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Judge, Jury and Executioner

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Oh, this was going to be fun.

Richard had been stalking the man for months now, studying him, learning everything he could, waiting for his chance.

A cop.

A Detective to be specific.

Richard's first.

He'd stuck with civilians thus far, not wanting to bring more attention to himself than he already had, but the temptation was strong and Richard hadn't been able to resist it any longer. He couldn't wait to claim the life of his Detective. Couldn't wait to see the reactions of his coworkers when they found his broken body.

Killing him would be satisfying too. The Detective would be far more resilient than any victim Richard had tortured before, he was sure of it.

It'd take so much to break him. He'd bleed so much red for Richard, make such delicious sounds, it could be hours before he finally broke, before he finally started begging for his life.

And Richard would deny him, of course, that was the best part.

Poor Detective Reed had no idea what was in store for him as he stumbled out of his favourite bar.

-

"It's time to wake up now, Detective, we don't have all night." Richard spoke loudly, lightly slapping at his Detective's cheek. "That's it, come on." He continued, when his actions earned him a muffled groan and flickering eyelids.

He took a step back, leaned against the wall to patiently observe his Detective waking up.

There was another groan, some shuffling as the man tried to adjust his position. In a moment, he'd realize he was bound to the chair with thick rope. In another moment, he'd realize he was naked.

If he was strong, like Richard hoped, he would remain calm and focus steely grey-brown eyes on his captor.

It took a little longer than expected, due to the alcohol in Detective Reed's system, but finally his gaze was locked onto Richard's.

"Hello, Detective." Richard purred, pushing off the wall to stalk closer to his victim.

Detective Reed squinted at him, then turned his head to look around them. His eyes first fell on the tray of instruments Richard had prepared, but only lingered for a second before moving on. He took his time taking in his surroundings; the brick walls, the dim light, the single exit.

Richard waited, adjusted his apron, and Detective Reed turned back to him just in time to see him pick up his favourite knife.

"So you're going to kill me?"

His voice was calm, almost bored sounding.

Richard couldn't help but to be amused, "That is the end goal, yes."

Detective Reed nodded, "Best get on with it then."

Richard settled himself in his Detective's lap, used the tip of his knife to tilt his chin up, "That's not how I do things, Detective, I thought you'd know that."

"So you're the sick fuck who's been mutilating all of those people." A harsh laugh escaped the Detective as he made the connection, startling his captor just a little bit, but Richard regained his composure quickly.

"Eight so far, you'll be my ninth."

"Rookie numbers." Detective Reed grinned at him, seeming completely unbothered by his current situation. In fact, he leaned closer to Richard, digging the tip of the knife into the soft skin under his chin, "Better hurry up and kill me."

"Not yet." Richard hummed, "Not until I've carved up your flesh and you're begging for your life."

Another laugh sounded out in the small room, bordering on hysterical.

"Go ahead!" The Detective spat, his grin making him seem like the insane one in the room, "Was planning to kill myself anyway, least this way I get a little fame out of it."

That took Richard by surprise.

The Detective wanted to die?

No, he couldn't, he had to be bluffing. It was some sort of trick, surely. Maybe a way to catch him off guard, slow him down. He glanced towards the door and his captive didn't fail to notice.

"No one's coming for me, baby, got me all to yourself." A wink was attached to the end of the comment and Richard recoiled in disgust, standing up from the Detective's lap.

"Impossible." He growled, "Impossible. Nobody wants to die, not really." He dived forward, wrapped one hand around Detective Reed's neck, the other digging the tip of the knife into naked skin. Blood welled up and began to roll down his chest, not getting far before it was caught in a light smattering of hair. "I just have to hurt you a little bit, scare you, and you'll be begging me soon enough. You might have a higher pain tolerence than some of the others I've hurt, but sooner or later, you will break."

"Well good fucking luck with that, sweetheart." The grin turned into a sneer, "I hate to break it to ya, but if you hurt me, you're gonna break me in a completely different way to the one you're wanting."

Richard glared at the bound man, tried his best not to let his anger get the best of him. He couldn't kill this man in rage, where was the fun in that? He did tighten his grip on that soft throat though, hard enough to leave dark bruises, before he let go.

"You're disgusting." Richard hissed, digging the knife in again, but this time dragging it down, opening a deep cut that instantly oozed dark blood. "Revolting." Another cut was created right beside the first. Chest hair began to clump together with sticky wetness. "To act like you enjoy this. Never in my life have I met such a depraved individual."

A deep groan met Richard's ears, "That's real fucking rich coming from a serial killer. You enjoy this too, don't you? That's why you do it."

"Of course, but not like this." He trailed his knife down Detective Reed's sculpted torso, brought it to a stop right where his penis was steadily hardening in his lap. "To think someone could be aroused by this. Tied up and at the mercy of a killer. I'm threatening your life, hurting you, insulting you and you want it. You, Gavin Reed, are repulsive-"

He was cut off by a choked moan from the Detective, "Keep talking like that and I might just get off without being touched."

A breathy chuckle was the answer to Richard's offended gasp.

"You like to be hurt?" He asked, after a minute of thinking.

"Hell yeah."

"You like to be degraded?"

"Certainly."

"You want to die?"

"Most fucking definitely."

Despite Richard's best efforts, a frustrated sigh escaped him.

"If you wanna tell me I'm a disapointment, you can get in fucking line." Detective Reed snorted humourlessly.

Richard didn't say anything, instead went to the sink to clean the drops of blood from his knife. He'd put them away for the night, go to sleep and come back with a clear head.

"You could do anything." His captive murmured from behind him, "To me, I mean. You could do anything to me. Yell at me until you're blue in the face, cut me up until I bleed out, hell, you could fuck me if you wanted. I'd let you. Bet I'm nice and tight, you could just thrust right in, let blood slick the way-"

"Enough!" Richard snapped, slamming the knife down into the sink.

The flicker of fear in Detective Reed's eyes was gone as quick as it came, replaced with a snide grin, "Aw, am I making you mad? So mad you could just take that knife and jam it right into my neck?"

Richard stalked off without another word, leaving everything where it was. His favourite knife in the sink, his other instruments laid out on a tray, his captive still tied to the chair yelling 'Get back here and kill me, you coward!'.

Perhaps it was Richard who had no idea what was in store for him.

-

Screams couldn't be heard from the basement in the rest of the house, and especially not from outside, Richard had made sure of that before he'd started this whole thing. So even though he knew the Detective had an impressive set of lungs, he couldn't hear one vulgar word.

Which was good, because Richard had to figure out what the Hell he was going to do with his captive. He certainly couldn't kill him, what was the point if Detective Reed didn't cry and beg to be freed? Didn't offer up anything and everything he could in order stay alive? If Richard couldn't watch that one last flame of hope go out when his captive realized that he wouldn't be getting out alive?

There simply wasn't one, and that wouldn't do.

Richard had truly gotten himself into a bit of a pickle.

No physical torture, no death, no verbal abuse in the slightest. Everything fun ruled out immediately because it was also fun for his Detective.

Perhaps... oh, yes. Of course. That could work.

How lucky for Detective Reed that Richard always made sure he had several victims to choose from at any given time.

-

North, her name was. She was tough, a fighter, had friends that would miss her, and she'd be great entertainment for Richard, and hopefully not for the Detective.

He'd had to find another chair to tie her to, only having the one since he never expected to have two guests at once.

Once it was done, he sat her opposite the Detective. The man having watched Richard work the whole time, with nothing but a detached sense of curiosity.

"What do you think?"

Detective Reed glanced up at him, then back down to the unconscious woman. "If I was straight, I might think she was pretty."

Richard snorted and pushed away from the wall he was leaning against, moving over to pick up his favourite knife, "Well, she isn't going to be pretty for much longer, not to anyone but me at least."

The Detective didn't react and Richard didn't allow it to bother him. He was going to focus on North, on coaxing the most beautiful sounds out of her, and anything his other captive said or did would come second.

It didn't take long for North to begin waking up, and Richard splashed some water onto her face to speed up the process. When she was fully alert and glaring hatefully at Richard, that's when he began his fun.

He took his knife and began to slice away, not going for any specific pattern, just wanting to see blood and hear cries of pain.

North was incredibly resilient, just as expected. She didn't stop glaring, didn't let the hisses and gasps interrupt her torrent of curses and insults, no matter how deep Richard's knife cut.

Throughout it all, Detective Reed remained silent, but he still observed, his eyes never leaving the scene before him. Not what Richard had been expecting. As a Detective he thought maybe the man would have a desire to protect the girl, stop the torture she was going through, but apparently not.

"What do you think, my dear Detective?" Richard asked, when he began to grow bored of the silence and the insults. "Shall I try something else? Break some bones maybe? Pull teeth? Cut off a finger or two? Remove nails? I have so many ideas, don't you want to contribute? Is that part of your little kink as well? Do you enjoy seeing others be hurt, is that why-"

"You're a sick fuck!"

The interruption made Richard's eyebrow twitch, and he allowed himself a couple moments to calm down before he turned his attention towards North. "I assume you know it's quite rude to interrupt one when they're talking. Don't let it happen again."

"Let us fucking go, you bastard!" North yelled, fighting against the ropes that kept her restrained. A steady dripping noise could be heard as drops of blood fell from her body and hit the ground below her.

Richard clenched his teeth together, took a breath as he addressed his Detective, "How does this make you feel?"

Detective Reed glanced at North, then shrugged, "Jealous. That bitch doesn't like pain and she's the one getting it, and then you're going to kill her, but not me? It's bullshit."

Richard nodded, offered a strained smile, "Of course."

"What? You expected me to feel empathy? I don't even fucking know her. I barely give a fuck about myself, I've got none to spare for other people."

"You're both fucking psychopaths!" North screeched, fear finally beginning to get a hold of her, "I hope you both rot in Hell."

Richard reached over to his tray, dropped his knife and picked up a pair of pliars, "And that's quite enough of that, I'm getting tired of your foul mouth." He grabbed a hold of North's jaw before she could reply, digging his fingers into her bloodied cheeks to force her mouth open.

The first true scream from her was like music to Richard's ears, and all the blood was truly a magnificent sight. So much of it, so dark, making his grip slippery.

He didn't care much for the teeth he pulled, just let them clatter to the ground one by one as they were removed. When he glanced back to see how his Detective was reacting, he was pleased to note he was looking a little green. He just hoped the Detective would get over it, he wasn't looking forward to cleaning up any potential mess. Not that kind anyway.

Richard stopped at seven and leaned back to admire his work.

North was sobbing quietly, occassionally letting out moans of despair. Every now and then she'd cough as blood ran the wrong way, filling her throat instead of spilling down her chin.

"What a pathetic sight." Richard commented, as he reached over to the sink to wash his hands clean, "Disgusting too."

Noises, almost like words, tumbled clumsily from North's mouth.

"What's that? You wish to live now? To be let go? After all that vitriol you threw my way?" He asked, crouching before her.

She nodded in reply, and Richard straightened up again.

"What a pity."

A slash across her throat was what eventually ended her.

-

Richard sat across from Detective Reed after he'd cleaned up the mess he made and disposed of the body, in a place he hoped her friends would be the first to find her.

They studied each other, the captor and his captive, as Richard tried to decide what he wanted to do with the man. Maybe he should just kill him, but he didn't want to give the man exactly what he wanted. Maybe he could torture the Detective to a point beyond pleasure, he had to have some sort of limit, and Richard wasn't bound within the confines of safewords.

Or maybe he could keep the Detective alive, which seemed to be what he hated most. But Richard had never had to keep something alive before, evident by the fact he'd completely forgotten to give his Detective anything to eat or drink in the two days he'd had him. He was surprised that he hadn't made a mess of the chair he was tied to for all the time he'd been there.

Despite everything, his captive didn't complain once, probably hoped that he was actually being slowly starved to death.

If Richard really was going to keep the man alive, he'd have to think of something quick.

Food and water were obviously a must, as well as something to keep the Detective warm. He'd need access to a bathroom, to relieve himself and keep himself clean, because there was nothing on earch that could convince Richard to help with those tasks.

With great annoyance, Richard realized he'd have to move the Detective from the basement. The master bedroom seemed the most likely option for his new home. Richard wouldn't mind giving it up seeing as he hardly used it anyway, and it was the only other room in the house that locked.

What a lot of trouble Richard had created for himself.

No more law enforcement officers were going to make their way onto his list, that was for sure, so perhaps his Detective had managed to accomplish something good for once.

-

Connor would probably be quite amused, proud too, if he could see Richard in that moment. Half dragging/half leading a reluctant Detective to his new home.

He hadn't put up much of a fight when Richard had cut through the ropes binding him, and Richard wasn't entirely sure it was because the Detective was just too weak. Knowing the man, he'd probably be fighting back as hard as he could, if it knew it would get him killed.

As it stood, moving him through the house only took a few minutes. He seemed grateful for the new set of clothes, though they were nothing fancy - just a plain shirt and pair of sweatpants - and his own space.

Anything potentially dangerous had been removed, if it could be removed, and the room was left almost completely empty. As long as his captive didn't attempt to drown himself in the bathtub, he should be fine. Richard had a strong feeling that the Detective was too afraid to off himself, and that's why he was so intent on pushing his captor to do it, so he was quite certain he'd be safe.

"I'll bring you food in a moment, and you will eat it. I'm not afraid to force a tube down your throat if that's what it takes."

"Kinky." The Detective grinned, sending a wink Richard's way. Intended to be 'sexy' but it missed its mark, due to how tired and malnourished the Detective was.

It just came off as pathetic.

Richard left the room, not forgetting to lock the door behind him. When he returned he carried a plastic water bottle filled with tap water, along with a steaming plate of mashed potato, a spoon sticking out of it. It was plain, ready-made stuff he'd only had to warm up in the microwave. His goal was only to keep his captive alive, he wasn't trying to pamper the man.

He unlocked the door with only a little bit of fumbling. The sight that greeted him was his Detective curled up in the centre of the bed, fighting hard not to fall asleep.

The man sat up at the scent of food, tried and failed not to look too excited. He only managed to eat a third of the mashed potato, but it was something, and Richard took the plate back without complaint. The water bottle was emptied next, and Richard told him he could refill it in the bathroom, then he left, leaving the man alone until it was time for his next meal.

-

It didn't take long for Detective Reed's boredom to cause him to start yelling out, trying to grab his captor's attention.

Richard had been curled up in his favourite armchair, only a few pages into his new book when he'd heard the shouting.

"Hey! You forgot to put a TV in here, how the fuck do you expect me to live like this?!"

"You could've at least included a minifridge! A cold beer would be nice!"

"Hey Mr. Serial Killer, I'm really fucking bored in here!"

It occurred to Richard then, that his captive didn't know his name, but before he could dwell on it further, the Detective's rambling continued.

"I'm going to scream until you entertain me!"

And he did.

But Richard would not be swayed by a childish tantrum, not one bit. He dug out a pair of headphones he knew he had hidden somewhere, and drowned out the Detective with calming classical music.

An hour later, he'd made good progress on his book, and when he took his headphones off, his captive was finally quiet. Panic struck when the thought occurred that maybe the man had found something to hurt himself.

Detective Reed was perfectly fine. The dark of the room made it difficult to see, but he was curled up in the bed, blanket pulled tight around him, sound asleep.

A breath of relief left Richard's lungs, and yet again he wondered if this was really worth it. The Detective was causing him so much stress and inconvenience, maybe he should just kill the man and be done with it. Forget the whole thing had ever happened.

He stepped further into the room, perched on the edge of the bed carefully, so as not to wake his Detective. It was easier to see now that his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, and he could see Detective Reed's peaceful expression with near perfect clarity.

In different circumstances, Richard might have been attracted to the man.

He sighed, dared to brush a strand of hair away from his captive's forehead, freezing when it caused a slight stur, but he didn't wake.

Richard allowed himself a few more seconds to sit there, before he left.

There were things that needed to be done, and it wouldn't do to waste time.

-

Frustration was a feeling that Richard certainly wasn't used to. Now, with the Detective in his life, it felt like it was the only thing he experienced.

He'd taken everything that Richard knew, and turned it on its head, leaving the man without the power that he so desperately craved. He was... lost and confused, and he hated it.

Luckily, he knew exactly how to regain that power.

It was midnight, and Richard sat in his car with everything turned off, waiting for the moment his new friend would emerge from his home.

The neighbourhood was run down, shady, and there was no doubt the other residents would turn a blind eye to any crime that went down. Still, Richard wasn't stupid, and when he left with his new friend safely tucked away, there was no trace of either of them ever being there.

-

Detective Reed was screaming and banging away as they entered, as had become his habit when he knew that Richard had left, but Richard paid it no mind. He had his new friend to entertain, and he had to get him set up properly before the drugs wore off.

Stripped naked and tied to a chair, Carlos finally began to stir.

"Good morning." Richard cheerfully greeted. "You wouldn't mind helping me a little, would you?"

The next several hours were filled with Richard using every trick he could think of to inflict pain without causing too much damage. He wanted this one to last. Well, just a little longer than the others anyway.

Richard could feel the building sense of euphoria. Not sexual, no, it was the feeling of power, of being so in control of another person's life. The decision was completely and utterly in Richard's hands, only he had any say in what would happen.

Carlos could beg all wanted, but no matter how beautiful it sounded, Richard had already made up his mind. Had already decided the fate of every single person that ended up on his list, even if some of them tried to challenge that, it would always end the same.

He kissed the shiny metallic surface of his favourite knife before he plunged it into his new friend's chest. He drew it out, then plunged it in again, and again, and again.

Twenty-eight times total.

There was nothing special about the number, it was just when Richard had started to grow bored.

Still high from the power-trip though, he began to hum as he cleaned up his basement, swaying his hips in time with his tune.

All cleaned up, Richard began the task of moving Carlos to the nice dumping spot he'd picked out for him. It didn't take long and it was time for him to serve breakfast to his Detective.

He carried the bowl of plain cereal carefully, but almost dropped it as he approached the door his captive was hidden behind.

Singing could be heard, faintly, though it was obviously the voice of Detective Reed.

Richard stepped closer, silently pressed his ear to the door to try and make out the words.

"When all you've got are broken dreams,
Just need a second chance,
And everything you want to be,
Gets taken from your hands,

"We hold on to each other,
All we have is all we need,
'Cause one way or another,
We always make it, you and me..."

He frowned. The song wasn't one he recognized.

Was it something made up? Something for the Detective to entertain himself with? He'd been locked in the bedroom for three days at that point, perhaps he was beginning to lose his grip on reality.

"This life can almost kill you,
When you're trying to survive,
It's good to be here with you,

"It's good to be alive,
It's good to be alive,
I was lost and I was gone,
I was almost dead inside,
You and me against the world,
It's a beautiful night,
It's good to be alive."

Who was this other person that his Detective was singing about? It couldn't be Richard, that was sure, the lyrics were much too positive, but who else? As the song came to an end, Richard could hear the very distinct sound of crying. Unbelievably curious, he hastily unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Detective Reed's head snapped up from where it was buried in his arms. He was sat in the middle of his bed, knees drawn up to his chest. His face was red, his eyes puffy and bloodshot, clearly he'd been crying for some time.

He flinched as Richard came closer, and the man blinked in surprise. That had never happened before.

The bowl of cereal was placed down on the nightstand, illiciting another flinch from the captive.

"Detective-"

"Please." The man croaked, "Please, just kill me. Just let me, die. I'm begging you, that's what you want isn't it?" He dived forward, grabbed a hold of Richard's turtleneck. Fresh tears gathered in his eyes as he continued his tirade, "Just kill me, you bastard! You proved your fucking point! I get it, you're a psychopath, just... please." The fight seemed to leave him as he collapsed, his hands coming up to his face as the sobs started up.

Richard wasn't quite sure how to react.

He was experiencing a feeling similar to when he heard people beg for their lives, and it was almost, if not just, as intoxicating. He wanted more of it, he wanted to hear more of his Detective's delectable begging, he-

No.

No, absolutely not, this had to stop.

"Out." Richard found himself hissing, "Out. I want you out!"

He grabbed his Detective's shirt, hauled him to his feet. He didn't let the man find his balance as he began to drag him out.

"What-"

"Shut up! Not another word from you."

His captive didn't try to argue further, and let Richard manhandle him into the car. He was scared though, and he wasn't hiding it well, shaking just ever so slightly.

Richard's breathing was harsh as he drove, the anger gripping him tightly and unwilling to let go. He hated how much the Detective had changed things, forced him out of his comfort zone, and now he was making Richard feel things. New things, that were unfamiliar and... perhaps, maybe, just a little bit, scary, and Richard would not stand for it.

He was going to get rid of the Detective, and if it led to his arrest, well, it wouldn't be permanent if Connor got a say in it.

Silence hung heavy in the car, until the Detroit Central Station came into view.

"What are you doing? I-"

"Get out of my car." Richard interrupted, stepping out himself once they'd come to a stop right outside.

"Wait-"

"Let's not cause a scene." He growled lowly, giving his former captive a pointed look, before he turned towards the building.

The Detective hurried behind him.

As soon as the receptionist saw the pair, she was jumping up from her seat, turning in the direction of the bullpen to call out, "Lieutenant! Lieutenant, he's here! It's Gavin!"

There was a sound of something dropping, then breaking, then shoes squeaking on polished flooring and frantic footsteps.

Lieutenant Anderson burst into the reception area, took all of two seconds to spot the Detective, then ran over and wrapped him in a bear hug, "Jesus Christ, kid, where the fuck have you been? Had us all worried to death-"

Richard cleared his throat. This was it, the end of his freedom, given up for this pathetic little rat.

"Actually, I-"

"He found me- He helped me. I-I got away from that fucking psychopath and he-he drove me here. He helped me." Detective Reed sobbed, clinging to the Lieutenant just as hard.

"Alright, Gavin, alright. Come on, let's go get this sorted somewhere private." Anderson soothed, keeping an arm wrapped tight around his subordinate as he began to lead him away, "And what's your name?" He directed towards Richard.

It took the man a few moments to reply, still in shock from how the Detective had defended him. "Richard. Dechart." He coughed, scratched at the back of his neck nervously.

This wasn't how this was supposed to go. He was going to march into the station, confess to his crimes, taunt the Detectives maybe, for how incompotent they'd been.

But Gavin had taken control from him once again.

Trying to manage the rage inside of him was starting to grow difficult, and Richard began thinking of ways to regain control in an attempt to distract himself. He ignored the act that Gavin was putting on as best as he could too, knew that the man wasn't as traumatized as he made it seem. Richard hadn't even had a chance to touch him.

The trio ended up in a cozy looking break room. Gavin was sat on a small couch, and after several reassurances, Anderson finally left him to go make him a hot drink.

"You want anything, Rich?"

"Richard. And no thank you."

Lieutenant Anderson took a formal statement from Richard on how he'd come across Gavin. All of it complete bullshit, and yet he'd been believed, and allowed to walk out of the station.

Just like that.

He thought that maybe it was some elaborate trick orchestrated by the Detective.

But no cop chased after him as he exited the building. No one stopped him from getting into his car. No one stopped it from driving away. Over the next few days, no one stormed his house.

He was free.

He'd walked right into a police station, with someone he'd kidnapped, someone who'd witnessed him kill a girl, and the man had lied for him, letting him get off scott free.

It didn't settle right with him, because it hadn't been of his own doing.

Richard tried not to fixate too much on his former captive, but it was proving quite a difficult task. Distracting himself with another murder hadn't helped, because when they begged, all Richard could think was how Gavin had done it so much better.

-

Richard found himself outside of the Detective's apartment building on one cold night, a week after he'd intended to turn himself in. He wasn't sure why he was there, he wasn't intending to capture the man again.

He'd just wanted to... see him, he guessed. Though the Detective's apartment wasn't visible from the corner he'd parked on, and Gavin definitely wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

An unmarked police car was parked nearby, an officer inside, and they'd noticed Richard when he'd first parked, but they weren't suspicious yet. They would be soon though, if he didn't get a move on-

Too late.

The officer inside was climbing out and heading straight for him.

Richard fumbled for his phone and dialed his brother's number, thankful for the knowledge that Connor wouldn't fail to pick up. When the officer was close enough to knock on his window, he hung up, but kept the phone in his hand. Connor would call him back soon, and Richard would have an excuse to get away.

He rolled down the window and the officer peaked in.

Richard's breath caught in his throat.

The way she carried herself made her look like someone who could withstand several hours of torture, and still have the energy to spit in his face. He remembered North, how impressive she had been until she'd just gotten annoying.

He would have added her to the list if he hadn't sworn off law enforcement. He clenched his hand around his phone and the other one began to tap out a rythm against the steering wheel, tamping down the anger that that thought stirred in him.

It almost made him jump when she started to speak, "Everything alright here, sir?" She asked.

"Oh, uh, yes! Of course, it's just- my brother was calling me, he's having some problems. He should actually be calling me ba- Ah, there we go. I should take this." Richard gave her his most charming smile and wiggled his ringing phone.

She squinted at him, but didn't question him further, "Alright, sir, you have a safe drive now." She backed away, headed to her own vehicle and reached for the radio at her shoulder.

Richard cursed, tossed his phone down and started up his car, hoping his hasty retreat didn't make the officer anymore concerned than she already was.

He was going to head straight home, but then a thought occurred to him.

He hadn't seen his brother since before everything, and now he'd undoubtedly made Connor panic, perhaps it was time to visit him.

-

Connor's home was much the same as it always had been, but the pet that was following him was different.

"Got bored of them." He said, "You know how it is. Once you've broken their spirit and they're so obedient, they tend to lose their appeal." Then he smacked Richard's arm, "Anyway, don't change the topic, I thought you'd been caught! What happened?"

"It's... quite a long story. Do you have time?"

"For you, of course."

The pet whined at Connor's feet and he glared down at it, "Wait your turn." He hissed, kicking the thing just hard enough for it to feel it.

It whimpered, but quickly shut up with another look from Connor, reluctantly crawling after the man as he headed to the couch. Connor sat and Richard took his place beside him.

"Now tell me what the hell you've been getting up to this past month." Connor demanded, his hand reaching down to stroke the hair of his pet.

Richard explained everything, from the moment he'd captured Gavin to the moment he'd released him, "I tried to turn myself in, I have to admit, but he... jumped in, explained that I had just found him. Now I... I find myself becoming rather obsessed, I can't get him out of my mind. Every person I see is just not Gavin, and I hate that they aren't him." He paused, took a moment to tamp down the anger growing inside of him, "I want him back, and I want to keep him this time. I want to hurt him, and degrade him and find out why he felt the way he did, and why he let me go."

"By Gavin, do you mean Gavin Reed?" Connor asked, expression betraying nothing.

"Yes, actually. How did you know that?"

"I cannot believe you! Are you stupid, Richard?" Connor growled, "Do you have a death wish? You went after a Detective, from the same precinct as Hank fucking Anderson! And you let him go."

"Yes, I don't see why this is such a problem."

"You are going to get caught, Richard, and I can't- you know I can't let that happen. You better hope that you covered your tracks well, and Gavin really does feel the need to protect you."

"You trained me well, I won't get caught." Richard said softly, knocking his knee against his older brother's, "Is this Hank Anderson the same Hank you've been pining over since we moved here?"

Connor huffed at him, "I'm not pining. And actually, now that you mention it, your brief kidnapping of Detective Reed was quite stressful for him. He's going to be working twice as hard as he usually does to find you, and he's good."

"I'm not afraid."

"You're playing with fire, and it's going to burn you." Connor sighed, "Did you forget what you just told me? This obsession is going to kill you, and if you don't sort this out, I will-"

"No!" Richard snapped, standing up. "You will not touch Gavin Reed. I have this under control, Connor." He was seething, and his fists shook with the sheer amount of raw emotion he was feeling, "Perhaps this wasn't the best time to speak with you, I should go."

"I'm just watching out for you." Connor said, "But yes, perhaps you should go. And be careful, if I have to break you out of prison because of your mistakes-"

"You won't." Richard spoke firmly.

The last thing he heard before he left was Connor's pet, begging for its life.

-

It took two months for Richard to finally be caught.

By Gavin, that is.

Richard did his best, he truly did, to stay way from Gavin, but it was just impossible. The man was like a magnet, drawing Richard in, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. He found himself following his obsession, during work hours, during outings on his days off, he just couldn't stay away. So much so that he'd abandoned his list, focusing solely on Gavin.

The only good thing that came of it, was that the lack of further evidence and breakthroughs in the case led to the trail growing cold, and the DPD abandoning the case they were building.

Richard had been sitting in his car, outside of Gavin's apartment building, once again. He'd only looked away for a moment, and when he did, Gavin was opening the door at the passenger side and letting himself into the car.

"I know you've been following me." He spoke, "And no, nobody else does, you're safe."

Richard squinted at him, "You look like you've been doing well." He didn't. He looked like he hadn't slept for a minute since he'd been dropped off at the DPD, and he was more than a little underweight.

"I haven't." Gavin denied, then hesitated. "Can we-... can we talk?"

Richard shifted nervously. It was a bad idea, it was so far beyond a bad idea, and Connor would kill him if he found out.

"Where?" He asked.

"Come inside." Gavin said, opening the door again.

He hesitated, "I don't think-"

"Fuck's sake, it's fine." Gavin hissed, "This isn't some kind of trap or something, just come inside before the neighbours start getting suspicious."

The short trip to Gavin's apartment was quiet and uneventful. No DPD Detectives ordered him to put his hands up, no FBI agents popped out of hiding, no SWAT team cornered him. They made it inside safely and in one piece.

Gavin took a seat at a table in the small kitchen, gestured for Richard to sit with him.

The taller man did, sitting slowly, hesitantly, still not entirely trusting the situation, "You wanted to talk."

Gavin nodded silently, hands shaking where they rested on the surface of the table.

Richard watched him, and when it became clear that Gavin wasn't actually going to start the discussion, Richard asked, "You wanted me to kill you... You wanted to die, why was that?"

A long, shaky breath rattled its way out of Gavin's lungs, "I-" He swallowed, "For a long time, I've always wanted to kill myself, don't really remember when it started. I remember my brother though, Elijah, he- he helped me with it- with the thoughts, the urges. We used to sing a song together, and for the longest time it worked."

"I believe I heard you singing it once."

"Yeah, probably." Gavin laughed humourlessly, "Sang it a lot when I was with you. Anyway, uh- yeah. That song helped me, stopping me killing myself a lot of times, though I really have to give credit to Elijah. I loved him so fucking much, and then... he got sick, cancer, really aggressive stuff. He was dead within a month." Gavin moved his hands from the table, wrapped his arms around himself, "I was a fucking mess, almost ended it all so many times. But I was scared, always have been, and I think that was the real reason I never killed myself, not Elijah, or that song.

"Then you came along... and suddenly the decision wasn't mine anymore, I could let someone else make it for me. All I had to do was sit there, provoke you maybe, if I didn't think you were going fast enough." He lifted his head, tear-filled grey-brown eyes meeting cold blue ones, "But you're the most backwards serial killer I've ever met, you didn't want to kill me, because I wouldn't beg for me life.

"So you kept me around. And I might have been bored out of my mind, but I felt wanted for the first time in a while..." Gavin paused, the trembling in his hands had moved up his arms and his whole body was shaking as tears spilled over, "I-I want that again, please, I want you to take me back! I- these people, my coworkers they don't care, not like you did. Please, I'll do anything! I'll cry, I'll beg, you can- you can do anything to me, just take me back."

Richard swallowed, his mouth suddenly so dry. That was exactly what he'd been craving, to simply have Gavin back, to hear those words come out of his mouth. Never before had he been so aroused by the idea of hurting someone, of keeping them around just like Connor did with his pets.

"Yes." He found himself saying, before he'd even fully thought it through, "Yes. Quickly. I'll allow you to bring anything you want, but you must hurry."

Gavin took a moment to register what had just been said, and when he did, he hurried to his feet, almost knocking his chair over. He disappeared out of the room and Richard decided to wait for him by the front door.

He returned only a minute later, a backpack in his hands. It sagged slightly from the weight of whatever was in it.

"Is that all?" Richard asked.

Gavin nodded, "Yeah, it's just-... just a picture of my brother that I had, and some books."

"If you're sure that's all you want to bring, then let's go."

Gavin opted for climbing into the backseat, rather than the passenger seat, laying down and using his backpack for a makeshift pillow. It seemed pretty sensible, so Richard didn't argue.

They began the long journey home, and Gavin stayed silent, long enough that Richard thought he'd fallen asleep. But then he spoke up, barely above a whisper, "Is Richard Dechart your real name?"

"It is."

Silence took over again, longer this time.

"Why do you... do this...?" Gavin asked slowly, "Hurt people?"

"My brother." Richard started, "I'm not sure when he started, I never asked. I caught him one day, with one of his 'pets' as he called them, I was nineteen and he was twenty-one. That was ten years ago." His fingers began to drum against the steering wheel as he talked, "I wasn't scared when I found him hurting that man, I was... curious. I wanted to try it, and so Connor taught me, but his modus operandi was... not for me.

"Connor didn't just pick someone out and kill them, he liked to keep them around. Torment them for weeks at a time, months even, mold them into a perfect, obedient little pet. He'd kill them when he got bored, then move on to the next one, but it could be months between each death, years even, when he grew particularly attached to one pet. I was too impatient for something like that." Richard glanced back at the other man, found Gavin watching him silently.

"So what did you do?" The smaller man asked, like a curious child asking their parent what happened next in their bed time fairtytale.

"Connor understood, helped me find a method that worked for me. I discovered that I enjoyed holding a life in my hands, having that person beg to keep it before I tore it away. I didn't like keeping them around for a while, like my brother did, the... thrill wore off. When they were broken, obedient, they no longer cared if they lived or died, and I found that I hated that, it sapped away all enjoyment I got from killing them.

"Before all of this, Connor was in charge of picking out people for my experiments, covering our tracks, hiding the bodies. So once I'd found my MO, he began to teach me those things. I absorbed everything that he told me, and bided my time. I didn't feel confident enough to really branch out on my own, until we moved here just over a year ago."

"That's when the killings started..." Gavin spoke quietly, the realization hitting him, "But you weren't careful with the bodies, we found them."

"Yes." Richard agreed, "The first one was perhaps me just being too cocky, but then I think I became quite addicted to the idea of being pursued. It was exciting. Connor would disagree, I'm sure I've been the cause of several heart attacks, but I know he has my back. If anything happened to me, he'd do anything to help."

Another round of silence, but this time much shorter than the others, "Y-you said... you don't like keeping... pets around...?"

Gavin sounded like he was crying, or at least close to it.

"Oh, darling, I-" Richard clutched the steering wheel in his hands tightly, hated himself for upsetting his beloved Detective, "Before you that's- that's how I felt, but now I- you mean so much to me, Gavin. Letting you go was my biggest mistake, those months were- they were torture, worse than any physical pain I'd ever inflicted, I'm sure. I want you around, I want you with me, you're mine, Gavin Reed. From the second I picked you out and began to study you, you were mine, and nothing is going to change that."

A shaky breath could be heard from behind him and he desperately hoped that Gavin believed him. He didn't speak for the rest of the drive, and when they arrived at their home, Richard expected to carry a sleeping Gavin inside. But he climbed out without aid, clutching his bag tightly to his chest.

Richard let him inside the old house and Gavin entered cautiously, wide eyes taking in the sight.

"Are you hungry?" Richard asked softly.

Gavin nodded distractedly, turning to take in the living room, eyes lingering on Richard's favourite armchair, propped in the corner right beside the bookshelf.

"I'll make us some food, you should try to get some sleep." Richard suggested, gently taking Gavin's arm to lead him upstairs.

"I want you to keep me in that room." Gavin said quietly, almost like he was afraid to say it, "I want- I want to feel like I'm being forced to stay here, please."

"Of course." Richard agreed. He hadn't touched the room since he'd removed Gavin, it felt wrong, because it was Gavin's room, and he didn't have the authority to start rearranging things. He did sleep in the bed some nights though, surrounding himself in Gavin's scent, pretending the man was still there. "We can redecorate, if you'd like. I'm not opposed to making it more comfortable for you, now that you staying here is a permanent situation."

They reached the room and Richard let him inside.

Gavin immediately moved to the bed, sitting in the middle of it, "Some more books would be nice, and a TV...?"

"You name it and its yours, my dear." Richard mumbled softly, closing the door behind him as he left, locking it tight with the key he always kept on him.

-

Richard didn't get any sleep that night, he sat in his armchair, and thought about what the hell was going to happen next.

What did Gavin want exactly from this new arrangement? What did Richard want? He had Gavin there, occupying the space that was made just for him, but it wasn't enough for Richard. Though the desire to kill him wasn't there, he still wanted to hurt Gavin, somehow, and the thought aroused him like it never had before. He wanted a sexual relationship with his Detective. Wanted to bury his favourite knife into that soft flesh at the same time he buried his cock in his tight heat.

But did Gavin want that? During their very first interaction, Gavin had made it clear that he enjoyed the thought of torture, and Richard had seen the evidence for himself. Just earlier, Gavin said he wanted to be forced into that room, so would forcing other things on him be acceptable too? Would Gavin fight it? Beg for more or beg for it to stop?

Richard craved power and control, but he wanted to take it by force, he didn't want it willingly handed over. He wasn't... particularly fond of the more subdued version of Gavin he'd witnessed that night, and he hoped it was just the emotions of the situation getting to him.

BDSM might be worth looking into, if pleasure wasgoing to be involved, and perhaps some conversations with Connor on the topic of pet training were needed.

One thing he knew for sure was that safewords were off the table. Though something told him that Gavin would be completely fine with that, but even if he wasn't... well, that was just more enjoyment on Richard's end.

The alarm Richard had set on his phone went off, signifying that it was time for breakfast, and he stood from his chair with a sigh. He'd have to go on a trip back into the city to get some proper food for his new pet, so he wouldn't have to share his own, but for now it'd have to do. He piled up a plate with slices of buttered toast and bits of fruit, then filled the water bottle that Gavin had used previously with fresh water.

When he reached Gavin's room, he found the man still asleep, his body curled around his pillow and his face buried in it. Soft snores filled the air, and Richard almost didn't want to wake him, but his Detective needed to eat.

"Gavin." He called softly, settling himself at the edge of the bed. He placed the water bottle down and used the now free hand to shake Gavin's shoulder, "It's time to wake up, sweetheart, you need breakfast."

Gavin grumbled, shifted in place, buried his face deeper into the pillows, "'M tired..."

"I understand that, but I'm asking you to get up now."

There was more grumbling from the smaller man and he cracked open one of his eyes, fixing Richard with a glare.

A challenge.

A spark of excitement ignited in Richard and he carefully set the plate down on the bedside table. He turned his attention back to his captive, moved a hand to gently stroke through thick, brown hair.

Then he tightened his grip, yanked Gavin into a sitting position and brought their faces closer, so they were just barely touching noses.

"This isn't a vacation for you, Gavin. You don't get to choose what you do and don't do. I expect you to listen when I ask you to do something, or there will be consequences. Do I make myself clear?" He hissed lowly.

Gavin didn't react.

Richard jerked his Detective's head to the side, "Do I make myself clear, Gavin?"

His answer was a strained grin and a, "No, can you repeat that for me?"

He barely had time to finish his question, before Richard was seizing his throat and pushing him back into the mattress. He squeezed just tight enough to make breathing difficult.

Gavin watched him intently, struggling to gulp down air. He looked afraid, nervous, but excited too. He knew exactly what he was doing, what he was making Richard do and he wanted it.

Richard lifted himself up, without releasing his hand or softening the pressure, and resettled himself over Gavin's hips. He adjusted himself just a little more and knew he'd gotten it right when Gavin gasped.

Gavin clawed at his arm, greedy for air, and rolled his hips up against Richard's ass, greedy for friction. He was only allowed to continue for another few thrusts, but Richard was lifting himself up again, tightening his hand just a little more as he did.

The smaller man struggled against the grip, kicking out with his legs and drawing blood with his nails.

Richard let him struggle just a moment longer, then released him, backing away quickly as he did so, "I'll be back." He said, "Eat your breakfast, I want it all gone before I return."

Gavin might have been too busy sucking in oxygen to listen to what was being said, but that would only mean a more enjoyable punishment for Richard.

He left the door unlocked, figuring his captive would be too disoriented to realize, not that he'd seize the opportunity to escape anyway. Richard was quick, digging his half-empty bottle of lube out from its hiding spot and retrieving his favourite knife.

When he returned, Gavin was shovelling the last pieces of cold, soggy toast into his mouth. His eyes fell on Richard and he hurried to finish chewing, swallowing with just a hint of difficulty.

Richard gestured with his knife, "Clothes off. Pets don't get to wear them."

Gavin scrambled to comply, throwing off the few clothes he'd worn. He stood patiently when he was free of them, awaiting his next orders.

"On the bed, sweetheart." Richard hummed, stepping closer and Gavin moved to do as told. He placed the lube down and climbed over Gavin, settling himself over the man's crotch like he had previously.

Gavin watched his every move, pupils blown wide with lust. He shivered when his eyes fell on the knife in Richard's hands, but he didn't try to get away.

"Always wondered why you had a fucking zebra print kitchen knife." He joked, reaching for it.

"I thought it was quite beautiful. And amusing. Why settle for plain steel when so many interesting kitchen knives are for sale?" Richard said, smacking Gavin's curious hands away, "Keep those still, above your head. Or underneath, if that proves difficult."

Gavin did so, grasping his right wrist in his left and holding them there, "What're you gonna do?"

"I'm not sure." Richard admitted, running his free hand down Gavin's bare torso. The other gently tapped the tip of his knife against his chin as he thought. "I think..." He started, "I might put a 'nine' right here..." He patted the flesh over Gavin's heart.

Gavin swallowed, "Why a nine?"

Richard grinned, leaning down, "You were supposed to be my ninth victim, but that didn't work out did it?" He dug the knife into Gavin's flesh without warning, relishing in the cry of pain and surprise. He carved deeply and neatly, setting a permanent, perfect number nine into the skin of his captive. He'd have to care for it, keep it clean, something he wasn't used to, but it'd be worth it in the end. "I could carve you up forever... cover you in my marks, in little reminders of who you belong too, of the decision you made..."

"Please." Gavin begged, his nails biting into his palms, "I want that."

"We'll see." Richard purred, leaning down further to lick the blood away from the fresh wound. "We have time, my darling. All the time in the world."

Gavin bucked his hips up, laughed, "Thought you said this shit doesn't turn you on?"

"It doesn't. But you are the exception, it seems, to everything I do, everything I feel." Richard sat up straight up again and looked down his nose at the man below him, studied his handy work.

Blood welled up from the cut with each heave of Gavin's chest, and Richard found himself captivated by it. Staring at it so long that Gavin began to wriggle impatiently, "We're not getting any younger here!"

"No, but patience is a virtue." Richard breathed, "And I'll gag you if you don't shut your mouth, I want to enjoy this moment."

The Detective glared at his captor, and for a moment Richard throught he'd argue, but he didn't. He did, however, begin to hump Richard's ass.

"Gavin."

"I'm being quiet."

"That's not the point."

"Well how am I supposed to resist when you're hot as hell and just sitting on my dick."

A zebra-print knife found itself pressed against Gavin's throat, sharp blade cutting shallowly.

"Perhaps this is rewarding bad behaviour, and something my brother would not approve of when training a pet, but we have plenty of time to correct that." Richard pressed the knife in just a little harder before removing it, dropping it to the sheets.

He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Gavin's as he removed it. He stood to remove his pants and underwear and Gavin let out a disappointed noise, hands shaking from the effort it took not to reach out.

The lube was picked up again and Richard coated his fingers liberally, then his clean hand clutched at a thigh, pushing it up so he'd have a good view of Gavin's hole.

"Wait, I thought-"

"No. Not at all. Certainly not now, and potentially never." Richard said firmly, "That's a vulnerable position you aren't going to see from me in your lifetime, darling. Is that going to be a problem? Because if it is, I don't care."

Gavin shook his head rapidly, "No- just thought- it's fine. You can fuck me. Would be fucking lying if I said I hadn't dreamed of your cock in me, and you know that, don't you?"

Two fingers were entered at once, without any preamble and Gavin groaned, fingers flexing.

"Can I touch? Please, I want-"

"No."

"Please-"

"Beg all you want, sweetheart, you know how much I love it, but it's not going to get you anything."

Richard didn't waste much time with prep work, he was getting impatient himself, wanted to be buried to the hilt inside Gavin.

Gavin was wriggling, in a way he must have been trying to make look sexy. Letting out desperate little noises that only fueled Richard's hunger. His hands flew to Richard's shoulders when he finally plunged in all the way, a shout escaping him.

Richard didn't bother to correct him. He squeezed at Gavin's hips, held him tightly in place as he rocked into him. His mouth moved to the new nine on his captive's chest, licking away more blood, kissing it, worshipping it.

"Rich- fuck! I- I-" Gavin couldn't even string a sentence together, so overwhelmed by the pleasure and the pain. He clawed at Richard's back, drawing blood just like he'd done with his arm, and tightened his legs around the man's waist.

Richard hid his face in the junction between Gavin's neck and shoulder. He hummed against skin, delighted in the shiver it earned him.

Sex had never seemed all that great to Richard. He wasn't a virgin, far from it, he'd just never been a huge fan of the various bodily fluids involved, especially since blood was rarely one of them.

But with Gavin, of course, that wasn't an issue. The fluids or the lack of blood.

He leaned back, forcefully removing Gavin's hands from him and pinning them down one-handed while the other reached for his knife. He grimaced at the drying blood and wiped it off as best as he could, then brought the knife to Gavin's chest, tracing over the nine and causing fresh blood to spill out.

Gavin gasped and sobbed, struggled in Richard's hold as hot tears spilled down his cheeks. But the way he thrust back against Richard's hips and clenched around him told the man all he needed to know.

"You never fail to spark my curiosity, Gavin." Richard mused, "You are by far the most interesting man I've met. I think even if I wanted to end your pathetic existence at this point, I wouldn't be able to. I have too many questions and too few answers. Would your brother be proud to see you like this? If he knew that you'd handed your life over to someone who would end it they second they grew bored?" He slashed at Gavin's chest and stomach, watched as hair grew matted with too red blood. "When I have all of my answers, and you no longer provide entertainment, you're gone. It's as simple as that. But that's what you want."

Gavin shook his head, "That's not-"

"Oh, but it is, isn't it? You want death, you always will. I may make you feel wanted for now, make you feel truly alive, but sooner or later, the novelty will wear off. You'd wish you'd played into my desires the first time we'd met, so I'd have killed you right then. You'd wish you had the guts to kill yourself before we met again."

"N-no!" Gavin denied, "I want you- I-I want you, please-" He was still rolling his ass back against his captor, who'd long since stopped moving.

"You came into my life and you screwed up everything I'd so carefully cultivated!" Richard continued, "You frustrated me. I wanted to kill you and I couldn't. I wanted to hurt you and I couldn't. I wanted to verbally tear you apart and I couldn't. I hated you and I still hate you. But now, I suppose, I love you too, if that's what you could call it. I'm obsessed with you and that can't last. I know it can't. You know it can't."

Gavin was crying and shaking, breathing harshly.

He looked beautiful in that moment. Gorgeous. The most magnificent human being that Richard had ever had the pleasure of seeing, and Gavin belonged solely to him. He hoped Gavin was aware that his words weren't true, that he was just playing into his love of cruel words, and that Richard would never grow bored of the man.

No, he was in this for the long haul, and Gavin would be too, whether he himself grew bored or not. But with the way he rocked against Richard, trying to get his cock impossibly deeper, and the way he thrust against Richard's stomach for the slightest amount of friction proved to him it'd be quite a while before that happened.

Richard finally resumed his movements, much to Gavin's delight. He chased the end that was rapidly approaching, sliding in and out of Gavin's tight, slick hole. He let the words and the noises flow out of his mouth unrestricted, "You're perfect, my darling. Thank you for letting me do this, for letting me use you however I see fit. I couldn't have fallen for a better man."

Gavin came with a shout, white mixing with the red on his chest and stomach to form a muted pink colour. He writhed as Richard leaned down to clean away as much as he could, crying out at the sting of his tongue.

Richard came soon after, buried deep inside of Gavin. He released Gavin's wrists, let the man grab onto him and hold him close for just a moment before pulling away. "I have to clean you up." He sighed out at the complaints he received.

He was only gone from the room a moment, just long enough to get the things needed to clean and disinfect Gavin's wounds. When that was done, he wrapped his arms tightly around his Detective, holding him close.

"I-I love you." Gavin stuttered, "And I won't get bored of you, I swear- please- please d-don't think I will, and I'll do anything to keep you inter-rested in me."

Richard hummed, moved his hands to cup his lover's cheeks, gently wiping away the fresh tears, "As long as you continue to provide a challenge, and don't become complacent, I promise I won't lose interest in you, and will keep you around as long as you desire. I wasn't particularly bothered last night when you followed me around so obediently, but I would prefer the you from this morning. The one who fights and snarks and only gives up after a good battle."

"I c-can do that!" Gavin cried.

"I know that, my darling, you're so good for me." Richard praised, placing a soft kiss on Gavin's forehead, "I have so many plans for you. For us. This is going to be quite an interesting journey."