Date: 2008-01-16 10:28 pm (UTC)
The rigid steel pressed to his heart drew a ragged gasp from his lips, and he shivered as fire raced along his skin in pinpricks and blossomed at his groin.

“You’ll kill me lovingly, just like this?” His fervid gaze flickered to the gleaming metal against his chest, then back to Polya’s dark eyes. “With a gentle squeeze of the trigger?”

Dmitry pressed closer, his hands seeking out the buttons of Rakitin’s coat.

“Something beautiful is exchanged between murderer and victim. Something spiritual. A dance. Like sex. Better, still. Words do not exist, because words cannot describe the feeling of taking another life…”

He was whispering, low and soft into the pathologist’s ear like the sweet nothings of a dear lover.

“Words like carnal, and erotic… but there are no words for it! The struggling, the screaming, the red blood that flows so easily…and my own rage. The is nothing that could ever extinguish it, and when they are silent, finally, and cold and pale… oh, they’re so beautiful in death.”

Dmitry trembled, rested his head on Polya’s shoulder, pulled the lithe, pale man against him by the coarse wool of his coat. Wool, yes, he smelled sweet like old wool and soap, and the murder shivered again. “You have no idea what you do to me. How you destroy me, only with questions.”
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The Groznyj Grad Living Novel

December 2010

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