21
Days after the attempted kiss, the snow melted enough that it was safe for Marcus to go outside. Leaning most of his weight on a makeshift crutch made from old chair legs nailed together, he stared out from the porch he’d pissed from. The memory brought embarrassment burning to his cheeks. It was flushed away by the bitter cold that hadn’t left. The wind was less sharp but still there.
It was funny how he was now unfamiliar with the outside now. He stared at the dead foliage like he was looking at something alien. He remembered it yet he didn’t feel like he knew what it was like to be around it.
A feeling of discomfort settled in his limbs. He wasn’t scared. He was just…hesitant to take the first step off the porch and away from the place that had been his home—no—his prison for the last couple of weeks.
The remnants of snow was in patches. Mud and dead grass tuffs were scarcely scattered. The trees were twigs and in the distance the mountains were shadows of what this land used to look like—a cold glistening white Sahara.
The door creaked on its rusty hinges. Heavy booted footsteps came from behind him.
“I can help you down the stairs.”
The offering was a sort of treaty. Marcus had been obedient but quiet since the day they’d made their deal.
Marcus turned his head only enough to spot Roman from the corner of his eyes. He held there, fingers rubbing into the wood of the Frankenstein crutch.
He waited until Roman was beside him, but still far enough that it gave the illusion of space. Boundaries didn’t exist when Marcus was here, yet, Roman was kind enough—or maybe cruel—to pretend there were some. Human decency was hard to achieve when one was keeping another captive.
Marcus gave a gentle nod. His mouth and lips were dry already from the wind. He licked them. He longed for the mint chapstick he usually carried.
Roman waited on the middle step. Marcus hobbled his way over. His unhurt leg was doing the brunt of the work and that ankle was becoming sore. He didn’t just have one leg to worry about. He now had two that were making his life even more difficult.
There had been resistance to take help from Roman in the beginning. He hadn’t wanted help from the person who’d caused the pain in the first place. It was also a sense of wounded masculinity. That flaw hadn’t started here in this cabin. It had followed him from the police department.
Marcus didn’t hesitate to take Roman’s offered hand as he was helped down the slick steps. Once frozen, they were wet now, but more or less safe to get down if he wasn’t relying on a hunk of sticks to keep him upright.
“There you go,” Roman softly said when both of Marcus’s feet were on the ground.
He said thank you in his head. It might have been conveyed in his eyes, but they were turned toward the mountains in the distance. He wasn’t thinking about running off into them or anything. Escape hadn’t been on his mind for awhile. He’d been thinking about the heavy debt he owed Roman and how exactly he was going to pay it back. A deal with a demon was never easy to predict and this was the same.
Roman stepped in front of him, cutting off his view of the mountains. Marcus was forced to look at him though his attention was still on the mountains.
The corners of Roman’s mouth turned down into a deep frown. His lips tightly pressed together. “The snow will be back in a couple days.”
The warning was there. If Marcus tried to run, he’d get trapped in the snow and die.
Roman started toward a stump where Marcus had watched him chop wood a week ago. Marcus’s eyes followed him, tilting his body so he could keep his gaze on him.
“Then when will you leave?”
He’d almost given up on fishing for information. Almost.
Roman picked up the axe. He flipped it over in his hand, running his finger alongside the blade, checking for sharpness.
“We’ll be leaving in a few days.”
Marcus’s eyes widened. This was the first he was hearing about them going anywhere together.
With his excitement, he forgot he was walking with a third leg. The end of the crutch got stuck in the soft malleable ground and while it stopped, Marcus didn’t. He was on the ground in the next second, groaning and a pain in his arm. His leg wasn’t affected. At least, that he knew of. It ached all the time and the pain he felt now wasn’t anything different than what he’d been experiencing.
Roman knelt beside him. His gentle hands helped Marcus to his feet once again. The touch confused Marcus, muddying his mind more than it already was. He knew this kindness being shown was nothing more than a tactic to make him compliant, but it was still hard to remember that the man who was being nice to him was actually evil.
He was starting to understand the people who fell in love with criminals. He couldn’t imagine being in love with someone who was a different person to everyone else.
“I assume you’re happy about that?” Roman grinned widely.
Marcus couldn’t look away when Roman was smiling like that. His whole face lit up and it was pure joy Marcus saw sparkling in his eyes.
Roman was handsome. He was beautiful even. Marcus hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself because it would make it that much easier to succumb to Roman’s temptation. How could something so beautiful be so ugly on the inside?
Marcus accepted the help back onto his feet once again. The pride that had held him back earlier was dormant. More or less, beaten down. There was no use in trying to vie for dominance any longer.
Roman pushed lightly on Marcus’s shoulders. “Sit down on the steps.”
Marcus let himself be pushed down. He leaned the crutch against the railing of the steps.
“Oh. Wait.”
Roman yanked off the scarf wrapped around his neck. He laid it down on the step and then helped Marcus to sit on it. The scarf absorbed the dampness on the step and in turn didn’t get Marcus’s butt wet.
He swallowed thickly. His eyes itched. He didn’t say a word.
Roman ran his hand from the top of Marcus’s head and down to the base of his skull. The pet wasn’t out of left field. He’d been doing it a few times here and there whenever he felt like it since they’d stricken their deal.
The first couple times Marcus had jerked his head back or even slapped Roman’s hand away. Roman hadn’t done anything, but he’d given Marcus the “bad dog” look whenever he did refuse to be pet.
He let it happen this time. The feeling of Roman’s fingers softly massaging his scalp wasn’t bad. It felt good even. And after face-planting into the ground, he needed some soothing to help with his beaten pride.
When Roman was done treating Marcus like little more than a house cat, he went back over to the stump. He’d dropped the axe when he came to Marcus’s aid. It was laying on top of the stump, waiting for its master to come back to it.
As Roman went about chopping wood, Marcus mulled over the avalanche Roman had sprung on him.
They were going to be leaving the cabin. Roman had said a few days. The snow would be back after that time and they wouldn’t be able to come back to the cabin. Marcus had already scoured the land surrounding the cabin and hadn’t seen any presence of a car or any mode of transportation. The car Roman had been driving the day he’d kidnapped Marcus was long gone probably. He’d most likely ditched it only a few miles from where that other psycho had been killed.
Marcus’s body locked up when he remembered the man who’d almost violated him in one of the worst ways any human could do. His vision narrowed to the blade of the axe swinging down. It hit the log of wood and split it in two. The blade struck the stump below and became stuck.
Roman pulled the axe up. He grabbed another log and did it all over again. Again and again. The blade glinted in the sun peeking over the top of the cabin. The cracks and thumps of wood splitting and cracking filled the air. It became so loud Marcus couldn’t hear his own thoughts.
Images, however, weren’t as easy to stop seeing. They were right in front of his face, more painful to look at and so much more detailed than what should have been possible.
Roman wiped his brow. A thin layer of sweat covered his tan skin.
The chopped wood was piling up. The pile was small as they didn’t use as much with the snow melted. It was warmer than what it had been in days.
Marcus’s heart thudded hard against his chest. He repeatedly licked his increasingly dry lips. His teeth grazed over the irritated skin, picking at the chapped bits. The sharpness of the pain was reassuring. As the pain bloomed and the thudding of the axe coming down on the pieces of wood continued, he came out of the spiraling vortex that was his dark memories.
He quickly looked away from Roman and his wood cutting. He lowered his head, gasping through chattering teeth. He didn’t know that night had affected him so much. He’d been through his share of dangerous scenarios. He was a cop and life endangerment came with the job.
Nothing in his training would have prepared him for what happened in the shed. And he didn’t know if it was because he was still in a difficult situation, but he felt like what happened to him in that shed was more scary than what he was currently going through.
He looked back up at Roman.
For some god awful reason, he trusted his safety with Roman. After what happened with Michael, you’d think he’d hold the same level of fear between the two.
The shakes that started in just his hands had moved up his arms and were now in his shoulders. They intensified, going down his nerves to the rest of his body like a virus taking hold of him. He began to rock back and forth on the steps.
The one detail he’d blocked from his mind was the fact Michael was still out there. His presence, his touch, and the threat of him finding Marcus again hadn’t taken precedent because his mind had been on Roman alone. However, the more he began to trust Roman the more room was made for Michael’s memory to seep in.
Marcus hadn’t known there was a gaping wound in his mind from the ordeal but now the symptoms were starting to show.
His breath quickened. His throat tightened and his chest felt heavy. It felt like someone had their foot on his chest and was pressing down.
“Marcus?”
Roman sounded far away. He sat the axe down and started toward Marcus.
Marcus tried to pull himself out of the spiraling thoughts and fear. He was too weak. He was too susceptible and wasn’t that the reason why he was here? He had fallen into Roman’s trap just like he’d fallen into Micheal’s. And if he escaped Roman, who could say Michael wouldn’t be there waiting for him?
Roman was crouching in front of him now. Still, he felt so far away, out of arm’s reach, and Marcus was just barely holding himself above water. He was drowning in a abyss of his own fear. He was wading through sludge reflecting all his lost hopes and dreams—the lives he once lived including the one where his mom was still alive.
The shakes turned into violent sobs. The tears were uncontrollable. They stung his eyes which in turn made him cry more.
“Hey. I’m going to touch you, okay? Nod your head if that’s okay.”
Marcus didn’t hesitate before he was frantically nodding his head.
Roman didn’t just put his hand on Marcus’s shoulder or on his thigh. He sat next to him on the step and pulled him into the biggest bear hug he’d ever experienced in his life.
The firm way Roman held him to his chest was so comforting that it unleashed a whole new set of sobs. He didn’t care to hold them back. To save some face, he hid in Roman’s chest, pressing further into the man’s safe arms.
Roman rubbed his back up and down. He massaged at the tension in his shoulders and a little at the back of his neck.
Roman didn’t rush him. He let him have his moment. He didn’t complain that his arms were getting tired or that Marcus’s weight on his leg was becoming painful. Not even the tightness of his hug lessened.
Marcus took advantage of it. He’d been bottling up his emotions this entire time and even before Roman kidnapped him. It seemed like everything he’d been holding in since his mom’s murder was coming out. He was like a demon being exorcised. He already knew he was going to feel like shit afterward.
However, as his sobs died down, he didn’t feel like shit. In fact, he felt rejuvenated.
He equated it to throwing up. He hated doing it, but when he was sick, puking always made him feel better.
The comparison made him laugh. It wasn’t much of a laugh. More so a cough.
The humor tasted foul in his mouth. The laugh died before it could truly start and he went still.
Roman felt the rigidness, his hands slowed their stroking, but he didn’t stop which Marcus was glad for. He did wiggle in Roman’s lap, requesting for Roman to keep his massaging up. Roman complied, rubbing Marcus’s back as he’d been doing.
Marcus let out a heavy sigh. His eyes had closed, having done so during his sobbing, and he wished he didn’t have to open them again for a long time. He blocked out the outside world which eased him out of the panic attack.
Still, he didn’t want to come out of this safe place. As safe as being in a serial killer’s arms could be.
He gave himself another minute before he rose his head. He wiped his face of his tears and then his nose. He felt gross doing it, but he wasn’t trying to be attractive even if Roman had no trouble getting off to him.
“I’m fine now.”
He was trying to get away, but his body wanted to be closer to Roman. His body was one magnet and Roman was the other half. The more he tried to get away the harder it became to do just that.
“Are you now?” Roman’s voice dipped into something low. His arms were still wrapped around Marcus, holding him firmly, but it wasn’t like Marcus couldn’t get himself out of it. The problem being that he didn’t want to get himself out of it.
Marcus shivered. The shake was obviously felt by Roman. His brows pinched.
“What happened?” The concern coming from him was disorientating. His arms tightened much harder around Marcus. This time, it might prove difficult to get out of the hold.
Roman’s question made Marcus think about the dark shed. He shook again as a visceral reaction went through him. He didn’t understand why his body was betraying him like this. He wasn’t there anymore. The threat was gone and he needed to worry about the true threat right in front of him.
Marcus’s eyes glazed over. Somehow he was looking at Roman, but he wasn’t really seeing him. He was looking at Michael.
Roman cursed lightly to himself. He gently grabbed Marcus’s chin, angling him so he looked into his eyes. The gentle yet firm touch shook Marcus out of the nightmare descending upon him. His mouth slightly parted as he realized how vulnerable he’d become while thinking once again about the past.
“He’s—”
Marcus bit his tongue before he could say more. He’d already said too much.
Roman’s face darkened. “You don’t have to worry about him . I’ve taken care of it.”
Marcus’s eyes widened. “You—what do you mean?”
His words were barely above a breath. He was winded without moving much at all.
The darkness upon Roman’s face lifted some. The look softened only when Roman was looking at him. It was strange and kinda frightening that he could change emotions so quickly—at least, it should have made Marcus uncomfortable that he was sitting in such an unpredictable person’s arms.
“Let me show you something,” Roman said, starting to get up.
Marcus stirred, but Roman didn’t let him get up by himself. He was there to help the whole way, making sure Marcus didn’t have to lift a finger to get the make-shift crutch under his arm or that he had to work at all to get down the rest of the steps.
Roman lifted him off the last step and sat him on the ground with ease that did make Marcus feel some type of way. It wasn’t unease though. It was a burning feeling in the pit of his stomach that could only cause trouble.
Marcus held onto Roman as they walked around the small cabin. They passed by the stump and the pile of wood. The axe lay abandoned in the grass next to the stump. When Marcus looked at it, he thought about how strong Roman was and how Marcus probably had never stood a chance against him in a fight.
They stopped on the side of the cabin. The snow had melted completely since the sun touched this side of the building the most. The ground was disturbed. What little grass was left from the tough winter had been carved out in an almost perfect rectangle.
Roman leaned Marcus against the side of the cabin. He rubbed his hands up and down Marcus’s arms. Marcus stared at the ground.
“Tell me that’s not…” The words died in his throat. The darkness came creeping back at the corner of his eyes. His feet were heavy as cement. He was being dragged back down in that abyss.
“I can show you.” Something feral creeped into Roman’s voice. There was an edge to it, not quite a bet and not a threat, but an offer.
Marcus’s eyes snapped to Roman’s. A long silent heavy minute passed as they stared into each other’s eyes.
“Then show me.” The words weren’t his own. It came from him, but he didn’t know the person speaking them.
Roman’s lips twisted upward. It was a mockery of a smile.
He stepped away from Marcus. Marcus regretted that Roman’s touch was taken from him again. His body tried to chase after the touch. He stopped himself before he tripped. It seemed he’d used all his energy and strength to get out the front door.
He sagged against the side of the cabin as Roman sauntered to the back. He came back holding a shovel, lips still tilted upward, and headed to the disturbed bed of dirt.
He didn’t wait a second before staking the tip of the shovel into the hard dirt. It had softened as the snow had melted, but it was still slightly frozen from the cold.
He shoveled the tough dirt and tossed the caked pieces into a pile to the side.
Marcus’s anticipation grew as he stared at the spot Roman shoveled. Only a few minutes later, cold rotting flesh started to peek out from the clear dirt.
Marcus couldn’t move. He couldn’t even cover his mouth from the breathless gasp that fell from his lips.
Roman kept digging until the entire face of the corpse was uncovered. Remnants of dirt was sprinkled on the handsome face, but Marcus didn’t need to have it clean to recognize the man buried a few feet away from him.
Marcus tried to back up. His back was already against the side of the cabin. He took a step back and only ended up bumping his head against the siding. His eyes widened and his heart quickened.
Michael’s face was stuck in a look of terror. The face that haunted Marcus was deformed like a ghoul. Lifeless, his eyes stared eternally at something or someone that was no longer there.
Roman stabbed the shovel into the ground upright and let go of it. He laughed as he spread his arms. He joyously walked around Michael’s body.
“Like I promised, you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
He came toward Marcus without abandon. There was no hesitation. As he continued to smile at killing someone, he tried to wrap his arms around Marcus.
Marcus moved away, curling into himself.
Roman backed up, a confused look on his face. “What? Are you not happy?”
Marcus gasped. He spat the taste in his mouth out onto the ground. “This is supposed to make me happy?”
He snuck another glance at Michael’s lifeless body.
His mind tried to reason with himself, tried to tell him this wasn’t Michael anymore. This was just a corpse in the ground. Michael, the man who’d almost done those things to him, was long gone.
First, the visceral reaction came in a tsunami wave. It was a battering ram, crushing his soul and his bones beneath it. If his lungs were working in the first place, they would have collapsed along with the rest of his body. Secondly, a long couple minutes later, this crashing wave that almost crumbled him to the ground, passed.
It was the standstill before a tornado. It was a haunting feeling of calmness that couldn’t mean anything good. It was a warning that something worse was on the horizon and Marcus didn’t know as to what it was.
The calmness settled within him. There was a clear cut from when he feared and when he felt nothing.
Well, not completely nothing. There was a creeping emotion that should have made him question his own sanity except he didn’t really care that he felt this way about the person Roman had killed.
“Did you make it hurt?”
He tilted his head upward. His words almost drifted away in the cold breeze.
Roman had heard them. His brows rose, but slowly, a sly grin replace the surprise.
He took a cautious step forward.
Marcus found it a little amusing that he was the one Roman was being careful around.
He let Roman get close to him. He was waiting patiently, yet he was impatient for the answer.
Roman drew close, his shoulders hunched so he appeared smaller, and the stance was almost submissive in a way.
“I made it hurt so bad. He begged,” Roman said with a proud smile. In his tone, he was asking for praise.
Marcus lifted his hand and touched Roman’s cheek.
“Tell me.”
He guided Roman’s head to rest on his shoulder. Roman tucked himself into Marcus’s chest.
His hands settled on Marcus’s hips.
“I took his belt and I strung him from the beam of the shed,” Roman raggedly whispered in Marcus’s ear.
A shiver went through Marcus. Something foul and aching settled in the pit of his stomach.
“I stripped him. He shook with fear. He put up a fight, but the blow you’d given him made him easy to overpower.”
Marcus wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck.
“I started with his toes. I broke each one. He didn’t break until I moved on to snapping his ankles. He sobbed, but he wasn’t broken like I like.”
Roman slipped his hands under Marcus’s shirt. His stomach quivered beneath the touch.
“I carved him up. I can show you. Each letter of your name, baby. M-A-R-C-U-S on his chest, on his face…”
Marcus’s breath hitched. He canted his hips and Roman slid a knee between his thighs.
“…and on his dick before I cut it off.”
Marcus lost his balance. Roman was right there to catch him. He didn’t just catch him. He shoved his hands into Marcus’s pants and grabbed a hold of him.
He jerked when Roman’s cold hands wrapped around his cock. A squeak slipped from his lips. He tightened his arms around Roman’s neck. Not once did he try to push him off. He welcomed the touch, wishing it would banish these dark cravings he had.
Except Roman’s touch was fanning the flames. He didn’t just fuel the fire, he was spreading it. What had only been a small spark in Marcus’s belly was now an inferno devouring his mind, turning it into a mush of rot.
Roman sealed his lips on the side of Marcus’s neck. He sucked and licked the sensitive skin. Marcus tried only once to wiggle away. He let out a moan he didn’t recognize as himself. He tilted his head, offering more of himself to Roman. Roman was obliged, licking and biting upward to Marcus’s ear. He changed direction, heading along Marcus’s jawline. He came close to Marcus’s mouth.
Hesitance. Perhaps even a little fear he might scare Marcus off.
But Marcus was drowning in this dark desire. His brain was pumped full of toxic waste. It was a junkie for this. It craved what was destroying it.
That’s when he didn’t just ignore the small voice of reason in the back of his head. He threw it into the basement, poured gasoline on it, and set it aflame before locking the door.
Roman’s kiss was anything but frenzied. He took his time laying his soft lips against Marcus’s. He tongue asked for entrance. Marcus couldn’t deny it. He parted his lips, hungry for what Roman had to offer.
But Roman was in no hurry. Even his hand on Marcus’s cock had slowed to a torturous stroke.
Roman fucked Marcus’s mouth tenderly like Marcus was something fragile. Marcus keened like a cat in heat. He wanted more. He was begging for it, but no matter how much he did, Roman didn’t give it up.
He laughed. Fucking laughed into Marcus’s mouth.
He pulled away, still grinning while Marcus surely looked fucked out of his mind.
“You’re just starving aren’t you?”
And in Roman’s eyes, Marcus only saw endearment.
Before Marcus could answer, Roman was kissing him again. As the snow continued to melt and Michael’s corpse lay buried near them, Roman brought Marcus to another mind-breaking climax.