Killer Love - Kiss. Kill. Repeat. #2 - ch. 6 (Patreon)

Unbeta'd/Unedited.

Walker

Walker had been alone all of his life. Even when he wasn’t physically alone, he was mentally alone. His mother hadn’t wanted him—or any of the children she gave birth to—and his father had tried to kill him more than once. Several older siblings had been taken by the state before he was born. His parents had birthed many children but had cared for none. But, unfortunately, birth control wasn’t a huge concern for people as mentally bankrupt as his parents.

After he’d killed his father, he’d left and never looked back. He’d never felt any kind of way about it. He had always just existed in the world, observing but never really a part of it. Watching people move through emotions he could recognize intellectually but never fully understand himself.

He had limited experience with other people’s feelings. He’d watched his parents rage at each other, had witnessed his father’s drug-induced violence and his mother’s rambling religious hallucinations. In all that time, even as a child, he’d never experienced fear or empathy. It’s what made him an excellent executioner. But it made him a terrible partner. People were inconvenient. A hassle that he just didn’t need. Too unpredictable. Too emotional. Too fragile.

So he stayed alone. His work didn’t really allow for any openness or honesty anyway. His lifestyle didn’t appeal to most people. He understood—from a purely analytical standpoint—what people looked for in a ‘good’ partner. He had no idea if he was capable of such a thing. He could mimic affection well enough when necessary, but real attachment? That was something else entirely.

But now there was Kota. Kota who had just been dropped into his lap hours ago, Kota who was lying naked in his arms, looking seconds away from tears. And Walker was…stymied. The kid was warm where their bodies touched, soft in a way that made Walker hyperaware of every inch of skin pressed against him. He tugged the covers up around them both, but Kota didn’t acknowledge the action.

Walker had no idea what to do or what to say. And for the first time in his thirty years on this planet, that bothered him. Why? Fuck if he knew. He’d eaten lunch meat that had sat out longer than he’d known this kid. 

But watching him try to curl away from him, trying to hide that something was upsetting him, it did something to Walker, it…agitated him, like some kind of splinter under his skin he just couldn’t dig out, his brain kept snagging on the problem and refusing to let it go.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

What else could it be? Walker replayed the last hour automatically, searching for mistakes the same way he mentally reviewed a kill scene for loose ends.

There was a small sniffle. “No, I’m fine. Really. Just ignore me,” Kota said, words small and thick with tears. “I think the day is just catching up with me.”

The day? 

Oh, right. 

He had been the victim of a violent crime just a few hours ago. He’d also witnessed Walker killing the man responsible. And now they’d just had sex. He imagined that was a lot for most people to process. Honestly, Walker was a little impressed that Kota hadn’t snapped earlier.

“You can talk to me,” Walker said, propping himself up on his hand so he could see the side of Kota’s face, trying to ascertain just what—if anything—he’d done to set him off. The kid looked wrecked, lashes damp, mouth pulled tight like he was physically fighting the tears.

Kota peeked over his shoulder, his face collapsing when he saw Walker focused on him. “Oh, God. Don’t look at me,” he wailed.

Walker frowned. “Uh, why?”

“Because I prefer to have my mental breakdowns in private as God intended,” he said. “This is so embarrassing!”

Walker really wasn’t following. “Why?”

“Because crying after sex is what psychopaths do,” Kota said, his words dripping with self-disgust.

“I assure you it’s not,” Walker said. “I’ve never cried after sex in my life.” He searched his memory. “I actually don’t think I’ve ever cried. I’m not even sure I cried as a baby.”

Kota gave a huff, flopping onto his back, not looking at Walker yet but at least not turned away anymore. “Well, good for you. What’s it like to be emotionally stable?”

Walker couldn’t fight the chuckle that escaped. The sound felt strange coming out of him, rusty from disuse. Kota’s expression grew indignant. “Are you—Are you laughing at me?”

“I’m not,” Walker said, still grinning like an idiot. “I’m really not. You’re just so…” he struggled to find a word that fit just what this feeling was digging in just under his ribs.

“Needy? Crazy? Unwell? Annoying?”

“Cute,” Walker finished, realizing he meant it. “Pretty.”

The words settled over the room differently than the dirty things they’d said earlier. Softer. More dangerous somehow.

“You think I’m…pretty?”

Walker nodded. Anyone who had eyes would think Kota was pretty. He had a nice bone structure, a small frame, a toned body. Beautiful eyes. He was little compared to Walker. He’d be lying if he said that didn’t turn him on. Kota looked like something delicate enough to cup in both hands. Something easily broken. Having a creature so small and fragile depend on him for their needs just did it for him.

Like Cake.

Walker liked that Cake was fully dependent on him. That she relied on him for her food, her comfort. There was something about it that just made his lizard brain tingle. He was her God and a benevolent one at that. And in exchange, she helped fill the silence and offered company without expectation.

He huffed out a breath through his nose as the fuzzy image in his head sharpened into focus. He wanted Kota. He wanted to be that for Kota. He wanted Kota depending solely on him for everything. It was sick…twisted even. But just thinking about it had all the blood in his head rushing south. The realization should have alarmed him. Instead, it felt disturbingly natural.

Walker wouldn’t hurt the boy. That just wasn’t something that turned him on. It wasn’t the pain, it was the power. He wanted to be the one who made him happy, who made him laugh, who made him orgasm so hard he cried.

Fuck.

He should get rid of him. Drop him somewhere safe. For Kota’s sake. But where was someone like Kota safe? He already said he was too gullible, that people took advantage of him. Walker would never let anyone take advantage of him again.

The thought rooted itself in his brain with alarming speed, settling there like it belonged.

What the hell was he saying?

“You think I’m pretty…” Kota said again as if that just didn’t make sense.

Somehow that made Walker just want to smile more. Kota’s red nose, his damp lashes, the way his mouth was still red and swollen from the last hour or so they’d spent kissing. Yeah, he was pretty. Pretty in a messy, human way Walker found increasingly difficult to look away from.

“Yeah,” Walker said. “Can you try to tell me what’s wrong?”

Kota studied him like a difficult crossword puzzle, eyes narrowed. Like he was trying to determine whether Walker was making fun of him or being sincere. Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Okay,” Walker said carefully.

He laid back down, sharing Kota’s pillow, sliding his arm underneath, then pulling him closer. He didn’t resist, just rolled to bury his face against Walker’s bare chest. Something clenched deep inside. This sense of…ownership. Possessiveness. Protectiveness? He didn’t want anyone touching Kota because his brain had decided he was his.

Christ.

Walker had never understood why people enjoyed cuddling. Now he found himself irrationally pleased by the weight of Kota draped across him, the way he kept burrowing closer like he wanted to hide in his arms from the world.

“I’m fine. I promise,” Kota assured him, words muffled. “I don’t mean to be so high maintenance.”

High maintenance? Kota had been doing his best to take up as little space as possible since Walker had—technically—kidnapped him. Walker was willing to bet he’d spent most of his life trying to be as small as possible for those around him.

The realization irritated him more than it should have.

“How are you high maintenance exactly?” Walker asked.

“I’m just…needy.”

Walker could feel his brows knitting together. “Can you explain what your definition of needy is?”

Kota peeked out from his hiding spot to glare at him. “Are you fucking with me?”

Walker shook his head. “No. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of a loner. Feelings aren’t really my strong suit. How about you just tell me what you mean by needy?”

“I get clingy,” Kota said, “Like this.”

He burrowed closer to Walker. His legs tangled carelessly with his beneath the blankets, warm skin brushing against his. He brought his other arm around Kota’s waist, crushing him closer.

“That’s not so bad,” Walker said, realizing he meant it.

He liked holding him. He was small enough to fit just right under his chin. He was warm, too. Like a heated blanket. A drippy one, but nothing was perfect. The kid practically radiated body heat, soft and alive against him in a way Walker found bizarrely soothing.

“I’m super insecure. I need constant reassurance,” Kota said.

“Reassurance of…”

Kota shook his head helplessly, like he didn’t understand why his brain did these things to him. “That you still like me, that I’m not annoying, that you’re not secretly mad at me, that you don’t hate me, that I’m not weird, that I’m not stupid or embarrassing or…all of the above.”

Each admission seemed physically painful for him to say out loud.

Walker was glad he didn’t experience life the way normal humans did. It sounded exhausting. He couldn’t imagine this kind of dialogue running in the background of his brain like some kind of demonic operating system.

But if all Kota required of him was to be told that he wasn’t weird or stupid or embarrassing—that Walker wasn’t mad at him—it seemed very little to ask, seeing as how Walker would not only be asking him to overlook him being a killer, but would essentially be making him an accessory to murder just by being with him.

“Okay.”

There was a long pause, before Kota’s swollen face appeared once more. “Okay, what?”

“I can do that. You’re not annoying, I’m not mad at you. You’re not weird or stupid or embarrassing. In fact, I kinda like you in my space.”

The confession came easier than it should have. Disturbingly easy, actually.

Kota’s mouth fell open like a cartoon character. “You do?”

Walker shrugged. “It’s only been a few hours, but yeah. You’re like a chattier version of Carrot Cake.”

Kota slowly glanced over his shoulder to where the fat cat lingered on a shelf. She trilled in their direction then stood and turned around, like she didn’t want them getting any ideas about fraternization.

“I-Is that a compliment?” Kota asked.

Walker shrugged, glowering at the cat. “I’m not sure. I just know that most people annoy the shit out of me. I can be around a stranger for about twenty minutes before I start imagining all the ways I could kill them and get away with it. I would never kill you.”

That, more than anything else he’d said tonight, sounded sincere.

Kota blinked at him, looking almost doe-eyed. “Thanks…”

“Sure.”

They fell silent for a while. Outside, rain started to fall, slow at first, then heavier, once more creating a soft white noise. The steady drumming against the truck wrapped around them, cocooning the cab in warmth and dim light. They’d been so wrapped up in each other, Walker hadn’t even noticed the rain had stopped at some point. 

Kota’s muscles unclenched, his breath evening out. He wasn’t asleep, but it seemed like his panic had dissipated.

Walker found himself listening to the rhythm of Kota’s breathing with the same alert focus he usually reserved for danger.

After a while, Kota asked, “How long until we get home?”

The question hit Walker strangely. Home. Like Kota had already staked his claim on Walker. 

Walker shrugged. “Well, I have to meet up with my handlers at the Morgue and I still have to dismember Early’s corpse and—”

“What!?” Kota cried, that tension back tenfold.

Walker frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“You—You didn’t get rid of his body?” Kota asked in a stage whisper, as if the place was bugged. “I-I thought you did that while I was sleeping earlier.”

Walker chuckled. “You thought I disposed of a whole corpse in that short time span? No. I just cleaned up Early’s truck so it would take a little longer for them to realize he was missing and ensured that if they did discover him missing, nothing in that truck traced back to you or I.”

Honestly, he’d been pretty proud of the cleanup job.

Kota’s face paled, looking around the cab of the truck warily. “So…where is he?”

“There’s a false wall built into the cab,” he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a freezer in there. I’ll stop at a spot I know along the way and cut him into more manageable pieces then scatter his body along the highway.”

“Oh my God.”

“I’m not gonna make you help,” Walker assured him. The thought of Kota anywhere near a bone saw felt oddly offensive.

Kota gave him an incredulous look. “What if the cops pull you over?”

Walker scoffed. “They won’t.”

He said it with the absolute confidence of a man who had transported human remains across multiple state lines before.

“But what if they do?” Kota insisted, hand gripping Walker’s shoulder tightly.

The panic in his voice sent another strange flicker of satisfaction through Walker. Kota was scared, but he was scared for Walker, not of him.

Walker sighed. “If they do, they won’t find anything. There are some trailers that have false walls that gangs and cartels use to smuggle drugs or humans. The compartment I customized is built right into the cab. And it’s refrigerated. They’ll never find it, because they wouldn’t even know to look for it.”

“What did you tell the people who built this rig for you? Didn’t they want to know why you needed a hidden separate compartment that was refrigerated?”

Walker found his concern amusing. “I told them I’m a hunter and that I needed a place to store the meat when I’m doing long hauls.”

This time it was Kota who scoffed. “They believed that?”

“I’m pretty convincing when I want to be,” Walker said. It wasn’t arrogance if it was objectively true.

“What happens to me if you get thrown in jail?” Kota whispered.

The question hung strangely heavy between them. Like he’d already made Walker his protector. Or maybe Kota was just afraid he’d also end up in prison.

Walker slid his hands up into Kota’s hair, tugging softly. “Then you can tell them I kidnapped you and that you’re just another victim.”

Kota flopped back onto the mattress, crushing Walker’s arm beneath his weight. “I wouldn’t do that. You…saved my life. I wouldn’t do you dirty like that.”

The loyalty in his voice hit Walker like a brick. He had to stop this. He had to stop thinking of Kota as something permanent in his life. He was an anomaly, a temporary bug in his programming. He wasn’t a permanent fixture. 

He needed to distract Kota somehow. “You already did me pretty dirty a few minutes ago. Or I did you…”

Kota’s eyes went wide. “Did you—just make a joke?”

Walker let his fingers trail down Kota’s belly. “More of an innuendo, really.”

His skin jumped beneath Walker’s touch, hypersensitive and warm.

He watched the muscles twitch beneath his fingertips. Kota really was pretty. Walker wanted to fuck him again. He wanted to pin him down and use him, breed him without a condom, claim him from the inside out.

The possessive thoughts came fast and instinctive, startling only in their intensity.

Walker’s head jerked upwards as Kota gasped. “What?”

Kota stared at him. “You were looking at me like you were considering adding me to your freezer.”

Kota’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his pupils dilated. He really was the perfect prey. Pretty and twitchy, ready to run at a moment’s notice. His little squirrel. Walker rolled on top of him, pinning him beneath him. Kota didn’t fight back, just stared up at him with wide eyes, lips parted.

The look should have felt vulnerable. Instead it felt trusting, which somehow affected Walker even more.

Walker gathered his arms over his head, pinning his wrists in one large hand. “Trust me, the thoughts I was having had nothing to do with putting you in my freezer and everything to do with keeping you right here in my bed, by any means necessary.”

The words came out rougher than intended, honesty bleeding into them before Walker could stop it.

“Oh,” Kota gasped. “I mean, I-I don’t exactly have anywhere to go. I’m kind of your prisoner, right? You could technically do whatever you wanted to me. Right?”

Walker’s cock thickened at the words, but beneath the arousal was something sharper. Possession. Need.

“You gonna let me do whatever I want with you, squirrel?” Walker all but purred, taking Kota’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugging until he gave a wet little gasp. “That’s a very dangerous invitation for a man like me.” 

“I’m not afraid of you…”

The breathless surrender in his voice made something primal unfurl inside Walker’s chest.

Walker captured his mouth in a filthy kiss, swallowing the high-pitched whine that escaped Kota. “That’s good,” he said against his lips. “You just keep being good for me and I’ll make sure you have whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” Kota whispered.

“Yeah.”

“Oh…” Kota looked down at Walker’s half-hard cock, then back at him. “Okay.”

“But for now you need some sleep. We’ll pick this back up when we reach our destination.”

Kota’s face fell. “Oh. Yeah, right. I am kinda tired.”

Walker dropped down beside him, turning himself into the big spoon. Kota sighed. “Night.”

Walker pressed his face into his messy hair. “Sleep tight, squirrel.”