Chapter 2
Kinzer downed the last drop of Jack from his glass. With his increasing weakness as a clipped immortal, also came the ability to get tipsy a hell of a lot faster—something he appreciated, especially after everything that had happened.
The loss of his wings. The loss of his pride. The loss of his allies and friends.
Once again, he found himself on his own.
He’d been squatting in the same warehouse he and Maggie had stayed in before they’d set out on their mission to find and slay the Christ. That mission had gone to shit just like everything else in his life.
Kinzer glanced around the bar, one he’d had great success picking up tricks in for the past few weeks. It was his hobby while he desperately searched for contacts, leads, allies. But it was a desert out there—silence. Those he could trust, he couldn’t track down. Dead, he presumed. And some contacts he’d communicated with in the past, he wasn’t willing to risk reaching out to since he didn’t know who to trust anymore. He was desperate…feeling defeated and worn out. And like it might have been time to give up.
Somewhere in the world, Janka was with that monster—the one Kinzer had watched explode from that infant body. And while Janka used it in whatever way he could to expedite the apocalypse, the Council continued hunting, not for Janka, but for Kinzer and Treycore. Believing they had been responsible for the massacre, the Council was on a wild-goose chase, scouring Earth for them, while Janka worked in secret to seize control of all the realms, using one of the most powerful weapons in existence.
Kinzer didn’t understand how Janka planned to use the Christ, only that it was clear it was somehow the secret to unleashing a violent end on all of humanity. With each passing day, he wondered if the next would bring with it the awareness of what that creature could do, if only because he would have to witness its reign of terror.
What a great reason to drink, Kinzer told himself as he ordered another shot and downed it like he had the one before.
Kinzer noticed a young man, probably in his early twenties, glancing at him from across the bar. As Kinzer made eye contact with him, the guy looked away quickly, as though he didn’t want Kinzer to catch on to his interest.
He could feel the mortal’s discomfort. He had that look about him, one Kinzer had seen all too frequently. A sort of awkwardness a guy had when it was his first time at a gay bar.
Oh, a sign of such interesting times. So peculiar for Kinzer to have lived in so many different places and through so many different cultures—seeing how differently they each acted about their sexual impulses, recalling certain times where it wasn’t unusual for the majority of men to fuck each other without worrying if it branded them as being socially transgressive.
The mortal wandered off before glancing back over his shoulder and exchanging a look with Kinzer once again.
Kinzer’s dick expanded, pushing across his leg, against the side of his boxers. He rose to his feet and followed the mortal—surely a Seth or Tom…no, a Billy. That name would suit him just fine.
Kinzer followed Billy to a car in the parking lot behind the bar, and the guy slid into the back, keeping the door open. Kinzer took it as an invitation.
He got in and closed the door behind him. Without exchanging words, they stripped down together. As Kinzer did, he noticed his reflection in the rearview mirror. His messy charcoal-black hair was thick, unkempt. His face, covered in a thick beard he hadn’t trimmed, was even paler than usual, the bags under his eyes severe, an indication of exactly how little sleep he’d gotten since his last encounter with Janka.
As Kinzer and Billy started messing around, Kinzer didn’t kiss the mortal. He guided him onto his knees and took him from behind. He pressed the guy’s face against the window as he forced his cock inside him, which took some effort because he was using spit as lube.
The guy was tight enough that Kinzer knew it had to be intense, but he didn’t resist. Didn’t even ask for Kinzer to slow down. He obviously hungered for it the way Kinzer did.
They needed release. They needed something to grant them some relief from a cruel, twisted, lonely existence.
As Kinzer filled Billy with his cock, he hooked his arm around him and pulled him close, his sweaty flesh sticking to his own.
“God, you feel amazing!” Billy whimpered.
Kinzer tugged on his hair, pulling so the guy’s head kicked back as he cried out.
“Just like that,” he begged.
And the feeling of being in the kid’s tight hole helped Kinzer feel some ease, but as always, never enough, because no amount of fucking could wash away the agony that haunted him. Plagued him.
He hated how, even as he fucked Billy, like with so many other times, he kept imagining he was with Hayde. No matter what a bastard Hayde was, Kinzer couldn’t shake the passion they’d shared—the power, the intensity of the energy between them when they had sex. He’d fucked enough in his long life to know it wasn’t always like that, couldn’t always be like that.
It was torture knowing the one creature who could give him such complete and utter sexual satisfaction was someone he could never share that with again, because the next thing he put in Hayde wouldn’t be his dick—it’d be his sword.
Despite his certainty of that, it wouldn’t keep him from imagining fucking Hayde again, because at least in his mind, he could enjoy that passion, even if it made him feel guilty as fuck, like he was spitting on Maggie’s grave.
Kinzer’s rage swelled with his dick, and as he pretended Billy was Hayde, he hooked his arm around his throat and tugged. He wanted to choke him, to end him. He restrained himself because he knew it was only a fantasy, and the guy he was fucking hadn’t done anything wrong.
“You fucking bastard!” Kinzer shouted as he spooged inside Billy.
“Fuck yeah. Fuck…oh.” The guy jerked himself off until he spewed onto the upholstery in his car.
