Invictus, page 4
I’m only trying to prepare her for that.
“Now what?” she asks. I can see that the drunk is already hard and I choose to ignore the thrusting motions he’s making toward us—well, toward me.
“Well you have to take his underwear off, don’t you?” I reply as though I’m speaking to a child. It’s a wonder that I even have the patience for this right now.
“Aye aye, Captain.” Her smile is as filthy as the bathroom I picked this subject up in, and, reaching up, she pulls his boxer shorts down to his thighs.
“Now, grab it tightly in your hand,” I direct with a sigh. At this point, I’m ready to do it myself, but I can’t. This is her moment and she has to seize it, bull cock and all.
The subject leans his head back and moans softly and I’m tempted to take the blade from her and cut his throat open. We can always try again on someone else, but now that I see how easy it is to arouse him, I want to try something different.
“Don’t let go,” I whisper gently into her ear.
She turns her face toward mine, lips gently grazing the end of my nose, and nods. I hate to say it but I can feel myself becoming hard at her slight touch too, so I can understand the sound that escapes the subject fully now.
I walk quickly toward the desk near the door and pull open the drawer. Inside there should be—ah! There it is; right where I left it. I quickly open the metal box and pull out a small, rectangular brown paper sleeve and walk back toward her. With a wink, I reach down between her legs and pull the blade away from her. It’s where it’s been sitting this entire time because she wouldn’t stop playing with it and I was afraid she’d cut him before he woke up.
“How about one last good time?” I ask the subject casually as I open one end of the sleeve. What I will have Atasha do is cruel and unnecessary, but he’s earned this by being bold and wanton with his desires.
“Bring it on,” he says, still half drunk and not fully understanding what I just said to him.
After I carefully remove the items I want from the sleeve, I close it and slide it into my pants pocket. Then I gently take Atasha’s hand away from his hard dick and slide my fingers between hers. Once we’re done with him, he won’t be “feeling” too much for anything other than wanting it to end.
“Are you ready?” I ask her again, gently. She looks down at her hands and shifts her forefinger slightly to better see what I’ve placed between our fingers. Her smile—and the feverish urge I’ve been dying to see appears on her face.
Her eyes brighten with an intense fire as she nods. She grips him, my hand still on top of hers.
“Tell him the main rule,” I prompt her quietly.
“If you scream; if you make one fucking sound—I’ll kill you,” she says in the stone-cold voice I heard the first night I encountered her in that grungy alleyway.
There she is. The Atasha that so easily murdered a man at a simple command; she’s here and she’s ready to conduct her first experiment.
“Let the extra skin stay where it is,” I say to her with a smirk. “There won’t be much left soon anyway.”
Before the subject has a chance to withdraw his request of me “sucking his dick,” before he has a chance to even object, our hands begin to move slowly up and down his cock. His eyes bulge and his face turns a violent shade of crimson red as he bites down desperately trying not to scream.
He may not have heard much of what we said, but he did apparently hear the threat against his life and he’s heeded Atasha’s warning. I can hear his breathing becoming heavy and he’s weighing his options on whether his dick is worth more than his life.
As we begin to move faster with the razor blades I’ve so delicately placed between our fingers shredding him quickly, it takes no time until the warmth of his blood begins to rush over our hands.
And it’s in this moment of devious pleasure—of absolute Hell on earth, that Atasha turns her face towards mine and kisses me with a greed I’ve never felt before. She shifts slightly on the chair and fumbles for my zipper, snaking her hand into my pants to pull my hard cock free. She greedily takes me into her mouth. Doubt flickers briefly, as I wonder if she’ll use those teeth on me like she did that sorry piece of shit in the alley. She swirls her tongue and looks up at me like a porn star, and most of my thoughts are scattered to the four winds.
While the subject watches me getting my dick sucked, while he watches what he came for, we continue our assault with deadly precision. He’ll bleed out soon or he’ll cry out—either way, this moment belongs to us and he’ll never know what it’ll be like to experience the true glory of Atasha’s soft lips around his dick.
Sunlight pierces through the tarnished autumn leaves, and I wince, shading my eyes. I hear raised voices coming closer, and the car door swings open. He shoves Mommy into the front seat and climbs in after her.
“Mommy?” I’m playing with my pigtails like I always do when I’m nervous.
“Close your eyes, baby.” Mommy’s baby blues are wide and brimming with tears. Her sweet voice, the one that sings me to sleep every night, shakes. “Just close your eyes.”
“Atasha!”
I gasp as I come awake, with August pinning me down. It takes me a minute to remember where I am…to even recognize him. When I do, I go limp. My cheeks are damp.
“I’m sorry.” My words tumble out in a rush. Now that I know what he’s capable of, what he makes me capable of, I need to try hard not to displease him.
His disturbed expression washes out into a neutral mask. He’s contemplating, and I hold my breath, wondering what he’ll do next.
Finally, he slips off of me, his sinewy body holding my attention. I’m troubled by how distracting he is to me. The more he demonstrates his callousness, the less I seem to be able to resist him. He props himself up on one elbow, assessing me with academic curiosity. “You were…crying.”
I feel unwelcome heat in my cheeks and look away. “So?”
“Tell me why.” He says it without missing a beat. He’s affectless, but I have no doubt this topic isn’t up for debate.
I roll away from him, slipping out from under the decadent sheets. Sitting, I’m hit with the aftermath of a night with August. My back is tender from digging a shallow grave and the rest of me aches from the fuck frenzy that followed, christening the pit before we tossed in the body. Though I try to dismiss it, I flash to what had passed for foreplay. The screaming and mewling from the mutilated man. August’s demand that I put the subject out of his misery. His blood-soaked goggles, and the sound of the chainsaw and splintering teeth as he worked to make the corpse unidentifiable.
After we returned from the woods, we showered together, reveling in the warm water and the act of erasing any trace of our crime. August left the sliding doors to the balcony open afterward, and the breeze now whips at my tousled hair. Though I’m stark naked, I make no attempt to cover my feverish flesh. “Sorry. I…didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Stop apologizing. It’s unbecoming,” he snaps. My shoulders sag and I hear him sigh heavily. “And it’s completely unnecessary.”
That latter statement is an afterthought, meant to sand the rough edges and convince me he’s reasonable. I prefer his bluntness to his bullshit.
“Tell me about your nightmare.” His insistence isn’t comforting, though his hand is as it travels the length of my spine. August’s breathing is shallow, much like it is when he’s aroused. He doesn’t sound concerned. He’s fascinated…eager. “Was it about your precious victim?”
“I can’t remember,” I lie, recalling the vivid colors of the trees and the sunshine on my mother’s shiny hair. This is the most I’ve remembered since the day it happened, and I think I’m going to be sick.
“I don’t believe you.” He sounds melodious, but his dead eyes are haunting.
“I don’t feel like having this conversation.” I stand and begin the search for my clothes.
“Why is it women complain that men don’t know them when they refuse to give a straight answer 9/10th of the time?” He slants his gaze as he watches me in the moonlight.
I shake my head. “Don’t ask me to defend womankind. I defected a long time ago.”
He cocks his eyebrow. “Why is that?”
I pause, debating on how to begin. “Women cross paths with prettier women, and they call her a whore. If she’s uglier or older, they dismiss her. Bitches cannot stand it when their friends have an ounce of success. They throw a shit fit if someone is talking about them ‘behind their back,’ even though they spend every waking hour doing the same.”
“Agreed.” August’s lip twitches. “And faking climax. I don’t get that. What’s to be gained?”
“Maybe they just want it to be over with.” I don’t even think about the response as I slip on my panties. When I realize he’s assessing me closely, I lock eyes with him. “I never fake anything. I take what I want.”
He nods, his eyes shifting away as if plotting. He doesn’t look relieved or concerned. He doesn’t look like he remembers I’m in the room. I can’t find my bra, but I slip my top over my head anyway.
“What are you doing?” It’s a mechanical question, but I’m not oblivious to the way he’s watching my every move.
“What does it look like?” I hunt for my pants and find them across the room, turned inside out on a chaise lounge. I slide them up over my hips without unzipping them. “I have to go home.”
“Why?” He’s genuinely confused by the idea.
I put my hands on my hips and tilt my head with a perplexed frown. He didn’t object to me leaving the first night, and if I was ever a flight risk, it had been then. “Because I don’t live here.”
He doesn’t move an inch, watching me regally from the headboard. “We should remedy that. It would make all this easier.”
“All this?” I’m not dumb enough to think we means the royal we or the molten sex that is our fall out.
“Your…education.” His eyes shine now, and the delusion that he’s some vacant vessel is gone. The hair on the back of my neck is standing on end. I consider the fact that he’s been following me. It’s a troubling train of thought I’ve been obsessing about since the barber shop incident two weeks ago.
He saw what I did to that biker dude in the alley, and that was four months ago, give or take. I knew he was following me…but only about half as long as he actually was.
“Look, August. It’s been fun, but I have to work tomorrow.”
“No, you don’t.” His tone is commanding, and with an eye roll, I turn to look for my purse.
“Not all of us live off of Daddy’s money.” My retort is laden with bitterness that he doesn’t deserve. When he doesn’t respond, I glance over my shoulder at him, cautiously.
He’s no longer relaxed back against the padded headboard. He’s poised as if ready to strike.
Our eyes are locked in a tug of war, and he regards me like I’m a rabbit in a snare. His upper lip twitches, a modified snarl that vanishes as quickly as it appears. I bolt, abandoning my purse and shoes, unconcerned with anything other than the fresh air outside of this mausoleum he calls home. I’m descending the industrial staircase when I hear his foot falls gaining on me. I’m envisioning him giving me a shove, and the long, damaging fall I’d have to survive. He’s so tall that his strides are twice the length of mine. I jump the last six stairs and land like a cat on my feet. He calls my name as I rip open the front door.
My path is blocked by August’s clone. A younger version crowds the doorway, his hand raised as if ready to knock. Darker hair and animated green eyes distinguish him as some entirely new make of original monster, but his carnivorous grin is identical to the out-of-breath, mild-mannered beast currently breathing down my neck.
“Auggie?” The stranger smiles over my head at August, his dancing eyes sweeping me before boomeranging back up to my face. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
It was raining when I left the motel; a steady, sideways downpour, and now it’s fizzled to nothing more than a few large drops smacking me in the face. It wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t trying to smoke a cigarette right now, but at least it’ll help get some of the smell off of me.
August hates that I’m a smoker. It’s a nasty little habit I picked up in Singapore on one of those “find yourself” magical voyages that I decided would be a brilliant thing to do. The only “self” I ended up finding was the one that apparently picked up this nasty habit and five-dollar hookers that would do everything I ever wanted without the usual complaints and bullshit that came along with my unusual demands.
I guess it’s safe to say that I’m not exactly normal, but normal is so fucking boring and when shit starts to become mundane, I go looking for my brother. He gets me because he’s a lot like me; or rather I’m a lot like him. Twin souls born years apart with the same tastes in life, only we choose to explore them in different ways.
The cool calm to my raging waters.
Auggie is a lot more controlled than I am and he’s lucky in that aspect. Things in me just happen to snap and that’s when everything goes to Hell, but I always clean up my own mess and he appreciates that.
I sigh and take another drag on my wet, stale cigarette and make a face. If I hadn’t spent time rolling these and shoving them into some whore’s pussy, the taste would cause me to toss it, but like I said—it’s an addiction and some habits are hard to break. Not to mention that the fuck I just had was so good that I don’t mind the aftertaste.
Reaching down I shift my hardening cock, lick the taste of her from my lips, and glance up at the walk/don’t walk sign that’s been solid yellow ever since I got to the damn corner. It’s finally blinking and as I begin to walk across the street I wonder what August has been up to for the past couple of years.
We’ve talked a few times a week on the phone, but never more than “hey” and some random bullshit about the weather and things we used to do as kids, so it always makes me miss him when things start to turn sour in my head.
I’m starting to think that my head doesn’t even belong to me anymore—things are always getting dark and quiet nowadays and that’s why I need my big brother. He knows how to make the shit stop when it gets to be too much for me to take.
Trent Robert Grant is my birth name, but Robbie is what August calls me, so that’s what I prefer to go by, and just being able to look him in the face and hear him say my name will help me in more ways than I can ever help myself.
I’ve been to the best doctors that money can afford and when I got sick of all the hocus pocus bullshit, I ran halfway across the world. Auggie told me it wasn’t a good idea when I revealed my plans to him, but I was so excited at the prospect that I let the twenty-one-year-old kid take over and off I went.
Now I find myself back in this fucking town hoping that my brother still lives in the same place, hoping that he’ll have a spot for me to lay my head down for a few nights, hoping that he’ll still be able to help me when I tell him all the shit I’ve been dealing with.
I clear my throat and toss the cigarette now that I’ve smoked it to the butt and dig my hands deep into my pockets. I can feel my weathered, old leather wallet that has a few hundred bucks in it, my lighter, and a pack of half empty smokes. And that’s my entire life right now—every last thing I own is in my fucking right pocket.
Thankfully, Auggie isn’t one to judge because he has enough skeletons in his closet that he knows better than that. He loves me too and he wants me to get better so he’s always very kind to me when I need him, even when I can tell he doesn’t want to help me anymore.
My boots crush the wet pavement beneath my feet and I chuckle. With as many skeletons as we’re both hiding, we could start our own anatomy museum or some shit, but we have a code of silence and respect that we abide by.
Besides, we’re the only ones who truly understand each other, and nothing has ever gotten in the way of our bond before and it never will. Not if I can help it and I know he feels the same way.
“Fuck.”
I glance up at the street sign and wonder which direction I need to turn to get to his place. I’m not exactly sure I’m even in the right town anymore because he’s probably long gone, but at the very least if I find his old place, maybe there will be a trail of breadcrumbs to follow.
“Right—Auggie is always right,” I mumble to myself as I turn on my heel and start walking down the street.
I can see the small line of houses and the tall building looming and I can’t help but feel a little smug because I’m pretty sure that this time, Robbie is right too.
“Hey. I know it’s been a while, but can I come in?”
I run a hand back through my damp hair as I begin to rehearse my hello to my brother when I reach the front of the building.
Go around the side—the big gate? That’s where I’m at.
I can hear his voice clearly in my head giving me direction and I listen because he doesn’t lie to me and that’s how I found him the last time; by following these exact directions to the side of the building.
“Okay. Here goes nothing,” I mumble again as I raise my hand to knock on the door when it swings open and the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on stops just short of running into me.
And right behind her looms my big brother, looking as controlled as always. As soon as our eyes lock, I break into a huge smile as his eyes light up in response.
“Auggie!” I ask, glancing at the chick again. “Been holding out on me?”
“Hey, kid.” August shakes his head with a chuckle and runs a hand down her ivory arm. “This is Atasha. Atasha, my little brother, Robbie.”
My grin widens as she digests me with curious, frightened eyes, before turning back to August. He raises an eyebrow at her and steps back, hands raised as if in surrender. My curiosity piques. I’m not sure if I’ve interrupted a lovers’ spat or some sort of sex game, but I can tell that he’s giving her the option to leave or stay.
Auggie always did like to do that—set a path up and watch someone go. He told me one time that he thinks it’s the easiest way to gauge someone’s worth.
