Page 74 of Sick Bargain

“Not dead,” is all Krypt says, cutting off the conversation. He draws up my hood, covering my head, and keeps me in front of him. I close my eyes and listen to the harp music that has joined, feeling every area Krypt’s body touches mine. He doesn’t react when I lean against the brand on his chest, but his hands dip into the open slits in my cloak.

Tugging on my hips, he pulls me back until the hard outline of his cock presses against my ass. My eyes open and my cheeks heat. Everyone is watching the oboe and the harp and the women mournfully playing them, but I’ve never felt more exposed. With Krypt behind me, the feel of his dick against my ass, and his body so obviously connected to mine, my eyes dart around to see if anyone has noticed.

Soren has, but he sighs and looks away.

I’ve never come out as anything other than Remiel Sauder. I’m sure the town considers me heterosexual, but I’ve never had a girlfriend either. Then I went and shouted about Krypt fucking me while in a restaurant, and this is Moros, so gossip travels fast.

Everyone knows. Everyone will know. They’ll know I’m being fucked by Keegan Hallows, but they have no idea he’s the man behind the purple mask. For some reason, I get a thrill outof being deceptive and sneaky. My body heats more, the flush spreading from my cheeks down my neck and chest, making my brands burn hotter.

Krypt digs his fingers into my hips again, bruising and controlling. I suddenly wish I wasn’t wearing a cloak, but I’m also desperate for the blanketing cover of it.

“Hmm,” he hums next to my hood, fingers slinking forward to brush the hard outline of my cock. The material of my pants brushes against the cuts he left on my thighs, making them sting. “Does it make you feel powerful that you ordered all these deaths, Remiel? That you played reaper?”

My lungs pinch. I haven’t considered that. Here I am, mocking him for attending the funeral of all the people he killed, yet I’m the one who ordered the kill. Krypt is just my hitman. I watch the townsfolk greedily glare at the caskets, but then I see family members and kids who have lost their parents to a savage crime. They think it was a mass suicide, but my conscience knows it was me. Reeven Matterson’s wife plays sombre music with the others, but her eyes are dry and her expression is blank. The family members weren’t lured to Vile House for the slaughter, and now that I’m seeing their reaction to all this death, I know they’re relieved more than they’re sad.

Maybe I do feel powerful for freeing his wife from his pernicious influence. I lean back against Krypt, and his hands slide to my middle, cupping my cock in his palms. “Would it make me horrible if I said yes?”

He hums confirmation, squeezing my dick. “Horrible. Isn’t everything here horrible?”

While he rubs and works me up to a temperature that radiates blue flames, I look around again.

Mist and fog hang in the air, but it does nothing to cloud the corruption of Moros. It adds to our appeal. There are gangs and societies, murderers and stalkers, adrenaline junkies andthrill seekers. There are those who believe in removing the veil between here and the afterlife, and there are others who create unsolved crimes just to watch the reporters come to investigate. We’re warped and twisted, and yeah, maybe horrible, but not to each other. With the Matter Cult gone, Moros is even more aligned, and that doesn’t feel so horrible.

“Not all of it.” My eyes shift to Gregory Malone, only to find him already watching me. Maybe Krypt’s vile influence is getting to me, but I grin at him, and I know it’s a disgusting expression. But he deserves it. “I want to do more horrible things.”

“Like what?” he asks, hands inside the slits in my cloak, undoing my pants and forcing his way inside. My cloak covers me, but if anyone cared to look, they’d know what was going on. Thankfully, Gregory can only see my head through the crowd. “Like get off on the fact that we killed these people?”

My hips buck forward, my cock sliding through both his fists. He twists them down my shaft and rests his chin on my shoulder. “Yes.”

“Want me to fuck you for real over their corpses this time? No throat assault, but an actual fuck, Remiel.”

I imagine it. My palms pressed flat to the wooden coffin, fingertips digging in while Krypt plows into me from behind.

“I could make you cum on Reeven Matterson’s casket,” he whispers. His voice is gaining that jittery edge again, making me aware that he’s trying hard to hold back. “Would you like that?”

“Fuck,” I hiss when he pinches the tip of my cock hard enough to hurt. “Gregory Malone,” I whisper.

Krypt stops his hands and butts his nose up to the side of my hood. “What have I told you about speaking another man’s name, Remiel?”

Not to do it while naked.But I’m not naked. I turn my face and meet his eyes with one of mine, the other blocked by thehood. “When we kill him. I want to…” Shyness takes over at what I’m about to suggest.

Crows caw, and the harp music changes to something everyone else sings along to. I know the lyrics and have sung them at my brothers’ and father’s funerals, but right now, I’m too busy panting and sweating, trying not to moan when Krypt’s hands move again.

“Say it,” he dares.

I turn my head forward to avoid looking at him. “I want you to rape me over his body.” I hate myself. I hate that I want it. I hate that I used the word rape instead of sex. I hate what it implies and what I’ve turned into.

I’m so messed up. By my family curse. By my upbringing. By Moros. But mostly, by what Krypt has awoken in me. Unfortunately, that thing he’s awoken is my will to live, so I’m either stuck suppressing it forever, or I can fucking own it and not be ashamed. Because Krypt says I’m important to him, and I know he means my sinister bits, too.

Precum coats my dick, his hands spreading it down to the base of my length. My balls are heavy and my asshole twitches, craving the fullness of him barrelling inside me. My knees shake, and my hands latch onto his forearms with the fabric of the cloak between us. Tingles spread in my gut and around my lower back, causing my breath to shudder. Waiting. Anticipating. Nervous about what he’ll say.

“When we kill him, I’ll bend you over his coffin and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to stop crying.”

My teeth chatter and my eyes roll.

“And when my cock is buried deep inside you, and your whole body is shaking in restraint and need, I’ll push you forward and make you come all over hisclosedcasket because not even his dead eyes are allowed to see you in pleasure.”

Oh my god.

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