Page 24 of Sick Bargain

“Keegan,” he whispers.

I lean back and stand up. “Not here. Here, I’m Krypt.”

“How is this even possible? How can you live a double life and no one knows about it? Not even Soren or your brother?” He’s rambling, but again, he does not know how deeply his world is about to change. “How do you do it? How do you keep such big secrets?”

“Stand up,” I demand. “Show me what I own, Remiel. You aren’t the hero here.” I back away from him, admiring my name tattooed across his collarbone. Menace drew the designs for me while Remiel was passed out and Cain was chained up, and it fucking bothered me to watch another man touch him. I picked which one I wanted to ink on him forever in the heat of the moment. If I had my way, I’d tattoo them all on him and cover every inch of his skin with my name.

I don’t fully understand why I’m suddenly so drawn to him, but he looked into my eyes and didn’t look away…

Remiel stands on shaky legs, but that’s all he does. He stares at me until I lean against my dresser, waiting for him to show me all of his body. His eyes fall to the floor, but I won’t stand for shyness. I’ll expose him so thoroughly there won’t be a single part of him hidden from me.

“Remiel,” I warn, lighting a joint to calm my mind. “Now.”

He tucks his fingers into the waistband of his boxer-briefs, but not to pull them down. He holds them up like the fabric is the only thing protecting him. He’s masculine yet beautiful about it, and I love the way his body looks.

“I’m… I’m not gay. There shouldn’t be anything sexual here.”

Shouldn’tisn’t a word I live by. If I want something sexual, it’ll be sexual. He doesn’t get a say.

I just stare at him and smoke my joint. He’s lucky I’m even smoking it. I cross one foot over the other and bask in the glow of my neon light, enjoying the way he fears me even more now that my identity is confirmed.

His hair is a dark blond that doesn’t offend me like most blonds do. His baby blue eyes are too big for his face, but fuck me, they look nice while wide with fear. Glazed and glossy, they sweep my body and linger on my abs. My cock thickens inside my pants, and Remiel looks away, fingers still gripped in his boxers.

“Please, Kee-Krypt. You already took everything from me. My car, my house, my dignity, my fucking life. Don’t make me do this, too.”

“Took it from you?” I ask, trying to keep myself contained a bit longer. “Did you not bargain it away freely? Yougaveit to me, Remiel.”

“Just Remi! No one calls me Remiel.”

“I do. And if you aren’t naked in the next ten seconds, you’ll find out what else I can freely take from you.”

His red boxers hit the floor, but his hands cover his junk. “I’m not gay,” he repeats.

Up until the night in the cemetery, I didn’t think I was either. I wasn’t sexual at all. Had fucked a time or two just to see what all the fuss was about, but otherwise, I’m inexperienced and acting on instinct. And my instincts all want him. It’s the reason I have a black eye and bruised cheekbone.

I finish the joint and drop the butt into an empty water glass on my dresser. Sighing, I tilt my head at Remiel. “What part of you do you think you can keep from me, hero? Your cock? Is that why you cover it?”

He shakes, trembling on the spot. I press my sliced fingers together just to feel my blood ooze.

“What happened to the guy who held my own blade to my throat and told me to run?” I push off the dresser and take a single step closer. “Show. Me.”

“No.”

I close my eyes and welcome the darkness that pulses through me. An adrenaline surge feeds my monsters and wakes up the sinister parts of my brain. For how many people have called me sick throughout my life, Remiel is about to get firsthand experience. My exhale comes out of my nose shakily, resembling the grip I have on my sanity. It’s about to slip, and when it does, Remiel better have good survival instincts. He might wish to die eventually, but he’s not ready yet. Not until he knows his brother is protected.

When I open my eyes and meet his, he chokes out a sound of fear and moves his hands to his sides. His soft cock hangs heavy between his legs, bigger than I imagined while flaccid. His hip bones are fucking beautiful, and all I want to do is dig my fingers into them from behind. Covered in marker, he looks harsher than he is, grungy and contaminated. It bothers me that Menace’s marks are still on him, so I focus on the tattoo on his collarbone and admire the cut of his abs.

Licking my lips and getting a taste of his blood again, I swallow him down while walking a circle around him. No other tattoos mark his skin. A taut, tight ass and a muscular body taken care of. The only other marks on him are scars, and I plan to add a few more to his flesh. The red and purple of the bigger ones look perfect with his skin tone, but the white lines from former stitches look delicious enough to run my tongue over.

“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,” I say, walking around to his front. When I look down, he tries to cover his dick again. His hands move, but fall back to his sides when I look at them. Because he’s hardening now, cock filling with all the blood not going to his head.

Fear. It’s his aphrodisiac. Interesting…

“Krypt, you fucking fuck!”

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