Three weeks since his last orgasm, and that was beat out of him by his own hand.
He was never going to last against Chad’s mouth, not when his body was already worked up on everything else.
Just before he came, Chad turned his head to breathe, then stumbled from the bed. Romeo cursed, willing his cock to go down. Chad had come to his senses and had shaken off whatever haze had descending on him, but when he turned to Chad, he was taking his pants off in a flurry of movement.
Romeo’s gaze locked on to Chad’s cock, his very hard, very red with arousal cock.
He straddled Romeo, pressed his cock between his ass cheeks, and started moving up and down, simulating sex. He wasn’t inside Chad, but he still felt heat, and his own wetness. He moaned, and panted, and Chad moved faster, pressing Romeo’s cock impossibly closer to his opening. Romeo teetered on the edge, and when Chad angled his cock, a look of determination scrunching his face, Romeo almost lost it.
“We can’t—
Chad tugged his own cock, drew out his excitement onto his fingers. Then reached back, adding to himself.
“Don’t tell me what we can’t do, we can.”
“I’ll hurt you.”
“I’m already hurt, not because of you, because of everyone else. You haven’t hurt me. You never did.”
“And I don’t want to now.”
Romeo’s hands found Chad’s hips, and this time instead of pulling him closer, he tried to ease him away.
“Please.” Chad whined. “I need to.”
“Need to?”
“Yes. I need to, Romeo.”
He looked at Chad’s bloodied face, the painful slices on his chest, the raw mark around his wrist where Marc had cuffed him. He looked deep into Chad’s determined eyes, the flicker of helpless still there needing to be extinguished as abruptly as Marc’s life.
Chad’s hands curled around Romeo’s wrists, and he pulled them away before pressing them to the mattress above his head. Romeo kept his hands where Chad put them, but curled his fingers into the sheet, keeping a tight hold.
He needed Romeo to help fight whatever internal battle was happening inside his skull. Whatever control the world had robbed from him, he wanted back, and he was using Romeo to get it.
Chad used his wet cheeks to guide Romeo in, to help open him up. Even with the amount Romeo had leaked, he knew it wasn’t enough, knew it would hurt, but Chad didn’t wince, or retreat. He didn’t seem to be aware of the cuts on his body, the glass in his feet, or the bloodied nose. They were big alarm bells, but Romeo didn’t dare deny him.
He couldn’t feel the pain, but by the look of it, he could feel pleasure.
Chad shivered, closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and moaned softly. He lifted himself, sunk back down, and Romeo shook so violently he almost knocked Chad off the bed. He gripped the sheet above his head hard enough for his hands to shake and let Chad do as he pleased.
It didn’t take long before Romeo peaked again, he didn’t warn Chad, or give any hints that he was close, instead he let Chad take him over the edge. He climaxed hard, riding the waves as Chad tensed around his cock in pulses, making it last, making it feel so good his drawn-out growl shook them both.
Sex felt good. Killing felt good. But having sex with Chad right after he’d killed, that was something else, a new, more intense kind of high.
Chad was something else.
Romeo caught his breath, then laughed softly, encouraging Chad towards him.
He slipped Romeo’s cock from his body, then clambered onto Romeo’s chest. Romeo released the sheet, then tugged him by the hips, forced him up in his body until he was straddling Romeo’s forearms, and bracing his arms on the bedrest.
Romeo opened his mouth wide for the cock wagging in front of him, lifting his head so he could suck Chad inside, then relaxed back when Chad went with him, tilting his hips forward, pressing his lower stomach into Romeo’s face. It didn’t take long to get him worked up and thrusting into Romeo’s mouth. There was no apology, no warning, almost an anger to the action. Chad came how Romeo did, without holding back.
He spilled into Romeo’s throat with broken gasps, and moans, then slumped.
He deflated like a tire with a slow puncture, letting air out of his lungs until he’d molded himself to Romeo’s chest.
Romeo stroked the back of Chad’s head and hugged him protectively with his other arm. He stared up at the ceiling getting his breath and waiting for his heart to calm down. Chad’s slowed before his, so suddenly Romeo began to worry. He wasn’t even sure if Chad was still conscious.
Romeo’s mind went back to the farmhouse. The last night they’d spent together. He told Chad in an ideal world he’d complete his countdown and keep Chad in the process.
Chad had turned in Romeo’s arms to face him, giving him a long hard look. He’d seen the torment his words had put in Chad’s eyes. Chad opened his mouth to speak, then closed it fast, clicking his teeth together. They both knew there was no such scenario.
He’d cupped Chad’s face, he’d tensed for the briefest of moments, then relaxed, pressing a soft kiss to Romeo’s palm.
The charged moment, and the post-haze of sex lifted. Romeo remembered where they were. Marc Wilson’s house.
“You’re hurt.” Romeo said.
“I can’t feel a thing.”
Romeo flipped Chad over, pressing him into the mattress. “That’s not good.”
Chad laughed, but didn’t open his eyes. “Don’t worry, I felt the sex. That … that felt good. Thank you for letting me … you know…”
“I’m not quite sure I do know, but you’re welcome.”
Romeo drew back and looked down at Chad on the bed. His torso a bloodied mess, his nose bruised, his face swelling. His breaths were slow, labored, and as Romeo watched him breathe, he noticed the hesitation, like his broken body barely remembered what it was supposed to do.
“You need to be in hospital.”
“No,” Chad said, shaking his head.
He looked as if he was trying to open his eyes, but his lids fluttered, then he gave up.
“I need you. That’s all I need. We can go, just let me catch my breath first.”
“Go?”
“Anywhere, I don’t care.”
“On the run?”
“Yeah. We’ll run, we’ll keep running, not stop, not let them catch us.”
“You’d do that. Go on the run with me.”
“Romeo. I—I shouldn’t have set fire to the barn.”
“Yes, you should’ve.”
“I shouldn’t have trapped you like that, got you locked away.”
“You did what you needed to do, what you had to do.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say you’re sorry. You don’t need to be sorry. You’re not thinking straight. You’re hurt, tired, emotionally drained.”
“And it’s my fault. If I’d have just let you get your number one. None of this would’ve happened. We could’ve left that farmhouse together, gone anywhere.”
“No, we couldn’t have. You wouldn’t have been able to live with that. It would’ve destroyed you.”
Romeo grabbed onto Chad’s hand, then slowly slid it upwards. He didn’t seem to notice Romeo had hold of him, didn’t react or open his eyes to see where Romeo was pushing his hand. Chad shook his head against the pillow, mumbling things Romeo couldn’t make out.
A click punctured his mumbles. Romeo released Chad’s hand and waited for the moment he realized what he’d done. Chad’s lashes fluttered when they opened, his eyes were unfocused, and he took a long time to find Romeo even though he was right there in front of him.
“Romeo?”
“This is for the best.”
Chad tilted his head to see the top of the bed, the place where Romeo had cuffed his wrist. He yanked, rattled the handcuffs, then looked back at Romeo, betrayal widening his brown eyes.
“That’s not fucking funny.”
Romeo climbed off
of Chad. “It’s not supposed to be funny. You need medical attention.”
“I need to be with you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Don’t you dare leave me.”
Romeo backed away, sorting his pants out. “I have to go, you’ll be okay—
“D—don’t,” Chad said. “Please don’t.”
“I’m gonna get you some help.”
Chad sat up, swayed, then fell back on the bed. The cuff clunked, and he yanked weakly at it, then sobbed. “You can’t leave me here. You can’t turn your back on me, too.”
“This is how it has to be Chad.”
Romeo couldn’t bear to stand there any longer and watch Chad break down. He turned his back on him, closed the door then hurried down the corridor.
Chapter Nineteen
Chad called for him, but he gritted his teeth and kept going. There was a thump from the bedroom, the sound of something scraping the floor, Romeo suspected Chad was using his last dregs of strength to drag the bed, but he didn’t stop to find out. He rushed down the stairs into the kitchen and found Marc’s house phone.
He knew the number for the station reception, had called it enough when complaining about the graffiti. He held it to his ear and tried to block out the sound of Chad sobbing for him. He ignored the sensation in his chest, like someone stabbing his heart with a corkscrew, and waited for the call to connect.
“Hello?”
“Is this Zac by any chance?”
“No, but I can put him on for you.”
“Thank you.”
He tapped his foot on the floor as he waited, then shut the kitchen door so he couldn’t hear Chad shouting his name.
“Hi, this i—”
“It’s Romeo.”
“Romeo…” Zac gasped.
He hummed. “Yeah, I thought you’d be interested to know the copycat was Marc Wilson. I’ve killed him at his house. Chad’s here, too, and he really needs some medical attention. I also left Neil tied up at his place and a man tied up in a layby near the Oston turn off. Hope you’ve got all that, bye.”
He hung up, tossed the phone aside. Chad called for him, and the urge to yell at him to shut up came and went. Chad didn’t understand that Romeo was doing was for the best, it was the only option.
He unhooked one of Marc’s coats from the entrance hall and stole a pair of expensive trainers before leaving the house.
Zac would get people there fast. Chad would be okay. But no matter how many times he repeated it in his head, it still hurt to leave him. His mother made him promise not to let love go if he found it, but he was running from it, leaving it behind when it was injured, and crying out for him to fix it.
He couldn’t.
Short term pain, for long term gain, that was how he needed to think of it.
Romeo opened the gate, then ran along the road to get to the Porsche.
He prayed it still worked after wedging it between the grass verge, and a thorn bush. It thankfully started, and after a few wheel spins, and squeals, Romeo managed to reverse back on the road.
He put his foot down, aiming to get as far from Hatton as he could.
The roads were empty that early in the morning, Romeo made good mileage towards his destination. He switched the radio on, waiting to hear something other than Chad’s devastated calls for him echoing in his head.
The Porsche guzzled through fuel at an alarming rate. Romeo feared it wouldn’t make the journey, but when he saw the sign to his destination, he let out a relieved sigh.
Chad would forgive him one day.
****
His destination was the coast, the high cliffs of Dover to be exact. A hotspot, but not for the sea or sand, or sight, but the drop. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before, ending it all, but the monster in him felt cheated by such thoughts. The one person the monster forbid him to kill was himself.
Until Chad came along.
He stopped the Porsche right at the edge, then opened the door to hear the crashing waves below. The sound reminded him of harsh breathing, struggling, rasping. He stared ahead at the endless darkness, and his mind sunk into the past.
The last conversation he’d ever have with his mother. She lay in her bed, frail from illness. She knew death was upon her, and her last wish had been to die at home, in the bed she shared with her husband. Romeo had pinned pictures to the walls on her instruction. The three of them together, years gone by displayed around them.
Romeo looked after her right to the end. When she could barely open her eyes, he described the photos to her. When she could no longer feed herself, he did. He helped her to the bathroom, then back into bed, as often as she needed. It was obvious to him she was in pain, no matter what meds she was prescribed she was always hurting inside and out. The doctor had told him she was hours away, but she held on for days. She wanted to let go, to stop fighting, but she didn’t.
Air whistled out of her, fed to her by an oxygen tank by the bed. The only sound in the room as they sat together, waiting. They’d been waiting for what felt like forever. The monster was getting impatient, gnawing at his mind, knowing this was its only obstacle, and it was taking forever.
Romeo’s heart thumped hard in his chest when he realized, she was hanging on for him, in pain for him, and he didn’t deserve that kind of self-sacrificing love.
He took her hand, and leaned close to the bed, voice ghosting her cheek. “It’s okay to let go.”
She swallowed hard, and stiffly shook her head.
“Why not?”
Her lips quivered as she spoke. “You’ll be alone.”
Romeo looked down at their hands, his compared to hers, pale, blue tinged. She’d lost weight, her bones jutted out, her hair had thinned. She hadn’t opened her eyes in days, her body was shutting down.
“I’m going to be all right.” He said.
“Promise?” she wheezed.
“I promise.”
She shook her head, the smallest of movements, as if to say she didn’t believe Romeo. He pulled a pained expression, pulsed his fingers around hers, and tried a different approach.
“Father’s waiting for you. He’s been waiting for a long time.”
“I know.”
“So go to him. Find him, and just like you told me, don’t ever let him go.”
“Leave you behind?”
“Yes. I’ll be fine.”
“One day you’ll find us again.”
Romeo didn’t know what lay beyond the dark veil of death, but he was certain he wouldn’t end up in the same place as them.
“Yes, I’ll find you both.” Romeo let go of her hand, and slowly pulled the drawer of the bedside table. “We’ll see each other again, but you need to go to him first. It was you two first before me, before I was born.”
“Before you joined our family.”
Romeo frowned at her odd choice of words, but didn’t comment. “Yes, you and him, and you loved each other. You were happy.”
“Yes.”
Romeo found his father’s old cigar box in the drawer.
“Always love him.” She wheezed.
He opened the lid, ran his fingers over the six cigars, then picked one out. He used his father’s lighter kept beside the box, held the cigar in one hand, and his mother’s hand in his other.
“He’s waiting for you, he’s right there. Can you see him?”
The room filled with the familiar scent. It had been years since his nostrils had twitched with it, and when he turned to his mother, he saw her lips lift at the edges.
“Rupert?”
Romeo didn’t speak, he let whatever medicine induced fantasy his mother was having play out. She hadn’t smiled in weeks, but she was smiling, and her eyes beneath her lids were twitching, as if she was looking at someone. More and more smoke filled the room, but it wasn’t horrid, it was familiar for both of them, pleasant in a comforting way.
“Go with him.”
The scent and memory of her husba
nd broke her determination to hold on for him.
“I’ll be okay.” Romeo whispered, squeezing her hand for the final time.
The moment was peaceful, the most peaceful moment Romeo had experienced in his life. The monster went quiet, mute, and he sat in the room in silence, breathing in the smell of his father, holding his mother’s hand. The room darkened, the in and out wheeze of air slowed, then a short while later, stopped altogether.
Peace for a single second for him and his mother.
Then the monster had pushed forward in his mind, broke free of its chains, and took center stage of his life. He was free to kill, free to satisfy his dark desire, free to be himself, and the relief made him weep, made him gasp and quickly let go of his mother’s hand.
Romeo listened to the waves smashing into the rocks. The drop that would surely kill him. He wouldn’t end up in the place that good people went like his mother and father. He’d drop into the depths of hell, no less than he deserved, but he wasn’t ready for it yet. He was determined to fulfil one promise to his mother.
Romeo searched the dashboard finding a pen and a notepad. He hovered the pen above the page, dwelling on how to start his supposed manifesto, then he just wrote the words, ‘I am Romeo Knight, AKA the Countdown Killer’.
He knew his words would be picked over, analyzed repeatedly. He had to hint at his suicidal end, but not push it too hard. The car at the edge of the cliff, and Holly’s article on him would be the final pieces of the puzzle, but he needed to make sure it made a real picture, not a fake one.
Romeo closed the notepad, then placed it on top of the passenger seat. He climbed out, leaving the driver’s door hanging open, a clear suggestion that he may have exited the vehicle, and thrown himself over the drop. He took off Neil’s clothes, folded them neatly, then placed them on the passenger seat with Neil’s shoes pinning them down.
He wrapped his newly acquired coat from Marc around himself and slipped into Marc’s smaller trainers.
The edges of the cliff were rock, and he left no print as he moved as quickly as he could away from the car. The rock wouldn’t last, he hoped the prints he left behind would be discounted or overlooked.
For the second time in two days, Romeo relied on the cover of darkness to get away. He heard sirens, another helicopter, but instead of coming from everywhere, they stayed in one spot, and he moved further and further away from the Porsche, and the sight of his apparent suicide.
Two for Joy Page 19
