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a perfect little death

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The knife blade feels cold on Brett’s neck.

Eddy’s left hand is hot, pushing Brett’s chest back against the chair. There are worse ways to die, Brett thinks, worse sights. He could be face down with his head pressed against the harsh pavement or staring into searing hospital lights. Eddy’s hair is mussed from their fight and his eyes are bright with fire. Brett always hoped that those eyes would be the last thing he sees before shuffling off this mortal coil. No one else in the business could ever match him.

“I still haven’t forgiven you,” Eddy growls as he pushes the blade in a fraction more. It still hasn’t drawn blood.

“Don’t be like that, babe,” Brett says with a bravado he’s not sure he feels. “You know how my boss is.”

Eddy takes the knife off his neck. He rips open the top two buttons of Brett’s shirt, then pulls the fabric aside and places the blade right over Brett’s heart.

“Don’t call me that. You left me to die back in Tokyo.”

Brett sighs. “Yeah, but I was hoping you’d survive. And I was right.”

Eddy’s lips pull into a snarl and his fingers turn white around his knife’s hilt. He’s centimeters away from Brett’s heart, but he still looks so handsome, even now, so Brett winks.

Eddy snaps away from Brett, standing up straight again. “You little shit. Do you know how much money I lost on that job?”

“I do,” Brett grins. “It all ended up in my bank account.”

Eddy pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Brett slumps back in his chair the best he can while his arms are tied behind his back. He’s tired. In truth, he feels a little guilty. They were supposed to split the bounty. But Brett likes keeping his head attached to his body, so did what he was told.

“I was just following orders, love,” Brett reminds him.

“Don’t call me that,” Eddy hisses. Brett sees the knife blade flash in the lamp light.

“Don’t tell me you weren’t about to do the same thing to me,” Brett scoffs. “Your boss is just as bad as mine.”

Eddy takes a step closer. Brett waits for him to say that he’s wrong. He doesn’t. Instead he places a hand under his chin and looks him in the eye. A part of Brett was hoping that Eddy wasn’t a coward like he was. A part of him wished that Eddy would’ve broken ranks for him. When Brett looks at the harsh line of Eddy’s eyebrows, he knows that he was wrong.

“Maybe I should have some fun with you before I kill you,” Eddy says.

“Fuck you.”

“I was thinking the other way around.”

Suddenly Eddy’s hand is gone. The knife is back in its sheath, placed on the table next to the dingy motel bed. Brett’s heart ticks up a few beats, and he’s not sure if it’s from fear or excitement of a mixture of both. Eddy removes his belt and unbuttons his pants. He pulls out his cock and lines it up with Brett’s mouth.

Brett seals his lips shut. He isn’t about to give Eddy the satisfaction.

“Come on, you used to love to do this.”

Brett still won’t budge, so Eddy pinches his nose. Brett thrashes his head back and forth, but Eddy is strong and manages to hold on. Brett’s lungs scream at him. His vision goes dark around the edges. When he finally gasps for air, Eddy shoves his cock all the way back to Brett’s throat. Brett gags. Drool drips out of the side of his mouth. He can’t bite down because Eddy is still holding his nose and he can barely breathe.

Eddy pulls out and Brett heaves in a large breath. Eddy is hard already, cock glistening with Brett’s spit.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it,” Eddy taunts. He lifts Brett up by his shirt collars and tosses him face first onto the bed. Eddy reaches around him and undoes the button of his trousers. He pulls them down to expose Brett’s bottom. Brett tries to wriggle free but his wrists and ankles are bound and Eddy has always been able to manhandle him - one of the perks of being taller. Still, the backs of Brett’s heels collide with Eddy’s stomach.

“Shit,” Eddy grunts. Brett nearly says sorry before he catches himself. Caring for Eddy is an old habit that will die hard.

Eddy sits down upon the backs of Brett’s thighs, immobilizing him once and for all. Brett hears Eddy spit behind him, and two slick fingers enter his hole, a kindness Brett didn’t think Eddy would give him.

“See, you’re all ready for me.”

Brett buries his face in the mattress. He bites his lip as Eddy removes his fingers and slides his cock into Brett in one quick motion. It’s too much too fast; Brett is winded from the force of it. Suddenly Brett is thankful for Eddy’s impromptu blow job; it meant Eddy’s cock was still wet from Brett’s mouth. 

Eddy keeps going. Brett turns his head to the side and screws his eyes shut. The stretch hurts but only a little. He can endure it. His tears and spit soak the sheets around him. 

The stretch hurts until it doesn’t anymore, because it feels good, because it feels familiar. Eddy pounds into him relentlessly, and Brett’s cock throbs where it is trapped underneath his body. Brett can’t do anything about it. His arms are bound and his shoulders ache from being pulled behind him.

“Eddy, please,” Brett whines into the sheets.

“Please, what?” Eddy asks. His voice is low and breathy. “Please stop?”

“No, please-” Brett tries to shift his body, but he can barely move with Eddy holding his hips down.

“Please,” Brett repeats. “I want to come.”

“Then come.”


Eddy changes the angle, and suddenly Brett is moaning with every thrust. Eddy might hate him, but he still knows the way Brett’s body works. Brett’s cock rubs against the mattress each time Eddy moves.

Brett spills himself onto the duvet. He hopes housekeeping burns it. Maybe Eddy will, to hide the evidence once he’s gone. Eddy follows not long after. Brett can feel Eddy filling him up. There are worse ways to die.

Eddy flips Brett over so that he can see him. Brett’s cock is still exposed; it feels cold in the open air.

Eddy leans down to kiss him on the lips, and Brett can’t figure out why. Brett kisses him back anyway.

When Eddy sits back up, the knife is shining in his hand again, twirling around his fingers.

“Any last words?” he asks.

It’s useless to say that he loves him. If that were true, he wouldn’t have left him to fend for himself.

“Fuck you,” Brett says, instead.


Eddy fusses over Brett as he leaves the shower. 

“Are your wrists okay? I hope I didn’t tie them too tight.”

“I’m fine,” Brett says, but he still lets Eddy hold his wrists up to the light and examine them. They are only a little pink. They’ll be pale as snow by the morning.

“What about your stomach?” Brett asks. “I didn’t mean to kick you.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Eddy assures him. “Comes with the territory.”

Brett follows Eddy to bed and lets Eddy tuck him into the covers. Eddy places a kiss on his forehead. Brett loves him like this, too, soft and gentle, with hands that cradle Brett like he is something precious.

“Speaking of the territory,” Brett says, “I think we should use real knives.”

“Not this again.” Eddy rolls his eyes. “I could hurt you.”

“But I trust you,” Brett insists.

“What if I cut you?”

“You could cut me a little. Just not where anyone can see.”

Eddy sighs. He pulls Brett’s head upon his chest. “What am I going to do with you.”

“I’m hoping that you’ll do a lot of things with me.”

“I will. Just not that.”

Brett turns his head so he can meet Eddy’s eyes. “You liked it today though, right? It was good?”

Eddy’s cheeks flush red. “Yes, I did.”

Brett turns off the light. He pulls the covers up around him and melts into Eddy’s body. Eddy’s chest rises and falls beneath him. He listens as Eddy’s breaths become long and slow, until seconds stretch between each of them.

“What about hot wax?”

Brett feels Eddy jolt back awake.

“What about it?”

“Let’s say I’m a spy with some very important intel, and you need to think of a way to get it out of me. Also we met in the academy back before I defected.”

“I’m listening…”