Devil in Your Smile

Chapter 1, Wanting To Be Found

3RD PERSON POV


Red, and bodies.

That's all Louis can see, red strobe lights and hundreds of bodies surrounding him, swaying along to some shitty club remix. The heavy smell of alcohol clouds his senses, along with the thick layer of sweat covering the crowd. but he can't let that stop him from his mission. If that's what you'd call this, a mission, finding men that are stupid enough to ignore his pleas. Fake pleas of course, its not like he'd willingly fuck any of the men, especially a man who would eagerly stick himself in any body he deems drunk enough to coerce. Louis does not have sex with these men, but he does fuck them up. A passing grope will get you a broken nose, sometimes even a broken arm, if the sun doesn't shine bright enough that day or if he couldn't find his lighter before his mission. But if the guy is shitty enough, or if you're the exact definition of scum, falling into Louis' trap will get you dead.

LOUIS POV   

    The guy I'm supposed to be reeling in tonight is supposedly the biggest bag of dicks will have had the honor of killing. Jordan Galloway, the asshole who's name I've only known for a little under seven hours, is wearing the ugliest black shirt with a cross on the chest. It's ironic, honestly. Wearing a shirt with religious details knowing that you've caused the suicide of a young girl. It's a shame, Jordan, though I am going to THOROUGHLY enjoy what i do to you, it could have been prevented, if only you didn't do what you did. Lucky for you, I couldn't hide many of my favorite toys under this outfit of mine, given that I had to wear something short and tight, with easy access, but unluckily for you, I do have two knives strapped to my upper thigh.

    I see you at the bar, Jordan. You're not drinking anything, I suspect that you want to remember every detail about what you plan to do. That makes me unbelievably happy, in my own twisted way, because I know you're going to be completely sober when I deal with you. I've been checking you out, pretending that I don't see you looking at me as I do so, but I can see that hungry look in your eyes. You probably think that you see the same in mine, but you'll come to see that the look you're seeing is not hungry, but downright animalistic. Finally, you order two shots, and make your way through the crowd of bodies that separate us. I can see the women grabbing your arm, trying to get you to stay and dance with them, but you're steadily making your way to me. Finally, we are chest to chest.

    "Hey".

You probably want to come off as confident, mysterious even, but it just sounds cocky. From this angle, and being this close to you, I can see why you have such a hard time getting women to comply with you. I slur out a response, seeing your eyes light up as I do so "Hi there, Handsome." I let out a drunken giggle that almost anyone would recognize as genuine. You ask me the obvious question, "Are you here alone?" I want to look you in the eyes and say something sarcastic, but I remind myself that I am meant to be the doe eyed, quiet, helpless victim you seek. I put on what I know is a convincing pout, continuing the drunk act, and say "Yeah, my friends left me to go home with their dates."  You hand me the shot of what I'm assuming is vodka, I take it and tip my head back and yes, I'm right, it is vodka, and probably one of the cheapest on the shelf, and I let out yet another giggle and move myself closer to you. You slowly turn me around, pressing my back to your chest, and start to move with the music.

    We stay pressed against each other, with me moving and you have basically draped yourself over me. You let this continue for less than ten minutes, which really, Jordan? I know what you have planned, but you couldn't even wait for me to get fully tired? I thought you enjoyed it when they were too exhausted to push you away? You tug my arm, and I can feel the steam from your breath touch my ear when you lean in and say "Let's get out of here, huh?" I give an unfocused nod, letting you lead me to the door. We make it outside, and I shiver a bit dramatically, just for fun. I see you notice it, but you don't make a move to hand me your jacket. Why Jordan? Is this a part of what you like? Some weird kink in your twisted fantasy where you would like me to be cold? I'm getting lost in my head, a bit excited about what I'm about to do.

    There's an alleyway up ahead, I take note of this as I pretend to drunkenly stumble into you, laughing as I do so. With a (very well) practiced face, I clamp my hands over my mouth and look at you. I put on my best panicked look, and run four or five feet and turn into the alley. you run after me, and turn your back as I 'vomit'. If you were to turn back, you'd probably see that I'm only making the noises, Jordan. I guess vomit doesn't get you going. I wipe my mouth, and turn to apologize, but when I look into your eyes, they no longer look like the brown I saw in the club, but they seem to be almost black. You've got a stormy look on your face, Jordan, why? Did I ruin your plans? You grab my arm, really tight by the way, and start to pull me deeper into the alleyway. 
 

    I was looking forward to taking my time with you, Jordan, you don't know what you're being so greedy for. I take notice of my surroundings, of course I'd already planned ahead because I didn't expect you to be a very patient man. Since I'd last been here, just hours before, the blue city dumpster has been moved and there's a dirty mattress hidden behind it. Of course. Of course you'd throw me down on the mattress and immediately throw yourself on top of me. I love when the monster is a predictable one. You put your hand over my mouth, which my instincts tell me to panic, but I don't, because I knew. I knew because you'd done this before, when you held poor Andrea down and put your hand over her mouth so she wouldn't alert anyone in her dorm room that a sick bastard was ruining her life. I knew every one of your tactics because I read her suicide note, read the details of what you'd put her through. What you'd made her suffer through.

You expect it when I wiggle, so much that you put my hands in between us so I can't reach for anything above my head, or claw at you. Good news, it worked. Bad news? my hand is directly above where i strapped my knives. The dress I'm wearing has ridden up from the struggle, which gives even better access to what you want. Right as I've got my hand on the handle of my blade, I hear a bang, and you slump over on top of me. Shit. This was NOT the way I wanted to get your blood on me, Jordan.

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The chapters will get longer, I promise!

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