It makes me wish I wasn’t so picky about the guys I fucked. I should have had a hoe phase.
I was just always too busy for it. Too many responsibilities will do that to you.
“Huh,” I say, lips pursed. “Do you normally walk around graveyards alone? It’s giving off serial killer vibes.”
“I quite like it here,” the man says, shrugging. “I wouldn’t call myself a killer per se. But I do take the souls of the people on my list, the ones who call to me. Yours I wasn’t expecting so soon. I didn’t expect you to make it so easy for me to find you. You don’t look like you’re bleeding or sick. Did you come here to kill yourself?”
“I… no. I mean, I don’t think so? I don’t really want to die,” I confess.
This man is crazy, clearly. Talking about taking souls and shit? Is he on something?
He cocks his head to the side, watching me. His intense stare from his dark eyes makes me shiver. In fear or arousal, I have no clue right now. Feeling uncomfortable from the silence, I keep rambling. “I came to yell and feel sorry for myself. I don’t think I’d have the guts to jump from the cliff over there.”
“Why not?” he asks, smirking as he stalks forward. My cock is very fucking interested right now.
“It wouldn’t make much sense for me to rant that I’m going to die, only to kill myself,” I grit out angrily.
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” he says snidely. “Nothing you humans do makes sense.”
“Humans…” I say, struggling to wrap my brain around it. “You talk as if you're not one.”
“I’m not.” he says matter of fact.
I snort out a laugh. “Alright, I’ll humor you. What are you then?”
“A reaper.” He stops a few feet in front of me.
“A reaper? As in the paranormal thing from stories that comes and takes your soul when it's time to die?” Yeah, this guy is clearly on something.
Although, the more I look at him, he doesn’t seem like a man on drugs. Sure, his eyes are nearly black, giving off these unearthly vibes. They have to be contacts.
I’ve read that you should play into crazy people's delusions so they don’t become agitated and erratic. “So as a nonhuman, do you have a name, or should I keep calling you ‘Reaper’ in my head?”
“Aw, the human is already calling me pet names, how sweet,” the reaper croons sarcastically.
I wonder if his lips are softer than they look from here. Every word feels like a whip over my senses. Except, instead of flaying my skin open, it makes me want more. Unbidden, my foot takes a step forward.
What are you doing Onyx, you should be stepping away from the crazy man, not towards. No matter how sexy he is or how much he makes your cock hard.
“I wouldn’t go quite that far,” I murmur, smirking. “It’s more curiosity and manners. My mother taught me to respect my elders.”
“Elders…Fuck me, boy. I’m several thousands of years old, but being called your elder feels very wrong,” he grumbles. His gaze feels as if it’s penetrating my body, and I find that I can’t breathe as I wait. “My name is Bane.”
“I’m Onyx,” I say, shrugging as he looks surprised. “It’s my real name. My mother has a very interesting sense of humor, what can I say?”
“Well, Onyx, why are you yelling at God? You know He doesn’t give a shit about you, right? The man upstairs sees you all as tiny ants overrunning the world,” Bane says.
“You kind of suck at pep talks,” I tell him, rolling my eyes. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll continue my walk.”
Turning away, I force my feet to move away from him, even though I can feel how magnetic he is. He’s not someone that I should want to be near, and I certainly don’t want a hug. He makes me want to do all the dirty things I stroke my cock to when I’m alone in my apartment, the things I’m afraid to ask for.
He’s a killer, I’m almost positive of that. And I’m a man on death row because of this cancer inside of me. But I’m not sure if this man is the one I’d want to take me out.
There could be worse ways to go then having a man kill me while I’m cumming on his cock.
Fucking hell. What kind of thoughts are these? Has the cancer spread to my brain or some shit?
Reality is, I’m dying. It may not be today, but it will happen. I supposed there’s nothing to be done.
