15. Fifteen

Jamie was sprawled across my chest, his breath warm and even against my neck as he slept. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the grimy hotel curtains, casting the room in a washed-out yellow. I'd been awake for a while, just lying there and holding him, marveling at the strange twist of fate that brought us together.

It had been three days since that first charged, intimate moment, when I'd woken to Jamie's mouth on me, worshipping me with a reverence I'd never known. Three days of lying low in this shitty motel room, waiting for the heat to die down and for Jamie and Tammy's wounds to heal .

Tammy had been over a few times, but she was getting antsy to move on already. She wanted to do what she could to lay her husband's remains to rest, and to salvage what she could of their life. I didn't blame her. And so Tammy had set off on her own earlier in the day to do just that.

Jamie shifted against me, nuzzling deeper into the crook of my neck with a sleepy sigh. The casual intimacy of it still caught me off guard sometimes. I wasn't used to this, to having someone need me, want me, for more than a quick fuck or a job. Hell, I wasn't used to wanting someone this way either - like a gnawing hunger in my gut, an itch under my skin that only Jamie could scratch.

Despite the quiet contentment of the past few days, I could feel a restless itch starting to crawl beneath my skin. It was a feeling I knew well, one that had been my constant companion for as long as I could remember. The urge to hurt, to destroy, to take a life and watch the light fade from my victim's eyes.

It had been too long since I'd last scratched that itch. The thrill of the road, the rush of smuggling and evading the law, had kept it at bay for a while. And more recently, the intoxicating distraction of Jamie, his touch and taste and the dark hunger in his eyes that mirrored my own. But now, even with Jamie warm and pliant in my arms, I could feel that old bloodlust rising, coiling hot and insistent in my gut.

I tried to push it down, to focus on the steady thrum of Jamie's heartbeat against my chest, the soft puffs of his breath against my neck. I didn't want to disturb this fragile peace we'd found, this respite from the violence and chaos that constantly dogged our heels. But even as I held him closer, burying my nose in his hair and breathing in his scent, I knew it was only a matter of time before the need grew too strong to ignore .

My mind began to wander, conjuring vivid images of past kills, phantom sensations of hot blood on my hands and the meaty thunk of metal impacting flesh and bone. Maybe it was because I was so pissed I'd let Romeo escape and Deacon unavenged. Maybe it was just because I was sitting on my thumbs instead of being on the road where I belonged. Either way, I needed to scratch that itch, and soon. But once I did, we might have to move on or risk bringing the law down on us.

As if sensing my dark thoughts, Jamie stirred against me, his eyelashes fluttering open. Those piercing dark eyes met mine, still hazy with sleep but sharpening quickly as he took in my expression.

"What's wrong, honey bunny?" he murmured, his voice raspy. He shifted up onto his elbow to see my face better, the sheet slipping down to pool at his waist.

I reached out to brush a stray curl off his forehead, marveling at the softness of his skin, the delicate arch of his cheekbone. "Nothing, pumpkin. Just thinkin'."

Jamie leaned into my touch, his eyes drifting half-closed. But there was a knowing glint in that gaze, an understanding that went soul-deep. "Thinkin' about what you need to do," he said quietly. It wasn't a question.

I huffed a rueful laugh. Wasn't any point in denying it, not with him. "Yeah. Gettin' antsy. Been too long since I…scratched that itch."

Something flickered in Jamie's eyes, there and gone too quick to decipher. His pink tongue darted out to wet his lips. "I know what you mean," he said, his voice gone low and rough. "I feel it too. That hunger."

He shifted over me, straddling my hips. The drag of his bare skin against mine sent sparks skittering down my spine. My hands settled on Jamie's slim hips as if they belonged there, fingers digging into the firm muscle. He was already half-hard against my stomach, his pupils blown wide and dark with desire.

Jamie leaned down, his hair falling around us like a curtain as he brought his lips to my ear. "I want to watch you do it," he breathed, his voice sending shivers through me. "I want to see the life drain from their eyes as you take them apart. I want to taste their blood on your skin."

Jamie's words lit a fire in my blood, dark and all-consuming. My grip tightened on his hips as I rolled us over, pinning him beneath me. He let out a breathless laugh, his eyes glinting with wicked delight.

"Fuck, Jamie," I growled, nipping at his throat. "You have no idea what you do to me."

"Oh, I think I have some idea," Jamie purred, grinding his hips up into mine. The friction made me groan, my already hard cock throbbing with need.

I captured his mouth in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue, devouring him. Jamie kissed me back just as fiercely, his nails raking down my back hard enough to draw blood.

When I broke away, we were both panting harshly. Jamie's lips were kiss swollen and slick with spit, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink. He looked absolutely debauched, and it was the most beautiful fucking thing I'd ever seen.

"I want to do it tonight," I rasped, my voice rough with lust and bloodlust. "And I want you to help."

Jamie's grin was razor-sharp and feral. "I thought you'd never ask."

We took our time getting ready. There was something deeply erotic about helping each other dress for the hunt.

I helped Jamie into his tight black jeans, my hands lingering on the curve of his ass as I pulled the denim up over his slim hips. He shimmied a little, throwing a coy glance over his shoulder at me. I gave his ass a light smack, making him yelp and laugh.

Next was a sheer black mesh top that left little to the imagination. It clung to Jamie's lithe torso like a second skin, his dusky nipples clearly visible through the fabric. He struck a pose, jutting out one hip. "How do I look?"

I raked my gaze over him, from his combat boots to his painted-on jeans to the slutty top and the fingerprint bruises I'd left on his pale throat. My cock throbbed in my jeans. "Perfect."

Jamie smirked and sauntered over to me, all rolling hips and bedroom eyes. He trailed his fingers down my chest. "Your turn."

I stood still as he dressed me, savoring the brush of his fingers against my skin as he buttoned my worn flannel shirt, leaving the top few undone to expose the hollow of my throat. He smoothed his hands over my chest, his touch lingering, before reaching for my belt. The rasp of leather through denim seemed obscenely loud in the charged silence.

Jamie knelt to slip my feet into heavy boots, his clever fingers lacing them tightly. My breath caught at the sight of him on his knees before me, his pink lips parted and eyes hooded. He looked up at me through his lashes as he finished, his hands sliding slowly up my thighs as he rose. I caught his wrists, yanking him against me and claiming his mouth in a filthy kiss.

We broke apart, both of us breathing hard. Jamie's lips were red and slick, his eyes glassy with desire. I wanted nothing more than to throw him down on the bed and fuck him senseless, but the itch beneath my skin was growing more insistent by the second. The need to hunt, to kill, was a living thing inside me, clawing at my guts.

"Let's go," I growled, grabbing my keys and heading for the door.

We hit the road in my rig, the rumble of the engine echoing the dark anticipation thrumming through my veins. Jamie was a live wire beside me, his leg bouncing and fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh. I could practically taste his excitement, sharp and electric on my tongue.

I drove us to the edge of town, to a seedy little strip joint called the Kitty Kat Club. It was the kind of place where the air reeked of stale beer and desperation, where men came to drink away their sorrows and blow their paychecks on a few fleeting moments of manufactured affection. The perfect hunting ground.

We walked in like we owned the place, Jamie pressing close to my side. The bouncer barely glanced at our IDs before waving us through with a disinterested grunt. Inside, the club was dimly lit and smoky, the throbbing bass of the music rattling my ribcage. A few bored-looking dancers writhed halfheartedly on the stage, their dead eyes and forced smiles a testament to the soul-sucking nature of the job.

We grabbed a booth near the back, giving us a good view of the room. A waitress sauntered over, her tired eyes barely flickering over us as she took our order of a whiskey for me and a beer for Jamie. As she walked away, I scanned the room, my predator's gaze searching for the right prey.

I wasn't like Jamie, who'd kill anybody, anytime, for any reason. I had a specific type I was looking for, the kind of motherfucker nobody would miss. Not because he was nobody, or because he didn't have a family, but because he was a stain on humanity. I viewed my work as a public service, taking out the trash of society.

My eyes landed on a man at the bar who fit the bill perfectly. He was in his fifties, with a sweaty red face and a paunch straining against his cheap button-down shirt. He had a beer in one meaty fist and the other hand was groping the ass of the uncomfortable-looking dancer perched on the stool next to him.

Even from a distance, I could read him like a book. The wedding ring he kept twisting on his finger as his eyes roved over the dancers' bodies. The white powder crusted under his nose, the glassy sheen to his eyes. The arrogant tilt to his chin, like he thought his money gave him the right to take whatever he wanted.

Yeah, this asshole would do just fine.

I leaned in close to Jamie, my lips brushing the shell of his ear. "There. At the bar. The fucker in the blue shirt."

Jamie followed my gaze, a slow, wicked smile curling his lips. "Ooh, he's perfect," he purred, a dark hunger kindling in his eyes. "Disgusting piece of shit. How do you want to play it?"

"Figured you could lure him out. Bat those pretty eyes, shake that ass. Get him to follow you outside for a private dance."

Jamie licked his lips. "Mmm, you know I'm good at being bait. And once I get him alone?"

"Then I'll take care of the rest," I rumbled, my hand sliding up Jamie's thigh beneath the table. "And then I'll let the hammer do the talking."

Jamie shivered, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he leaned into my touch. "Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty."

I squeezed his thigh, my fingers digging into the taut muscle. "Go on then, pumpkin. Show me what you can do."

With a final heated glance, Jamie slithered out of the booth and sauntered towards the bar, his hips swaying enticingly. I watched through hooded eyes as he slid up next to our target, his body language open and inviting.

It didn't take long for the man to notice Jamie, his little piggy eyes lighting up as they raked over my boy's lithe form. Jamie leaned in close, batting his lashes and licking his lips. The man's meaty hand settled on Jamie's hip, and it took all my self-control not to go over there and tear the guy's arm off.

But this was the game, the thrill of the hunt. So I stayed put, sipping my whiskey and waiting for my cue. Jamie knew what he was doing, knew how to play men like a fucking fiddle.

Sure enough, within minutes, he was leading the man towards the back door, throwing a sly glance at me over his shoulder. I knocked back the last of my drink and followed them out at a distance.

The alley behind the Kitty Kat Club was dark and rank, the air thick with the stench of piss and rotten garbage. I hung back in the shadows, watching as Jamie led the man deeper into the alley, away from prying eyes.

Jamie had the man pressed up against the dirty brick wall, his lithe body undulating against the guy's bulk like a snake. The man's hands were all over him, groping and squeezing. Low, breathy moans spilled from Jamie's lips, the kind of pornographic sounds that went straight to my cock.

But I could see the disgust in Jamie's eyes, the barely leashed violence. He was playing a role, putting on a show, but underneath it all, he wanted to tear the bastard apart, same as me.

I retrieved my hammer from where I'd stashed it earlier beside the dumpster. The man was so focused on Jamie, so fucking drunk on cheap booze and cheaper thrills, that he didn't even notice me approaching. Not until it was too late.

I grabbed the man by the back of his shirt and yanked him away from Jamie, flinging him hard against the opposite wall. He hit with a meaty thud and slid to the ground, dazed. Jamie spun around, his eyes flashing with savage glee.

"What the fuck?" the man slurred, struggling to get to his feet. His piggy eyes darted between me and Jamie, slowly registering the danger he was in.

I didn't bother with any speeches or grand threats. I let the hammer do my talking, just as I'd promised. The first swing connected with the side of his head with a satisfying crack. Blood sprayed the filthy brick wall as he crumpled. I was on him in an instant, pinning his body under me. The hammer rose and fell, rose and fell, painting the alley in gore.

There was a savage sort of artistry to it, a primal, visceral thrill in watching the light fade from his eyes, in feeling the life drain out of him with each wet, meaty impact. The bloodlust roared through me, setting every nerve alight with dark ecstasy. This was my drug, my highest high. Nothing else could even come close.

Except maybe being inside Jamie, but fuck it. Why not have both?

I lost myself to it, to the slick slide of blood on steel, the jolt up my arm with every blow, the meaty smack of metal on flesh and the wet crunch of shattering bone sang in my ears. Flecks of blood and thicker things spattered my face, hot and coppery. The man gurgled and twitched, limbs spasming weakly. But I didn't let up, just kept bringing the hammer down until his skull caved like a rotten pumpkin.

My arm ached and my breath came harsh and ragged, but I didn't stop. Couldn't stop. The man's skull was obliterated, his face an unrecognizable ruin of pulped flesh and shattered bone. But still I brought the hammer down, each wet smack sending a dark thrill singing through my veins.

Blood pooled around the corpse, gleaming wetly in the dim light. The coppery reek of it filled my nose, sharp and intoxicating. Gore streaked my arms to the elbows, hot and slick. I was covered in him, marked by death. Possessed by it .

I'd never felt so alive. The itch beneath my skin was gone, the restless hunger sated at last. In its place was a savage sort of peace, a stillness that came only in the aftermath of the kill. I breathed it in, letting it fill me up, cleanse me.

My cock throbbed almost painfully in my jeans, achingly hard. The brutal violence always got me revved up, made me want to rut and claim and possess. I looked up at Jamie, meeting his wild, fevered gaze. His eyes were blown black with lust, his full lips parted and panting.

"Fuck, that was so hot," he breathed, his voice rasping. "You're so fucking beautiful like this, all covered in blood. Makes me want to lick it off you."

I growled low in my throat and shoved to my feet, dropping the hammer with a clang. In two swift strides, I had Jamie pushed up against the alley wall, grinding myself against him.

Jamie moaned as I claimed his mouth in a brutal kiss, all teeth and tongue. The coppery taste of blood mingled with the sweetness of him. My hands roved over his body, streaking his pale skin with crimson.

"Need you," I growled against his lips. "Right fucking now."

Jamie rolled his hips against mine, letting me feel how hard he was. "Then take me," he panted. "Right here. Want to feel you inside me while his blood is still warm on your skin."

A shudder ripped through me at his filthy words. I attacked his throat, biting and sucking, painting his flesh with gore and bruises. Jamie keened, scrabbling at my back, grinding himself against me shamelessly.

I reached between us, fumbling with his fly. He helped me shove his tight jeans down around his thighs, freeing his flushed, leaking cock. The sight made me salivate. I spun him around roughly to face the wall. Jamie braced himself on his forearms and arched his back, presenting himself to me.

I slicked my fingers with spit and a smear of blood, then plunged two into his tight heat without preamble. Jamie cried out, clenching around me. I worked him open with quick, brutal efficiency, too far gone to be gentle.

Freeing my own aching cock, I lined up and pushed inside in one rough thrust. Jamie let out a broken moan as I buried myself to the hilt, his body gripping me like a vise. I paused for only a moment, savoring the tight clench of his body around me, before I started to move.

I set a punishing pace, slamming into him with bruising force. Each brutal thrust shoved Jamie against the rough brick wall, the harsh scrape no doubt leaving his skin raw. But he just pushed back against me, taking everything I gave him and begging for more with wordless, desperate sounds.

My blood-slick hands gripped his hips hard enough to bruise as I pistoned into him. The filthy alley echoed with the obscene slap of flesh on flesh, our harsh panting, and Jamie's moans. The thick, coppery scent of blood and sex hung heavy in the air.

Jamie reached back to grip my wrist, smearing the blood there as he urged me on. "Harder!"

"Fuck," I grunted, slamming into him with renewed force. He was so goddamn perfect like this, begging for my cock. Begging for the pain and the pleasure of it.

I shifted the angle of my hips and Jamie gasped.

"There! Right fucking there! Fuck!"

I hammered into that spot relentlessly, watching in dark satisfaction as Jamie fell to pieces on my cock. His neglected dick wept steadily, smearing the dirty brick wall with pre-cum. He was close. I could feel it in the way he spasmed around me, his muscles fluttering and clenching erratically.

"Touch yourself," I ordered roughly, punctuating my words with a particularly vicious thrust. "Want to feel you come on my cock."

Jamie whimpered but obeyed. His strokes quickly turned frantic as I battered his sweet spot without mercy. It only took a handful of tugs before he was painting the wall. With a guttural groan, I buried myself deep and let go, filling him with everything I had.

For a long moment, we just stayed like that, locked together and panting harshly. Jamie sagged against the wall, his legs trembling. I draped myself over his back, nuzzling into the sweat-damp hair at his nape.

Reluctantly, I pulled out and stepped back. Jamie turned to face me, his expression sated and slightly dazed. I drank in the sight of him - hair mussed, lips kiss-swollen, blood smeared across his face and chest. His jeans were still tangled around his thighs, my release trickling obscenely down his legs. He looked thoroughly debauched. Marked. Mine.

"Holy fuck," Jamie said with a slightly manic giggle. He reached out to smear a streak of blood across my cheek with his thumb. "We should get cleaned up before someone sees us."

I caught his wrist, bringing his gore-streaked fingers to my mouth. Maintaining eye contact, I sucked on his fingers.

Jamie's eyes widened and darkened as I laved his fingers with my tongue, tasting the coppery tang of blood mingled with his own salty-sweet essence. A low moan escaped his kiss-swollen lips and his spent cock twitched valiantly against his thigh.

"Jesus, Stu," he breathed.

I released his fingers with a wet pop and smirked. "Get dressed. I got some more stuff I want to work out on that ass. "

Jamie huffed a laugh and began straightening his clothes, wincing slightly as he pulled up his tight jeans over his sensitive flesh. I tucked myself away and retrieved my gore-streaked hammer, wiping it mostly clean on the dead man's shirt before throwing it over my shoulder.

I took a final look at the corpse, now just a cooling slab of meat in a puddle of congealing blood. The savage itch beneath my skin was quiet, my mind clear and calm in the aftermath of brutal violence. I felt centered, grounded, the way I only did after a kill.

But I knew the feeling wouldn't last. It never did. The hunger always came back. Eventually.