Rip
His shoes clicked quietly on the cobble stone streets. There weren't many up and about, especially not in this destitute part of town. It was too dangerous. His cloak offered a swish as the wind mixed the normal stench of London with the fresh smell of rain water. He turned a corner, and was stopped by a boy in only a short tattered skirt and a corset. He was barefoot, and slightly dirty, and his amber eyes burned.
"Want some company tonight?" he offered with a scowl, not a hint of cockney in his accent. He smirked at the dark face. "Well, want it or not?" he nodded, and the boy jerked his head to the right, telling him to follow, taking his hand.
Normally, he absolutely despised them. Whores. Was it because of his mother? Because he saw what she did to put bread on their table? He wasn't quite sure, but she had been the first. He hated them, they were dirty. They were worthless, they were gross. But this one, Ichigo, he was so... refreshing. He didn't offer sultry smiles or sexy looks. Even though his body was filthy, his soul was strangely pure.
But, he didn't fool himself. Ichigo was just as dirty as the rest of them. But he didn't try to justify being a whore. When asked, he simply shrugged. "it's what I do." no protests that it was the only way, that he could never achieve anything more, or blaming it on the economy. It wasn't that Ichigo didn't care, or that he didn't mind. It was that he was making the most of it. He was focused on being alive.
He couldn't bring himself to actually hate Ichigo, only hate what the whore did. It was dirty, after all. And beautiful boys like him shouldn't be wasting their lives whoring out their bodies for some easy money. He wasn't in love with Ichigo. But he admired him. He was much better than his filthy bitch of a mother.
Ichigo was the cause for his reprieve. He waited six weeks before he killed another whore. And then he went back to Ichigo. The boy was always waiting in the same alley, in the same dress, with the same hardened scowl that probably scared most potential customers away. He hadn't slept with the orange haired boy yet, instead payed him for the company. Payed him to stand in the room and talk about nothing in particular, since then only thing he truly care about was his killing.
Normally, he raped his victims. Normally, a whore he'd met and decided to pay would be dead already. But then again, nothing concerning Ichigo was normal. He wasn't in love with him, he tried to reason. It was only a deep kind of respect. After all, he respected anyone with the will to live, to survive the way Ichigo had.
Until that psychopathic lust came over him. He didn't try to stop it. After all, he felt so good when it was rushing through his veins, clogging his mind with the need for blood. He found all of it rather amusing.
But he hadn't been counting on killing Ichigo. His legs simply carried him there, to that place Ichigo always was. Before the red head could give him the standard greeting, he grabbed a calloused hand and threw the boy to the ground, standing over him.
"If you're going to fuck me you could at least do it in the room." Ichigo grunted angrily. But no, he didn't want to do this in the room. He wanted Ichigo's blood to stain the cobble stones and run in the gutters. He wanted everyone to see Ichigo spread out and mutilated and naked.
The boy allowed him to force a kiss to those soft pink lips. How many others had kissed those lips, he wondered. He thought briefly about the knife in his pocket, about mutilating the body after Ichigo was dead. But that was no fun. He wanted to hear the little whore scream. He pushed the dirty cloth up tanned legs, not at all surprised to find nothing underneath.
Ichigo swore quietly. "You better pay me after this." he mumbled almost incoherently, spreading his legs farther to allow him to sit between them. How many others had he done that for? How many other had he allowed to push him onto that bed in that filthy little room? How many others had fucked his Ichigo before him?
He kissed Ichigo's lips once again, hand moving to the nipple peeking just above the previously white lace of the corset. Ichigo mewled, wrapping his legs around his waist, rubbing eagerly against him, pulling him down for another kiss.
"Hurry, the sun's coming up." he sighed, he'd get no sexual release tonight. His hand wrapped around Ichigo's throat, pressing as he withdrew the knife from his back pocket. He wondered, what organ should he take from Ichigo's pretty body? His kidney? Perhaps his liver? He grinned as he felt Ichigo stop struggling. But he was still alive, he knew that.
He kissed the dirt streaked forehead, and ripped off the clothes that were already close to falling apart. He stared at the pretty, well toned chest. Perhaps he'd take Ichigo's clothes while he was at it. In a deceivingly gentle way, he pressed the knife against Ichigo's skin, drawing blood. He heard Ichigo gasp quietly. Deeper. A yell. He plunged the knife into the boy's abdomen. He heard whimpers. Maybe he really should have strangled him.
But those noises were turning him on.
Ichigo's amber eyes watched him, not at all different, still burning in that absolutely sexy way. "You're that killer?" he asked instead of pleading for his life. He didn't answer, enjoying the sick squish of his knife plunging repeatedly into Ichigo's stomach. Ichigo only let out a pained scream, holding it back. He was so stubborn. Perhaps he should chop out his tongue then? Or maybe those burning eyes? He couldn't decide. If he could, he'd take Ichigo's entire body.
He watched as the life drained from the boy, his eyes going blank with death. Yet somehow he could still see the fire in them. He licked the blood off his knife, but he was far from done. Ichigo's screams had been sexy, had managed to turn him on. He undid the buttons of his pants, pumping himself to become harder as he stared with twisted perverseness at the corpse of Ichigo. It was a pretty corpse. And lucky him, he hadn't even bruised that pretty face.
Hooking limp legs over his shoulders, he pushed into Ichigo's entrance. He was still a little warm, quickly cooling. he thrust his hips, groaning lowly at the tight slightly lukewarm feel of it around him. He pressed his lips sloppily to Ichigo's, enjoying the cool softness. He thrust faster, biting his lip to quiet himself as the sun burst over the horizon and the city began to wake up. He could almost hear the sounds Ichigo would have been making right now. Probably the same noises as the rest of them, only deeper, more prideful but just as desperate. He came with a quiet cry of the whore's name.
As he straitened himself, he noticed something clutched tightly in the red head's hand. The pried slim fingers apart, finding a small cameo locket. Inside was a lock of light auburn hair much like the owner's. he slipped the chain around his neck.
This was a better prize than any body part he could have stolen. But he still dug out those dead burning eyes to take with him anyway.
OWARI
shivers dunno what came over me with the necrophilia. But I wanted it, so... please review! Based on the Jack the Ripper murders