The Suicide King Volume 1 (The Fallocaust Series Book 3)

by Quil Carter

  Killian straddled me and drew my chin up so our lips met. When we broke apart, he leaned down so his face was by my ear. “Do you really want to see me fuck him?” His breath against my ear sent a shiver up my spine, and his words did too.

  I went to grab my cock but Killian beat me to it. He took the hard and twitching rod and I felt his hole, burning hot, against the head. I didn’t answer him in that moment. I had to focus on what was happening or I was afraid my mind would escape me and the flashbacks would return.

  My hips thrusted up. I looked past his spread apart legs, past his blood-streaked dick with the foreskin gathered up behind his crown, and watched my cock disappear between his cheeks. I felt a puff of air from Killian exhaling, and as he sucked in a long breath, I grabbed his thigh and pushed myself up. With a satisfied cry from him and a grunt from me, I broke into him.

  I froze and stared forward, my heart racing from the anticipation of my mind breaking like it had done after I’d killed that slave. But there was nothing rushing through my brain but the fantasy of having Nero and Kiki under my control.

  I think I was okay. I began to relax my body and Killian felt it. The boy let out a moan and started to ride me.

  The pleasure was overwhelmingly good, but I wasn’t going to cum within five pushes like I’d feared. My restraint I’d had to learn from our previous healthy sex life was still there; so I further relaxed myself, and almost like picking up a bicycle after a year of not riding it, I settled into my role and started rhythmically fucking him.

  Not making love, fucking him. This wasn’t the time or the place. And to let him know this, I engaged his previous question.

  “Do you want to fuck him?” I whispered back.

  Killian let out a long moan and started jerking his hips up. I put a hand on his hip and enjoyed the visual of my cock gliding in and out of him; his own stiff dick bouncing up and down until I grabbed it and started rubbing the slit. I wanted my eyes open, just to keep my consciousness in this reality, but it felt too good and the satiation of my sex-deprived body was making my eyes close in ecstasy.

  So, only half-realizing I was doing it, I closed my eyes. I felt like all of the tension I had been feeling for the past several months was slowly getting pushed out of my body; with every slam of Killian’s frame, and every penetration my cock made into his tight ass, more stress left me. It was a powerful feeling. I’d forgotten just how much I needed sex with Killian to center me, to relax me. I’d never been a sexual person before him, but I still jerked off to release myself; this had been the longest stretch of not being able to cum I’d ever experienced in my adult life.

  I realized I was moaning in tandem with him. I could feel his hot breath against my neck and his own groans and heavy breathing in my ear. What a beautiful thing to hear, and it made me want to hear him cum. I knew he’d be driven wild hearing me cum inside of him.

  My hips started to jolt up and down faster. Killian rested his hands on my shoulders and used them as leverage to pick up his own speed. I put my hand on his cock again and started to jerk him off, my eyes still closed and my mind wandering around my thoughts like I was walking through a museum.

  “I didn’t think I did…” Killian suddenly gasped. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but–” I felt his lips and my mouth opened, our tongues met briefly before he nipped my chin. “–I want to see you fuck Nero. I want to do it at the same time. I’ll kill him as you cum.”

  “Slit his throat,” I groaned. I took his bottom lip into my mouth and bit down on the soft flesh.

  My memories took me to when I’d held down that legionary for Reno, how I cut his throat and let the blood spray on me as Reno came. “His body… it’ll spasm when he dies, tense up and contract. Think of how it’ll feel–” I let out a hard breath and picked up my speed. “–on your cock.”

  “Fuck,” Killian said, and he stopped talking. My mind didn’t halt my fantasy, however; even though Killian had gone quiet, my imagination was still alive.

  And then my mind betrayed me.

  I should’ve known.

  I opened my eyes and saw Kiki on my cock. He was crying, and the black eyeliner he had worn a few times in the bedroom was streaked down his face. He was shuddering and gasping, with Killian behind him holding a knife; he was jabbing the kid in the ass every time he slowed down. Blood was pouring down the little nicks in his backside, I could smell it. I’d lick it off of that smooth white ass and force Nero to eat my cum out of it.

  Then, suddenly, my lust-filled fantasy got ripped out of my mind like something had literally grabbed it and yanked it away. And in quick succession, a new one replaced it. The switch came so rapidly, and with such a physical force, I felt like I was being slapped.

  All of a sudden anxiety replaced the lust, and it swarmed in my stomach like I’d swallowed wasps.

  “Go on… get on top of him.”

  No, no. Fuck. I was doing good. I was fucking doing good!

  I jolted and took in a shuddering gasp.

  Then I realized everything had been a dream. I’d never escaped Nero’s room in Cardinalhall. All of this had been a delusion, a fantasy that I had conjured up out of pure desperation. If I opened my eyes Nero would be beside me, naked and pleasuring himself to Kiki riding me. He’d have a cigar in his mouth which he’d extinguish on my balls, or the head of my cock so Kiki could lick the ash from the blistering wound.

  Killian being immortal, us being assumed dead and burning, it had all been a manifestation of my deepest desires. Killian was gone. I was never going to get him back. Killian was gone.

  I heard a high octave moan, and felt the pleasure multiplying in my groin. An intense hatred planted its flag inside of me and claimed my body as its own; and, unable to resist its hold on me, I let it fester for this ditzy little cicaro riding my cock.

  “Ever have another ass squeeze your cock, Reaver? Or just your little Killi?” I heard Nero ask beside me. I felt his minty breath on my cheek and he kissed me, but when he tried to kiss my lips I pulled away, a hiss escaping from between my teeth. “When I get a hold of that little twink, I’ll fuck him until he shudders and dies.”

  He’s already dead. Killian’s already gone.

  Nero tried to kiss me again but I once again jerked my head away. I was about to push Kiki off of me but then I remembered what my plan was all along. The plan I had inside of my head to kill him.

  And it wasn’t going to be long until I implemented it; Kiki’s moans were getting louder. My entire body was shaking from him bouncing up and down on my cock, and I could feel from his breathing that he was jerking himself off. Not only that, his hole was tightening, taking my cock in deeper and pulling it inside of him as if craving more.

  Then, sensing I was close, he licked my neck before nipping it. His face was near mine.

  His face was near – I let out a scream as the pleasure multiplied, a bellowed, angry cry – his face was near mine. Get him, get him, punish him for making you fuck him. You’re Killian’s, your cock belongs to… to –

  My eyes snapped open as Kiki quickly got off of my cock; he must’ve read my mind and knew something was wrong. Quickly, before he could get away I lunged at him and we both tumbled to the floor. Kiki let out a scream and I saw his soft, porcelain neck shudder… right before I leaned down and savagely bit it.

  I felt his windpipe crush underneath the power of my jaws, and heard shrill and desperate pleading; someone was shrieking my name over and over. I put all of my strength behind my bite, and when I felt warm blood from my teeth puncturing the satiny thin skin, I whipped my head to the side.

  I swallowed the chunk of skin and sunk my teeth back into the gaping crimson hole in his throat. Then I started biting through it, searching with my teeth for the artery as my hand grabbed my cock and I furiously started stroking it.

  Then I found the sweet spot. My tongue located the pulsing vein and immediately my teeth clipped it. A spray of blood shot onto my face and I eagerly wrapped my mouth a
round the flow. I ignored the boy’s wheezing gasps, and his hand clawing my neck, and drank from the squirting fountain of blood.

  I opened my eyes only once to see the blood gushing from his wound, pooling in the center to make it almost appear black, and running down a neck no longer alabaster white. I moaned from it, and just when I thought I couldn’t feel any more pleasure, my breathing started to get short and my hand sped up its rhythm. I looked down at my cock, sprinkled with blood, then buried my face back into the pulsing wound.

  Then the tension reached its critical point and overwhelmed me. I locked my lips around the gouge, now only able to breathe through my nose, and felt my entire body tense and tighten as the orgasm started.

  I gasped and grunted from the pleasure, but as the toe-curling climax rolled through me I was confused as to why Nero wasn’t beating on me. Why he hadn’t taken Kiki and called for Sid. I had killed Kiki, but where was… where was…

  As the orgasm subsided, this odd reality started to come to me, and I realized with confusion and dread that the puzzle pieces just didn’t match up. Something was wrong, and now that I had cum and the madness was subsiding with it, I was coming to the realization that I’d just returned from a manic episode.

  But… but what was reality and what wasn’t?

  I removed my mouth from the gaping wound, now only weakly pulsing blood. I looked down at the hole in the kid’s neck, a lake of red like a cup of wine that had overflowed, and I waited for it to disappear. I waited for all of this to vanish into the delirium, and for me to wake up to wherever it was that I had been previous.

  I glanced down and saw my soft cock, a thread of cum hanging off of it like a spider’s string and a pool of liquidy clear and opaque semen on the bare leg of my victim. I reached down and touched the kid, and my heart jumped when I realized with a mind-freezing rush of dread… that he was real.

  And then I recognized the leg.

  With a coldness in my chest, I slowly looked up, and put a hand to my mouth when I saw Killian’s half-open eyes staring off into nothing, blood covering his face and the two inches of blond hair he’d grown since it had been burned off.

  I stared in horror, and a whimper fell unabashed from my lips as I touched his cheek. His cheek was still warm, but as I listened for his heartbeat I heard nothing. Flooded with shock, I rose to my feet and looked down at his naked body, absolutely coated in red like it had been falling from the sky like rain, the blood most concentrated on his throat, the one I had ripped out, and pooling underneath his head. He looked beautiful in a morbid way, where the blood didn’t touch was the most flawless of skin, pure white like it had been painted by an angel.

  I had tried… I had tried to fool myself into thinking I would be okay enough to have sex with him, but I was wrong – I wasn’t okay. And if he was still mortal, this would’ve been the day that I killed him.

  “Oh my god…”

  I turned around and my eyes locked with Kiki’s. The kid’s expression was pure terror. He put both of his hands to his mouth and keeled over as if unable to handle this horrific scene.

  And it was a horrific scene. I was standing naked over top of my dead boyfriend, blood around my mouth and dripping down my chin, to my neck and chest. All of this happening after he’d, most definitely, heard us have sex. What that kid was thinking in that moment was beyond me, but the shock on his face suggested he himself had walked into a nightmare.

  Then, before I could tell him that Killian was immortal, the kid took a single step backwards, before the grisly scene in front of him proved too much to handle. Kiki fainted.

  Chapter 19

  Jade

  “Jade?”

  That voice – he was here? Had he broken through the thick yet transparent wall that was blocking me from reaching him? Was he so powerful that not even my own deteriorating mind could prevent him from saving me?

  He must’ve done something because I could hear him… before I had been nothing but a wraith without a body, floating in something that had no colour, texture, or form. I could only call it limbo but if this was where one went when they died, it was proof that there was no afterlife, only a shapeless hell.

  It had felt like I’d spent a lifetime in here, but in the same breath, time had no meaning. How could I know time enough to count it, when there was nothing around me to gauge its passage? Not even an inner monologue of my own thoughts to help remind me that I was still an organic, living, breathing being. There was nothing of that where I was, and as I held onto his voice I felt terror at the prospect of going back to that void of nonexistence.

  But the feeling of terror was, in itself, a relief, because it meant I could feel emotions again.

  I was no longer nothing, that voice which came to me in the forms of opal ribbons, came and gently wrapped themselves around me, and lifted me higher and higher until my body broke the surface and I took my first breath of air.

  I felt contact on my chin. Awareness came to my eyes but I had no control over them. They rolled in their sockets and looked around the bright room, taking in shapes, sounds, and smells. The physical objects placed around me felt foreign, and inside of me they drew up alarm. I was no longer used to seeing this world that had been my world since before my birth. My life was that of a meaningless entity, floating in the plains of nihility, and it was there that I had forgotten where it was I had once belonged.

  “Calm down. There is no need to be frantic, you’re making yourself choke,” he said. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, and because he had brought attention to it, I realized I was gasping for air. My brain was commanding me to breathe hard, like it was waiting for a hand to grab my foot to pull me back down into the darkness, so I had to fill my lungs with as much air as I could.

  But his voice calmed those desperate impulses like a warm blanket wrapped around a cold and shivering body. It soothed me, and when I realized his hand was touching my bare chest, his cooled skin against my own, the tense strings that were wrapped so tightly around my body started to loosen.

  Beside me, I heard him take in a sharp inhale. “Do you know who I am? Can you speak?” He said it as if it were a plea, a tone that was a stranger to both of us.

  I filled and stretched out my sore lungs with one last deep breath, and my brain was satiated enough to allow my own breathing to normalize. However, it wasn’t enough for my eyes to stay in one place. I kept looking from one object to the other, trying to figure out and recognize each one, but before my mind was able to register it and accept its existence in my new reality, I was already looking at the next thing. I knew he was talking to me and I wanted to look back, but my frantic cognizance was doing everything but, and my paralysed body offered me no further help in letting him know I could hear him. He was like a voice on the wind, easily carried off and away from my consciousness, and there was nothing I could do about it. All of my thoughts were shattered into tiny pieces, and it was taking all of my strength to just breathe properly, and to not panic over the shock of being out of the terrifying limbo that had been my eternity.

  A hand patted my cheek. Already I was feeling like I was going underwater again, but I tried, I tried to keep my head above the void. His touch was helping. I wish I could tell him that.

  “Maritus?”

  “M-maritus? Come on… say something to me. Jade? It’s… Elish.”

  Elish… yes. I knew who he was, but I knew him as a feeling only. I knew him as a pillar of strength. I knew him as an embodiment of a love so strong it could extend through realms, through worlds. I knew him as… as my husband.

  My husband.

  In that moment I missed him so much my heart physically hurt, and when I heard the tightness in his voice, the tones of desperation, these emotions, ones that my cold-as-ice master never felt, never let himself feel, my soul broke. He had reached his hand through worlds and had taken me and brought me back to reality, where he was fated to spend eternity, and yet I wasn’t strong enough to tell him how much I lov
ed him. How much I missed him.

  I drew up all of the strength I had in me, and pushed through the darkness that was continuously trying to drag me back down – and I managed to stop my eyes from jutting around. I then squinted them hard, and looked at him.

  My husband.

  He looked so different but I knew him; I felt his presence inside of my mind and outside of it. He had his hair cut shorter now, just several inches past his ears, but his bangs remained to fall over his eyes. He looked tired, but still a man that had refined dignity and grace to make it his own. Even sitting beside me in this room, he radiated elegance and tranquility. Had he been able to snatch me from this darkness because he was really a god?

  I felt his hand slip into mine, a hand that was no longer soft but rough. I knew why. I knew it was because of where we’d been, but the colourless haze, it was creeping along the corners of my vision like a rising tide lapping against a jagged rock, slowly rising, consuming…

  “If you recognize me… squeeze my hand.”

  I looked at him and inside I felt those purple eyes draw me to him like we were magnetized. We stared at each other and through the strength I found in his loving, yet worried gaze, I squeezed his hand.

  “They collected some old boxes and built a fire in the floor and he found some tools and emptied out the cart and sat working on the wheel,” he read to me, his voice soft; the electric fireplace was bathing him in an orange glow. This scene was familiar to me, but I had forgotten where I had experienced it before. My mind told me in its weak voice that perhaps I was stuck in a loop, that my life would just replay scenes over again forever, and the only knowledge I’d have of this happening would be faint feelings of déjà vu. “He pulled the bolt and bored out the collet with a hand drill and resleeved it with a section of pipe he’d cut to length with a hacksaw. Then he bolted it all back together and stood the cart upright and wheeled it around the floor. It ran fairly true. The boy sat watching everything.” The page turned, the book, dog-eared and worn from being read so many times, in his hand. He had read this book to me continuously each night, but he never finished it. He would get to the point where I’d see only several pages remaining and then he would stop.