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Ganda knows that his choice to follow Ghani Zulham means he is ready to do anything the man orders him to do━Zulham already told him to dig up an abandoned grave, not to mention destroying a public property when he smashed the wall of a museum into pieces, so why is this one so different to him?

The handle is made of wood, warm under his touch and behind him, Zulham makes a deep noise of impatience. Ganda blinks, reality blends back with a jolt of surprise. Zulham sounds like a predator, the low growl in his throat causes something to squirm in Ganda’s stomach. Fear, or something like that. Or nothing like that at all.

“Ganda.” His voice rings throughout the empty room sans for the cries of their captives. “Tunggu apa lagi kamu?”

When Ganda doesn’t answer (the knife is not heavy at all, but his arm refuses to move), Zulham  rounds him and steps right into his personal space. Ganda flinches, automatically taking a step backwards but that doesn’t deter Zulham; he steps forward, not a feet away from Ganda. Even under the dim light of the abandoned storage, Ganda could see how Zulham’s eyes burn bright; the intensity of his gaze forces Ganda to stay still and returns the stare.

“Takut?” His breath is warm against Ganda’s cheek and they’re so close, so close that Ganda could smell a hint of tobacco, along with the sharp alcohol smell wafting out of his mouth. Throat suddenly dry, Ganda swallows, automatically shaking his head.

The world seems to narrow down to the two of them, the whines and rustling noises on the far corner of the room forgotten. There is a warm hand on his chest, skating up before he feels a fist bunching on his collar, yanking him even closer. 

Their noses nearly brush, Ganda goes cross-eyed in an attempt to stare at Zulham. He notices the way the younger man’s lips curl into a half-smile━mocking, a jeer, before the line of his lips harden, turning his face into a mask of rage. “Terus kamu tunggu apa lagi? Udah saya kasih perintah dari tadi━”

That snaps Ganda out of his reverie. It’s rooted in him, the desire to please Zulham, and the man sounds borderline angry at his incompetence that it sends a pang of hurt through him.

He shakes Zulham’s iron grip off his shirt, letting the man knows the conviction on his face. Under Zulham’s presence, he’s nothing but just a shadow━but Ganda likes it that way. No thoughts, only the man’s deep, smooth voice running inside his head, his command a law he can’t defy. His grip tightens around the wooden handle━no longer heavy, his close proximity with Zulham melted away his doubts.

With Zulham━ Ghani? ━he can do anything. His steps resonate loudly, the tip-taps of his soles against the concrete ground. Ghani’s gaze feels like a brand against his nape, judgement and expectation in the same measure and Ganda can’t afford making him disappointed. Ghani trusts him, at some points, and trust is expensive, at least in Ganda’s eyes.

Their first captive━caught because of his habit of snooping around and getting too close to their plans━thrashes on Ganda’s feet, bound and gagged, tears streaming down his face. He tries to say something but the cloth stuffed into his mouth prevents him to do so━maybe he’s begging, wordless but just equally desperate. It sends an uncomfortable churning sensation in Ganda, stomach twisting but, no━he has his orders.

Dragging the man by his hair, Ganda kneels behind him, one hand tugging his head backwards and the other angling the knife. Human skin is fragile, he notices, the tip of the knife sinks into the soft skin of the man’s neck, blood beading from the cut.

“Ayo, Ganda.” Ganda could hear the smile in Ghani’s voice, his approval that sends warmth throughout his body. “Buktikan kepada saya.” The last one is nearly whispered, but it echoes in the room.

No time for doubt━his hand is shaking a little but the knife slides smoothly across the man’s throat, cutting edge drawing a steady line that cuts through jugular vein and carotid artery. Blood spurts from the open gap and Ganda steps back but it’s too late, his hand is coated with red. It’s exhilarating, the adrenaline that runs to him deafens the gurgling cries of the man collapsed on his feet, lying on his own puddle of blood.

It takes him a moment to realize that the knife is no longer in his hand. Ghani has approached him, beaming smile plastered on his face as he steps through the pool of blood and kicking the body away. The man is not afraid of getting his hands dirty, Ganda supposes━the way he takes the knife from his trembling hands is confident, blood sticking to his fingers must feel like nothing to him.

“Kerja bagus, Ganda,” he murmurs, eyes alight with excitement. “Sekarang biar saya yang ngelakuin sisanya.”

It happens in a blur that Ganda is sure Ghani has done this before. No hesitation, no second-thoughts━the rest of their captives are now thrashing on the ground, squirming on their blood with their breath gurgling away to nothing. When the last of the heavy exhalation dies down, the knife falls with a clatter. Ghani has his suit dirty, the front of his shirt completely drenched in blood but judging from the way he grins from ear to ear, he doesn’t care.

Ghani turns his head around, eyes locked on Ganda and the manic glint sends a jolt of something through him. Fear, arousal, panic━everything mingles into one. Ganda has always attracted to the dangerous ones, the thrill and the rush of adrenaline are what he seeks.

This time is no different.

The way Ghani stalks towards him makes Ganda feels like he’s a prey, the way his eyes seem to be ablaze makes him appear unhinged, a little wild around the edges. The thrill of a kill, the adrenaline rush that hasn’t died down. It’s completely instinctual for Ganda to let his eyes run along Ghani’s figure when the man is pulling his outer coat off, leaving him with a tight white shirt stained with blood. His gaze lands on the younger man’s lips, absolutely instinctual as well, noticing the way he smirks. Gorgeous━his brain spares half of that thought before he finds himself backed up against the wall.

“Kerja bagus, Ganda,” Ghani sounds breathless, chest heaving, and his voice thick with frenzied joy. His hand is sticky against Ganda’s cheek as he cups his face, the metallic tang of blood evading his nostrils. Ganda could taste blood when he licks his own lips, seeing the way Ghani glances briefly at his lips. “Sekarang, saya ada hadiah buat kamu.”

It takes him by surprise when he feels a pair of scorching lips against him. The kiss also tastes like blood.

All-consuming, fiery━blood, tobacco, alcohol, and something purely Ghani tangles into one and sends his brain into a halt, making his knees wobble dangerously that Ganda has to hold on the man to stop him from sliding down the wall. Hands on Ghani’s cheeks, he draws bloody handprints on the younger man’s tanned face, sticky and hot. They’re pressed chest to chest, the air around them heavy with arousal, and when Ghani rocks his hips against his, Ganda couldn’t help but letting out a heavy groan at the jolt that rushes through him.

This seals his doubts away. Following Ghani Zulham is one thing he will never regret, even with the taste of murder in his tongue and the coppery scent thick in the air. For Ghani, he will go down on his knees━reverent murmurs and unmatched devotion. For Ghani Zulham, Ganda will do anything.