Call Me | American Psycho Reader Insert

Chapter 5

Christy's eyes never left the crimson mess that was once a man's throat. "Oh my god," she murmured, her voice trembling. "What have you done?"

Y/N looked at her, his expression calm. "What needed to be done," he said, his voice cold and measured. "What happens when people don't respect the rules."

Christy took a step back, her hand still over her mouth. "You're insane," she whispered, her eyes wide with horror.

Y/N's smile grew colder. "Insane?" he said, his voice a low purr. "Or just a man who knows what he wants?" He took a step closer, the letter opener now smeared with Paul's blood. "And what I want," he continued, "is for you to understand the gravity of what you've just seen."

Christy's eyes darted to the weapon, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. "What do you mean?" she managed to choke out.

Y/N took another step closer, his smile predatory. "I mean," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous, "that you're going to help me clean up this mess." He grabbed her wrist, his grip like iron. "And then," he continued, "you're going to keep my secret."

Christy's eyes widened with a mix of fear and disbelief. "What?" she choked out, trying to pull away.

Y/N's grip tightened, his smile never faltering. "You heard me," he said, his voice a velvet threat. "You're going to help me, and in return, I'll let you live."

Christy's eyes darted between the lifeless body of Paul and the blood-soaked letter opener in Y/N's hand. She knew she had no choice. With trembling hands, she reached for the wet rag he offered, her mind racing with a mix of fear and disgust. Together, they worked in a macabre dance, wiping away the evidence of his rage. The coldness of the night air did little to soothe the heat of her panic, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to keep up with his precise instructions.

As they worked, Y/N's grip on her wrist grew tighter, his touch a constant reminder of the power he wielded. She could feel the tremor of his excitement, the same excitement that had fueled his violent outburst moments before. Her own fear was a palpable force, a living thing that coiled in her stomach and made her legs feel like jelly.

When they had removed all trace of the grisly act from the alley, Y/N turned to her, his eyes dark and hungry. "Now," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, "it's your turn."

Christy's heart raced as she stared into the abyss of his eyes, her fear melding with a newfound horror. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Y/N's smile grew more sinister, his grip on her wrist tightening. "I mean," he said, his voice a low growl, "that you're going to give me what I want."

Christy's eyes darted around the alley, searching for an escape, but there was none. The cold steel of the letter opener pressed against her cheek, a silent reminder of the price of defiance. She felt a sickening mix of fear and revulsion as he pulled her closer, his breath hot and rank with the scent of blood.

"You're going to help me," Y/N murmured, his voice a dark promise. "And then, you're going to thank me for letting you live."

Christy felt the bile rise in her throat as she was dragged closer to him, his hand moving from her wrist to the back of her neck. The letter opener was still in his other hand, the blood on it a stark reminder of his capacity for violence. "Please," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I'll do anything."

Y/N's smile grew wider, his eyes dark with lust. "I know you will," he said, his voice a low growl. He pushed her against the wall, his body pressing into hers. She could feel the hardness of his arousal, the pulse of his desire beating in time with her own racing heart. "But it's not enough to just do as you're told," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "You have to want it."

Christy's mind reeled, a whirlwind of fear and revulsion. She knew she had to play along, to survive this nightmare. She forced a smile, her voice trembling. "I do," she said, her voice a whisper. "I want it."

Y/N's smile grew more sinister, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He leaned in closer, his mouth finding hers in a brutal kiss that tasted of metal and blood. She felt the letter opener move from her cheek to rest against her throat, the sharp tip a constant reminder of her precarious position. Her body responded against her will, a primal instinct to survive taking over.

Christy's mind raced as she felt Y/N's hands roam over her body, ripping at her clothes with a ferocity that mirrored the storm inside him. She knew she had to play along, to pretend that she wanted this, needed this, or else she would end up like Paul. So she kissed him back, her body arching into his, her own desperation adding a twisted passion to the encounter.

The cold steel of the letter opener never left her throat, a constant reminder of the fine line she was walking. Y/N's touch grew more insistent, his hands moving from her neck to her breasts, squeezing and pinching in a way that was both painful and exhilarating. She bit back a whimper, her own fear mixing with a strange, dark excitement.

Christy's hands found their way to Y/N's chest, her fingers digging into his muscles as if trying to find an anchor in the chaos. His kiss grew more demanding, his tongue pushing past her teeth, tasting the fear and desperation that coated her mouth. She could feel his heart racing beneath her palm, the same thirst for power that had driven him to kill now driving him to claim her.