Pairing: Jay James/Charlie Simpson, Jay James/Padge
Warnings: Blood, gore, killing, cannibalism, necrophilia
Notes: This is intended to be the start of a series, though we'll see how it goes. I've not done anything like this in awhile and I've been feeling the need to do something this dark and twisted again. I've had this in mind for awhile, cause of pictures I found of Jay looking psychotic (which I posted in the last Bullet picspam) and I had ideas for other parts before I'd got one for an opener so...
The rain fell in thick, cold droplets, not the little rainstorms that were commonplace here. I didn't try to adjust my clothing or seek shelter, content to let the rain soak through to my skin. Rain didn't bother me, not in the slightest as I walked through the darkness, catching sight of my prey. He'd left about two minutes before I did, though he was walking at a slow pace, equally not caring about the rain. He swayed slightly, though not to the extent of a total drunk and he kept his pretty head down. Good. He was taller then I and I had the distinct impression he was younger too. He had short brown hair, with bushy eyebrows. He row a short sleeved tee, which shown off his slightly hairy arms. He had no visible tattoos, which was a pity really.
I liked it when they had ink on their skin. Still, there might be something unrevealed.
The rain caused his clothing to stick to his skin, making it cling to his slim body. He had a nice ass from the looks of things. From his body language I could tell he was depressed, with no one to go home to. Probably recently been dumped, not that I cared. His depression had drawn me to him. It was a sign he wouldn't be missed. I kept following him, at a distance, not close enough for him to be suspicious, until he headed into a side street. I had a feeling he wasn't heading towards any of the buildings, but instead to the blue parked car. This was confirmed when he fumbled in his pockets for the key.
I paused for a moment, watching from the corner of the street, sliding down and pulling out my knife. I hid a pair of knives in my leather boots, one in each. I hid them there cause no one ever thinks of checking there. It's always the pockets and bags, never the shoes or boots. I held the patterned leather grip in hand, bringing it slowly in front of me. I'd fashioned it myself. I considered how I should do this as he dropped his keys, bending over to pick them up from the wet floor. I could either kill him now or wait until home. Now had more appeal, I loved how rain washed away blood. I came over to him slowly, making sure to avoid the largest puddles on the concrete until I was behind him. I smirked to myself, bringing the knife up and around to his neck, catching him completely by surprise. I quickly dug the knife into his skin and slit his throat before he could even utter a whimpered plea for survival. I wrapped my other arm around him, holding him close to me as he died in my arms. I raised myself up slightly, resting my head on his shoulder to look in his pleading eyes. Blood dribbled out of his wound and drool left his lips, his eyes rolling back into his skull.
His body quivered, gasping softly as he went into that deep darkness. Because that's all there was. No pearly gates, no angels, no light at the end of the tunnel. Just darkness. Eternal darkness. I lapped at his hot blood, savouring the coppery taste. The rest of his blood mixed with the rain, staining his clothes and pooling around us. I smirked at him, then his body went still.
I took his car, humming softly to myself as I pulled up outside my home. I lived within walking distance of where I'd killed him, but it would be a little suspicious to carry his corpse over my shoulder all that way. My home was a house I'd inherited near the center of town. It was a detached house, with enough space from the building to the outer walls to ensure seclusion. I turned off the ignition, undoing the seat belt and opening the door, stepping out into the night. The rain had ceased now, though the clouds still obscured the moon and stars from view. I smiled slightly, moving to the rear of the vehicle and opening the boot. Within was his body, which barely fit within the confined space. I'd found out his name in his wallet before packing him inside. Charlie Simpson. Stupid name really.
I hauled him out, carrying him easily over my shoulder as I shut the boot. His limp arms reached passed my knees. Considering his height he wasn't that heavy, though he hardly had any fat on him. I switched his keys for mine, before walking carefully to my front door and opening it. The house was dark, just as I'd left it. "I'm home!" I called out into the shadows, kicking the door closed. I pressed my body against a switch on the wall, illuminating the place instantly. I blinked for a moment at the new light, then carried Charlie's body through the second door on the left, ignoring the faint sounds of movement.
The room was so familiar to me. I deposited Charlie on the blood stained metal table, the straps that hung from it unnecessary tonight. I kept humming to myself as I worked on removing his clothes, tossing each item off clothing into a basket. I'd decide exactly what I'd do with them later. Sometimes I kept them, sometimes I burned them and sometimes I tossed them in a bag for a charity shop.
I studied his body once it was bare before me. His skin was pale, a milky white against the silver and red of the table. Since he'd not been dead long enough for his colour to drain, I assumed that was his natural skin tone. There were no tattoos or piercings concealed by his clothing, nor were there any discernible birthmarks. Pity. There were, however, scars on his thighs which I assumed were self inflicted. Most likely caused by a razor blade. I smirked and pulled a wheeled tray over, gazing at my equipment. I lifted up a saw, moving beside him and making a deep incision along his belly. "Spinning around, move out of my way." I watched as his blood oozed out of the wound, much slower then it had gushed from his neck due to lack of a heartbeat. I replaced the saw on the tray, moving away again and removing my clothes, annoyed by the heavy wetness of them. I dropped them into a second basket, placing my shoes beside it.
My dick was painfully hard and leaking from the soft tip. I returned to him, rolling him onto his stomach and flicking a switch under the table which lowered it a couple of inches. I pulled his legs apart, then doing the same to his pretty round asscheeks. I spat on the tight ring, thrusting two fingers into his to open him up. I had a speculum for this, but it was much more fun to use on the living. "And did I forget to mention that I found a new direction, and it leads back to me." I pulled out my fingers, wiping them on his ass then dragged him back until I was lined up with his opening. I paused for a moment, then thrust into him, groaning at the feeling of his heat. He still had a little body heat left, though I knew that would soon fade to the same coldness that possessed his skin. I started fucking him roughly, holding onto his soft ass with one hand, reaching around with the other and forcing my hand inside the incision I'd made. I knew my pet was watching me, but I never cared, just kept pummelling his body. I could feel his insides cool and tear around me, which only made me sped up as his thick blood coated me. I felt around in guts, pulling out some of his intestines until I could feel myself. I could never tire of this feeling, no matter how many times I did it. It didn't matter if they were alive, thrashing and screaming or still and lifeless like Charlie, it was always such a thrill. Sadly, like all thrills, it didn't last.
I came inside him, some of the pearly fluid seeping through the tears I'd made to coat my bloody fingers. I remained within him for a few brief moments to get my breath back, then pulled out and rolled him back over. I clicked my fingers, hearing my pet scamper over as I returned the table to it's fully height. His mouth engulfed my cock, warm and wet. Familiar. I took the saw in hand again, opening his chest cavity fully. By the time it was his mouth had left me and I knew my member was clean again. He left the room as I removed more of Charlie's innards.
I spent an hour in there, taking Charlie apart. His meat was wrapped up, tossed almost carelessly into the freezer. I'd had a taste of him already and I adored his taste. The organs I'd placed on the lowest shelf were for my pet. Charlie's head rested on the topmost shelf, ready for me to deal with tomorrow. I'd keep at least a part of it, most likely the entire thing, as a trophy. If he'd had any tattoos I'd have kept them as well, though I did keep his genitals. I washed my hands in the room's sink, then turned to leave it, glancing over his skeleton as I did so. Blood and flesh still clung to the bones, another thing to deal with later.
I moved through my home, heading up to my bedroom. I smiled at the random pictures that hung on the walls. While the ones that littered most homes were of smiling family members, mine were of the twisted faces of horror of various males. Some were of their corpses. I licked my lips, entering my bedroom and collapsing on the bed, noting that my pet was already asleep in his cage. I glanced at him, curling up on the soft sheets. His scarred and bruised chest rose and fell, his pretty eyes lidded as he dreamed. His beard was stained a mixture of colours which I was sure he wasn't fully aware of. His fingers twitched slightly in his sleep. He had three on each hand, something I'd done to him when I made him my own. Each hand had a different two missing. His left was minus his thumb and index finger, while his right lost his middle and fore fingers. I hated symmetry.
Of course, those weren't the only changes I'd made to him.
I closed my eyes and drifted off into a peaceful slumber.