39. Fuck You, Death
39
FUCK YOU, DEATH
RIOT
When Soren’s hand goes down my pants and his teeth bite my neck, I look at the sky and revel in my earned status. That’s right, sweetheart. Deny it all you want, but I am your god, and the way you worship me proves it. He’s all over me, needy and uncoordinated, and I’ve never seen him so desperate before. It feeds my ego and amplifies my murder high, turning me into a chasm of ominous power I know he can withstand.
But the neighbouring lights are on, and there have already been too many murders on this property. My mom. My dad. Brady. Tim Sauder.
Four deaths with impeccable purpose. Four deaths to advance my plot.
I push him out of sight, forcing him into the shadows at the side of the house. His back slams against the siding, and the groan that comes out of his throat is purely guttural, unhinged because he lets it slip out instead of tamping it down. His glassy eyes flash in the reflection of a streetlamp, and his lips shine with spit, chest heaving and heart hammering. We’re making music again, and this time, it’s a fucking ode to me.
“Show me,” he demands breathlessly. “You killed my cousin. Fucking show me what all this death chasing got me, Killian! Show me you!”
I spin him around and grip the back of his head, holding his face pressed to the siding. He snarls at me, but there’s a laugh in it that makes my cock firm up even more. I love him when he’s insane, and there’s no sanity left in him tonight.
It turns cruel, an evil cackle. “You’re pathetic! You just ended my curse because you’re fucking possessive, and now you can’t even take what you fucking claimed.”
Fury burns. No one questions my authority but me. I am his god. His devil. His deity.
I pin him in place, lips by his ear as I undo his belt with one hand. “And you’re the desperate attention whore finally begging for what you want.” I rip his belt free and force his wrists behind his back, strapping them together with a technique Menace taught me.
“Pathetic,” he laughs again. “Know you can’t handle me so you have to?—”
I kick the back of his knees and force him to kneel. Lording my strength over him, my chest vibrates and my stomach clenches, ready to make this man I love my slave for the night. He wants me to show him what all this death chasing got him? This is it.
Because his curse doesn’t own him anymore, I do.
Soren hisses when I rip his pants down below his ass, and he curses when I slam his face off the side of the house to bend him over more. I rip his shirt to shreds and toss it aside, needing to see all of him. Unable to restrain myself, I smack his perfect ass, ready to ruin it by turning it red and raw. I smack it again, watching colour bloom on his pale ass cheek. My aversion to red skin is demolished by how well he wears it.
He groans, trying to hide a whimper, but it turns to a necessitous moan when I bend over and spit, letting it fall down his crack. Biting my lip into my mouth to watch my spit slide down, I bend, running my fingers through it to press it to his tight hole. So pink. So firm. So thoroughly mine.
Using the hand that isn’t coated in his cousin’s blood, I push my saliva inside him with one finger, feeling the way he clenches around me. He’s so warm compared to the cool night air, but when he whimpers for real, I burn hotter than he does. I add a second finger, spitting again to fuck it into his ass. Soren’s forehead thumps against the siding and his ass presses back against my hand, stoking my fire.
“You my sweetheart now?”
“Fuck me,” he rasps. “Hurry up.”
I can’t hurry up. Because I confessed my feelings, killed his cousin, ended the Sauder curse, and made him mine for real. All this time, I chased him, nipping at his heels like a hellhound, and he’s finally exactly where I manipulated him to be. There’s conflict in the power of knowing that. I want to hold it over him and remind him how much control I have, but I want to appreciate him because he helped get us here. I don’t share credit, but fuck, here we are.
“Who are we right now? Riot and Ghost or Killian and Soren?” I kneel, grabbing his bound wrists and pausing my fingers in his ass.
“So pathetic,” he groans. “You need me to say it?”
I do, but I can’t admit that, so I tug on the belt until his recently dislocated shoulder makes him cry out.
“Fuck!” he seethes. “Killian and Soren. Fucking Killian and Soren!”
My new teeth chatter.
Bending, I let go of his wrists and spread his cheeks apart, burying my face between them to tongue fuck his hole. He writhes in my hold, pushing back and pulling away together, humping the air as his cheek rests against the house. I push my tongue inside him before flicking it over his rim until he’s panting. I’m panting harder, my cock pressing hard against the material of my pants.
“Holy fuck,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna come from this.”
I pull back, spreading him apart to admire his open hole. The streetlamps aren’t enough, and I wish I could see every little detail about him. The flush to his ass, the dimples in his lower back, the crescent divots in his palms from his nails digging in so hard. The bloody handprint on his ass from my hand. Shiny and wet, I plunge my fingers inside him again, running my tongue around his rim until I’m the one who’s close to coming.
Soren moans, body going slack, barely able to hold himself up. “Killian, my god.”
Yes. His god. I tongue and finger fuck him at the same time, rutting against the air to appease my untameable cock. When he breathes harder, on that precipice of coming, I pull back and spit again, fascinated by the sight of it leaking down his crack.
“Please,” he whines. “Don’t make me fucking beg, Killian.”
It’s music to my ears. Better than music. Something I’ve wanted from him since the beginning. I free my heavy cock, leaking and thick with the need to be buried inside the man I own.
“One more time, sweetheart.” I press against his hole, slicking spit all around him.
“Ugh,” he groans, trying to fuck my cock without any balance. “Don’t make me.”
“Soren.”
He pants, head dipping forward. His back rises as he talks himself into giving me what I want at the cost of his pride. Our egos are well-matched, which makes us a hellish match as a couple. “Please.”
I barely hear it. “Soren.”
“Shit.” He pushes his shoulder off the wall to lift himself up. Turning his head to glare at me with big eyes and beautifully pink cheeks, he snarls, “Please. Please fucking fuck me.”
Simultaneously, I thrust inside him and wrap my hands around his throat from behind. He cries out, and I pull him back, eyelids fluttering from the pleasure of being buried inside him. All my recent wounds ache, and the stab wound in my hand stings as I grip his neck.
“Death,” I tell him, bringing his back to my chest. His bound hands press against my abs, but he tilts his head back to rest against my temple. “That one or two second precipice. You ready for it, sweetheart?”
He moans so lowly. “Yes.”
I squeeze his throat. Restricted blood flow and airflow. My sweetheart is about to see the afterlife, and when he’s there, experiencing a thrill he’s longed for since he became obsessed with taunting Death, I’ll let him live in it for two seconds before I drag him back to my realm. The one I reign over with him by my side.
I fuck him hard and grip him harder. His dick slaps off his abs with every hard thrust, and his moans turn more choked the harder I squeeze. I bask in all of it, tainted bliss invading my veins and harmony filling my mind. Because again, this is us. Volatile and vulnerable, caught somewhere in between, thriving in the way we both hurt and harness one another.
His fingers dig into my abs and his head goes slack against the side of mine. He wheezes, and I look over his shoulder to see his dick red and hard, a bead of precum leaking from the tip.
He’s almost there.
I clench my abs and pull all the way out, feeling every inch of my cock pushing into him languidly as he dies in my grip. It’s hard to fuck and kill someone at the same time, but I need him to have this experience.
“You looking at her?”
Weakly, he nods in my hold.
“You there? Between life and death?”
He tries to swallow against my braided fingers. A strangled sound comes from his throat. His eyelashes flutter as they close, and I know he’s seconds away from passing out.
Lips against his ear, I remind him of what’s more important. “Laugh, sweetheart. Laugh in her fucking face and slam the goddamn door.”
I look at his face. His eyes spring open, bloodshot and wild, and his popped-open lips try their damndest to pull into a smile. Sounds work their way up his constricted throat, and even though they don’t come out sounding like a laugh, I know he’s laughing. I close my eyes to hear it with Death, watching my psychotic man laugh in her snide face as he stands on her doorstep, gripping the door.
His body goes slack, fingers losing their grip on my abs, cock flagging just a little.
“Slam it, Soren. Defy death.”
In his head, he does. I feel the moment he laughs the loudest, slamming the door and closing that chapter of his life as he finally wins the prize he’s been after. To outsmart Death herself. To be better than her. To prove to himself that he’s stronger than the only sure thing in life.
I give him a split second to revel in his accomplishment as his body slackens further. My cock is buried in his ass, and even those muscles loosen their grip now that he’s not resisting. Time to bring him back.
I clamp my teeth to his shoulder and bite down hard at the same time I release his neck. “Not today, sweetheart.”
Soren gasps, rasping in a lungful of air. Panic grips him for a second, and when I spread my hands over his bare chest to hold him up and remind him where he is, he laughs.
Sickly. The sound is so twisted and warped that I know he’s experiencing true joy mixed with pure pleasure. So I laugh with him.
“Fuck you, Death!” he screams, voice abrasive and raw. “Fuck you!” He hacks out coughs and words together.
I pull out and thrust back in, cutting off his words as he moans.
“You fucking won, sweetheart.”
“I fucking won,” he repeats, laughing even harder. “Holy fuck, I won!”
I drag my hand down his chest, grip his cock, and fuck him. Three more thrusts, the thrill of his death chase and the peak of his pleasure rattling my teeth. Pressure builds inside me, coiling low in my stomach and burning through my nerves.
“Fuck. Fuck, Kill. Ahhh.” His ass squeezes my cock, making me erupt before he even does. My mouth opens on a silent groan, and my eyes roll back as my hips stutter. I jerk his cock as he comes, painting the house with his pleasure. His head tilts back to rest on my shoulder as his body trembles against mine. The moan makes him cough, his throat sore and raw, and each cough constricts the fuck out of my cock, pumping cum from me so hard I buckle forward as he falls backwards.
We lean against each other, the power of the moment staying strong as the intensity simmers to something comfortable. He slumps down, ass hitting my thighs, unable to hold himself up any longer. My cock pops out, cum leaking down on my legs, warm and silky.
“Holy fuck, you just killed me.”
I huff out a laugh, forehead resting on his shoulder as I catch my breath and get my heart to slow down. “Was it worth it?”
“Thank you,” he says softly. “Just… fuck.” He wiggles his hands. “Untie me.”
With shaky hands, I undo the belt and pull it off. Soren wobbles to his feet, pulling his pants up as he turns to face me. I’m too spent to stand, so he kneels in front of me, lifting my face by cupping my cheeks. My one hand is coated in blood from killing his cousin, so half his neck is tinged red when I look up at him. I don’t like another man’s blood on him, so I scowl at it.
“No masks?” he asks me.
“No cracks?” I ask him.
He smirks shyly. His eyes meet mine before he looks down at my mouth. “Answer still yes?”
Moths take flight in my heart. “To what question?”
He groans. “Don’t make me fucking say?—”
“Yes.” I nudge his cheek with mine, angling him so I can press my lips to his. “Just in case, sweetheart.”
He melts. Dies. Comes to life. I don’t know, but it’s the single best moment of my life.
Until Remi ruins it. “You killed Tim!” he screams, running at us as Krypt casually strolls behind.
“Killed Soren, too,” I say, eyes on Soren's blue gaze. “Guess I broke the curse and our bargain.”
“Worth it,” Soren whispers, kissing me with a smile. “Sauder curse is over, Rem.”
Thanks. To. Me.