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Warning: Dark. Sticks with the idea of Serial!Keller all the way.
Cat and Mouse
Chris's hands slipped over the head of the man on his knees. Down through soft blonde tufts of hair, he just couldn't stop them. So lost in the harsh wet suck, skilled and relentless with just that tinge of soft that made him gasp. He didn't even notice that betraying slide of his palms until soft skin was under them. The flutter of a pulse right there under the pads of his thumbs.
He shifted his grip to something less dangerously tempting, rubbing his thumbs up, feeling the work of the jaw, the source of that sweet wet noise that was thrumming in his ears along with the rush the action generating that dirty noise was causing.
So sweet. So pure. So good. A thrill to match that of the con. For money or hearts. It was all the same. All about getting off, getting to *feel* something, getting ahead.
Getting head from some pretty blue-eyed college boy. This one was slightly different. Crisp clean accent that matched the smart sharp clothes. Probably on break or not long graduated from some fancy schmancy school in England.
Chris couldn't look down to see those blue eyes though. Wouldn't. This felt too good to ruin with that dirty shame. With the knowledge of what was so good, of what he really wanted. What he always wanted.
It was never enough. They never loved him long enough, strongly enough. Never gave enough of themselves. He always needed more. Took too much.
And this...he wasn't supposed to play with boys. Men.
If he just closed his eyes, didn't look down, if he just felt it. Let it wash over him.
A mouth was a mouth was a mouth.
It didn't matter here.
But his grip slid back down...down to that beautiful pulse thumping under his power. At his mercy. Waves of heat pulsed through him with it. He needed more.
Wanted. Even as that hot little mouth with the crooked bottom lip he could just picture behind his eyelids got him off.
He chased after that edge, that slight bite to the pleasure. That thing made it sting real good. That made it...perfect until the nasty come down. He didn't want that, that feeling afterwards. Looking into blue eyes, having to admit things to himself. To face himself. He just wanted this. Here. With nothing killing it.
He never got that. He kept trying. Kept marrying. Kept...digging holes in the woods. To keep everything buried and forgotten. Upturned dirt a testament to that nasty edge he couldn't stop touching, couldn't stop falling over.
Keller focused. Pushed that away. Only felt...
That mouth on his cock...
That throat under his touch.
His strong hands wrapping around fragile neck. Still gentle, seeming innocent to the man on his knees before him. Just caressing vulnerable skin under his fingertips. Not quite too far. Not yet.
But that burn built in his blood, his hips starting to just thrust the tiniest bit into that ever living, moving wet warmth...he might slip again.
He didn't look down.
Closecloseclose. Felt it, that pleasant shiver itch building...almost there.
His fingers twitched with anticipation...
Couldn't help it.
Couldn't stop it.
Grunts leaving his throat, head straining back, eyes opening, almost going to cross those lines -
And then it all shifted before he even made his move -
- Quick harsh, slamming into him.
Purposeful scrape of teeth as that mouth smoothly jerked away. Hands on his. Tight pain at his wrists, suddenly everything was turned on its head. His wrists turned fast at a brutally wrong angle, and he was spinning with the sudden surge of unsuspected strength from below.
That blue-eyed boy shifting up, fast as a cat. Using the leverage of that sharp almost breaking pain at Chris's wrists and the momentum of catching him off guard to spin him around. Force him up against the wall.
Seems college boy had a few surprises up his sleeves. Chris was gasping, left hard and damp and exposed to the air, pressing to cold brick, his face smashing into it. Held there by sudden wiry strength he hadn't expected. Skilled as that mouth. That leaner body pressed all along his. Those surprising hands and arms trapping his. Chris felt the burn of grinding bone, and the sharp ache of the arch of his back. A warning: if England's son moved, things would be snapping, wrenching. The pain just a taste of what would come if he just pushed.
Chris panted against hard stone...still hard. That slicing edge he was always chasing was right here at his back.
"Now, now. That would be impolite." Clipped British tones gracing his ear with warm breath. Raising nice little bumps all along his flesh.
Keller chuckled against the wall, head dipping down, rubbing raw against the rough unyielding stone with the movement. He had missed something very important in those eyes. In that voice. That cold edge that felt like...home. Familiar. Like...graves and broken bones.
And it was made simply, cleanly clear by that full body press, that sharp pain, by that quick shift and those words...Blue Eyes knew what Keller's hands had been slipping towards. Knew what had been coming, even as Chris had been partially ignoring it himself. Would've ignored it until the sharp clean snap of that neck. That knowledge was carried in that voice, the one that was...only lightly scolding at the revelation. Amused.
Maybe he had been wrong about that whole prissy college boy thing after all.
Chris flexed his arms with his breath. A test. Got that sharp pain amplified as...Julian, he'd said his name was, strained but didn't give. Julian...now that was a fucking soft, sweet name if Chris had ever heard one. Upper-class. Rich boy. Misleading.
"You were holding out on me." Chris tried to distract that grip, with his laughing breathless charm.
"I venture I could say the same of you." That same cool quirk of amusement in that voice. In control, even though he had just been on his knees, at Chris's mercy.
Chris was bigger. Stronger. And he wasn't surprised anymore. He could twist right out of this hold and -
He barely heard a rustle and felt the breeze of the move. Felt that grip lighten and thought it was his chance - only to be brought up short by the tickle of cold steel at the back of his neck just as he was moving. He stopped short, forehead still pressed to brick, gaze down at the dirty ground of the alley, arms free, but quickly changing from their previous fast plan to slowly raise out at his sides in caution. Temporary white flag surrender.
"Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" More disarming easiness, taking it lightly. Best to throw people off guard with confidence. Showing fear was never a good thing in these instances. Acting invincible came more easily. He was pretty sure that actually was a gun at his neck. It wasn't the sort of thing you took a chance with. His hands had been all over that warm body, under that slick coat, earlier...but obviously he'd missed a few spots. "Or are you trying to trick me with your cell phone?"
"It's a Sig Sauer. Disposable. Untraceable, and one of many I've had occasion to use. And I dare say it's just as dangerous as your hands were just now, Chris." Simple businesslike statements of fact, only colored by the little lilt given to his name.
The blood in his veins never stopped pounding. Never slowed. Racing through him with that oh so good burning ache that stole the breath from his lungs. His cock still hard, pressing roughly against gritty cold stone. The good kind of pain. All of it one hell of a fucking head rush, even as he tried to figure out his next move. His way out.
This evening was turning out completely different than he had planned when he had entered that dark, musky, beer-soaked, little boy bar by the highway. One of many similar places. But this - this was new.
Chris reviewed his first impressions. He remembered that intriguing accent slurring, remembered the slight stumble of warmth into his as Chris had dragged the angel-innocent seeming man into the alley. Chris thought Julian had been spurred by the liquor. Liquid courage making him dare to follow Chris. To give in, making him slow and sweet and less aware. But that was all gone now. Quick reflexes, big words, voice as steady as those hands.
"You're not really drunk are you?" Chris wondered what he could do to get the control back. Didn't like this little bruising sting. Being the one without the upper hand. Under the grip, or gunpoint, of another. But he knew how to roll with it.
"Not nearly as much as I led you to believe." The softest ghost of a laugh gusted over the back of his neck, joining that steady steel that wasn't moving away. "This isn't going to end the way you apparently had hoped, I'm afraid."
"No?" Keller questioned with his own little laugh. Wondering...what would be greeting him on the other side if that trigger was pulled. What would hot bullet through the back of his head feel like? Would he feel it at all? When Chris killed...did they feel it? Or was it just bliss...switching off to nothingness.
"I generally like to leave my lovers breathing after the act." Soft kiss joining steel, with that cool tone still showing that little quirk of bemusement. The fingers that weren't wrapped around that gun were stroking so lightly over Chris's neck, around the collar of his t-shirt, gliding only over exposed skin. Fingertips slipping down over his arm. Delicate. Tracing him.
Keller shrugged, grinning into stone, breath still one big desperate rush to catch it. Speeding up with the increase of danger until it was blindingly bright and swift. He was still under another's control though, and that chafed, made him want to see how quick he could turn, see if he could fight. But the press of the wall, the graze of dick over hard stone, that light dancing touch of a dry calm hand, that surprising dangerous body still brushing his...man that was a rush too. Good and bad and all wrapped up, tangling together. Which of them would win?
"Who says I don't?" Chris played innocent.
It got him a thoughtful noise instead of that soft laughter. But it got him more than that...another interesting turn.
The hand not employing steel slipped around, wrapping his straining dick in steady, firm warmth. Skin. Palm. A teasing slide. He exhaled joyfully at the touch. Just a bit dry, a bit rough. Fuck the gun. Just feel the rush.
"Innocence doesn't suit you." A nip of teeth to his earlobe as that relieving stroke didn't stop. And that voice sounded...displeased that Chris had tried to hide what he was. "I recognize your intent." Quiet affirmation that stripped Chris to the core with ease. "But if you're amenable to a change in plans, we'll both walk away from this encounter. As long as you -" Tightening of that grip with the clip of each word. "keep - relatively still. And don't try any other nasty little surprises."
Huh. College boy was all about the quick, blind turns. Seems that was all that was in store for him tonight. Surprises. Keller wasn't going to get out of this on a smile or strength. On the other hand - Julian knew what Keller's hands had been slipping to do...and he didn't seem to care much.
He was just full of pleasant revelations, like the rough jerk along Chris's dick. Bringing back that build to his cold ache. Melting it. Heating him up, taking his breath again. Still pressed with the threat of gunmetal at the back of his neck. A little reminder. A counterpoint to the light wet touch of lips and tongue dancing over the flesh around it.
Chris couldn't kill his grin, eyes closing again. A different thrill, a different edge. Maybe not the one he would have liked. Too much of that twisting bad edge from being pinned, being one upped, even as it made him like this even more. Met and matched. Figured out. This was not something he wanted to make a habit of. But he'd try anything once. This spike to the thrill in his veins was worth it, even as it rubbed part of him raw at being caged in a way. But Julian was very...giving. Not taking advantage of the control. Like the gun was a precaution resorted to for safety when Chris had gone to cross that line. Julian's version of a condom, for Chris's type of danger.
That hand still felt so fucking good, firm grip, pressing body, and hot breath. Another way to get off. And he definitely was. Losing himself in this tangle of new heat. Giving over to his dick and shutting off his brain. Wicked hand. Wicked mouth. Wicked gun.
Wicked not anywhere near a college boy.
Making Chris come hard, and with a twitch of his fists against the wall.
In different ways, they would both come out on top tonight.
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