Malik stretched out happily on his bed, looking over at the unconscious pale haired boy at his side. It was amazing how much the simple sexual encounter had made him feel, he mused, toying with the Rod in his hand. Utterly dominating his 'partner' in bed, without the help of the Rod, had given him such a powertrip... The psychopath seemed to have enjoyed it as well, giving guttural exclamations in a strange variant of his own language. Malik looked over at the pale boy in his bed again. He certainly didn't look Egyptian, he mused idly. At the moment, he barely looked like he had before, the harsh lines smoothed to make the boy look incredibly soft, almost fragile.
Malik gave a snort. He just though of the psychopath as fragile. The same brash loudmouth who had plunged a knife in his own arm and delighted in the blood, the same blood that now stained his sheets...
He shook his head slightly, looking at the boy again. But it was true that he looked almost completely different asleep. Gently, Malik reached over and pushed a pale strand away from the boy's face, noting the softness with mild amusement. The psychopath was pretty, he mused. Well, when he wasn't cackling like a demented loon, he amended with a chuckle.
The boy's face tensed slightly and Malik pulled away, realizing his bedmate was waking up. Nonchalantly, he went back to playing with the Rod, polishing off a non existent spot of dust.
He gave a small snort when the boy gave a shuddered, ragged breath, sounding pained. So the psychopath did feel pain when the euphoria wore off, eh? he mused with a smirk. "About time you woke up," he commented. "I was beginning to wonder if the blood loss had gotten to you." His chuckle died in his throat when he turned to look at his bedmate.
The pale haired boy was staring at him in wide eyed terror, hands curled around himself to cover his nakedness as he shook, breath bordering hyperventilating.
It wasn't the psychopath, Malik realized with a sinking feeling.
It was his host.
Shit.
--
Note: This is going to have very short chapters, sorry. ^^
Malik gave a snort. He just though of the psychopath as fragile. The same brash loudmouth who had plunged a knife in his own arm and delighted in the blood, the same blood that now stained his sheets...
He shook his head slightly, looking at the boy again. But it was true that he looked almost completely different asleep. Gently, Malik reached over and pushed a pale strand away from the boy's face, noting the softness with mild amusement. The psychopath was pretty, he mused. Well, when he wasn't cackling like a demented loon, he amended with a chuckle.
The boy's face tensed slightly and Malik pulled away, realizing his bedmate was waking up. Nonchalantly, he went back to playing with the Rod, polishing off a non existent spot of dust.
He gave a small snort when the boy gave a shuddered, ragged breath, sounding pained. So the psychopath did feel pain when the euphoria wore off, eh? he mused with a smirk. "About time you woke up," he commented. "I was beginning to wonder if the blood loss had gotten to you." His chuckle died in his throat when he turned to look at his bedmate.
The pale haired boy was staring at him in wide eyed terror, hands curled around himself to cover his nakedness as he shook, breath bordering hyperventilating.
It wasn't the psychopath, Malik realized with a sinking feeling.
It was his host.
Shit.
--
Note: This is going to have very short chapters, sorry. ^^
