Kiss Me Kill Me

Some Immortals describe the sensation of waking from the dead as being the greatest drawback of Immortality. All in a rush your heart starts beating, blood rushes, scalding hot through your death chilled veins, and every nerve in your body fires simultaneously. It was the most exquisite pain, rushing headlong into consciousness, lungs burning with the first breath of new life. Caspian loved it, lived for it, very nearly got off on it. And now he felt the keen stab of lust, piercing him with every beat of his reborn heart, the smell of his own blood cloyingly sweet in his nostrils.

Caspian’s eyes snapped open and immediately locked on the boy’s seated form a few feet away. That solitary gaze burned into him, more curiosity than anything else left in its depths. The Immortal groaned and stretched deliciously, rolling to his feet. He noted that the straight jacket was crumpled to the ground, like so much discarded lingerie forgotten on a brothel floor. Caspian decided the form fitting white fest that Farfarello wore underneath was far more to his tastes.

Farfarello cocked his head and stared. “I killed you,” he commented, voice calm and melodic.

Lips parting in a shark’s grin, the Immortal spread his arms out. “I got better,” he chuckled. “Are you going to do it again?” He didn’t make a move towards the seated figure this time.

The boy looked him up and down, then shrugged in a fluid roll of his shoulders. “Maybe. What are you?”

Caspian’s smile grew even more predatory. So now he had Farfarello’s attention. “What are –you-, boy? Why are you down here all by your lonesome, with all the other crazies upstairs?”

Curious, Farfarello regarded him, weighing him in his mind against whatever it was he measured worth by. He must have seen something he liked, because he nodded indolently. “They think I am a threat to myself and others.” As if he hadn’t heard that one before, but it gave him pause.

Caspian looked at him closely, at this child of a man; slight and slender and a little too pretty. Farfarello had the stillness about him of the truly mad, of those who hold themselves so still they can hear even the voices inside themselves that others cannot hear over the idle groan of a muscle, or rustle of cloth. The Immortal had seen the speed at which the boy could move, the indifference with which he killed. There was very little room to doubt the boy was very much a danger to all parties involved. “Are you?” He still had to ask, shit eating grin splitting his face.

That single liquid gold eye scorched him. “I am.” The boy shifted his weight, uncurling to stand, and pivoted on the balls of his feet. He swayed with serpentine grace as he stalked over to the Immortal. Slim scarred fingers splayed across his breast above his heart, right over the rip in his shirt, still damp with his blood. “I’m insane, you know.”

“Tell me. What are you, pretty demon Farfarello? Every here is insane, all of them killers, and all of them drooling idiots doped up on tranquilizers. Why not you? What makes you worth my time?”

Fingers sliding slick with blood over perfectly re-knit flesh, Farfarello hummed. His secrets were his to keep to the grave, but he had already killed this man, so why not share. “I am God’s Bane. I butcher His sheep to hear Him weep in anguish. One day I shall strike at His very heart, but until them, He suffers in my stead. Only He feels the pain inflicted on this body cast in His own image, and suffers sweetly for me in my sin.”

“Your pain?” Caspian looked down at the boy’s scarred visage, understanding blossoming in him, “You feel no pain?” Farfarello nodded absently, as if it was the least of his qualities. To him, it must be. That was a new one for Caspian though. Masochists, he had known millennia full, and pain fetishists to build an army with, but one who felt no pain at all? This was a shiny new toy for him, preciously set into the dark recesses of a subterranean cell.

Curiosity rising to a crescendo, the Immortal plucked the knife from Farfarello’s hand. Deliberately, he pressed the razor sharp tip to the hollow just bellow the boy’s right eye. Blood welled up bright and stark as Farfarello regarded him patiently, almost docilely. Impressed in spit of himself, Caspian dragged the knife smoothly over the curve of that nigh cheekbone, right down to his jaw. “Something to remember me by, then,” he said by way of an explanation. Red spilled down the boy’s skin like blood poured over virgin snow.

Caspian had to have him. Now. He leaned forward and laved his tongue from the bottom of the cut to its starting point. Copper filled his mouth, setting a low burn in the pit of his belly. It didn’t even surprise him much that the wound was already starting to heal. “I want you,” he rasped as he bit down on the closest many ringed ear. Either the boy would kill him again, or consent; he wasn’t sure at all which he wanted more.

Farfarello tilted his head back, baring his throat. “I know,” he answered, hypnotic voice strangely philosophical. “Sodomy is a sin, even as a creature undying as you is a blight against Him. Your skin is stained with the blood of thousands, their lives etched into your madness, their screams burned into your bones. Enjoy the sins of my flesh, then, before I kill you again.”

The Immortal threw back his head and laughed. “I like you, little demon. I do. A pity for your fragile mortality; I think I’d like to have kept you. Now come. I have a present for my pretty prize.” He clashed Farfarello’s stained hand in his own bloody one and practically skipped them out of the cell. Like a pair of spring lovers, they made their way, hand in hand, past the guard’s slumped corpse, down the long hall, and up the winding stairs.

“Where are we going?” Farfarello asked mildly, allowing himself to be led.

Grinning his killer’s grin, full of promises and pain, Caspian took a moment to slam the smaller man up against the stair well wall. His teeth latched onto the pale expanse of Farfarello’s throat. “All this talk of killing God has gotten me all hot and bothered. I find I rather fancy the notion of fucking you over an alter, the blood of Christ on your knees as you kneel for me.”

Blinking, Farfarello arched sensuously into the vicious caress. “Okay.”

-tbc-