Author's note: This story has been edited. I would recommend reading from the beginning as plot points and storylines have been changed for a better flow.
Wondering the empty streets of the city that never sleeps. Malcolm was searching for just that...
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-Night at Malcolm's Loft-
“NOOOOO!” Malcolm screams bolting straight up feeling the pull of his restraints holding him in place. He pants for breath. Taking in the darkroom around him. Something was off. “Hello?” he calls out to the room.
The hinges from his display case creak. “What are you doing here?” he gulps making out a slender figure reaching up plucking a weapon from its holder. “That’s a 17th century Japanese Katana.” He rambled not knowing what else to do in his very vulnerable predicament. “It’s very expensive. And sharp.” He just then realizes. “Are you real?”
“Find me.” A feminine voice whispers.
“It’s just a dream. Just my subconscious having a laugh.” He told himself. “Playing a joke on me.” His voice wavers at the attempt at convincing himself.
“Who are you?” his breathing began to pick up. The figure distorts as she steps out of the shadows her form shifting to something else.
“A-A-Austin?” the words got caught in his throat. Watching the shirtless man eyeing his blade, trailing his finger along the blunt side of it. His hair was free, ghosting above his shoulders.
“What shall I do to you?” he ponders sauntering over to the bed. Each step is taken agonizingly slow. The sound of metal scratching along the floor behind him. “Shall we cut cloth?” he muses hovering the blade over Malcolm’s body dragging the sharp tip over his clothed crotch. Thank god he wore bottoms this night. His entire body goes deathly still as the blade caught on every stitch as it made its way up. Lifting the sword propping it along his shoulder allowing the moonlight to dance across the shimmering blade. “Or flesh?” he muses tapping the flat edge of cold metal on Malcolm’s cheek. “Why ruin such a handsome face.” He declines. Lifting the blade nicking the apple of Malcolm’s cheek. Austin gasps scrambling onto his lap running a thumb over the cut that begins to dribble with blood. “Do you forgive me?” He mumbles sliding his stained thumb into his mouth.
“Yes.” Malcolm finds himself breathless.
“Well in that case.” Austin trails off taking the katana in both hands lifting it above his head before bringing it down into Malcolm’s chest. Wheezing for air that escaped his lungs as the darkness began to take hold of his vision. Long hair skimmed over his neck his fading vision looking up to see Austin hovering above him. “I’m sorry.” He whispers placing a kiss on his lips as his eyes finally closed.
~.~
-Morning at Gabrielle's office-
“So my dreams aren’t getting any better.” Malcolm exhales a shaky breath. Being skewered like a shish kabob with one of his prized Katanas. He tightens his grip on a plush panda gaining some comfort from it.
