One for Sorrow

by Louise Collins

  He was vaguely aware of the splattering on his skin, the pleased grumbles of the man doing this to him, those intense green eyes—then air, so cold and welcome down his throat, he arched up, hit by another wave of intense pleasure as his cock twitched out more release.

  He panted, and his panting was joined by someone else’s. A red-faced Romeo, with a sweaty brow and damp hair. He was easing himself in and out of Chad’s tense body, milking the last drops of his orgasm. Chad hadn’t even known he’d come, but he could feel the trickle of it escaping each time Romeo rocked all the way in then out again.

  Pleasure subsided, and pain came back. The pain in his leg, his rim, his throat, but the worst of all was the headache. He felt hungover and began rubbing his temples, only for Romeo to pull out completely and take over massaging his head. Romeo was panting like he’d been the one denied air.

  “That—that,” Chad wheezed. “I’ve got no words.”

  “I got carried away. I’m sorr—”

  “Why did it feel so good?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t understand why it felt so good. Too good.”

  Romeo stared, eyes bugging from his head. The third time Chad had shocked him, he thought, before laughing.

  “Fuck, Chad,” Romeo murmured. “I could’ve killed you.”

  Despite his headache, and the seriousness of Romeo’s words, he kept on laughing. Romeo stared down at him like he’d lost his mind, and he was probably right.

  “But you didn’t. I’m not who you want. I’m not number one.”

  Romeo leaned down and stopped his crazed laugh by kissing him.

  “No, but you’re a lot of firsts in other ways…”

  Before Chad could ask what he meant, Romeo pressed their lips together. Chad let him control the kiss, allowed Romeo to suck on his bottom lip and let it go, to lick against the seams of his mouth, making them tingly and sensitive. It was a different kind of pleasure, a gentle one, cautious, but somehow even more invasive. Chad didn’t accept kisses like the one Romeo was giving him. He added more heat, more spice until it inevitably turned to sex, but he didn’t push back, or demand Romeo changed the tempo. He closed his eyes and enjoyed being caressed.

  His back ached being bent over the table, his leg throbbed at the weird position, but it didn’t matter. Chad had no idea kisses could feel good both physically and mentally, until Romeo had him paralyzed by one.

  Romeo kissed along Chad’s jaw, then up to his ear. “That was insane,” Romeo whispered.

  “A good kind of insane, I hope?”

  “The best.”

  Romeo finished his worshiping kiss along Chad’s neck, soothing the tightness he’d put there until Chad relaxed completely, letting out a blissed sigh. His hands continued to rub Chad’s scalp, easing the headache, while his gentle kisses brought feeling back to his throat.

  “What are we doing?” Chad whispered.

  Romeo breathed into his neck. “No idea.”

  He leaned back, then looked down at Chad. He was close enough for Chad to reach, and he stroked his hand through Romeo’s hair, then brushed his thumb against his lip.

  “Do you ever…”

  Chad trailed off, shaking his head.

  “Do I ever what?” Romeo said, flexing his eyebrows.

  “Do—do you ever think about keeping me?”

  Chad held his breath, shocked that he’d said the words, and nervous over Romeo’s reaction.

  “Yes.”

  A rush of happy endorphins went to Chad’s head, dissolving his headache completely. His pulse quickened, and a breathlessness made him unable to speak.

  “But I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ve manipulated you—all the things you’re feeling aren’t real. It’s a coping mechanism, a psychological reaction to stress—”

  “So?”

  Romeo chuckled. “You might like me now, but you won’t soon.”

  Chad scrunched his face up. He knew Romeo had driven his car into position. He’d shined his shoes, ironed his suit, all for the last time. He was going to end his spree, but the detective in Chad, although dormant, still wanted to stop him.

  “Don’t do it.”

  Romeo closed his eyes. “Remember what I said? You weren’t to try to stop me, those were the rules.”

  “We can leave, go somewhere else, no one else has to suffer—”

  “Don’t you understand? I’m suffering. I have to do this; I have to finish this game. Do you want me to suffer, Chad?”

  “No.”

  “This is the only way. It’ll end my suffering.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. We have a few days left, and then it’s done. I’ll be the serial killer again, one of the bad guys, and you’ll be the detective, one of the good ones who hunt us down.”

  Chad closed his eyes in a long, disappointed blink. Romeo pulled a pained expression, then ducked down, pecking Chad’s lips.

  “But for now, we’re Chad and Romeo. No lines between us.”

  “No lines,” Chad whispered.

  “Exactly, now … I wanna carry on kissing you. Is that okay with you?”

  “More than okay.”

  Romeo smiled. “Let’s move this somewhere a little more comfortable then.”

  Chad didn’t protest being pressed into the mattress. He didn’t swerve Romeo’s kiss, or blurt out some excuse. He kissed back with the same need that he was being kissed with. A warm fluttery feeling grew in his gut, something that shouldn’t have been there.

  “Fuck me,” he said mid-kiss, half muffled by Romeo’s mouth.

  “Right now?”

  “Yeah,” Chad rolled onto his front, presenting Romeo with his ass. His head still ached, and his leg throbbed, and his hole still felt raw, but he needed it. He needed euphoria to white-out his mind.

  Sex was simple; emotions were not.

  “Right now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A lustful fever took over them. Once they’d started having sex, Chad found it difficult to stop. He clung onto Romeo when an orgasm stole him, panting into his neck, taking the scent of him deep inside, savoring it when he knew one way or another, he was going to lose it. He was distracting himself, not only from the impending loss, but from the odd emotion in his chest.

  Romeo had won the game of twisting Chad’s mind, making him attached, but the other game was still ongoing. The detective vs. the serial killer hadn’t been concluded, but it was inching closer. Chad couldn’t afford to lose that game.

  ****

  They lay head to toe, boxers around their ankles, and sliding their mouths over each other’s cock. Romeo’s cock was soft on his tongue, firm in his mouth. He sucked and kissed, and Romeo panted around his own dribbling hardness.

  Each time Chad got his composure, thinking he was winning in the battle, Romeo would curl his tongue in the opposite direction, suckle the tip, sink Chad’s cock to the back of his throat. Chad panted and heaved, got his bearings, then lapped and sucked until Romeo lost coordination, and his rumbly groan vibrated from his throat, caressing Chad’s cock.

  It was a battle Chad never wanted to end, and he was pushed closer and closer to the tipping point. He moaned, and dribbled, and knew he was about to surrender, whining when he knew he’d lost, and Romeo had conquered him.

  He came hard, whimpering around the firm heat invading his mouth. He couldn’t suck or lick while his mind was swamped in pleasure, Romeo took over, and pressed his hips forward, fucked Chad’s face until his orgasm flooded his mouth.

  When they finished panting, Romeo rolled onto Chad, careful of his leg. Then he was over Chad, chest to chest, beating heart, to beating heart. His breath tingled Chad’s lips, and he lifted his head, encouraging what was about to happen, needing it. It started out a filthy kiss, their tastes combining on their tongues, rough, demanding, but as the taste of their orgasms faded, Romeo’s swipes and sucks lingered. He took his time, and Chad’s fluttering feeling
swamped him again.

  For a man that couldn’t love, Romeo sure kissed like he knew what love was. Chad gave in to his leisurely caresses, hating them and loving them in equal measure. The kiss was a lie, and Romeo had told him he’d never lied to Chad.

  “Is your leg hurting?”

  The concern in his voice made everything worse. It was a lie, Chad reminded himself. He didn’t care if he was hurting—

  “Chad?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “You sure, you’ve not taken your painkillers.”

  Yes, it was hurting, but Chad needed the pain. It stopped him from breaking down completely.

  “I’m sure,” Chad murmured.

  Romeo wrapped his muscled body behind Chad, kissed the nape of his neck, then pressed his chin down firmly.

  A constant weight that always seemed to lure Chad to sleep. He could feel Romeo’s strength, heat, smell him, feel his breath evening out after their intimacy. All of it felt far too nice and filled him with a sense of doom. He’d be without Romeo soon, and that hurt as much as Toby’s damning diagnosis.

  “Relax, Chad, I’ve got you,” Romeo whispered near his ear.

  “But not for much longer.”

  “No, not for much longer.”

  “Because you need to kill, more than you need to keep me.”

  Romeo sighed. “Something like that. In an ideal world, I’d have both.”

  ****

  Chad didn’t know why he woke. The dream started to fade before he could consciously recall it. He was lying on the mattress. Romeo was behind him, heavy arm slung over Chad’s side. Light was creeping ‘round the edges of the curtains, and the only other light came from embers glittering in the fire.

  He cautiously rolled, wincing at the pain in his leg, but making no sound. He stared at Romeo, tense, waiting for him to stir and open his eyes, but he didn’t.

  Every line on his face stayed flat, relaxed. Chad was mesmerized by his long brown lashes, his lips that he knew from experience could kiss both soft and hard. Air whistled softly through his nose, in rhythm with the movement of his chest. As Chad looked at him, a fondness grew into something else in his chest. It was more terrifying and confusing than all his other emotions put together; even his guilt couldn’t compare. It affected him physically, too. His insides felt fluttery, as if a million butterflies were flapping their wings. Although delicate and harmless individually, together they made a hurricane, in danger of shattering his bones and pushing them straight into his heart.

  As he stared at Romeo, he had a gutting realization: he couldn’t see beyond the next few days. He couldn’t picture the life he’d go back to, what would happen after Romeo had gone, and he didn’t want to. There was nothing, end of the road.

  Romeo admitted he was manipulative; Chad knew he was. He also knew the stress, the pain, the hopelessness had all made him reliant on the man that kidnapped him. It was a psychological condition, but right then, there was no psychology, no power play, or mind-games. Romeo was asleep and couldn’t bend or twist the situation in his favor.

  Chad lusted for Romeo, relied on him, liked his company, grew anxious without him, but he had to know if love was present, too. He had to try with Romeo unaware, only a press of lips to see if those persistent butterflies all dropped dead on contact.

  He edged forward, his heart picking up speed, his stomach flipping. The fluttering in his chest didn’t die. Chad pressed his lips to Romeo’s, holding the position, not moving, just resting, and listening to what his body told him.

  What he heard from his heart was devastating. It wasn’t just sex, or reliance, or the messed-up situation. Chad had fallen for the monster, the one he was about to lose, the one that compromised his morality and conscience. The one he had to betray to save the life of an innocent.

  Chad shuffled away as carefully as he could. Romeo snuffled, scratched the top of his head, then rolled onto his side.

  Chad didn’t try to reach his crutches, but used the doorframes and walls to get through the house. He found himself in the kitchen and sat down at the table. The radio was off, and the house was silent. Chad took a deep breath and imagined he was in the incident room; he imagined he was back with his team.

  “The killer’s wearing a nice pair of shoes.”

  Chad heard Martin’s voice in his head. Size ten shoes, but they hadn’t known the color. Chad knew. He was looking at them, black shoes that Romeo had looked after, had already prepared. They were on a chair by the back door.

  “We believe him to be smartly dressed…”

  Zac’s voice trailed off. Chad stared at Romeo’s suit, hanging up, not a crease on the luscious material.

  “The killer’s using his hands, both hands.”

  Gareth’s voice, and he sounded repulsed. Chad knew Romeo’s hands intimately; he liked the feel of them on his body. The same hands that killed helped to feed him, helped him up, washed him, brushed his teeth, stroked him, brought him to orgasm. How would he ever explain he craved those hands? How would they understand, when he didn’t even understand it himself? But the alternative wasn’t an alternative. Let Romeo claim his last, then what? Walk hand in hand into the sunset.

  It wasn’t going to happen.

  Chad flipped over the newspaper on the table, Romeo had taken the front page, but the articles on the countdown killer spread almost to the center spread. Chad stopped on a page, and his gut twisted.

  It was the DI, recovering at home after his heart attack, but swearing he’d find Chad. He wouldn’t stop until he found him. Chad was one of them, and they looked after their own.

  Chad closed his eyes, and it was Kate’s voice he heard.

  “We’re like a family, the DI, me, Gareth, Martin, and you. We need to be there for each other.”

  Chad reopened his eyes, knowing she was right. They were his family, and as much as he’d formed a messed-up affection for Romeo, his loyalty was to them, to his job, to the public. He’d been ignoring the headline articles on the walls for too long, avoiding the news programs and any mention of the countdown killer. Romeo and the monster were one, just as he and the detective were.

  He’d lost his mind to Romeo’s game, but he wasn’t going to let Romeo kill a member of the public.

  He wouldn’t let it happen, and he had a plan to make sure it didn’t.

  Chad couldn’t limp across the endless fields to get help, but he could bring help to him. No phones or technology, but there was something he could use: fire.

  A huge fire capable of attracting the attention of the cars in the distance.

  ****

  Chad opened the drawers in the kitchen, searching for matches. He grabbed the box, then opened the back door as quietly as he could. He didn’t get his crutches. He wanted to feel every painful stepped towards the barn.

  Before he slipped inside, he looked back to ensure Romeo wasn’t following. The house was quiet and still, Romeo apparently blissfully asleep.

  Chad limped into the barn. He was scared, nervous, but for once his mind was free of guilt. It had to be done. The countdown killer was going to be caught.

  He struck a match, watched it dance in the wind, then threw it on the first pile of hay. He threw another in the stack under the first floor, undercover. It was drier, and took to the flame faster than Chad had expected. There was no way of stopping it, no backing out of his plan, and the inevitability calmed him.

  Chad left the barn. The hay crackled, the flames fanned by the wind sounding warped, more a roar. He thought about going back into the house, curling up next to Romeo, but he didn’t. He watched the barn burn, shuffling around the side so he could finally see the monster Romeo had painted on the barn.

  A grotesque creature with claws, spikes, fangs, but Chad’s focus went straight to its eyes. Green eyes, but they didn’t look angry, or spiteful. They looked sad. Not only a monster, but a tortured soul inside. Romeo had described it as looking into a mirror.

  “What have you done!”

&nb
sp; Chad turned to Romeo. He walked out bare-footed, hands on his head, and aghast expression directed at the burning barn. It glowed orange, and a plume of smoke drifted into the sky. It was still dark outside, but even the sparse cars from the road would be able to see the fire. They’d call the police, the fire station. Someone would come; it was only a matter of time.

  Romeo pulled his gaze from the barn, to Chad.

  He expected anger, but was instead faced with watering eyes and a quivering lip. It was a look of pure betrayal, and it hurt, hurt so much Chad’s eyes watered.

  “I’m a detective,” Chad breathed. “And you’re the serial killer I need to catch.”

  “How—how could you do that to me?”

  His devastated tone stabbed straight into Chad’s heart, and he bowed forward. Romeo stared at him, wide-eyed, lips bobbing open and closed. It was the fourth time Chad had shocked him, but this time it didn’t feel good.

  “One more, I only needed one, and then I’d have been free.”

  “Free. We both want to be free.”

  “We would’ve been. I was gonna let you go!”

  Chad limped closer, until he was able to take Romeo’s hand in his. “Will you come home with me?”

  “What?”

  Chad gestured to the farmhouse. “Let me invite you inside.”

  He tugged on Romeo’s hand, leading him away from the burning barn, back to the house. Progress was slow, and the whole time he felt Romeo’s confused gaze pressing into the side of his face.

  “What?”

  “Just come home.”

  “You said you wouldn’t try to stop me—”

  “I never said that … and I’m not.” Romeo tried to pull his hand free of Chad’s, but he kept a firm hold. “Trust me.”

  “Trust you?”

  Chad pushed open the backdoor, pulling Romeo along. He stopped, turned around to face Romeo, and looked him in the eye.

  “Now what happens?”

  Romeo scrunched up his face. “What do you mean now what happens? You’ve set the barn on fire. I’ve got to get out of here.”