FIC: Mirror!Pinto Chapter 1c: Retribution - And the Devil sends the Beast with Wrath
Series Masterpost with all previous and following chapters and summaries for all parts.
FANMIX byangelrox040 is here.
Chapter 1c - Retribution: And the devil sends the beast with wrath
(title taken from Rage’s “Point of no Return”)
The look on Winters’ face is better than Chris imagined.
He led Zach into the room, all cocky swagger, Zach playing the scared trembling victim while shivering in anticipation. Chris’ hands clenched at the way Winter’s eyes roamed Zach’s body; disgusted at the fat tongue wetting purple lips, at the sweat standing on Winter’s receding brow. Chris looked at thin hair combed over a bald head, at the ill-fitting shirt with dark patches under his armpits, at the fat belly, looked at Winters standing close to Zach, too close. Zach who is grace and beauty and hidden fire and perfection and everything Winters isn’t. He watched them both and fury coiled through his veins at the thought of what Zach told him about this man.
Chris suppressed his disgust when he shook Winter’s hand, smiled cheerfully and fake when the man thanked him for his service. Chris smile got a lot more real when Zach slipped out of the handcuffs and picked up the candlestick. And he laughed at the noise it made against Winters’ skull and at the way he sagged to the floor in a graceless heap.
Zach is content to watch at first, watches Chris use his fists on the quivering man tied to the bed. Watches, moves around the bed for a better look and different angles, smiles at Winter’s grunts of pain, at his moaning and begging. When Chris gets out his knife, still crusted with Zach’s blood, he kneels next to the bed, leans close to Winters’ head and whispers into his ear. Asks him if he remembers, remembers all the things he did to Zach, recounts his “favorite” memories, watches Chris use the knife in savage pleasure and grins at Winters’ tears.
Zach isn’t hard, could never get hard at this, this thing between him and Winters, and Chris now, Chris; this is not about sex. This is about revenge, about making Winters pay; this is Zach’s retribution. Even when he takes the knife from Chris, straddles the mauled chest and adds his own slashes to Chris’ bloody painting, he isn’t hard.
But later, after he cuts of one of Winters’ fingers as a little memento, smiles at the broken yell, after he watches the silver blade sink into Winters’ heart, watches his eyes get dull and lifeless, after Chris takes his hand and lead him from the room… Later, after all that, when he and Chris stand opposite each other in Winters’ bathroom, then he gets hard. He looks at Chris, his glowing blue eyes, his bruised lips. Looks at Chris blood-stained clothes, the knife in his hands glinting under the neon light of the bathroom and his dick surges to life so quick that Zach stumbles.
Zach falls to his knees, fumbles to open Chris’ pants, swallows him whole and clenches his hands in Chris’ red-stained pants. Chris moans and throws his head back, Zach looks up at him through his lashes and smiles around Chris’ cock. He sucks him hard, mercilessly, bobs his head up and down Chris’ cock, swallows around the head and uses his teeth to make Chris scream. Chris’ bloody hands clench in Zach’s hair, hold his head still. Zach closes his eyes and feels the wetness of Winters’ blood against his scalp, relaxes his throat and lets Chris fuck his mouth.
They clean themselves and walk out of the house, blinking in the morning light. Zach holds the candlestick and in his pocket, wrapped in a tissue, is another small souvenir.
They stand on the street and look at each other. Chris clears his throat. “So, you headed back to Phoenix?”
“Nah.” Zach shakes his head, “I was only visiting a friend there.”
“You live in L.A., too?”
“Well, now that I no longer have to hide… yeah.”
“Right.” Chris shuffles on his feet, unsure how to proceed. Zach watches him and smiles. Then he moves closer and gives him a small peck on the lips.
“Thanks, Pretty Boy. That was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“Uh, no problem.” Chris feels his cheeks heat and curses Zach’s closeness. The other’s smell is intoxicating, dark, sexy, a pleasant musk with a hint of blood underneath.
Zach steps back and smirks at him. “If you ever want to meet again, come to this club. I’ll buy you a beer…” He looks down at Chris’ crotch and licks his lips. “…or something.” Zach presses a card into Chris’ hand, on it the name “Silver”, a picture of a stripper’s pole and an address. When Chris looks up again, Zach is gone.
Chris wanders home, calls his contact man and tells him about Winters. Bruce yells at him for five minutes, but eventually subsides and promises to deal with the situation. Chris enters his apartment, tidies up a little, watches a movie. Cooks some food, reads the paper, takes out the trash. The club’s card seems to burn his pocket, the silver pole winks at him when he takes it out and looks at it. Chris throws it onto the table and tries to stop thinking about Zach.
Less than 10 hours later he enters the club. As soon as his eyes have adjusted to the dim light and his ears can deal with the loud music and the not-so-silent moaning, his gaze falls onto the figure on the stage. Less than 20 minutes after that, after Zach has seen him, after he came close and… danced for him, mere inches from Chris’ face, they stumble into Zach’s make-up room with Chris hand down Zach’s lacey panties and Zach sucking desperately on Chris tongue.
Two days after that, Chris makes him the necklace. Zach draws Winters’ finger bone into his mouth and spreads his legs when Chris comes to him.
Chapter 2a is here.
FANMIX byangelrox040 is here.
Chapter 1c - Retribution: And the devil sends the beast with wrath
(title taken from Rage’s “Point of no Return”)
The look on Winters’ face is better than Chris imagined.
He led Zach into the room, all cocky swagger, Zach playing the scared trembling victim while shivering in anticipation. Chris’ hands clenched at the way Winter’s eyes roamed Zach’s body; disgusted at the fat tongue wetting purple lips, at the sweat standing on Winter’s receding brow. Chris looked at thin hair combed over a bald head, at the ill-fitting shirt with dark patches under his armpits, at the fat belly, looked at Winters standing close to Zach, too close. Zach who is grace and beauty and hidden fire and perfection and everything Winters isn’t. He watched them both and fury coiled through his veins at the thought of what Zach told him about this man.
Chris suppressed his disgust when he shook Winter’s hand, smiled cheerfully and fake when the man thanked him for his service. Chris smile got a lot more real when Zach slipped out of the handcuffs and picked up the candlestick. And he laughed at the noise it made against Winters’ skull and at the way he sagged to the floor in a graceless heap.
Zach is content to watch at first, watches Chris use his fists on the quivering man tied to the bed. Watches, moves around the bed for a better look and different angles, smiles at Winter’s grunts of pain, at his moaning and begging. When Chris gets out his knife, still crusted with Zach’s blood, he kneels next to the bed, leans close to Winters’ head and whispers into his ear. Asks him if he remembers, remembers all the things he did to Zach, recounts his “favorite” memories, watches Chris use the knife in savage pleasure and grins at Winters’ tears.
Zach isn’t hard, could never get hard at this, this thing between him and Winters, and Chris now, Chris; this is not about sex. This is about revenge, about making Winters pay; this is Zach’s retribution. Even when he takes the knife from Chris, straddles the mauled chest and adds his own slashes to Chris’ bloody painting, he isn’t hard.
But later, after he cuts of one of Winters’ fingers as a little memento, smiles at the broken yell, after he watches the silver blade sink into Winters’ heart, watches his eyes get dull and lifeless, after Chris takes his hand and lead him from the room… Later, after all that, when he and Chris stand opposite each other in Winters’ bathroom, then he gets hard. He looks at Chris, his glowing blue eyes, his bruised lips. Looks at Chris blood-stained clothes, the knife in his hands glinting under the neon light of the bathroom and his dick surges to life so quick that Zach stumbles.
Zach falls to his knees, fumbles to open Chris’ pants, swallows him whole and clenches his hands in Chris’ red-stained pants. Chris moans and throws his head back, Zach looks up at him through his lashes and smiles around Chris’ cock. He sucks him hard, mercilessly, bobs his head up and down Chris’ cock, swallows around the head and uses his teeth to make Chris scream. Chris’ bloody hands clench in Zach’s hair, hold his head still. Zach closes his eyes and feels the wetness of Winters’ blood against his scalp, relaxes his throat and lets Chris fuck his mouth.
They clean themselves and walk out of the house, blinking in the morning light. Zach holds the candlestick and in his pocket, wrapped in a tissue, is another small souvenir.
They stand on the street and look at each other. Chris clears his throat. “So, you headed back to Phoenix?”
“Nah.” Zach shakes his head, “I was only visiting a friend there.”
“You live in L.A., too?”
“Well, now that I no longer have to hide… yeah.”
“Right.” Chris shuffles on his feet, unsure how to proceed. Zach watches him and smiles. Then he moves closer and gives him a small peck on the lips.
“Thanks, Pretty Boy. That was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“Uh, no problem.” Chris feels his cheeks heat and curses Zach’s closeness. The other’s smell is intoxicating, dark, sexy, a pleasant musk with a hint of blood underneath.
Zach steps back and smirks at him. “If you ever want to meet again, come to this club. I’ll buy you a beer…” He looks down at Chris’ crotch and licks his lips. “…or something.” Zach presses a card into Chris’ hand, on it the name “Silver”, a picture of a stripper’s pole and an address. When Chris looks up again, Zach is gone.
Chris wanders home, calls his contact man and tells him about Winters. Bruce yells at him for five minutes, but eventually subsides and promises to deal with the situation. Chris enters his apartment, tidies up a little, watches a movie. Cooks some food, reads the paper, takes out the trash. The club’s card seems to burn his pocket, the silver pole winks at him when he takes it out and looks at it. Chris throws it onto the table and tries to stop thinking about Zach.
Less than 10 hours later he enters the club. As soon as his eyes have adjusted to the dim light and his ears can deal with the loud music and the not-so-silent moaning, his gaze falls onto the figure on the stage. Less than 20 minutes after that, after Zach has seen him, after he came close and… danced for him, mere inches from Chris’ face, they stumble into Zach’s make-up room with Chris hand down Zach’s lacey panties and Zach sucking desperately on Chris tongue.
Two days after that, Chris makes him the necklace. Zach draws Winters’ finger bone into his mouth and spreads his legs when Chris comes to him.
Chapter 2a is here.