he has nothing left to give and my monsters are finally sated.
“Fuck,” I groan, pressing my lips to his neck. Sitting upright, I admire the way I’ve coated him in cum.
Finally, something inside me settles. Menace’s marks aren’t the only ones covering him anymore.
The room glows purple and pulses to the sound of our breaths. No longer afraid of his eyes on me, I flip him over and peer down at him. His blue eyes are scared, but there’s something else in them, too. Something that looks a lot like I feel. Sickly sated.
I lick my lips and look down. His cock is softening, but it’s wet and shiny. When I look into his eyes again, he shakes his head and a tear leaks down his temple.
“Don’t,” he snaps at me. “Don’t fucking say it.”
He got off. He came. And he doesn’t like it.