Unhinged - Blood and Lust

“s**t! s**t!! s**t!!! s**t!!!!” Lex growled as he yanked the steering wheel hard to his left, narrowly missing a giant tree. The car skidded onto the wet road where it belonged, but not without attempting to fling itself sideways and send its driver to an early grave. Lex yanked again. Hard. And the car reluctantly straightened. He ground his teeth, his knuckles white against the steering wheel and narrowed his eyes as though that would help him see through the thick wall of rain and mist and fog that clogged his windshield.  There was water everywhere— on the road and along the side of it, on the huge huge trees that lined there like silent monarchs — and worst of all on his rusty convertible. Lex could not see an inch beyond his own nose so he simply drove, silently praying he wouldn’t hit anything. But that was exactly what he did.  By the time Lex got to Windfall Manor it was teeming, everybody was already here and doing their job. As he studied the scene Lex silently cursed the deer that froze in front of headlights and caused you to wait four hours under the rain for help to come and swore an even bigger curse on strict animal laws that force you to do so even when you had somewhere important to be.  What kind of deer goes running around in that kind of weather? Christ! Lex sighed and got out of his car. The rain had stopped but no one seemed to notice as they moved in and out of the giant red tape set up by the sheriff’s department, talking, carrying samples of heaven-knows-what in sealed bags and clutching clipboards in gloved hands, all in uniform except him.  Lex felt slightly left out as he moved towards the sheriff whom he spotted a far distance from the chaos of the red tape talking to someone— a middle-aged old guard investigator no doubt.  “Evening Dunski,” Lex said, standing next to him.   The Sheriff nodded to him and kept talking to the person— a man just as he had initially thought— whom upon closer inspection Lex realized wasn’t middle-aged at all and was most certainly not “old”.  Lex saw now what had fooled him: thick black jacket hanging on a five-foot frame, firm set shoulders that had seemed like a stone from where he was but now had a softness to them, short red hair that smoothed back to a surprisingly slender neck and spilled forward at the front onto a porcelain forehead, almost touching a pair of feathery auburn eyebrows above hooded eyes which emphasized a somewhat small nose.  Lex’s eyes raced towards the lips and were delighted to find them full and unyielding, as unyielding as that chin with nature’s dent in it, and somewhere in the deep recess of his mind he wondered how that firm jaw would feel pressed feverishly against his thigh.  He immediately shook away the thought, almost shaking his head physically, before the warmth gathering in his belly could spread to unwanted places. I don’t swing that way, he thought to himself, but my god what a face!  The Sheriff droned on and Lex tried his best to listen as he soaked in this stranger.  “...Serial killer…”    —Loose jeans hugged a long pair of legs and tapered down to black leather boots— “…Her name was Sarah…”    —The stranger had struck a very nonchalant pose, one leg in front of the other, waist c****d to the side, thumbs hooked in the pocket, elbows relaxed and chest out, completely expressionless as he listened to the Sheriff— “...Yup, burned a cross on her head…”      What?   Lex’s attention wrenched back to the conversation.   “Hold on, what? Why does he do that?” he paused, “assuming it’s a he. Are we even sure the person doing this is male?”  “It’s a he, detective.” Dunski said evenly “Forensics found semen on all the women. The victims were r***d, branded and then killed. It’s given on the s****l assault but we don’t know why he brands them, or why he specifically does that after he r***s them. It’s bad, detective. It’s really bad.” The stranger said nothing as the Sheriff continued with the briefing but was looking at him now. Lex tried to ignore the sudden feeling he had of being exposed, he threw a look back trying to level it out and instantly regret it. Dark green eyes sank into his soul and plunged him into chaos, delicious heady chaos that filled him with excitement. The warmth spread and Lex instinctively shoved his hands into his coat pocket to stop himself from reacting, turning his head down and rocking back and forth on his feet. A silky brow curved upward, those green eyes taking on a slightly quizzical expression, a hint of amusement just below the surface.  It took a few seconds for Lex to realize when Sherriff Dunski finished debriefing and was walking to his car yelling orders left and right. Much too long. He had been alone with Big Mr Green Eyes for a while. “So, are you going to undress me with your eyes all day or are you going to tell me your name?” The stranger’s voice was strong, clear and low. Not deep by any means, or gruff, but firm and smooth, caressing almost, without a hint of uncertainty or a single quiver. Lex didn’t answer, didn’t trust himself to be able to without making a complete fool of himself. So he pretended to watch the Sheriff’s car zoom down the road while he tried to steady the raging storm in his body.   “Are you always this unprofessional, detective?” he finally mustered, instinctively lowering his voice to match the stranger's and looking everywhere but at the living, breathing mass of beautiful perfection beside him, trying to sound detached, trying not to engage.  I must sound like a complete wreck. The stranger laughed softly, those eyes glazing for a moment in genuine hilarity. He was going to start calling him that. Green Eyes. What was so amusing though? Lex felt a slight prick of irritation at the notion that He was being laughed at.   “ Not always.” He smirked. “I’ve never seen you on this side of the world, detective. And I should know, given that it’s my world” The sculpted lips moved like a painter’s brush, stroking the slick voice into Lex’s ears, the words barely making it into his brain. He grasped for an appropriate response for a statement he knew he didn’t really hear, the heat on his skin wanting only one thing— to skip this charade.  “I came in from Atlanta. Got a call from Dunski himself. He heard about my work in Romania and figured I’d be a good addition to the team.” “What case did you work?” “The brothel brothers.” “Ooo.” “Yeah.” Lex wasn’t surprised that this stranger in a town so isolated from the rest of the world knew about the brothel brothers' case. The events of Romania cut deep, and despite his best efforts to temper his suffering by keeping it from going public, his bosses in Atlanta did not hold the same sentiment. They used Romania’s success to get him called up for cases ahead of others that could do the same job and brought it up in any important social gathering the first chance they got. They called him their golden card and did not seem to understand Lex’s mounting frustration with the whole thing or the fact that sleep was not the only good that Romania had permanently taken from him. Lex had kicked against every single one of those cases that his bosses got him on including this one, but he was often made brutally aware that he had no choice, hence his being here in this tiny little town of Dale with a demented serial killer running around rather than on a sun-coated beach in Miami soaking up the warmth of earth and sky. Hell, he could even be in one of those luxury hotels on the East End, dumping several bags of cocaine down his nostrils, his perpetually starved and aching member buried deep and thick into an escort, their feverish moans barely veiled by thunderous loud music.   Anywhere else but here. Lex sighed and stretched and was about to say something more but someone called the stranger away. For a while he watched the two of them talk and felt the stirring within him again. It occurred to him that it had never subsided but had settled into a quiet brew when they were talking. He pulled his gaze from them and looked around him, letting the view wash over him. The sun was fast setting, casting a soft orange glow on the Manor grounds, the road and the dense foliage on the other side of it. It was cold and quiet, the crime scene, and had almost completely cleared out save for a few officers. The body had to be at the morgue by now, and just as he remembered that he hadn’t taken a look at it and was contemplating whether to head there right now or later, Green Eyes was at his side again. Lex closed his eyes and forgot about the body as the voice fondled his senses. “A couple of us are heading down to the bar tonight to talk about the case. Come by let me buy you a drink.”  Lex said nothing and simply nodded but froze when he felt an electric hand on his arm and another pushing its way into his pocket seeming to reach for something, Lex’s p***s swelled and throbbed violently, he almost whimpered and pressed himself against the hand, uncaring about being out in the open, wanting only for that silky-soft hand to wrap itself around him and tug and stroke till his gates burst open, mouth and tongue uncorked, head flung back, eyes dilated, chest heaving, his breath a marathon against his pounding heart. That voice was in his ear now, its breath a maddening feather tip on his fevered skin: “Call me whenever he gets hungry.” The voice said, and the hand in his pocket ground itself in rotation against the fat bulge in his pants. Lex groaned, closing his eyes. Oh god.  “Please…” He gasped out. Please! “Come to the bar tonight, and I’ll drink you till you’re empty and shaking.” The pocket hand ground him harder now, faster and faster, while the voice sang obscene praises to his engorged phallus. Lex’s breathing came in choking gasps and bursts now, his knees bucked, the other hand became an arm and circled his body holding him in place while the pocket hand worked its magic faster, harder, higher.  Oh god! Oh god!!  And just as the music neared its crescendo the hand and the voice melted away. No! please!  Lex fell to his knees shuddering, gasping, all the air in the world suddenly not enough. His hand shot into his pocket, and his aching c**k, unhinged, strained against the fabric as he tried to repeat the motion as the pocket hand had done it. Lex drew his hand away from himself forcefully and tightened it into a fist. He threw himself on the ground and struggled to lay still, his entire body erupting in flames.  He stayed that way until the sun had completely sunk beneath the trees, till the red tape and the manor and the road became creeping shadows. Only then did he pull himself up and walk to his car. He stopped and reached for his keys, his hand trembling slightly as he checked his pockets. I’m never wearing pants that have pockets again. He ignored the momentary sneer his brain did as it called him a liar, and burrowed his hands into his pockets. His fingers found the keys but they also found a piece of paper.  Three minutes later Lex was on his way to the town's bar, driving at break-neck speed, mentally reciting the directions while feeling the familiar throb between his legs as It recited something else entirely.