Killer Love - Kiss. Kill. Repeat #2 - ch. 4 (Patreon)

Unbeta'd/Unedited.

Walker

Kota looked up at Walker with big saucer eyes that made him look like an adorable cartoon rodent. He was still clinging to Walker’s shirt, lower lip slightly pooched out. Was he…pouting? Was he trying to seduce him? Walker would have said he was immune to such antics had anyone asked him ten minutes ago but now, he wasn’t so sure.

The more fragile Kota seemed, the more this almost animalistic need to possess him stirred within him. He didn’t know if he wanted to fuck him or protect him. Or both. What was it about this kid that had Walker’s brain scrambled in such a short amount of time?

Maybe it was the way Kota looked at him like he was something worth trusting. Maybe it was the way he kept reaching for Walker despite knowing exactly what he was.

Walker’s hand floated to Kota’s cheek, cupping it, his blood starting to heat up. “You need to stop looking up at me like that, squirrel,” he warned. “You’re gonna trigger instincts I’ve worked very, very hard to keep in check.”

If he thought this confession would scare Kota, he was very wrong.

His pupils blew wide, lips parting as his breath quickened. “You said you weren’t gonna kill me,” he reminded, tone somewhere between teasing and hopeful.

Walker shoved him against the cool tile walls, propping an arm over Kota’s head crowding into his space. He closed the distance until they were close enough to share breath. The bathroom suddenly felt too small, the air thick with humidity and anticipation. “I also told you that the concern wasn’t killing you…” he let the word linger for a moment. “It was eating you.”

He made sure Kota understood the connotation. He watched his throat bob as he swallowed audibly. “You said consume actually…consume me,” he countered breathlessly. “And I’m…not opposed to that option.”

The admission came out shaky, but there was no hesitation behind it.

God, he was expressive. Every thought, every feeling seemed to flicker across his face before he could hide it.

Walker gripped his chin, tipping it upwards, searching his face. Kota stared up at him, lips parting again, pretty pink tongue darting out to wet his slightly chapped lower lip.

Walker chased the motion, licking slowly across the seam of his lips, before retreating just a bit. “You taste like maple syrup,” he murmured, savoring the sticky sweetness clinging to his skin.

Kota’s whine went straight to Walker’s dick. He pushed up onto his toes, capturing Walker’s bottom lip between his own and sucking it for just a second, like he was retaliating. “And you taste like burnt coffee.”

Walker smirked at him. “Is that a fact?”

Kota nodded slowly, maintaining eye contact. “Yup.”

He took an exaggerated step back. “Well, then I guess I shouldn’t—”

Kota fisted his shirt, yanking him back into his space. “No, no, no, no. Don’t leave me.”

The desperation in the response hit Walker like a shot of adrenaline.

He chuckled, finally connecting their mouths in a kiss that had Kota whimpering. He gripped the boy’s wrists, pinning them over his head, as he fucked his tongue deeper.

Kota’s head clunked against the wall, tongue timid as it moved over his. The little sounds of surprise he made encouraged him to keep kissing him.

“For someone who claimed he wasn’t innocent, you sure kiss like a nervous virgin,” Walker murmured, pressing his thigh between Kota’s parted legs, something clenching in his gut when Kota ground against him.

“To be fair, I’ve never kissed a killer before,” he said as he pulled him back in.

His attempt at humor was ruined by how breathless he sounded.

Each kiss lingered a little longer, went a little deeper, a little dirtier, Kota needily rutting against his leg like a puppy.

Walker could feel the tension bleeding out with every passing second, Kota slowly melting beneath his hands.

“I’ll go nice and slow,” Walker said, sliding his hands down to his ass, squeezing firmly to help him find a rhythm.

The promise seemed to relax Kota more than anything else had all night. Walker wasn’t lying either, he forced Kota’s hips into a slow roll, addicted to the tiny gasps of pleasure that escaped each time the pressure got to be too much. 

“How-How long are we allowed to be here?” Kota asked.

His voice came out shaky, breathless from kissing, his chest rising and falling a little too fast.

“Long enough for me to get you off and still let you shower,” Walker promised, biting at his lips until they were raw and swollen.

Kota gave him a look that seemed equal parts anticipation and nerves.

“Oh…” Kota managed, biting his lip as Walker dropped to his knees.

He looked shocked, like the sight of Walker lowering himself in front of him sent a rush of disbelief through him. 

Walker made short work of Kota’s button and zipper, then dragged his jeans and underwear down to his ankles.

He was fully hard, his cock flushed a deep red and straining, already wet at the tip. Walker watched as the cool air against the boy’s overheated skin made him shiver. His fingers found Walker’s shoulders absently, not to push him away, but like he needed something solid to hold onto.

Walker glanced up briefly, meeting his gaze, a low growl escaping at what he saw. Kota was panting, staring down at him with wide eyes and spit-slicked lips. How could anyone look so innocent with their dick out? 

Walker wrapped his hand around him, the skin scorching. Kota made the sexiest little noise when Walker stroked him slowly. The flustered look on his face made Walker feel like a monster, like a wolf taking advantage of a bunny. It seemed wrong for someone with as many sins as Walker to be able to touch someone as sweet and trusting as Kota. 

Somehow that just made it more of a turn on for him. Walker wasn’t a good guy. He didn’t even try to be. He’d spent most of his life just taking what he wanted, consequences be damned. And he’d take Kota, too. He’d take him and use him over and over until Kota knew nothing but Walker, wanted nobody else but him. He’d make himself Kota’s protector, his keeper, the only one who could satisfy him in every conceivable way. In exchange, Kota just had to give him everything. Trust him. Love him. Worship him. 

Was that too much to ask? 

Walker tipped his head up, locking eyes with Kota before running his tongue over the length of him, tongue teasing at his slit, tasting the bitterness there before he swallowed him down. Kota gasped, knocking Walker’s hat to the floor to grip his hair with both hands, holding tight. 

Walker bobbed his head, groaning around him each time Kota tugged on his hair hard enough to hurt. He wasn’t overly large, not compared to Walker, but whenever his cock hit the back of his throat, Walker would cough, dragging sweet little cries from Kota, who seemed lost to the sensations he was experiencing. 

Kota lost all decorum quickly, pulling Walker closer as he thrust deep enough to make him gag, the wet sound reverberating off the tiles. Walker let him fuck his mouth before pinning his hips to the wall. He pulled off to look up at him, his expression stern.

 “Hold still,” he warned. 

“I’m trying,” Kota whined. “It just feels so good. Don’t stop.”

Walker hated how much his whining turned him on. “Is that how you ask for something, squirrel?” 

Kota released a shaky little sob that went straight to Walker’s own neglected dick. “I’m sorry. Please. Please, don’t stop. It feels so good…too good. I love it so much.” 

Walker’s nostrils flared as Kota’s unfiltered thoughts escaped. “Yeah?” 

Kota nodded emphatically, his hips still trying to work his cock back into Walker’s mouth. 

“Behave yourself,” Walker said, rubbing his thumb over Kota’s leaking tip, digging his blunt nail into the slit until he cried out. 

“I’m trying,” Kota said. “But you’re taking too long. Do you know how long it’s been since someone has touched me like this?” 

The idea of someone touching Kota like this knocked loose an almost animalistic growl. “How long?” 

Kota’s cheeks flushed, eyes widening at Walker’s clear displeasure. “Too-Too long. Nevermind. Just stop stopping. Please. Please. Please.” 

Amusement and jealousy warred within him but finally, he said, “Okay, squirrel. Show me how fast you can come.” 

Walker took him back into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he worked over him. Kota was almost dead weight, slumped against the wall, only Walker’s hand on his hip keeping him upright. His low moans punched straight through Walker’s restraint, making him want to spin Kota around and fuck him against the wall. Would he cry? Would he beg like he had a minute ago? Would he let Walker do whatever he wanted with him? 

Fuck. 

Kota was unraveling, his hands clenching and unclenching in Walker’s hair, his hips desperately trying to thrust deeper into the warm suction of Walker’s mouth. After his fourth or fifth frustrated whine, Walker stopped restraining him, letting him fuck into his mouth with abandon. 

There was no finesse, no concern for Walker’s comfort. Kota chased his own orgasm, sexy little sobs and cries escaping every time he hit the back of Walker’s throat. 

Walker groaned, then hummed around him, grabbing Kota’s bare ass and helping him use his mouth roughly. 

“Oh, oh, God. I’m…Walker…Oh, my God…please…please…” he babbled, “I’m so close. I’m so—I’m so …oh, fuck, coming…” 

That was the only warning he had before Kota flooded his mouth. He swallowed it all, savoring it like it was something sacred. When he sat back, Kota looked down at him from beneath heavy lids. Walker stood. “Enjoy your shower. I’m gonna get you some clothes from the truck.” 

Kota just blinked at him for a long minute before he nodded, chest heaving. He blinked at him owlishly for a moment before saying, “Yeah, okay.” 

Walker made him strip, taking all but his shoes and socks with him. 

By the time he had Kota under the water, the boy looked dazed but sated.

Walker hated how much he liked it.

The truck stop parking lot was slick with rain that must have started while they were…occupied in the showers, the air cool against his overheated skin as he stepped out of the shower building. Diesel fumes mingled with wet asphalt. Somewhere nearby, an engine rattled to life.

The scent of Kota still clung stubbornly to his skin, refusing to be washed away by the damp night air.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and read the message in the app. It was from bugreport404.

 Bugreport404: Call me. It's important. 

He could already feel a throbbing behind his left eye as he signed into the encrypted app and pressed the green call button. He listened to the digital ring of the phone, a headache forming preemptively. One that intensified the moment he heard the voice on the other end.

“Howdy, Tex,” Tris answered breathlessly.

Walker rolled his eyes at the ridiculous nickname. It was insane to him how such a simple name could always lead to the same moniker. He’d never even seen the show.

“I’ve asked you not to call me that,” Walker said flatly.

“Noted,” Tris said, voice strained. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Walker frowned. “Are you busy?”

“Exercising,” Tris said, clearly winded.

This is why he tried to avoid telephone calls. He didn’t have the personality to carry conversations. He found the niceties of society exhausting. He continued to pace around his truck, scanning his surroundings, ever cognizant of anyone who might overhear the conversation.

Not that anyone would be able to follow it. Half of Tris's conversations sounded like the ramblings of a man experiencing a medical emergency.

He glanced up at the sky. Thick gray clouds hung low, blocking out the moon, letting him know the rain wasn’t finished yet. The only light came from the hollow yellow streetlights dotted along the massive parking lot, amplified only by the reflection in the oily pools of rainwater gathering in the potholes.

Rows of sleeping tractor trailers stretched into the darkness, their running lights glowing red and amber like watchful eyes.

He sighed. “Where’s your husband?”

“Uh, he’s he-re,” he managed, voice rising on the last syllable before ending in a sharp inhalation. “We’re…exercising together.”

The rhythmic thumping on the other side of the line fell off, followed by what sounded suspiciously like muffled laughter and the squeak of bed springs.

“How nice for you. Can I talk to him instead?” Walker asked.

“Hand me that phone and I’m hanging up,” Cade said, voice muffled.

There was another huffed out laugh, followed by a low, drawn-out moan.

“I’m hanging up,” Walker grumbled.

“No. No. No. No. No,” Tris begged, clearly shifting position.

Tris’s chant had Walker thinking about moments ago. The memory arrived uninvited. Kota pinned against the wall of the shower, pleading with Walker to keep going. Kota flushed and breathless, eyes glassy.

His cock hardened almost instantly, reminding him that only one of them had gotten off.

Maybe that’s why Cade and Tris’s sexcapades were annoying him more than usual.

“Then put Cade on the phone,” Walker stated.

“My husband doesn’t know shit about anything. Unless you’ve finally decided to use the matchmaker feature again? Is that it? Are you trying to get my husband to do a job with you? Oh, wow. That’s not where I thought that feature would go. I thought it could be like a murder mate feature. A meet-cute for killers.” The throbbing in Walker’s skull intensified. “Just to be clear, you’re not Cade’s type. You know that right? He’s not into those jacked up Iowa farm boys. I’m his type. Me. He likes me.”

Somewhere in the background, Cade made a noise that sounded suspiciously like agreement.

Walker pinched the bridge of his nose.

This conversation had somehow become less productive than talking to Carrot Cake, and Carrot Cake's primary form of communication was screaming at him when her food bowl was half empty.

“A twink with verbal diarrhea and a sugar addiction?” Walker questioned.

“Hey!” Tris cried, then deflated. “I mean, you’re not wrong, but still.”

“Please can I talk to Cade,” Walker said, exasperated.

“No. Don’t be rude,” Tris panted. “He’ll kick your ass. My husband is very protective of me. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes,” Cade growled, entirely too close to the speaker for Walker’s comfort. “Very.”

There was a brief silence, followed by a noise Walker very deliberately chose not to identify.

Tris gasped, then made some kind of half-bitten off sound that made Walker huff out a breath through his nose.

“See,” Tris said smugly.

“Christ, you’re annoying,” Walker said. “Can you two stop fucking for five minutes so we can have this conversation?”

Tris cackled.

There was a rustling of fabric then Tris said to Cade, “Take five, baby. We’ll pick this up in a minute.”

There was a low snarl of frustration before Cade said, “Hurry up.”

There was a sharp slap of skin-on-skin, then Tris yelped in pain.

“I’m serious,” Cade said, menacingly.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tris said dismissively.

Walker could practically hear the eye roll.

Rainwater dripped onto the brim of his hat as he circled around the truck, weaving between puddles. The headache behind his eye had spread to encompass most of his skull.

Finally, he returned his attention to Walker.

“Why are you calling instead of using the app, anyway? You never call in. Not even when you’re driving. You didn’t get got, did you? You didn’t, right? You know the rules. If you did, we can’t help you. Did the kid turn you in? Oh, shit. Did you kill him? Is that what this is about? It is, isn’t—”

“Mouse, why don’t you let him speak and then you’ll know why he’s calling,” Cade said, now from a distance.

“Oh, right,” Tris said as if the thought had never occurred to him. “So…what’s up?” he asked, tone overly casual.

“You messaged me,” Walker said through gritted teeth, pressing the palm of his hand to his eye, trying to stop the pounding.

Tris giggled. “Oh, yeah. A site opened up on your route, so you can butcher…that deer you’re hauling.”

Subtle.

“This is why you messaged me? I would have seen it in the app,” Walker snarled.

He hated wasting time.

Especially when he still had a body in his truck and a half-dressed Kota waiting for him in the shower.

“Can’t I just check in with a friend?” Tris asked.

“We’re not friends.”

“Wow. Rude,” Tris said immediately. “Did you hear that, Cade? He said we’re not friends.”

“You cried at our wedding,” Cade called.

Walker breathed out a heavy noise through his nose. “I wasn’t even at your wedding.”

“He wasn’t?” Cade asked, sounding baffled by this information.

“I don’t remember,” Tris said. “We were tanked.”

Walker briefly considered slamming his head into the wall.

Or throwing his phone into oncoming traffic.

“Focus,” Walker begged. “You have the attention span of a goldfish.”

“That’s hurtful,” Tris said with a sniff.

“Tris,” Walker growled.

There was a beat of silence.

“Goldfish can actually recognize human faces,” Tris informed him.

Walker closed his eyes.

Of course he would know that.

“Fine,” Tris said, exasperated like Walker was the problem. “There’s been a glitch on the app. We’re trying to fix it but it currently looks like there’s no openings in the safe houses. I’m having to manually monitor the sites.”

“Ah,” Walker said. “Makes sense.”

It didn’t. At all. Walker didn’t know shit about computers.

Rain spattered on his arm and he squinted into the hazy sky, then reached for the door handle. He climbed into the cab just as rain began to drum steadily against the roof. Cake lifted her head from her perch above the sleeper, blinked at him, then immediately went back to sleep. 

Smart animal.

“You’re still meeting us at The Morgue tomorrow night, right?” Tris said excitedly.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Shut up,” Tris said. “You know you love us. We’re your only friends.”

“We’re not friends,” Walker reminded him again. “I don’t have friends. What is this meeting all about anyway?”

“You’ll see,” Tris said cryptically.

Walker opened one of the storage compartments and dug through a stack of neatly folded clothes.

“We won’t make it to the site until tomorrow afternoon and we’ll have to make a few stops along the way for…obvious reasons.”

They needed to dispose of the body in the woods along the way, similar to the way Early got rid of his victims.

There was a long pause.

“We?”

Walker frowned. “What?”

“You said ‘we’,” Tris said, excitedly.

There was another gasp.

Followed by a muffled thump and what sounded suspiciously like Cade swearing under his breath.

“Oh, my God. Are you keeping him?”

“Keeping who?” Walker said, digging his palm deeper into his eye socket.

“Him, the kid, the one who almost…you know,” Tris said.

“Why are we censoring ourselves when we’re on a secure line?” Walker asked.

“It never hurts to be overly cautious. And don’t change the subject. Did you find your swan?”

“My what?”

“The poor little creature that imprints on you like a swan does its mother?” Tris explained.

Walker sighed.

He found a shirt Kota wouldn’t be swimming in, then stood there staring at it for several seconds as he processed the fact that this conversation was actually happening.

The kid had been in his life less than twelve hours and somehow Tris had already decided he'd adopted him.

“Hah, I knew it. I totally knew it. Told you,” he shouted to someone. Probably Cade.

“I didn’t say any of that,” Walker muttered.

Which was technically true.

Unfortunately, he'd also never corrected him.

“You didn’t have to. I’m very intuitive. Right, honey?”

“Yes, mouse, you’re practically psychic,” Cade said, sounding much closer than a moment ago.

Close enough that Walker was forced to assume whatever ‘exercise’ they’d been doing had resumed.

“Can we finish what we started before this completely unnecessary phone call?”

There were very obvious kissing noises coming through the speaker now.

Walker grimaced.

Tris laughed. Then laughed again for no apparent reason.

At this point, Walker wasn't entirely convinced Tris needed a reason to laugh.

“I’m gonna go.”

“See you tomorrow night,” Cade muttered. “Say goodbye, mouse.”

“Bye, mouse,” Tris gasped. “I’ll pin the location.”

Walker closed his eyes.

There was a brief rustle, a startled yelp from Tris, and Cade saying something too muffled to make out. Walker decided he did not want clarification.

Then the line went dead.

How had this become Walker’s life?

Five years ago he’d been a solitary trucker with a murder contract and a cat. Now he was apparently being psychoanalyzed by a hyperactive gamemaster while standing ten feet away from a corpse hidden in his truck.

And, if Tris was to be believed, adopting a baby swan. A swan who stared up at him with big blue eyes that made Walker want to slay dragons for him. 

What? 

No.

Absolutely not. 

This is all Tris’s fault. 

The fact that he'd just spent five minutes digging through his clothes to find Kota something comfortable to wear was completely unrelated. He finished grabbing the items, slipped his phone into his back pocket, then patted Cake on the head as he passed.

Cake opened one eye, judged him silently, then went back to sleep.

Traitor.

He headed back to Kota at a jog. The rain chose that moment to intensify, drumming harder against the roof of the truck. Walker pulled his cap lower and picked up his pace anyway.