“Do we want them to find his body? They won’t know what to make of it,” I ask him.
He runs his hands through his hair, taming the wild waves, contemplating before answering, “Yeah, they’ll need to be able to identify him in order for his family to receive life insurance or whatever he left behind.” I nod, not fully understanding. But that’s why he’s here. I couldn’t navigate this kind of thing without him.
I spend another second just staring at this Sam person. His ending was earned, and I will not spend another fucking second worrying about him. His family, and mine, are all free from his poison now.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Fritz finally says, equally sick of seeing what’s left of him. After we both snap back to our human bodies we leave the house and the corpse behind. Traipsing back to where we parked his car, he continues to whistle that same fucking song the whole way.
“Can you stop that?” I finally snap.
He gives me a mischievous smirk before singingveryloudly and horribly, “They sell Tennessee ham and strawberry jam and they don’t lose any sleep at night.” Then sliding into the driver’s seat, waiting for me to sit in mine.
He’s been singing that god’s damned song to himself for two days now, and I’m ready to kill him, too, just to stop hearing it.
Despite my annoyance at my friend, I feel immensely better. A little dismemberment and torture to those who deserve it brings me peace. The only thing better than this is obviously my sweet Bel’s perfect body. Two days is two too many to go without feeling her, all wet and hot, clenching around me as she comes.
After you shower and rest.I didn’t use much of my magic on this trip, but I also didn’t eat him. The idea of using that filth to fuel me didn’t sit right. His death was as useless as his life, as it should be. Now he’s nothing. Not even rotting flesh anymore, thanks to Fritz. Fully decomposed, barely recognizable.
The drive to the hotel we were supposed to sleep in for the last two nights drags on, the horrific smell of death and decay covering us both. We could use magic to clean it all away, but I’m exhausted and want to do it the lazy way.
When we finally climb out of the car and walk towards our room, I get hit with overwhelming dizziness again, causing me to stumble. I lean against the wall to get my bearings, waiting for it to pass.Perhaps I’m more drained than I thought.
“Hey, man, you good?” Fritz asks, concern filling his features.
“I’m alright, I think perhaps I’m just tired from all this. I’m not sure I’ve adjusted to being back yet,” I assure him.
“Okay, I just texted Bel to check-in. She hasn’t responded yet but it’s late so we’ll probably hear from her in the morning.” He unlocks the door, and we pour ourselves inside. I try to drop onto the bed, but he grabs my arm to lift me back up, “Hell no, you need to shower first. I’m pretty sure you got eyeball juice on your chest,” he mimics gagging, and shoves me toward the bathroom.
After a very long shower, I flop face down on the bed and think about reaching out to Bel. But Fritz already did, and she’s probably asleep by now. I should have messaged her while we’ve been away, as I know Fritz has. But communicating so frequently is a new thing to me. It wasn’t even close to possible in my day, and I’m not sure what the social protocols are for it.
There’s also the matter of fact that had I reached out, it would have ruined the illusion that we were having some kind of romantic getaway. Fritz didn’t think it would, and perhaps from him, it did not. This is all just so… infuriatingly confusing for me still.
On his way to the bathroom, Fritz calls out, “Bel texted. She said she was out with Isla all night, just got home, and can’t wait to see us tomorrow.”Oh, good. I was concerned that maybe she had been alone while we’ve been away.
If she’s been going out with Isla every night, she’ll be sleeping all day tomorrow. We could get a few hours of sleep, be on the road before dawn, and make it back before she wakes. I tell Fritz as much, and he sets an alarm to wake us in four hours.
Tomorrow.We will be back with our sweet sacrifice in less than 12 hours.
* * *
Of all the car rides I’ve had in the last weeks, this one is by far the longest.Traffic. How do the mortals have international communication and interplanetary travel, yet cannot conquer this thing called traffic? It is utterly absurd, and I tell Fritz as much. Several times.
As we move at a snail’s pace across the asphalt, Fritz tells me a little more about his time over the last few centuries. He was an actor in plays for a while, which makes perfect sense. He fucked a king so hard that he killed him and had to cover it up. That story made me laugh out loud, seeing as the only possible way to do that would be on purpose.
Fritz’s craving for violence is wholly different than mine, less conspicuous, but it’s still there, simmering under the surface. He scares me sometimes because his inventiveness far outweighs my own. I once watched him order the quarter and drawing of a man, using his powers to keep him alive as long as physically possible to ensure he felt every second of his body tearing into pieces.
And he watched the entire thing with his cock buried inside someone’s mouth.
He likes to be tortured almost equally as much. I’ve used a branding iron on him more than once due to him askingverynicely, of course. Idly, I wonder if he’d be more inclined to give or receive pain from our little dove.
“Bro, are you hard right now?” he asks suddenly, breaking me out of my trance.
I glance down at the very obvious proof, “I’m thinking about all the ways I’m going to have Bel cause you pain,” I answer honestly.
“Oooooh,” he reaches to turn the dial and make the music filling the car fall to near silence, “What have you come up with thus far? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve rubbed one out thinking about her fucking me with a strap on.”
There’s an idea.Definitely one we should explore, once she’s comfortable. “I was thinking about the times I branded you,” he groans, “but she’d probably be too scared for something that extreme. She can watch, but I’d bet she wants to keep it simple. Flogging, maybe. Let her slap you around a bit while you beg to have her.”
“I like all of those ideas,” he palms himself through his pants, “I’ve wondered if she’d like to tie me up and use candle wax to burn me. A softer version of branding, I suppose. Still leaving a mark.” The ideas he’s sharing has me biting back a moan. She’d look so good, wrapped in some of those strappy, lacy underthings, painting a picture on his pale skin. She’d be rocking her hips against his hard cock as she does so, drawing soft groans from him while he struggles against the bindings.
