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Death isn’t scary. To die means to stop existing. The absence of life means the absence of feeling, and to be snuffed out is almost a gift.
There’s no suffering in death, no pain and no fear.
“Mine,” someone claims me.
With that, the bargain is etched into my future. My life belongs to the Vile Boy in the purple mask.
It pissed me off because I was so rattled by my reaction to him, and he had the fucking nerve to sleep so soundly after.
What
“Sorry, Daddy,”
It’s weird living in a brain that I don’t understand, and it causes me to feel disconnected from myself. Like I’m a passenger inside my own body, only letting the demons inside me rattle their confines enough to peer through my eyes as tiny windows to interpret the world we see.
That little fucker touches my Remiel.
“You fucking run,” he snarls at me. Oh, fuck me. Yes. For the first time in my entire life, arousal so strong and so violent consumes me, filling me until I’m shaking and hard. It damn near renders me useless, but when Remiel steps forward to press the dagger to my throat even harder, I almost come in my pants.
“Oh my god,” he whispers, shocked. “It’s Krypt, actually,” I give him my name and grab his hands, tying them behind his back. “And I’ll be your devil. Not your god.”
“If you know who I am, you also know that I’ve killed those I love before. My love is dangerous. My attention is worse.”
“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,”
“And what am I?” I ask. He leans in until his lips brush against the corner of my mouth, water dripping between our faces. “Mine.”
the shift in my life has rendered me dangerous. Because I feel so out of control that I don’t even care about what life and death mean anymore.
when I die, I want to leave this world with the feel of him all over me. In my mouth and on my tastebuds, over every inch of my skin, and in my goddamn soul. I want him to infect me before he snuffs me out forever, and if these are my final six minutes, I’m going to have him for every one of them.
Krypt is the only one who sees everything within me and doesn’t balk at the challenge of me. He doesn’t fear me or my curse. He’s stupid enough to think he can change it, and simply because he wants to try, even if it’s out of some dysfunctional need to own me, I want to let him.
“Show me what’s mine,”
I want him to hurt me. I want him to fuck me dry and make me bleed. I want to die on his dick and start my trip to damnation while he soars into euphoria. I want to be afraid.
Keegan has always been hard to hold eye contact with, but right now, as Krypt, I can’t look away. I’m a prisoner to his gaze and a slave to his demands, and I’ve never wanted to be anywhere more than I want to be right here.
“When I fuck you,” he starts, voice abrasive and raspy, “there will be no timeframe. No limits. No fucking windows where the world can see what’s mine. Your body is meant for me and only me, Remiel.”
“And next time, when you beg me to fuck you, you better do it without the suicidal thoughts. Because I will fuck you within an inch of your life, but I’ll always drag you back. You can’t escape me. Not even death’s cold clutches will rip you from my hold.”
“You’ve done it now, Remiel.” “Done what?” I’m breathless and boneless. “Woken me up.” I should be more scared of that than I am.
I care about him despite how deranged he is. I care, even though he’s hurt me and abused me, used me and shamed me.
“Take me. Fucking own me. Fuck me hard and match your sickness to mine.” He snarls, choking me harder.
see it in my eyes. It’s brought me to life. In pain and suffering because of him, I’ve never felt more revived.
Because while I’m afraid, I relish the fear he brings forth in me.
He’s mine, and he’s finally realizing it.
“Do you want to act insulted one minute and needy the next? I can play whatever game you need to play to justify it to yourself.”
“Why can’t I be both?” he asks, ripping open my pants. “Why can’t I hate you and want you? Why can’t I be disgusted by the things you’ve done and need you anyway? What are the rules here, Krypt?”
“The rules are simple. Yo...
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There’s a need inside me that wants to wipe him from the face of the earth and turn him into a phantom soul only I control.
I want him to be my secret, my saviour, and my downfall. Because I’ve always been sick, but Remiel makes me sicker.
My monster, who contains his own monsters.
“Teach me how to hunt.” He moans against my neck, the sound growly and pleased.
“What are you thinking about, Reeven? In your moment of death?” Krypt’s sick grin greets me, and I fucking love it.
You’re fucking nothing! You wanna know why?” I stand, shivering with need. Need for what? I don’t know. “Because I fucking made you nothing.” “Fuck,” Krypt groans.
“And you’re still mine. Fucking feel this, Remiel.” He drops his hand to squeeze my throat. “What?” I bark at him. “Feel what?” Like a bad omen, he whispers, “Fear.” The energy of everything changes, and dread suffocates me. My cock is unbearably hard.
Because Remiel Sauder has become everything to me. My property. My obsession. My fixation. My dream. I’ve never dreamed before.
I’m inside him, watching the way two bodies become one, enthralled by the idea that we’re connected so deeply.
“Don’t,” he says, rushed and begging. “Don’t make me do this.”
“Do what?”
“This…”
“This isn’t our dynamic.”
“How not? Haven’t you wan...
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“This! You make me bleed, not the other way around. You hurt me. I don’t hurt you!” “But you want to.” “No,”
“Do it!” “I can’t!”
“Because you’re a coward?” “Because I want you! I’m… I’m a willing prisoner, okay? I fucking want you!”
“No. You need me,” I correct. “No,”
“I don’t need you.”
