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At some point, you need to let go of specific labels and learn to embrace everything different that makes you you.
“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.”
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.
I’m going to make him feel so tragically alive he’ll start actually living.
Krypt doesn’t fear my anger. He wants to build onto it, add fuel to my already burning fire. I’m a lit match, and Krypt will throw me onto any accelerant, encouraging me to burn the world around me like he burned my home.
“Gonna make it hurt, Krypt? Going to make me cry for you? Is that what you want? You wanna take everything from me and then give it all back so hard it fucking kills me?”
Because 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.
I’ve never had anything in my ass before, and I’ve never craved it, but right now, 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. “Fuck me,” I beg.
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. Because I don’t have to think when he does the thinking for me.
“Yes! I’m fucking sick. I’m sick for wanting you even though you’ve ruined me. I’m sick for thinking I can survive you even though I want you to kill me. I’m sick for enticing you when I should be doing everything you say because you own me.
I’m thirsty for it. I’m so fucking thirsty it terrifies me. I press back against his bare chest, rubbing my ass on his still-hard cock. “Teach me how to hunt.”
Because Remiel Sauder has become everything to me. My property. My obsession. My fixation. My dream.
Because I got attached. I don’t know what love is, but I know what obsession is, and Remiel is the focus of my life. I’ve never had an obsession quite like him, and the loss of it feels too much. It’s impossible. It’s wrong. There’s no longer a Krypt if there isn’t a hero.
I never thought my biggest fear would be the death of a person because I’ve never given a shit about life and death and the people in it. But I do now. I do because Remiel is mine, and I’ve never had anything worth protecting.
“And I want your sickness to meet mine, and whenever we get too tainted and Moros can’t handle us anymore, I want to die sick with you.”
Two men, in bed together, not fucking or sleeping. Not bleeding or crying. It’s new for me, and it feels so good that I close my eyes again to appreciate it.
“And you. I’m sick for wanting you, but you’re sick for taking me. We’re sick, Krypt.”
I sob because I’m happy and scared about it. I laugh because I’m crazy and pleased about it. I love because I’m sick and twisted about it.
