Summary: Some folks spend their time going to the movies or watching TV; some folks have other kinds of normal.
Trigger Warning(s): blood fetish, after glow of murder, swearing like sailors
Fun Fact: This was the first story I ever actually wrote of these two.
The digital clock flickers over to 3:24am and the bed springs creak, offended at the sudden weight that slumped down upon it. Kicking his shoes off in his regular sloppy manner, Ace lets himself fall back against his bed. It’s another dirty ass mattress in another cockroach ridden hotel room but he doesn’t care. This was paradise.
“I love this smell.” He coos, eyes closed as he lightly draws his still blood stained knife under his nose. A moan so sweet sounds from his lips, the same of a man who just inhaled a particularly pleasant flower. “Have you ever tasted anything so sweet?”
“Don’t put that in your fucking mouth. You’ll get HIV.” A pair of sneakers join his on the floor as the bed creaks again, clearly not pleased with the extra weight. “And go clean it off already.”
“It’s still fresh. Can’t you smell it, Matt?” Ace draws the knife up and passes it to him as if it were delicate; the knife itself holds no true value to him but the prize that glitters against the lamp light makes his heart flutter.
Matthieu takes the knife after a long moment and sighs, twirling it lazily. “This one is rather pretty.” He says after a long moment, passing it back. “But I’m not smelling it. That’s your weird fucking fetish.”
Ace takes it back with a happy grin and slides his thumb across the flat side, drawing the blood up until it pools onto his skin and he pulls it back to inspect it. “We probably did that guy a favour. This blood is thick as fuck.”
“Ace, that’s fucking disgusting. Don’t play with some greasy dude’s blood. Have some class.” Matthieu flips onto his side with a roll of his eyes, his back now facing Ace.
To which the brunette only takes as further invitation to pester him. Sitting up, he leans so that his arms are resting lazily on top of Matthieu’s side. He lifts the knife and points it at him with a smirk. “I’m sorry, is someone grumpy because today’s fun wasn’t up to his high standards?”
“He didn’t even scream.”
“I did pin his tongue to that fence pole.” Ace retorts, flipping the knife around in his fingers, the blood on his thumb smearing against the hilt.
“Exactly. How is someone supposed to let out that perfect sound when it’s gargled?”
“He wouldn’t stop begging. You know I can’t fucking stand it when they beg. It was either I pinned it or cut it off entirely. He’d have chocked to death and then where would our fun be?”
“You still didn’t have to do it right away. You could have waited.”
Ace sighs dramatically and has a roll of his own eyes. He falls back lazily to the bed, arm now pressed to Matthieu’s back. He stares at it for the span of one breath, watching the shoulders rise and fall, bones stretching and relaxing as the breath leaves him. He lifts the knife carefully and traces the tip ever so softly across his shirt, smoothing it down his spine.
“You can’t tell me you didn’t have fun. We even went with your pick this time.”
His back caves a little when he sighs in reply. “Of course I had fun, jackass. I always have fun. Just how about holding off on the silencing next time?”
Ace halts the knife at his lower back and picks at the cloth once before he flips the knife in his hand and sits up abruptly. “Fine. But if the next one is a fucking beggar, I’m gutting them the moment I hear a single ’please don’t kill me’.”
“That’s all I ask.”
Hopping off the bed, Ace points the knife at him as he wanders into the bathroom. “You fucking owe me for this.”
“Owe you? I don’t owe you shit.” Matthieu speaks up a little so Ace can hear him clearly but soon there is a gush of water and a silence falls over the hotel room.
The digital clock shows a full six minutes before Ace finally emerges, knife now the shining silver it was meant to be. He’s busy drying it on his shirt as he finally replies.
“I’m starving. Let’s go get something to eat. I’m craving a burger like a mother fucker.”
Matthieu sits up with a slump, “Man, I just spent the past three hours driving.”
“I don’t give a fuck. Drive me. I want a fucking burger.”
They scowl each other for a long moment before Matthieu looks him over and then slumps back against the bed. “Not with you wearing that.”
“What? It’s a fucking burger joint! They’re not gonna give a shit.”
“They might if you have blood around the collar.”
Ace pauses at that and grabs his collar, pulling it up to his ears so he can see for himself. He drops it with a roll of his eyes. “So we’ll go through the drive thru.”
“Change your fucking sweater, Ace. You’re not taking one more step into my car with fresh blood on you.”
The brunette growls as he pulls the sweater over his head, stabbing the knife into the mattress beside Matthieu’s calve and tossing the sweater aside. “You’re such a fucking princess.”
“Meet you in the car, freak.”
FIN ★ ☆ ★ Constructive critique always encouraged! You are welcome to leave a review below; no account required. I am eager to hear from each and every one of you!