Killing You (Ziall)

Chapter 11

He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light inside before he began searching for the blade. He found it easily on the floor near the door.

He was about to leave the dingy place when a realization hit him.

The floor lacked the amount of blood it had held when he had last left it after killing the four lads the place had once housed. Yes, there were still sporadic spatters and small pools of crusted red here and there, but he had remembered much worse gore. Now that he thought about it, his clothes weren't bloodied too badly either. He didn't remember cleaning up-- something he never, ever did anyway-- or changing his clothes, either.

The last day or so had all passed in a blur anyway, so Zayn supposed he could've done it in his haze. Not thinking much more about it, he plucked the knife from its resting position and slammed the door behind him, making sure to actually close it this time.

Back in the dark basement, Zayn lay in wait like a lion stalking its prey. Niall had yet to wake up, but Zayn wasn't bothered by that. He was too busy analyzing how he should kill Niall. He would take his precious time, since he had been denied that joy when he had killed the others.

His cold dark eyes grazed over every inch of Niall's slight frame.

He could slit the creamy white flesh of the blonde's throat.

No, he had done that to Josh already. And besides, where was the challenge in that?

Or he could play the part of an artist, etching various drawings into the smooth skin of the boy's back. The blood red against the pale white would suit Niall, he thought. He'd already gotten a start on his masterpiece when he had marked Niall as his own, branding him with 'ZJM'.

His eyes blazed with lust. Mostly the lust for blood, but there was an underlying part of Zayn that still desperately wanted to finish what he and Niall had started that night he practically begged the boy to fuck him senseless in lieu of love.

The masochistic side of Zayn got the better of him and he submitted his weaker self to it fully.

*****

"No, Zayn, please...p-please, just don't kill me," Niall begged as hot, salty tears rolled in rapid succession down his ghostly pale cheeks.

The older boy's dark chuckle sounded from several feet away. Niall couldn't be sure exactly how far away, though, as Zayn insisted on keeping him in this dark, dungeon-like space.

"Oh, Ni. You know I can't kill you......yet," he added the last bit with another dark laugh.

Suddenly Niall felt someone's warm breath ghosting over the exposed flesh of his neck. Zayn. The young boy shivered involuntarily at the close proximity. "P-please," Niall whimpered again.

"Please what Niall? What are you begging for this time? Your life...or me?"

Niall pressed himself against his captor as best as he could with his hands bound to the chains keeping him anchored to the center of the room. "You," he breathed.

And it was true. Niall had never wanted anyone as bad as he wanted Zayn at that moment. The way his name rolled off the older boy's lips-- FINALLY-- made him go weak, and had he not been supported by his chained-up wrists, he certainly would've collapsed to the floor.

Zayn laughed humourlessly and shuffled impossibly closer to the captive. "That can be arranged," he growled, although the tone way more needy than menacing. The lust was clear in his voice.

Niall would be lying if he told himself he wasn't scared of Zayn right then. He was back to the frightening villain he had been when Niall first met him, but this time, he knew it wasn't the real Zayn.