Freezer Burn

Chapter Four

This chapter is NSFW!

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It had been a slow, dreary month. The days progressively got colder if they weren't already, and the skies began to blacken early in the day. There was no doubt that winter was approaching quickly, especially by the thin frost that covered grass every morning. It was Friday, students were practically jumping from their seats to get home and enjoy their weekends. It was on occasion that Malcolm couldn't walk home with Fabius - well, he could, but Fabius refused his offer and Malcolm would stay to watch his boyfriend in swim practice. Usually Fabius would actually spend Friday's with people, albeit they were strangers to him. Today he didn't have any plans, he merely began his walk home like a normal student might.

Recently, things felt different - it specifically started a few days ago when he had been reading beneath a tree there. Maybe he was overthinking it, or maybe he made a mistake, but on one of the gravestones was a note. Recently this had been common, but usually the cops were the first to discover them. The local killer had created somewhat of a name because of this. After skinning his victims and dumping their bodies, a note would show up on their gravestone when they were finally buried. At least assuming they were. There was always the possibility the note was from a loved one to the dead, but Fabius had been too curious to ignore it. He checked at the note, placed strategically across from the bench like it was intended to be found by him. That idea seemed only more realistic when he read the note addressed to 'the pale skinned boy'.

Maybe he was just hopeful. In a strange way, he romanticized the idea of having a serial killer focus on him like that. It wouldn't be a first, either. Especially recently, he would stay up late reading about the mysterious Mannequin Killer, think about conversations they could share, ways he could pour his heart out to the twisted killer - he could even pleasure himself to the thought of it. It was beyond twisted, even he knew that. Seeing an actual note almost seemed like the world was mocking him - until he found another the next day.

Now, he couldn't help but feel uneasy. For the most part he ignored it and passed it off as nothing more than his anxiety, his mind lingering on the strange notes for too long. Somewhere, deep inside, he was thinking rationally. He knew he should've given the notes to the police, but he couldn't. He treasured them. He stared at them until he lost track of time, reading over each word like it was vintage poetry. It almost seemed written in that way, like an old love letter of admiration. It just didn't seem like it was about Fabius, even if it was addressed to him. He couldn't wrap his mind around it as desperately as he tried, he just ended up thinking about the letter all day. Usually his mind would drift off, fantasize about the man writing them. He imagined bloodied hands, gripping a pen tightly as he mulled over each and every word carefully. That's what Fabius wanted to think it was. He could make himself blush at the thought, entertain and arouse himself as he furthered into this strange fantasy world he had created because of a few letters.

Fabius took slow steps as he made his way home, trying to prolong the walk for as long as he could. His mind was clouded by so much that it had become hard to think. Only when he heard tire on gravel did he turn his head, noticing a car a few yards away. It was some small, cheap, and old car, Fabius didn't dwell on it for long. He looked up once again, glancing around as he walked. Buildings stood out against the white sky, an occasional droplet of water falling from the gutters and onto the sidewalk. Every time Fabius exhaled, a short cloud escaped him due to the frigid air, but it soon disappeared. He glanced back once again, noticing that the car was still there, driving slowly. He concluded it probably belonged to an older individual, cautiously navigating the roads at too slow of a speed. Judging by how old the vehicle looked, it wasn't exactly far fetched. He let out a cold breath and quickened his pace, at least the sooner he got home, the sooner he could sit down and think.

Fabius finally arrived home, ignoring any comments from his parents as he headed straight to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He dropped his backpack and collapsed onto his bed face down. For a moment he just laid still, furrowing his brows as all the thoughts abruptly rushed back to him. The notes - he felt the sudden urge just to touch them again, to read them. Thinking about it alone made his cheeks flush and his heart thud. Without much waiting, Fabius rolled over and sat up, digging the notes from his backpack. Unlike everything school related, the notes were carefully placed away, no wrinkles nor tears on the edges, besides what they had when he found them. He let out an uneven breath, running his finger over the letter on top as if trying to caress the man who wrote it. Fabius knew better than this, but he couldn't help himself. Seeing the letters had become like a drug, every time he looked over them he found himself imagining what the killer writing them must've been like. He imagined what he did to the bodies, before or after they were dead. The longer he thought, the more his mind wandered, the warmer and warmer his cheeks got.

Fabius's breath had become uneasy, his hands squeezing the letter more as he reread each word with excitement. He lost track of how many times he had read it by now, or whether or not he was even reading it anymore. At this point he was so lost in his fantasy he wasn't sure. He could almost imagine a cold knife pressed against his skin, the serial killer staring down at him - he didn't mind the thought one bit. He laid back into his bed, pressing the letters to his chest and rubbing his legs together. He closed his eyes, his legs shaking as he blocked out anything around him just to imagine what it may have been like. Fabius moved his hand downward, pressing his palm impatiently into his crotch.

Fabius quickly glanced to the door, he had just gotten home, but he wanted nothing more right now than to think of the serial killer he had become so obsessed with. He gulped and bit his lip, once again closing his eyes to begin to fantasize as he pushed his pants and underwear down just enough. His mind was already racing with strange scenarios he had put together for him and a man he didn't even know, and as he imagined each scene he began to slowly stroke himself. He wasn't necessarily big - in fact, considering he was quiet scrawny, his size was pretty expected. He pressed the letters down onto his chest until it ached, listening to the quiet crinkle of the paper, imagining that a serial killer's hands had once touched them. His cheeks flushed more and more, his hand quickening it's pace. His free hand moved from the letter's to his mouth, biting down on his sleeve so he could muffle himself and avoid any questions from his parents.

The busy hand squeezed and rubbed inconsistently with excitement, it was hard to pace himself when such vulgar, but arousing thoughts wouldn't leave his mind. His hand was already becoming slightly sticky, though if anything it aided the process of rubbing himself, just by making it slicker. the dirtier his thoughts became, the quicker his hand would move - and before long he began to feel the build-up of pressure accumulate at the base of his spine. Fabius's cheeks were burning hot his hands slightly shaking as he arched his back expressively. The mixture of feelings abruptly built up, a few more thoughts racing through his mind before they all began to dissipate.

Fabius let out a shaky sigh as he reached his climax, slowly releasing his sleeve from his mouth and moving his other hand away from his crotch. After a few moments of regaining himself, he pulled up his pants again and sat up, examining his hand to see the mess he made. It wasn't the first time, not even to the though of the serial killer. Fabius pushed off the bed and shakily stand up, still feeling the weakness in his legs. He glanced out the window in hos room, his mind being drawn away from what just happened, and instead towards a shape outside. He moved closer, pushing open one of the blinds to get a better look. In confusion, Fabius examined the familiar, old car that sat outside near their house, illuminated by a single streetlight.