Killer Crush - Kiss. Kill. Repeat. #1 - Ch. 1 (Patreon)

Remember my short story for the H2H Anthology? Worst. Date. Ever. Well now it has a new life as Heartstopper. The first of several shorts I will be doing whenever I feel like it centered around an app of the same name. An app that doesn't become the description below until the end of this 20k novella. I'm dropping the whole thing for you tonight so be patient. Its coming in one chapter at a time.

Welcome to the Heartstopper App

Some people download dating apps.Others download death.

The Heartstopper App looks like any other invitation-only network. You swipe, you match, you chat. Except here, “chemistry” doesn’t mean attraction, it means detonation. You don’t meet your soulmate. You meet your mark.

There are rules, of course.There are always rules.

No civilians.

No children.

No loose ends.

It’s all very civilized, contracts, cleanup crews, and code names that sound like bad Tinder handles. The GameMaster built it that way. Keeps things tidy. Keeps things fun.

But this isn’t about the GameMaster.It’s about the players.

The killers who make murder look like foreplay.The marks who maybe deserve it.And the rare, stupid, beautiful bastards who find love somewhere between the bloodstains.

Because the Heartstopper App doesn’t care what you want.It only cares what you’ll do to get it.

Maybe you’re here for revenge.Maybe you’re just bored.Maybe you’re looking for something real, even if it comes wrapped in danger tape and bad decisions.

Either way, Welcome to the Game.

You might find what you’re looking for.You might even find love.But one way or anotheryou’re going to lose your heart.

Cade Carpenter would have called it fate, if he were the kind of idiot who believed in that sort of thing. He wasn’t. Which meant the notification on his phone was just a very well-timed coincidence.

He was no stranger to apps. His entire job depended on one. But it wasn’t the Heartstopper app pinging his phone this time. It was a dating app he’d installed months ago to target a mark.

So much time had passed, he’d forgotten it existed…until the message popped up. And honestly, it couldn’t have come at a better time. He’d been looking for a distraction, and the universe had a twisted sense of humor.

He clicked the notification, pulling up a single message that read: What’s the worst date you can think of and would you do it with me?

Cade grinned. The premise of the app was to ask odd, attention-grabbing questions to spark conversation. His mystery sender had nailed it. When it came to bad dates, Cade had plenty of material.

Maybe it was fate after all. Maybe the universe did truly love him. Or maybe it just liked to hand him toys when he was bored.

He clicked on the profile, zooming in to get a closer look at the man behind the message.

Name: Tris.

Age: twenty-three.

Location: six blocks away, on the other side of the tracks.

Tris was gorgeous, dangerously so. Deep brown hair curled over his forehead in a style that probably took effort, huge gray-blue eyes that looked like they’d caught a storm, and plush lips Cade could already imagine putting to good use. He dressed like he had a stylist on retainer and, strangely, he was eating in every photo, candy, cookies, a donut. It was practically food porn.

Yeah. Tris was exactly what Cade needed.

He typed out a reply: Sure. Meet me Friday night at the port. 10 p.m.

He watched the typing dots blink on and off. Start, stop, start again. Had he scared him off? When the reply finally appeared, Cade couldn’t help grinning.

Tris: You want me to meet a stranger at the docks in the middle of the night. That’s not sus at all.

He had a point. Still…

Cade: You wanted the worst date I could think of.

Again the dots danced, far too long this time.

Tris: I asked for a bad date, not the beginning of a true crime documentary.

Cade laughed out loud.

Cade: I promise you’ll live.

Tris: 😒😒😒 Said the random stranger…

Cade was impressed. Tris had good instincts. If Cade ever did end up in a true-crime documentary, he’d definitely be the killer. No question. After all, he was a killer. He just had no intention of killing Tris.

No, Tris would be far more useful alive. He’d make a perfect alibi…if he would just agree to go out with him.

Tris: Besides, you didn’t say I’d have all my limbs or full brain capacity. I could be a vegetable when you’re done with me and still meet your definition of alive.

Cade stared at the message, a smirk tugging at his mouth. This kid was funny. And beautiful. And apparently had no filter, which was its own kind of dangerous.

While Cade was chewing over his response, another text came through.

Tris: Why do you think they started calling brain-dead people vegetables? I hate vegetables. The real kind, not the people kind—that would be, like, super rude. Well, I guess calling them that in the first place is also rude. But, that aside, who was the first asshole to look at some poor person on a ventilator and decide to call them a vegetable with their whole chest? I bet karma came for them hard. They probably came back as a turnip or something.

Cade snorted, mentally amending his earlier assessment. Funny. Beautiful. And fucking weird. Perfect.

He watched, amused, as the dots kept dancing. Tris apparently deep in a one-sided conversation with himself.

Tris: Do you think we can reincarnate into non-people things? Like, I’m sure you can come back as a dog or a bunny or a fly, but can you come back as a tree? Or a flower… or a banana?

Cade pictured him saying that last part with earnest curiosity, maybe a little too eager, like the idea of being reincarnated as fruit actually appealed to him.

He shook his head, smiling.

Cade: Are you high right now?

The dots bounced. Stopped. Bounced again. Then stopped once more. By the time a reply appeared, Cade realized he’d been holding his breath.

Tris: Nope. Don’t change the subject.

He wasn’t entirely sure what the subject even was anymore. Still, he found himself pacing his loft, phone in hand, hoping to drag this bizarre conversation out longer than was smart.

Cade: I’m sure the first person to call someone a vegetable was just an asshole. And yeah, I like to think karma came for him. I’m big on an eye for an eye—so maybe he came back as someone trapped inside a useless body with a perfectly functioning brain.

Tris: I just got the shivers. I can’t imagine never being able to move. I never stop moving. If I did, I’d go crazy and probably die.

Cade: We wouldn’t want that.

Tris: No?

The way Tris kept talking–half convinced Cade wanted to murder him, half daring him to try–was both hilarious and baffling.

Cade: If you died, who would go on this date with me tomorrow?

Tris: Are you sure you’re not a serial killer?

Cade: Positive. They have rituals. I’m flexible.

A picture of Tris appeared, clearly a selfie snapped in the moment. He was lying in bed, hoodie up, messy hair spilling from the front, his expression somewhere between dubious and amused. Cade’s thumb hovered before he saved the photo, his cock stirring as he stared at that plush, wicked mouth.

Tris: Wow. He’s got jokes. I feel so much better. If I was a girl, I’d have blocked you and dropped this in the group chat so everyone could talk about the bullet I dodged.

Cade laughed out loud.

Cade: Good thing I’m not into girls.

Tris: What are you into?

Cade: Right now? Guys with soft cheeks and pretty gray eyes.

Tris: Is that me? It kinda sounds like you mean me? 🙏🏻

Cade: Did you just high-five me for complimenting you?

Tris: No, that’s the praying-hands emoji. I’m praying you meant me.

Cade: I don’t know how to tell you this, but that’s actually the high-five emoji.

The typing dots blinked on and off again before another photo appeared. Tris, palm to his forehead, mouth open in mock horror. Cade bit his lip, zooming in like a creep. Was that… a tongue piercing?

He groaned quietly. His brain supplied images before he could stop it, Tris on his knees, that little steel ball dragging against the crown of his cock.

Another text buzzed in, snapping him back.

Tris: You’ve now shattered my whole worldview. Are you sure that’s a high-five emoji? 😒

Cade: Look it up if you don’t believe me.

Tris: I refuse. Next thing I know, I’ll find out the eggplant emoji doesn’t mean someone likes eggplant.

Cade snorted, shaking his head.

Tris: Oh hey, full circle. Vegetables again.

Cade couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Tris’s brain clearly took random detours and never bothered to signal.

Cade: You’re a fascinating creature.

Tris: Really? Then it’d be a shame to kill such a creature, right?

Cade: I’m not going to kill you. I promise.

Tris: Oh, well, if you promise…

Another selfie dropped in, same blank stare, this time with an orange popsicle held provocatively in frame. Cade’s stomach clenched. The little tease knew exactly what he was doing.

Cade: Come on. Take a chance on me. Bring a weapon if it’ll make you feel better.

Tris: This is the weirdest come-on I’ve ever had.

Cade flopped onto his bed, phone hovering above him. He snapped a selfie–half smirk, half wink–and hit send before he could think too hard about it.

Cade: Hey, you approached me.

Tris: Yeah. Cuz I was horny, not suicidal.

Cade’s cock twitched.

Cade: Do tell. 😉

Tris: Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

Cade’s gaze flicked down to his half-hard cock.

Cade: More than you know.

Tris: Yeah?

Cade: I’m gonna be dreaming about those lips for at least a week.

Tris: Only a week? I’m hurt.

Cade grinned. Sarcastic. Cocky. Too damn charming for his own good. He was intrigued, and that was dangerous.

Cade: You should be flattered. I forget most people’s lips in seconds.

Tris: I said what I said. BUT I’ll give you a pass because you’ve never gotten to see what these lips can do.

Cade: You have my undivided attention. Go on, then.

Tris: I prefer show to tell. You’ll just have to wait.

Cade: You could always put your camera and that popsicle to good use.

Cade stared at the screen, waiting for a stream of angry emojis or middle fingers, but it stayed still. No dots. Nothing. The silence stretched, long enough to feel like rejection. Had he pushed too far? Probably. He sighed, about to toss the phone aside when the soft chime hit.

A video.

Cade’s thumb twitched. He couldn’t hit play fast enough.

The clip opened with Tris staring straight into the camera, into him. Those storm-colored eyes were steady, teasing, a dare wrapped in a smile. Then he took the popsicle down his throat until it disappeared entirely.

Christ.

The wet sound of suction filled the small space of Cade’s loft. He bit back a groan, his pulse thudding in his ears, eyes locked on Tris’s lips as he drew the frozen treat back out. Tris licked the rounded tip, tongue swirling lazily, the glint of his piercing catching the light.

Cade’s hand slid down automatically, squeezing his now fully hard cock just as Tris bit off the tip of the popsicle.

“This is the end of your free trial. Please subscribe to see more,” Tris purred into the camera, voice syrup-smooth, then flashed a cheesy wink. The screen went dark.

Cade exhaled, low and rough, then lifted his phone and snapped a selfie, pouting like he’d just been robbed.

Cade: No fair. It was just getting good.

He didn’t look away from the screen until the next reply appeared.

Tris: Fuck. You’re so hot. I really, really hope I don’t end up chopped into little pieces and thrown off the dock.

Cade could have reassured him–could have soothed the nerves he’d clearly just fed–but instead, something darker and curious flickered to life. He wanted to test the boy’s bravado. Just a little.

Cade: Guess you’ll just have to show up tomorrow to find out.

Why? Why did he want to see how strong this kid really was? He didn’t know. Cade didn’t do relationships. They didn’t mix with his profession. But some buried part of him–something he’d thought was long dead–wanted to see if Tris might be different. Maybe the kid could survive him. Maybe even outlast him.

Tris: Somehow I know you just said that in a flirty way, which is both hot and disturbing.

Cade: That’s me. Hot and disturbing.

Tris: Ugh. I really don’t want to die just to get laid. I have no doubt your dick game is probably fire, but being murdered post-nut sounds like such a mood killer.

Cade laughed under his breath, shaking his head. Who the hell was this guy?

Cade: Aw, my dick’s flattered. I’d definitely make it an experience to remember, but I’m not sure you’d find it worth your life.

Tris: I’ve thought about offing myself for less.

Cade froze. The humor drained, replaced by a faint, unfamiliar twist low in his chest. For a man who’d seen death in every shade, that line hit wrong, too real, too close. Tris didn’t even miss a beat. Which was almost even more disturbing. Was he dramatic or just so deep into his self-loathing he didn’t even realize how disturbing the remark might be to anyone…even him. 

Tris: If you are gonna kill me, please let me get off first. As much of a bummer as dying in an orgasmic haze would be, dying pre-nut would be way worse. What if I was a ghost and had to walk around with a boner haunting people for all eternity? That would be so embarrassing.

Cade stopped short. This boy’s brain-to-mouth filter was completely broken. And somehow, it was the hottest thing Cade had ever witnessed. There was no guessing where he stood with Tris. He’d never met anyone who made his chest tighten and his cock ache at the same time. 

Cade: I promise I won’t kill you if you think the sex was shitty.

Tris: Would good sex ruin our bad date?

Cade: Good sex ruins nothing. But you’re kind of sending me mixed signals. Do you want sex worth dying for or mediocre sex to stay on theme?

Tris: I want it on the record that I haven’t actually agreed to have sex with you. This is purely a hypothetical where I let you take me out and then dick me down.

Cade: Noted. But you haven’t said no either.

Tris: You’re so cocky.

Cade laughed out loud. 

Cade: You’re the one who just deep-throated a popsicle on camera to prove your skills. Which of us is really the cocky one here?

Tris: Did it work though?

Cade: You know it did.

Tris: I know no such thing. Prove it?

Cade blinked. Did this kid just ask him for a dick pic?

Cade: Are you trying to get me to show you my dick?

Tris: Who, me? I’m just asking you to put your money where your mouth is.

Cade: It’s your mouth we’re talking about here.

Tris: Fine. Put your money where you hope my mouth will be.

Tris: I’ve never had to work this hard to get a guy to show me his dick.

Cade shook his head, grinning despite himself. The banter shouldn’t have turned him on this much, but his jeans were already uncomfortably tight. If everything went to plan, Tris would be seeing it up close and personal tomorrow anyway.

He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, freeing his semi-hard cock. A few strokes later, he was fully hard. He snapped the photo.

Tris: Wow. You’ve got a really pretty dick. Very photogenic.

Cade snorted out a laugh. 

Cade: My dick says thank you. It’s all about the angles and lighting. Will you be reciprocating?

Tris: Are you asking for a dick pic?

Cade: It’s the least you could do.

Tris: Do I seem like the type to send a dick pic to a stranger on the internet? What kind of weirdo does that?

Cade rolled his eyes.

Cade: You could just say no.

Tris: I would send one, but I want you to respect me in the morning.

Cade: I just watched you deep-throat a popsicle. I have the utmost respect for you.

Tris: Yeah?

Cade: Absolutely. If you were on your knees for me right now, I might actually propose.

Tris: Shouldn’t you be the one on your knees if you’re proposing?

Cade: Touché.

Tris: Oh my god, you’re insufferable.

Cade smiled at the screen, a low laugh escaping him before he could stop it. No one had ever made murder feel this close to flirting.

Tris: Fuck. You’re hot and cute and weirdly charming? Now I have to go out with you. At least when they find my phone, they’ll know I made a valiant effort to resist you. I’ll become a cautionary tale.

Cade’s chest did a funny thing, a pulse, quick and sharp, like his heart was mocking him for caring.

Cade: So that’s a yes? You’ll go out on this date with me tomorrow?

Tris: Yeah, yeah. Okay, fine. But just so you know—my smile doesn’t light up a room, my laugh isn’t infectious, I was never the life of the party, and I’ve met many, many strangers. No white woman will ever make a podcast about my murder. I’m not worthy of any press should you be looking for fame and fortune.

Cade’s lips twitched. The kid had a way of making morbidity sound like a punchline. Fame and fortune had never been the draw. Cade killed for two reasons: because he loved the thrill and because he was very, very good at murder. The money was just the noise that came after. The real excitement was in slipping through the cracks unnoticed.

Cade: Noted. So I’m not getting a dick pic?

Tris: Absolutely not. What kind of girl do you think I am?

Cade: Come on, baby. I promise I’ll still respect you in the morning.

Tris: Let’s see how the date goes.

Cade: Well, in that case, I’ll say goodnight. Don’t be late.

Tris: I already set an alarm.

An alarm? Interesting. Cade smiled faintly, responsible, punctual, and still planning to meet a possible murderer. The contradiction made him want to see Tris even more.

Cade: Oh, and if you have a suit jacket, wear it.

Another selfie appeared. Cade laughed out loud at the look on the man’s face, wide-eyed, betrayed, like a cat shoved into bathwater.

Tris: Ugh, seriously? I have to dress up for this potential homicide? Worst. Date. Ever.

Before Cade could reply, another message came through.

Tris: Oh hey, you’re good at this.

Cade snorted at the screen.

Cade: I’ll send you my WhatsApp.

Tris: WhatsApp? What are you, a drug dealer?

Cade chuckled, the sound low and unexpected even to his own ears.

Cade: See you then.

He tossed the phone onto the nightstand, but his gaze lingered on the screen until it dimmed. For the first time in a long while, Cade wasn’t thinking about the job waiting at the docks. He was thinking about a mouthy stranger with a tongue piercing and a death wish, and wondering which of them was really the dangerous one.

###

Cade stood outside the entrance to the pier, gazing at the large boat looming at the end of the dock. It was ten past ten. The party was already well underway. He bounced on the balls of his feet, grateful he’d grabbed his coat before leaving. The air had gone from cool and crisp to just shy of frigid.

He glanced up at the clear night sky. Maybe Tris had stood him up? Usually, that thought would have irritated him. He had a job to do, and Tris was an inconvenient distraction from it. But this time, he felt something else, something tight and unfamiliar, curling under his ribs. Disappointment, maybe. Or curiosity he couldn’t shake.

The heavy cadence of someone running up behind him had Cade pivoting, muscles tensing automatically. Hands half-raised, ready to strike if he needed to. But the figure barreling toward him didn’t look like an attacker, more like someone running late.

Unfortunately for the newcomer, their momentum carried them far too fast to stop. Cade reached out on instinct, bracing for impact.

The guy slammed into his hands with an audible “oof,” bouncing back a step. Cade caught him by the bicep, fingers closing hard enough to keep him upright.

The boy–Tris–was panting, chest heaving, eyes wide as he stared up at Cade. He was dressed in jeans, a KISS T-shirt, a black blazer, and scuffed Converse. A heavy silver chain circled his throat, a small lock hanging at the center. He looked like he’d thrown the outfit together last minute, but it worked. Too well. The kind of effortless chaos that made people stare.

It was only then that Cade noticed the candy stick poking out between Tris’s lips.

“Are you…sucking on a lollipop?” he asked, incredulous.

Tris pulled it free with a wet pop that went straight to Cade’s groin. “Yeah. What have you got against lollipops?”

“You were running with one in your mouth…” Cade said slowly, brows lifting.

Tris blinked. “How do you eat lollipops?” His tone suggested that Cade was the strange one here.

Cade tilted his head, unsure if Tris was genuinely confused or just messing with him. “Not while hurtling down the street at warp speed where I could potentially die with a Blow Pop lodged in my windpipe.”

Tris shoved the lollipop back between his lips, twirling the stem between his fingers, shifting his weight from foot to foot like a kid caught doing something wrong. His gaze darted everywhere but Cade. “I wouldn’t have fallen,” he mumbled.

Cade’s stomach did…a thing. A weird, foreign flutter that made him want to both scold and pull the boy closer. What the fuck was that? It was only because Tris was cute. That had to be it. Cade didn’t do feelings. Not the good ones, anyway.

But fuck if the sight of Tris sucking on that candy, looking up at him with those wide, defensive eyes, didn’t make him want to rewrite his own rules.

Still, when Tris hit Cade with the full force of his pout, he had to fight the urge to touch him, to smooth a hand over that ridiculous expression, to reassure him, to do something other than stare like an idiot.

“You’re eating in every picture taken of you,” Cade said, smirking. “Are you some kind of food model? Is that a thing?”

Tris once more pulled the candy from between his lips in a way that made Cade picture giving him something else to suck on. The sound was wet and soft, entirely too intimate for a public pier.

“I have ADHD and an oral fixation,” Tris said matter-of-factly. “If I don’t suck on something, bad things happen.”

Cade blinked at him. His cock stirred at the sheer bluntness of his words. He took a step closer before hooking a finger beneath Tris’s chin, forcing his gaze upward. “I can’t tell if you’re flirting with me or if your brain-to-mouth filter is broken.”

If he’d meant to intimidate him, he’d failed. Tris pushed the candy back between his lips, his gaze gleaming with mischief. “Probably the latter,” he said, voice muffled around the stick. “But I guess we’ll see how the night goes.”

Fuck. Cade made the decision then and there that before this date ended, he’d make a meal out of Tris.

“So,” he said, “you don’t think I’m a serial killer anymore?”

Tris stepped back, making a show of dragging his gaze down Cade’s body from head to toe. Cade followed his eyes, taking in his own fitted black pants, the black button-down, and the blue jacket patterned with dark roses.

Finally, Tris said, “Not in that outfit. Maybe a vampire. Yeah, you could totally be a vampire with that bone structure. Very Stuart Townsend in Queen of the Damned.”

“One might argue that he was a serial killer,” Cade said dryly.

Tris sucked harder on his lollipop, the movement so deliberate Cade had to suppress a groan. “He did have a pattern. But given his dietary restrictions, I feel like exceptions should be made.”

“So, it’s okay to kill people if you eat them afterward?” Cade asked, sliding an arm around Tris’s waist and steering him deeper into the port.

Tris side-eyed him, like he wanted to make sure Cade knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. “I’m not saying that. Dahmer ate his victims, but I don’t think he had a medical condition that kept him from eating…you know, not people.” He leaned in closer, voice dipping just enough to send a spark up Cade’s spine. “I’m just saying if you’re going to kill people, at least repurpose their corpses.”

“So, you’re into upcycling?” Cade teased, realizing with mild horror that he hadn’t stopped smiling since Tris had appeared.

Tris grinned, revealing slightly crooked bottom teeth that somehow made him even more endearing. “I’m not saying I want a lampshade made of human skin, but once the person’s already dead…” He trailed off as a couple passed by, the woman shooting them a disgusted look.

Cade didn’t know if it was the sight of two men or the topic of casual cannibalism that had offended her. He honestly didn’t care.

Tris, however, just sucked harder on his candy and pressed himself closer, tucking into Cade’s side as if daring the world to stare. His warmth bled through Cade’s jacket, seeping straight into his bloodstream. Once again, Cade felt that strange, traitorous flutter in his stomach, an ache that wasn’t entirely about lust.

When they reached the dock, Tris stopped short, staring up at the illuminated sign above the massive ship.

The glow painted his face in shades of silver and sea-blue, making him look almost otherworldly. Cade couldn’t decide if he wanted to drag him onto the boat or never let him leave the dock.

The sign above the dock read: The Titanic Museum — An Interactive Experience.

“Um…how interactive?” Tris asked, eyeing the ship warily.

Cade grinned. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“You’re taking me to a floating museum about a shipwreck that killed fifteen hundred people?” Tris said. “As a first date.”

Cade nodded without shame. “Yep.”

Tris blinked at him, then broke into a grin. “Wow. You really are good at bad dates.”

Cade couldn’t help but smile back. “I know, right?”

They were almost to the entrance when Tris slowed, shoulders bunching as a breeze whipped in from the water. He gave a little shiver, his candy stick bobbing between his lips.

“I should probably warn you,” he said. “I’ve never been on a boat before.”

Cade looked down at him, realizing belatedly that Tris didn’t have a jacket on. He pulled him closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, the scent of sugar and cold air threading between them.

“If it’s any consolation,” Cade murmured, his mouth close enough for Tris to feel the warmth of his breath, “I doubt we’ll see any icebergs tonight.”

Tris snorted, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned a little closer. The sound of waves lapping against the hull was the only witness to Cade’s grin.