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Rule 39	By : grimreaperchibi Category: +G through L > Jak & Daxter Views: 3977 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Jak & Daxter, nor the places, people, or objects within. I make no money writing this.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
A/N: Wow. Does anyone even remember that this fic exists anymore? Well, for those that do, I've gone back and fixed all the stupid typing errors I missed the first time around. Not anything life-shattering or the like, but the annoying little things. Considering the current hour (3:10 AM MT) and how I've felt this last week, I'm kinda amazed it got done at all. My brain, it's hardcore toasted.
Anyway, I'd like to remind the world that anyone who read 50 Shades of Grey and thought that shit was real needs a serious wake-up call. BDSM is about the exchange of power for personal satisfaction. It is not torture, it is not rape, and anyone who says otherwise doesn't have a goddamn clue, even for fictional purposes. I realize anyone still reading this probably already knows that, but I live with idiots and just want to make this point clear. *hops off the soapbox* So yeah, that tag's there for a reason.
Amaronith: Just wait for it. Rayn gets even better.
Robin: Stop getting me sidetracked with your other fandoms! *just got caught up and is now ready for Hammertime*
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Rule #28: It’s better to seek forgiveness than ask for permission.
Phoenix was brought back to the world of the living by the exceeding loud slam of a door. He jerked upright in bed…and watched as the world slowly slid into place a few seconds later. That couldn’t possibly be good. Slowly, carefully, he laid back down. That was when his stomach decided to cramp while his brain sloshed noisily in his skull. He groaned and pulled his pillow over his face, trying to hide from the too bright light that still penetrated his closed eyes. He could feel each pulse of his heart in his temples, his spine, his ears, his teeth, strong as a bass drum pounding out the 1812 Overture. Because of this hypersensitivity, he felt more than heard a second door closing, the vibration rolling up his legs and spine like a gentle wave. He groaned rather helplessly as his stomach rolled with it.
“Ah…so it finally decides to join the rest of us in the waking world.” The voice was mercifully soft to his throbbing ears. Or maybe it only seemed that way because of the cacophony already ringing in his head. In either case, it was rather nice not to have something more adding to the pain. Slowly, laying very still and breathing evenly and trying to think of absolutely nothing, things settled back into something close to normalcy. It still felt rather like he’d been kicked in the stomach by a draft horse, but that was his own fault. He’d honestly meant to eat something between the game and the party. It just hadn’t happened.
“Come on,” he heard Razer prod. “You’ve already slept off as much as you ever will.”
He pulled the pillow away and cracked an eye at his roommate who was standing over him, annoyingly awake and put together. He struggled into a half sitting position and this time, the room decided to move with him. It took a couple tries to get his leaden tongue to work. “My brain would like to disagree with you.” The words buzzed strangely as he spoke.
“Your brain is the reason the rest of you is in such straits,” was the dispassionate response. “Though it was your mouth that did proclaim you’d finally found your, and I quote, ‘soul mate.’”
As soon as the words penetrated the fog created by the hangover, Phoenix froze, grasping desperately at the blurry remnants of his memory. He found nothing, however, that helped make sense of that statement. There was a trill of panic. He’d been drunk, he wasn’t going to quibble about that, but he hadn’t been so drunk that he’d blacked out…right?
There was a cold twist to Razer’s smile. “You don’t recall your fair bride? Well, you were several sheets to the wind at the time, even though you insisted you were perfectly fine. Demanded to be married with all due haste. One of your teammates obliged. Did you know it only takes ten minutes to become ordained online?”
Phoenix’s thoughts shifted into overdrive while his stomach once more started to knot. He didn’t remember any of this. The continued percussion in his head wasn’t helping him at all. And mixed in with all the turmoil was a certain amount of sadness that Razer seemed to be so uncaring about any of it. Granted, their relationship was something based purely on sex, and open sex at that. It was one of the rules, that there were no higher expectations. It just seemed less that way the more time they spent together. Given what he did remember of the previous night, there was almost no contest. He’d choose Razer over just about anyone else, and not just because the sex was great. There was absolutely no way…
“Should I be offering congratulation or condolences?”
He was almost too caught up in his internal chaos to catch it, but he did hear it. That flat tone the other used to convey sarcasm, hidden behind nearly normal intonation. He’d learned that Razer had an almost perfect poker face, and since his sharp, if not dry, sense of humor came out so rarely, it was easy to mistake that sarcasm for him simply talking. Phoenix caught his breath and stared at his roommate trying to verify that this was some joke. Then he rubbed a hand over his smarting eyes. “You lying sod. You nearly gave me a coronary.”
“Consider it a test for sobriety.” The reply was wholly unapologetic.
“I’ve got the Tower’s own flock picking at my brain for a hangover. Couldn’t you have found something nicer?”
“Nicer?” The word was acidic and glacial, which meant something exceedingly important, but Phoenix couldn’t currently decipher what. “You shanghai me into attending a party I didn’t want to attend, abandon me for whatever shiny object caught your attention next, harass me about trying to help your inebriated ass survive the night, and you want me to be nicer? Nice was throwing that Typhonic Beast next door into the cleaning closet instead of down the stairwell. Nice was stopping at words when I would have dearly loved to beat sense into the body instead. Nice is nothing you deserve or will receive.”
“Well, for the record then, your bedside manner sucks,” Phoenix snapped back, more than a little irritated himself. He knew he’d screwed up last night; he didn’t need a lecture about it. What he needed was ten minutes under a cold shower and food and then maybe he’d be decently human again. Or at least enough to deal with whatever issue the other was nursing. As he had had none of those things, he wasn’t in a mood to pull his punches either. “It’s little wonder you can’t keep a body in yours for more than a night or two.”
Too late, he realized his mistake. The barb was meant to sting. Petty and cruel as it had been, he only wanted Razer to back off. And sure, he had rocked back as though he’d been physically struck, a hand straying to protect that scar on his side. But those words were taken as a challenge, which meant the other moved forward, not away. With effortless, predatory grace, Razer surged over him, straddling his waist and pushing him back into the mattress in a single smooth motion. One hand kept him laying down while the other gracefully flipped open the butterfly knife that had somehow appeared in it. The flat of the blade came to rest on his cheek as Razer stared down arrogantly, the whole affair over in the span of a shocked breath and a hard lurch of the heart.
The shot of adrenaline did wonders to clear up Phoenix’s head. It also had the unintentional effect of turning his less than interested morning wood into a full blown erection. Not only was his roommate’s ass antagonizingly close, but there was something insanely arousing about the sheer physical presence hovering over him right then. He didn’t speculate too much on the subject considering how close that sharp edge was to his face. That was a little more important than figuring out the weird nuances of his sexual deviancy.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then Razer seemed to notice how hot and bothered the body under him had become because his lips suddenly curled into a smile that never reached his eyes. Phoenix sucked in a breath as the blade slowly traced down his cheek, his jaw…he lifted him head and tried not to swallow nervously as it drifted down his throat. The smile became more sadistic as a slight shift in weight had Phoenix bucking his hips reflexively. He didn’t know whether to be aroused, terrified, or pissed off at the condescending laugh that followed.
“You think so highly of yourself, don’t you, Rot Sperling?” he said lightly, though his green eyes remind flat and unmoved. “Do you honestly believe you’ve seen even a fraction of what I’m capable of? That you have any idea what it’s really like to lie with me?” The knife slid down his bare chest, the dull side pressed just hard enough to let Phoenix know how easily it could be passing through his skin, not just over it. There was the stray thankful thought that he only ever wore a ratty pair of cotton pants to bed drifting about in the back of his head. “Men do not rise from my bed on a third day,” Razer continued, leaning over him. “They crawl from it, eager and hesitant to leave, loving and loathing what I make them feel.” His smile became as sharp as the knife in his hand. “Much like you right now, caught in extremes. Your body wants, knows what pleasures can be wrought at my hand, but your mind isn’t nearly so cooperative. It’s focused on the knife and trying to prepare for the pain it reasons should appear next.” There was a slight prick as the tip dug into his skin, not nearly enough to do any sort of damage, but just enough to prove the point as Phoenix flinched.
The position of that sharp edge wasn’t the only thing his mind was paying attention to, however. He was also desperately trying to reason out where the aggression was coming from and what Razer expected to get from doing this. The first wasn’t that hard to figure out—he’d been told. And he did remember his roommate being particularly irate about suffering some unwanted advances. He also remembered a lengthy amount of time spent just talking, during which the other had relaxed and maybe even let himself once more engage the world rather than drift around the edges of it. He knew Razer well enough by now to know that level of comfort was difficult to obtain and easily shattered, so something must have happened. A couple somethings, considering the examples of ‘nice’ earlier…
It was the second part, the expected gain that he was having issues with. The only thing poison begot was more poison. Granted, Phoenix had traded venom first, so this was mostly (probably) just posturing on the other man’s part. Except Razer wasn’t the type to waste the energy on something pointless. He pushed because he wanted something. It just didn’t make sense since the only thing he was going to get a fight.
The immediate answer left Phoenix staring. A fight. To frighten. To prove control.
…What the hell had twisted him up inside so much that this was the only way it could get back out?
Mindful of the blade still tracing over his stomach, Phoenix took a breath and relaxed. The end shuddered a bit more than he would have liked, but he steadied out. His heart was still beating like crazy, though it was more the expectant flutter from right before the start of a game than anything else. It was a big choice he was making. One that felt oddly right to make. One that really wasn’t that much of a decision when it really came right down to it.
Razer gave him an arch look, clearly distrustful of the sudden passivity. Phoenix paid it no mind, laying still and compliant until he was sure what he was about to say was as neutral as possible.
“I’m not going to fight you,” he said gently, voice steady as he met and matched the other’s gaze. “And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
“And that’s supposed to make everything better?” Razer hissed, frustration starting to refract though the icy stare.
“No.” Trying to keep the gesture subtle, Phoenix eased his hands onto the thighs straddling him, stroking the strong muscles. “You have to tell me what will do that.”
It was obvious the moment what was being offered clicked in the other’s head. Razer glared as he had some sort of nasty internal argument, then grabbed the hands still idly petting. Phoenix didn’t struggle as his wrists were pinned down over his head with enough pressure to make it seem like they’d been chained there. The move brought them face to face, giving him an intimate view of the tumult going on behind those dark green eyes. They were not lit up like they usually became during sex, yet were not so iced over there was a visible wall in them.
“Do not move,” Razer growled, hands tightening possessively. Phoenix nodded mutely, not trusting his voice to respond correctly. “And do not scream, though I doubt you’ll have the breath for it.” The sudden flutter in his stomach was as much the fault of the words as it was the almost phantom touch that trailed across his skin as the other man pulled away.
Not moving didn’t sound like a hard challenge to meet, even though it proved much more difficult than simply laying there. Phoenix tried to sit up automatically when Razer left the mattress and then again when his roommate failed to return within the normally due time. He caught himself in both cases before shifting too much from where he’d been pushed, though he couldn’t help wonder why Razer didn’t actually attempt to tie him up. That answer became clear the first time he was touched—being tied to something would ground him, give him something to hold on to and pull against. By forcing him to apply his own restraint, his mind and body were in constant opposition while Razer played.
And play the other did, like the complex orchestrations he was so fond of listening to. The rough scrape of blunt fingernails to sensitize the skin as prelude to the hard press of fingertips into joints and muscles, which relaxed everything only to have the sharp draw of the butterfly knife make it all seize again in turn. The warm palm that soothed after wiped the slate clean for the next round, slowly building and retreating, creating a tremble that kept pace with the ever increasing beat of his heart. For what felt like hours, all Razer did was touch, and not even in places that could be considered all that erotic. Arms, stomach, ribcage, knees, feet. Up and down and across in a steady progression that never repeated itself. Even the process of removing the worn pants he slept in was much more than simply being undressed, but less than an overt erotic gesture. The entire length of his body, from twitching fingers to curling toes, was subjected to the repeated build and release until he was breathless, disoriented, and achingly hard.
Then Razer added his tongue to the mix, licking broad swaths after the draw of the blade, tracing the finer folds of the ear and neck, a sporadic torment to already sensitive nipples. For a while, Phoenix tried to watch what was going on. The commands had been not to move or scream, not anything else. Even that became more than he could handle once Razer started nipping and sucking at his chest. Watching how that wet pink tongue laved across his skin and wanting it to do the same so much further down was too much. He closed his eyes with a whine. It only seemed to make the sensations sharper in his mind.
There was little time to let him gather his increasingly scattered thoughts. Razer would pause here and there if he was starting to breathe too hard or get too riled up, but never long enough for anything to truly relax or find focus. That was until the first slick finger oh-so-slowly pushed into him. Then the world focused completely on the way his body needed that touch deeper, how one finger was better than nothing, yet not nearly enough. A sharp slap on the thigh reminded him he wasn’t supposed to be moving, which had him exerting the last of his will power as he was quite thoroughly prepared for something else. It just wasn’t what he wanted or expected. Too thin, too smooth, cool and hard and his mind abruptly blanked as whatever it was slid home, producing a bolt of pleasure so strong he nearly came. The only reason he didn’t was because that pressure backed off almost as soon as it started. It came back scant seconds later, a bare brush, gone again, then stronger. Like something was writhing inside him, accidentally rubbing against that pleasure spot intermittently.
“It’s called a prostate massager.” Razer sounded smug, the roughness of his voice another shiver gliding over shot nerves. “This particular one is designed to be unbalanced. It does not sit soundly and thus responds to even the slightest twitch of the muscles surrounding it.” Nails scratched at his inner thigh. Phoenix twitched, then gasped as the massager jerked.
The well constructed push and pull from before turned into all push. It took shamefully little at that point to have him constantly crying out, the pleasure turning sharper with each passing minute, yet so inconsistent that he couldn’t build up enough momentum to push for the end. Instead, he was kept right there along the edge, wanting desperately and left unfulfilled. And when his ability to withstand crumbled completely, Razer was there to hold him down, keeping him pinned under his own hard and heavy body until all Phoenix could do was twitch and tremble. Each breath came as more of a sob than an actual inhalation. The only thing that seemed real in the world was the heat and pressure of skin against skin and he could not stop himself from arching toward it, needing as he had never needed anything before.
Which was why it was absolutely shattering when he was unexpectedly left. It couldn’t have been for more than a handful of seconds, but it was more than long enough for Phoenix to feel something inside him break, tearing and falling and a million shining points of pain too small to hurt alone, but agonizing in concert. His chest ached as the hollowness spread deeper, seemingly endless. The loss was physically painful as well, almost doubly so because he lacked any means to bring that contact back or chase after it. All he could do was lay there, tears falling unheeded, and gasp for breath as the world spun in dizzying little circles, lost…
Then there was a hand slipping under his neck, rough lips pressed against his, grounding him once more. He latched on even as he felt himself be drawn closer. Soothing words were whispered across his face, into his ears, but he couldn’t understand them beyond intent. There was a shift and the tremulous pressed he’d nearly forgotten about was replaced. Frustration burned away under fulfilled need as he was taken roughly because there was simply no other way at this point. Even the cutting edges still inside dulled, if not blatantly slid back into place, as each hard thrust pushed him towards the frantic end.
There was a tenuous moment where it felt like nothing was going to be enough to actually get him to that point. Then he was there and rushing past it. The air caught in his throat despite how hard his lungs tried to pull it in. He could feel the unraveling pleasure as he came, hot and thick on his stomach, the continued thrusts that seemed to make it all last much longer than it should have. There was a snarl in his ear, teeth in his shoulder, one final violent shove before the other half of his world shuddered and panted to a stop.
The tears continued even though the initial cause was long gone, a not-memory of when or why. More soothing noise registered as fingers wiped the moisture from his cheeks and eyes, the feather-light brush of lips against his temple helping that calm voice find purchase in his brain, helping the pain leech out until there was nothing but peace left behind. With a little help, he found his breath again, and contentment settled in as the spinning slowed. For a few tireless moments, everything was as it was supposed to be, bright, warm, and whole. Then the darkness crept in around the edges of his consciousness until it consumed everything except that soothing murmur against his ear. And then even that was gone, but Phoenix never noticed anything more than how good it felt to be held.
***
The second time he woke up, Phoenix was a little smarter about the process. Instead of trying to immediately get up or move, he laid there and took stock of his body’s condition.
…Everything ached, though not in an unpleasant way, like he’d had a really good run on the field. His head still had a background throb to it and his stomach was an empty hole in the middle of his torso. The light wasn’t nearly as obnoxious as it had been before though, and his thoughts were muzzy, but not obfuscated. With a stretch, he carefully sat up, pleased that nothing else moved with him. He rolled his shoulders to ease the stiffness there and groaned quietly at the stretch in his hips. The reasons for those particular pains helped reboot his brain. A quick glance showed that though still naked, everything had been cleaned up, the sheets and blanket tucked carefully around him. But where—
Razer sat by the open window, a cigarette in his hand and without a single stitch of clothing on. He was perched on the wide window ledge, staring out into the gray wilds behind their dorm with a painfully neutral look on his face, the carefully removed window screen propped up by his feet. No…not neutral. Pensive. The look he wore when he was worried, when his thoughts became conflicted and he wasn’t sure which direction was the correct one to go in. Still a little weak kneed, Phoenix picked himself up and walked over to his roommate. Razer’s eyes remained steadfastly upon the scenery until asked, “Feel better now?” Then they flickered to and away.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” the other mumbled as he raised the cigarette.
“I’m not the one whose world got so messed up that violence was the only way to fix it.” Razer flinched and tried to cover it with a shift in position. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Phoenix added, “I’m fine. A little stiff, but nothing that won’t work itself out sooner than later.” There was a nearly quiet release of breath and an ease of some of the tension that stiffened the other’s body so badly. Phoenix settled a little closer, letting the hush reign for a while longer. “What happened?” he finally asked.
The only visible response was a hardening of facial features, belaying the nearly calm way Razer continued to smoke. He actively glared at the outside world, like he was looking for something concrete he could point to and blame. Phoenix had to bite his tongue so that he didn’t try to break in again. He wasn’t going to give his roommate a way to dance around the issue.
“Sometimes…” Razer finally said. “I wonder if something about me has become so damaged and septic that all I’ll ever be able to offer is poison.”
“How so?” Phoenix asked when it seemed as though the other wouldn’t continue. Razer’s mouth thinned, his jaw clenching as his teeth tried to grind away whatever words he was choking on. “What happened?” he pressed again.
“I wanted to hurt you,” Razer snapped, green eyes flashing brightly as he finally turned to look at him. “I wanted to destroy everything you were, tear you down until nothing remained, make you suffer. You are the third person I have taken this out on and the only one close to bearing some sort of responsibility.” There was a visible attempt to reign himself back in as an expression of pain shadowed across his face. “And damned if I didn’t succeed,” he added, once more subdued and morose.
Phoenix couldn’t help but lay a hand over his chest where the broken feeling had appeared. He wasn’t sure what had snapped under the pressure because he didn’t feel all that different. There was a looseness there now, like something was sagging after exerting an exhaustive amount of effort. It didn’t hurt even if it was kind of numb, and that weird feeling of tired relaxation echoed out into the rest of him. Nothing was sore, unstable, or still laying in pieces. If anything, he actually felt better than he had before, like a pressure he hadn’t known existed had finally been released and he could breathe. “I pissed you off. I did it deliberately. And I know you react in kind to however you’re treated. Most of the time, at least.”
“Being angry is not a state I’m so unfamiliar with I can’t control my reaction.” Razer grimaced, curling a bit more protectively over his side. “It is my current inability to take it out on the correct party that is unacceptable.”
It took a little while to work past the stiff phrasing. Then Phoenix realized he’d been asking the wrong question all along. “What did you do?”
He listened in stunned silence as Razer told him. The incident at the party can out bitter and laced with self-incrimination. In sharp contrast, his confrontation with Daxter was scalding; a flash-burn chemical reaction that had boiled over to leave angry scorch marks behind. And then there was their own run in, which was equal parts reproach, guilt, and castigation. The words themselves flowed with their usual grace, though it was obvious there was a secondary dialogue also taking place in his roommate’s head, adding a strain to his face and voice. For the first time, Phoenix noticed he looked unbelievably tired, like he had when he’d been stressing about midterms. Had he slept at all last night, or had that internal voice kept him too awake?
“You’re well within your rights to be brassed off, you know,” Phoenix said when the words finally seemed to taper off.
That earned him an annoyed look. “I am not looking for absolution.”
“Maybe not, but you need to hear it all the same. Just like you also need to hear that you’re allowed a breaking point.” Razer snorted, taking a final drag and grinding out the remains on the side of the building. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to listen, but Phoenix made one last attempt anyway. “Look, you’re the only one who can decide how long you’re going to torture yourself over being human. Just think about this while you do: the guy you’re trying to paint yourself as wouldn’t have been there when the pain hit. He wouldn’t have hesitated to draw blood with that knife. He would have left as soon as he was done. I wouldn’t have trusted him to stop even if I’d scream for it.”
The other man straightened, immediately at attention with concern written all over his face. “You never said stop.”
“I know.” The implication hung there. Razer flushed slightly, his ears listing down in embarrassment and denial. “You would have,” Phoenix insisted before the words could be said.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. I trust you, whether you trust yourself or not. Deny it however you wish. It’s still my trust to put where I want.”
“Then you’re an idiot.” The almost habitual insult made Phoenix smile. It lacked any heat or teeth behind it and was said mostly because Razer had run out of other points to argue, yet still felt the need to be opposing. He laughed when he was huffed at, glad to see some of the black mood lifting. There was another, more comfortable silence as something else settled in his roommate, ending with a heavy sigh. “This means I have to apologize.”
“No need. The start might have been rocky, but I remember asking for the experience.”
Razer’s lips twisted, caught between a scowl and a smirk. “Not to you. To the insufferable twit rooming with your teammate next door.” He paused. “Though, perhaps, that should be through intermediaries rather than another solo meeting. Provided Jak doesn’t try to take it out of my skin before that, of course.”
“Jak?” Phoenix frowned. “Why would Jak be involved?”
He was stared at patiently, but obviously didn’t make the connection Razer was expecting him to. “Daxter has been under Jak’s wing from practically day one,” was the tolerant explanation as the window screen was refitted. “If he was willing to start a brawl in the showers over some ill-tempered teasing, he’s most likely looking for blood for my transgression.”
Phoenix frowned; where the hell had he been for that? No, wait, he remembered something vaguely about another student causing problems from way back at the start of the semester. “No worries. I’ll talk to him. We’ll get it sorted so that everyone’s able to live with it.”
There was a noncommittal acknowledgement as Razer tried to move past him. Phoenix caught his arm and pulled him back around, silencing whatever protest was on the other’s lips with a kiss. It wasn’t like the breath-stealing ones they usually shared; he didn’t have that skill set quite yet for that. What he did have instead was the kind of kiss that melted, slow enough that there were no expectations to fill but hot enough that there was a clear desire behind it. Previous girlfriends had quite literally fallen into his arms during such kisses and his current love interest was little different. Razer started at first, caught unaware by the action. Soon, however, he was pressing into it, testing the claim Phoenix was making without actively trying to take it over. That was a much better response than the usual limp acceptance he received, leaving him with the sole responsibility of keeping the kiss interesting.
Back and forth and back again, their kiss waged. A subtle, powerful pull between them kept their kiss more than interesting yet less than demanding, until they had to break apart to breathe. They didn’t pull back far, still hovering close enough that a slight shift in weight would bring their lips together again. Razer had reached out, gripping Phoenix’s arm as tightly as his was gripped, allowing the slight tremble in one body to travel into the other.
“I mean it,” Phoenix said softly. “We’ll get it sorted.”
There were too many things going on in those hooded green eyes to pick out any one specific emotion. “Idiot,” Razer responded just as softly, seemingly more intent on trying for another kiss than actually replying.
“Yeah, but your idiot.”
For a split second, those eyes went wide. Then Razer was pulling back, and away, and though he didn’t want to, Phoenix let him go. He watched in silence as the other hurriedly dressed and disappeared out the door without another word. Then he ran a hand through his hair and sighed, finally feeling the nerves he probably should have had all along. He grabbed his stuff for a shower with shaking hands and spent a good fifteen minutes under the hottest spray of water he could stand, head braced against the cool tile as he tried to work through all the subtext that had occurred in the pitifully few hours he’d been awake.
Razer had wondered if something was damaged and infected inside him. After everything that had just happened, the answer was an obvious and emphatic yes. It would be important to remember that for later. Because while Phoenix did honestly trust his roommate and had found that cold rage beautiful in a terrifying sort of way, he did not doubt that if given the right set of circumstances, Razer could be the man that didn’t care about anything or anyone. That he could be utterly ruthless and devastating and cruel beyond anything that had happened so far, and that he walked dangerously close to that edge already. Who knew what it would actually take to push him completely over?
And God help the one who had to face that when it happened.
***
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To be continued.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Rule 39