“It’s too late for that, Talha.”
“IT’S TOO LATE FOR THAT, TALHA,” Slater whispered, but a slight doubt flicked in the depth of his dilated pupils.
Then I have nothing to lose. Taking his chances, Talha threw a backhand, this time hitting the mark. Neck strained, Slater’s head bounced to the side, but his glare remained glued to Talha.
“You raised a hand to my brother.” Clenching his fist, Talha sent a punch at Slater’s mouth. His bottom lip burst open, and blood seeped down his chin. “You murdered in my house.”
In one swift motion, Talha hurled his upper body forward sending a crashing punch into Slater’s right floating rib. Adrenaline shook his fingers as he lost the corners of his vision to darkness. He didn’t care if he harmed Slater anymore.
Slater shuddered, hands drew toward his middle, shoulders hunched forward, but Talha didn’t care. Blind rage, pulsing behind his eyes, filled his ears with the loud drumming of his heart that stuttered kill-kill-kill-kill. He lurched at the younger man with a series of short, fast jabs to his torso. The red fog condensed, filling his vision; he grabbed the ripper’s shoulder and granted him with a knee strike to his stomach. He vaguely registered Slater shuddering and dropping to his knees, hands pressing to the left side of his torso, right above the hip.
Talha bent forward. Fingers wrapping around Slater’s biceps, he yanked him upright. Not waiting for the ripper to find his feet, he stomped toward the staircase. Slater’s legs barely moved as he fought with the steep steps, trying not to lose his balance, but Talha didn’t slow down. The all-consuming flames of anger feasted on his soul. He wasn’t sure who he was mad at. Was it Slater who never listened to him, who brought the severed head of his enemy to his house, who killed in his home, who slept in his bed? Or maybe he was mad at himself for bringing a psychopathic murderer into his house. For being arrogant enough and believing that he could conquer the world and control the devil? Only today, when Slater drew out a throwing needle to send it at Ejder’s eye, did the gravity of his actions crash onto his shoulders.
For everything Slater had done, Talha was responsible. If Slater killed Ejder, it would be his hands covered with the blood of his own brother, not Slater’s. Cornered with his actions, he’d locked himself in a cage of desperation, allowing Slater to gain influence over his life. But he was done being kind. He was done being understanding. He’d given Slater more chances than he should have. It didn’t matter what value Iblīs had. No money in the world, no power, was worth losing his brother.
Entering his bedroom, he dragged Slater to the middle of the room and dumped him on the red and white carpet. He didn’t see a human being anymore, but a beast he had no sympathy for. All he had for Slater was rage.
The mocking, questioning gaze, the bloody lopsided smile, the tilt of his head, even his fingers, curled in a defenseless way, everything screamed of farce. Slater didn’t treat him seriously. Allowing himself to be hit, he only proved his strength, but even knowing this, Talha couldn’t stop.
I’m an idiot… He has never been a victim. I should have figured it out sooner. Slater only does what he wants. All those scars, all those burns cover his skin because he wanted them. Not for a single day in his life was he used. But he used others alright. He probably only stayed with Behçet because the man kept the police away from him. For someone like Slater, spending the rest of his life in jail would be hell on earth.
Hit after hit, he crashed his fists down, sending occasional kicks in the same direction. His heartbeat echoed in his throbbing knuckles as the room soaked in red. His fists crusted over with blood; he halted. His vision cleared, bringing his focus to his right shoe; it was covered in a glistening mess of saliva and blood. The same mess covered Slater’s mouth.
He didn’t know where the words came from, but his voice didn’t sound familiar even to his own ears. “You wanted me to fuck you?”
His knees collided with the bouncy surface of the Persian carpet as his eyes linked with Slater’s dilated pupils. The ripper licked his lips, taking a shaky breath. Talha glanced down. Slater’s combat pants bulged, his chest rose and fell in labored breathing, and shimmering droplets of sweat coated his neck.
Talha’s body burned; his head swam. The drumming in his head resounded in his groin. He yanked Slater’s shirt open, revealing a torso covered with red bruises, then he unfastened Slater’s combat pants. Slater didn’t fight him even when he rolled the younger man to his stomach and wrestled his pants down.
If Slater had spoken or fought back, Talha might have sobered up and stopped, but Slater fisted the carpet pile, gazing over his shoulder. His transparent eyes, heavy with lust, burned the last layers of humanity out of Talha’s soul. He unzipped his pants and took his cock out. Spreading Slater’s butt cheeks, he forced himself through the tight ring of his sphincter.
The mix of pain and pleasure washed everything in bright red as Slater’s inner muscles clenched around his cock. Hissing, Slater pushed air through gritted teeth, and the lethal grip loosened, relaxed, and wrapped around Talha’s cock with incredible warmth.
“Master?” A half-plea half-moan broke from Slater’s mouth, and he cast another glance over his shoulder. A deep shade of red blossomed over his cheekbones, spreading to his ears, as his bloody teeth glinted from behind swollen lips.
A heavy, hot wave stormed into Talha’s head, erasing everything around. Grinding his teeth, Talha rocked his hips against Slater’s butt cheeks, then pulled out only to slam again into the gaping, willing flesh. His body, moving on its own, increased speed, and the last anchors of reality crushed under the avalanche of euphoria. His gaze, never leaving the side of the reaper’s face, watched his watering eyes roll up. Slater’s mouth slackened with ragged breathing and he lost the ability to swallow, as bloody saliva pooled on the carpet, absorbing into the pile.
Driven by the weird need, Talha seized Slater’s wrist, digging his fingers into the delicate skin on the inner side. Veins, tight as wires, drummed against his fingertips in a crazy rhythm, as the smaller body shook under his weight. Slater’s back arched, his ass went up as he begged, “Harder… More, Master… No need to be gentle. Slater won’t break.”
Blinking through the streaming sweat, Talha watched Slater’s spine tense. The soft tightness of Slater’s inner muscles messed with his mind. He clutched the younger man’s hip with his other hand, increasing the rhythm. The sweet pressure, building in his balls, spread up his chest with a heavy flood of boiling blood; hitting his head, it shattered his vision. Falling forward, Talha opened his mouth and sank his teeth into the naked shoulder in front of him. The skin broke under his teeth, flooding his mouth with a tangy, metallic taste. Slater groaned, and small tremors seized his body vibrating against Talha’s chest.
“Master..?”
Squeezing Slater’s wrist, Talha let go. Vicious jolts of electricity blasted through him seizing every muscle in painful pleasure. Releasing Slater’s shoulder from the clench of his teeth, he rested his forehead between his shoulder blades, wiping the sweat against the remains of the torn black shirt.
Impenetrable darkness swallowed everything around. Stretching time and reality, it muffled all sounds, except the chaotic drumming of his blood. For a second, Talha thought he would collapse. His lungs burned, bright sparks flickered in the darkness of his failed vision, erasing his ability to breathe. Tearing the air with his teeth, he emptied himself into Slater’s body.