With a Vengeance

by Freydís Moon

How could someone rested understand their sleeplessness? How could someone satiated commiserate with their hunger? It was like they’d forgotten how to settle. Like they’d unlearned how to eat.

Rough laughter—like snapping twigs and popping flames—crackled in their ear. “I am your unbecoming.”

But they’d gone home because home couldn’t hurt them when it was hollow, right? Home couldn’t crawl under their skin if it was carved out like a Jack-o-Lantern and left to rot. Couldn’t break against them like it used to, and demand the impossible from them, and call them wrong.

“Yeah, and what if life’s the trap?” “God, who are you, My Chemical Romance? Christ, Kye, that’s dramatic.”

“You’re not real,” they repeated, even though they didn’t believe it. Eli laughed, that rough, raspy laughter, and dragged his claw up the column of their throat. He leaned closer, bending until they were inches apart. “I’m divine intervention,” he said, and disappeared. Smoke coiled in the air, rising from where he’d stood.

“You prayed for deliverance. Begged God to send a message. Please, Lord, hear me.” Their voice overlayed atop his, tumbling unnaturally from his lips like a warped recording. He wrapped the bandage around their arm, over the curve of their thumb, and lifted his eyes to meet theirs. “But I heard you first.” Kye swallowed. “And you are?” “Not God.”

“Stop being dramatic.” “I’m being realistic,” they countered. “Bullshit. You’re being, like, rich-white-woman-throwin’-a-tantrum-at-Bloomingdales dramatic.”

“I gave you a choice and you chose to live. All that bullshit you’re carrying?” He leaned closer, inhaling inches from their chin. “All that rage? It tastes like Mary Magdalene’s fresh fuckin’ pussy—” Before they could stop themself, Kye rounded their lips and spit at him.

Kye had steeped themself in the promise of death for long enough to recognize survival, and maybe that’s all this was—death turning itself over in favor of a different outcome. God turning away. Spirits stepping off the edge of purgatory and deciding to stay. That was a haunting, wasn’t it? Defiance in the face of change. Life persevering.

But he was a fire burning in their twelve-month night. A terrible, wonderful thing. Kye Lovato hated him, and they loved him. Hated needing him, hated wanting him. Loved having him, loved being wanted by him.

“Give me all the faith God ignored and I’ll give you everything.” “I don’t want everything.” They shied away from his claws. “I want power.” “Power is everything,”

“What? A nice, fat goat wouldn’t be good enough?” “No.” “Then tell me what I need to do.” “Pray.” His raspy voice came from every corner of the room, landed like a whisper on their ear, boomed ferociously in their skull.

“I’ll devour you,” he whispered, teasing their face with his fangs. He rubbed their cunt faster, fingers framing their clit, circling and pinching. “Every time you move, you’ll think of me. Every time you come, every time you touch yourself, every time you imagine making love, it’ll be me bending you over, and eating your cunt, and fucking you raw—”

“Easy,” he murmured, shifting to take more of their weight, “easy, mi alma.” My soul.

Your dysphoria was killing you, and I happen to prefer you alive.

They’d wanted for so, so long. Wanted to unbecome, wanted to be remade, wanted to find love, wanted freedom. Family, too. Right then, they wanted to feel, but they were too angry to admit it.

“Do you trust me?” “No.” “Liar, liar,” he purred.

thrashing at the sudden presence of his hand in the hair, yanking cruelly. “Say my name,” he said. They gasped, blinking at the line where the wall met the ceiling. “Eli,” they choked out. “Again.” Another hard, mean swat.

“For they weep unto me,” he said, breaching them on a slow, steady thrust, “and say give us flesh.”

“You can never die, you understand? I’ll keep you alive for this—for me. Say it. Say you’re mine.” They struggled to nod. “Yours—I-I’m. . .” They gulped in a shaky breath. “I’m yours.”

“Look at you,” he said, and gripped the back of their thighs, watching their cunt split around his cock. “Your pussy was made for me. You’re God’s fuckin’ gift, Kye. You know that?”

“Why me?” “Why not you?” They playfully spit water at him. “It’s a long fucking list. Spill.” “Because the universe conspired against us both, and you looked like a fun fuck,” he said. Fire smoldered behind his smile. “You’re lying,” they whispered, and kissed him again.

This, they thought, is a ruse. At that, Eli clucked his tongue, teasing at their lips with his own. Because you’re resilient despite what the world tried to make of you.

“I’m not a masochist, okay? I’m not. I just—” “—you are, actually. Like, by definition.” The heaved a defeated sigh. “Not always.” “No, not always.” He nudged their chin with his nose, grinning sheepishly. “You asked what it’s like to fall from grace, but you already know the feeling. My father abandoned me—our father. But I could’ve stayed, could’ve been obedient. I chose to fall; you chose to leave. You asked me how that works, and it’s really fuckin’ simple. I saw the fault in something infallible—a lot of us did—and I thought I’d be better suited with the sinners. That’s all.”

decided you couldn’t die until I was done with you.” “Done with me?” They faced him again. “Done with you,” he repeated. “Got any ideas of when that’ll be?” Eli’s fierce smile stretched. Fangs dimpled his bottom lip. “Not anytime soon, sweetheart.” Kye Lovato hadn’t known what it was like to be kept until right then. They’d always thought they’d be resistant to it or thrash out of whatever hold someone tried to place on them. But somehow, Eli had reached past their ribs and taken them by the heart.

Did you fix that alebrije? The broken rabbit?” “I might’ve.” Of course, you did. They sighed, allowing their chest a moment to flutter, their stomach a chance to flip. They wanted to call him on his act. You’ve got a soft spot, they thought. His smile gentled, but he said nothing. You’re not as mean as you want me to believe. Neither are you.

“I think I’ll always want to die. Some part of me, the weaker part,” they mumbled. They braced on their palms and leaned over him, bumping their nose against his smooth cheek. “There’s nothing you can do to fix me. You get that, right?” He craned toward the...

If I had to guess, I’d say he probably won’t come back. But he’s white, so.” He shrugged. “So. . . ?” “So, he’s not used to losing.”

“We’re magical fuckbuddies,” they snapped. Laughter barked from him. “Is that right?” “What the hell would you call it?” He crossed the room in a puff of smoke and placed his lips close to their ear. “The start of a really sexy cult.”

“You’re not crazy, you’re not ugly—” “—stop.” “You stop,” he growled, pitching his face closer to theirs. “You think self-deprecation gives you thick skin, huh? It’s pathetic, Kye. You know what you are, you know what you look like, stop acting—”

“What?” “You’re hilarious.” “I hate you.” “Mean and hilarious.” “I am not,” they said, fake-aghast. They were very, very mean. They knew that. “When the hell have I been mean to you? Besides spitting at you—that was dicey.” Eli almost choked. He straightened and jabbed his chopsticks at them. “Imagine grabbing a possum—like, it’s fuckin’ vicious, snarling, foaming at the mouth, whole nine yards—and you throw it in a metal trashcan, shake the trashcan, and then lock the pissed possum inside a house.” Kye narrowed their eyes and chewed with their mouth open, smacking their lips rudely. “That’s what it’s like living with you.” He prodded the air with his chopsticks again. “I’m a possum,” they said coldly. Eli corrected them with his mouth full. “Mean ass possum.”

They admitted to themself, miserably, that he was right. Kye had always equated being wanted with being worthy. They allowed themself to be wanted on the surface—selfishly, for a purpose. If someone intended to use them, fine. But accepting praise, or unearned pleasure, or gentleness made them uneasy. How could someone possibly mean it? That was always the question. For as long as Kye could remember, they’d never believed in their own desirability.

They had never been devout, but when Eli took their chin between his fingers and forced their gaze, they knew religion. “Look at me,” he said.

The question sat on the tip of their tongue. The one they’d asked before. The one they’d keep asking. “Why me?” “Because you remind me of the time before,” he said, and it sounded like the truth. “When the world was new. Everything was becoming. Raw. Uncomplicated.” I remind you of a miracle. They didn’t dare say it aloud. You do.

Eli trailed his thumb from their temple to the hinge of their jaw, studying their face, and they couldn’t fathom moving away. Couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. “You’re really handsome,” he whispered. He blinked, as if to clear his head, and his cheeks darkened. Kye’s chest constricted. They closed their eyes, tempering a smile. “Go to sleep, Eli.” He dropped his hand to their waist and dragged his claws across their lower back, drawing patterns along their skin. “Shit,” he muttered, like he’d been caught.

“Because you belong to me.” Smoke gusted from between his lips and fanned across their cheek. “And I don’t like it when people touch my stuff.” “Stuff.” They snorted and turned on their heels. “Please, I’m not you’re—” Eli seized them by the throat, halting them in the doorway. “You are. Whatever you were about to say, it’s bullshit. You’re mine, period. Full-fucking-stop.” He pulled them against him, their spine to his torso, and ran his thumb along their jaw. It was a tender hold, easily escapable. They rested the back of their head beneath his chin. “Body and soul, remember?”

“Should’ve known you’d be possessive.” “I’m literally possessing you. What’d you expect? Dinner and a show?” “Dinner would be nice.”

“Rub your unholy braincells together and don’t be fuckin’ dense.”

“I mean, I’m not your father, but you can call me daddy,” he said under his breath, testing playfulness.

“I could eat you up.” Eli sucked a hickey below their jaw and soothed the puncture on their throat with his wet lips. “I could fucking devour you.”

You tore a man to pieces. “With my bare hands,” Eli said, suddenly at their back, hands secure on their waist.

“No one touches you,” he snapped viciously. “And the only one who hurts you is me. I’m in charge of your pain. Understood?” “You’re a monster,” they spat. “I’m your monster,” he rasped,

“Mi alma,” he seethed impatiently, speaking against their cheek. “You’re my temple.” My soul.

“You want me dripping down your legs?” he asked, snapping the words an inch from their lips. “Walkin’ around like a ruined bride, fucked stupid and full of me?” He stole a kiss. “Want me to desecrate you? Want me to fuckin’ breed you, Kye?”

“No os venguéis vosotros mismos, amados míos sino dejad lugar a la ira de Dios; porque está: Mía es la venganza,”

They met his eyes. Sometimes they couldn’t stand knowing how intimately he understood them. Couldn’t reconcile their desperate need for solitude with his presence billowing through their interior, hugging their bones, making a home in places they’d never let another person see. Their loneliness warred with their attachment to isolation, but with Eligos inside and around them, Kye couldn’t help feeling a strange sense of safety.

“Your rage is like a drug, mi alma,” Eli said. He pushed his fingers between their knuckles and squeezed. “Sometimes I think you forget what I am.” “I never forget.” The lie came easily. Demon, false deity, fallen angel. Irreplaceable lover, possessive elitist, wild-eyed man.

“I know, I know. Maybe not now, maybe not ever, but the church is here if you need it. Come for communion, come for confession, come for silence.” Tell him you only come for me. Dios mío. ¡Cállate!

But Kye Lovato wasn’t made for gentleness. They weren’t designed to be small, or meek, or humble. They wanted to take. They craved violence, and vengeance, and pain.

“I’m not a prize.” “You’re the prize.” He pressed a kiss to their pulse. “You move through the world like you own it. And now, I own you.” “That’s what you’re thinking? Glad I own this mess?” “Glad I get to witness you.”