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No one is innocent. All of us are full of sin.
I grip Khi tighter, both a promise and a threat, as he keeps teasing my half-hard cock. His hands are awakening my lust again, and we’ve already gone three times. My cock is chafed, and his asshole has been so used and abused that I don’t think my dick could spear the puffy tissue even if I wanted to. We fuck long and hard, and we ran out of lube after the second go, and blood only lubricates immediately before it dries and flakes.
Our relationship is twisted and perverse, but it is ours, and it is true. An exploration of boundaries between pleasure and pain, affection and violence elevated into more. He was never going to escape me. He would never know the feel of another. I am his one and only.
He slows his teasing and torment, instead choosing to bring up an obscure killer he read about. I let him speak, giving me all the little details he picked clean about this man, and then we discuss in length about the man’s psyche, motive, and if he had any artistry in his crimes.
The things we discuss would be considered taboo and uncouth in any other setting, but for us it was our playground. It was part of our intimacy, and it’s often how we unwind. Unplugging ourselves from the monotony of our daily lives as crime scene cleaners and letting our filthy fucking minds explore what truly makes us sing.
Our relationship was not ordinary. It was a force that compelled us to explore the darkest corners of our souls, to confront the shadows that had shaped us.
I lean down, tracing the contours of Khi’s face with my gaze, getting lost in the myriad of emotions that flickered across it as he spoke.
I give him one last hard press of my lips against his own, effectively cutting him off from his latest ramble.
“Time for bed. We have a nine am estimate, and if you don’t get more than five hours of sleep, you’re liable to kill the damn idiot hiring us.”
I pull the sheet up, covering our lower bodies before closing my eyes and starting to drift off.
“Yea yea yea. You grumpy asshole.” I hear him mutter, and all I do is smirk before I feel the sandman pull me under completely.
CHAPTER6
KHI
THREE MONTHS LATER
Who are the Hazelwood Harbingers? Ten Things We Know About Them
Hazelwood Harbingers Last Five Crimes Decoded
The Harbingers of Hazelwood have been quiet. Who Will Be Next?
Hazelwood’s very own set of serial killers are still at large and unaccounted for. My contact within the Hazelwood police department says that the FBI is refusing to take on the case due to contaminated evidence of the scene and the fact that the lead detective was outed for unscrupulous behavior.
The question I want to ask is, where are all these steer heads coming from? Surely, they must be traceable.
What are the Harbingers’ true motives, and why are they trying to throw us off by seemingly using occult-like items?
This is Quinn Sorvani for the Hazelwood Herald, and I want the citizens to know that I will not quit digging into this. I will find the Harbingers, and justice will be served for all of us.
I toss my laptop down after seeing multiple dumbass articles about us from that damn journalist Quinn Sorvani. What kind of name is Quinn, anyway? Is she a damn medicine woman, also?
I walk to the large bay window in the front room and gaz outside at the rain-slicked grass covering the front yard. The overcast sky is turning darker with the lateness of day, and each drop of water that falls from the sky causes a twitch in my sternum.
I’m only happy when it rains.
The most troublesome thing about Ms. Sorvani is that some of the things she mentions in her articles are accurate. Too true for me to be comfortable, so I can only imagine how it makes Dominic feel. If he’s even seen these. The Hazelwood Herald is a hole-in-the-wall gossip magazine that most people don’t pay attention to. I’m sure as shit not going to bring it up to him right now. He’s been a fucking grump today.
I web search her name, and the first thing that pops up is, one who is wise.
Great, just what I fucking need. A wise journalist who’s sniffing on our trail.
Well, let's see where little Miss Sorvani is at?
* * *
Finding her was easy, embarrassingly so. Why do people insist on putting their entire lives on social media?
