Entry for the "Death by Darksper" Anon Contest
Summary: How can someone be both Psychotic and Sane at the same time? When they don't think anything is wrong with them, no matter the body count. As Jasper and Alice settle in Forks they take on their biggest kill yet: the Chief of Police. Very Dark Lemons
Word Count: 5143
Pairings: Alice and Jasper
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, and be warned, this is very, very dark, and the lemons are very dark as well from the outset
What a beautiful day it was. Okay, so perhaps beautiful was not the way to describe it, but it sure was some kind of heaven for me.
"That colour red really goes with your skin," I whispered to my beautiful companion.
She was splayed out on a couch, naked as the day she was born, and covered in a sheen of sweat and blood. The blood was not her own, but the sweat sure as hell was. Her chest was rising and falling almost as fast as my heart was beating. Her stunningly tight nipples were tipped with the crescents of my teeth and the blood of the idiot that was lying on the floor.
I didn't have the faintest idea who the man was, but I sure had liked the noises that he made. Ah, there were some serious advantages to living in the sticks. No one to hear you scream. No one to see your murderer leaving your house. And, best of all, all the privacy in the world to take as damned long as you pleased.
"Shit," Alice muttered, glancing at the clock. "We gotta go."
"One more round?" I pleaded, snaking my arm around her waist and pinning her to the couch. "Please?"
"Honey, we have to clean up, and then we have a plane to catch," she insisted, trying not to moan as I found her clit and pinched her, hard.
"Please?" I tried again, nudging her slick skin with the tip of my raging erection. Alice was the only person in the world who could make me beg. I would do anything for her. I did do anything for her.
"Jasper, honey, I want to go check out our new home," she purred, taking me in her hand. "I'll finish you off on the plane."
And wasn't that just the perfect thing for my twisted little kitten to say? I don't think I've ever cleaned a scene so quick in my life. And cleaning up blood is not easy work, let me tell you. Although, it wasn't so much the blood that we wanted to clean away, it was us. We'd travelled through half a dozen states, and killed more than twice in each, and no one managed to catch us.
Skill. Purely and simply, skill.
Getting caught was for armatures with mental issues that led them to kill certain types of people in certain types of ways. Getting caught was for people dumb enough to have a traceable MO. With my kinky little Alice I didn't need anything but her. She was my MO. The only thing that was the same with each bloodbath that we entertained. I didn't care who I killed. Men, women, old, young, rich or poor. They were all the same to me; a means to the best fucking anyone could hope for, and a way of getting the unique kind of satisfaction that I craved.
But, man, it was so worth it. Having Alice there, hearing her encouragement, and then watching as she stripped down and teased the fuck out of me. There was no sex better than just after decimating the life of another. Nothing in the world was better than that feeling.
"Hey," she whispered gently, "we going to do this?"
"I can't change your mind?" I asked, imagining how she would have felt under me as the blood began to dry on her skin.
"Not at all. Besides, I've cleaned everything except you."
Maybe next time, I thought. In fact, that was a damned fine idea. Next time I would taker her over and over again until the blood ran brown not red, and it dried into her hair and onto her body.
"Shower," she prompted, pushing me in the direction of the stairs.
We didn't have sex in the shower, as much as I wanted to and she was clearly ready to be fucked six ways from Sunday. Time was of the essence, and we had a plane to catch. For the ten years that we had known each other, and the six that we had been married, we had never settled in one place. Moving from state to state, mostly in a murderous haze, and it was time to change that.
My Alice wanted to settle down, so we would settle down.
I was sure that she would get twitchy soon enough, and then we would be off to some far distant state where we hadn't visited before, and we would pick up some random stranger. Then we would wrangle an invite to their house, and the fun would really begin. It always amazed me just how many deadly painful implements people kept in their homes.
Cheese graters were entertaining for prolonged pain that built on itself and built on itself until all you could do was scream from the agony. Then there were coat hangers. You could gouge an eye out with the end of a metal coat hanger, or you could pierce someone's back and hang them up. Although, the coat hanger always gave out before the person did. Shame.
We managed to get to the airport on time, blood free, and we were off. Our bags were minimal, everything having been shipped a couple of days before, and we were the only things that were missing.
The sight that greeted us when we landed was one of rain. The sweet kind of rain that washed away everything and left nothing for anyone to see. Forensically speaking. It came down in waves, battering the sidewalk and flooding into the gutters. You could kill almost anyone outdoors in this kind of weather, and the police wouldn't stand a chance of catching a break. Not if you were careful enough.
Being careful was at the very top of my list when it came to killing. Coming in a close second was Alice. The only reason she came second was because without her there would be no reason to kill. So, precautions were taken, always, and clean ups were done with a kind of clinical precision that left nothing for anyone. Complete sterilisation.
The drive to our new home yielded nothing but more rain. An endless sea of rain, as though the ocean had suddenly picked up and was depositing itself over the landscape. The perfect place to live, and we couldn't kill anyone within the state line.
It had been a long time since we had been tangled up in an outdoor session. The outdoors made a very fine torturer. Rocks and branches, sharp, cutting edges and dull, painful thuds. So many options.
I must have fallen asleep somewhere along the drive. Alice was the driver between us, liking the way the car stuck to the slick curves with the ease of blood on her skin. And, even though she had finished me off twice on the plane, I got hard in a delicious rush just thinking about how the blood would splatter across her naked chest in a fine spray when I sliced someone's throat open. Or how it would drip in globs when she danced under a dying man that had been strung up on his own banister whilst I chopped little pieces of his flesh off.
"We're here," Alice said, her voice as gentle as the wind but as excited as one of those damned yappy terriers.
Forcing my eyes away from the scene of pure bliss in my mind, I looked out of the rain soaked windshield, and saw exactly nothing. The rain was far too heavy and it was blocking out any view I would hope to have of the place that we were about to call home.
"It looks... wet," I said, trying to hide the smirk that was threatening to break out.
"Really, Jazz, we haven't got inside yet," Alice said with a laugh. "Come on."
Without waiting for an answer, she hopped from the car and raced through the rain to our new porch. I followed at a slower pace, taking in the rain soaked exterior of our home. It wasn't a large home, but it was ours. Bought outright with the inheritance that Alice received when her parents had succumbed to a dreadful 'accident.' She was better off without them. Why anyone would want to put my beautiful Alice in a mental institution was beyond me. There was nothing wrong with her. Sure, she wasn't exactly like everyone else, but who wanted to be? Life was so much better when you went against the norm. Death was so much sweater as well.
Standing in the rain, I let my mind wander back to the very first time that Alice had seen me kill...
It was a summer night, and I had gone to see her. We had just started dating back then, at the ripe young age of sixteen. She had no clue that I had taken my first human life at the tender age of twelve. Course, back then, I'd just fucked whoever happened to be under the knife I carried. That was before I met Alice.
It was as I was snooping through her room in the dead of the night one weekend when she was away that I found her diary. Her mind was as beautiful as my own. Though she had never taken a life, it wasn't in her nature, she had some exceptionally vivid fantasies about being fucked over and over again as someone was killed in front of her. In others she would write about dancing in a fountain of blood before using a severed cock on herself.
I couldn't have loved her more if I tried.
For weeks I struggled with how to tell her that I wanted to give her every single fantasy that she had dreamed up, and several that she hadn't.
Then I finally figured it out. Show and tell. Showing first. When I showed up at her house, she was fighting with a doctor who was trying to sedate her. Her parents had found the diary she kept. They thought she needed committing.
I was in a blind rage when I took out the doctor, taking my knife out of my pocket and slitting his throat wide with a passion that made my heart sing. Then I went after her parents. I took my time with them. With a slice to the backs of their knees and ankles I made sure that they couldn't walk. Once they were down, dragging themselves along the floor with their hands, I turned my attention to my beautiful Alice.
"Did they hurt you?" I asked, ready to revive the doctor and slice him open anew if he had.
She shook her head once, her eyes fixed on the bleeding body of the shrink. Then, with hesitant hands and a secret smile, she reached out and ran her fingers through the blood that was seeping onto the carpet. The small smile tugging at her lips had grown into a wide grin as she relished the feel of the blood on her fingers.
"Would you like to help me?" I asked, nodding to her still screaming parents.
She looking up into my eyes with the kind of look that you only see once in a lifetime. The kind of look that said 'you are the one I have been waiting for.'
That had been all it took. A simple request for help, and a damned good fucking. It was the first time that she had seen me kill, and the first time she'd had sex. Both were precious gifts that were mine and mine alone. It had been a violent gift, and the clean up had been immense. Alice had handled it all beautifully, and we had watched from afar as the house burned to the ground, the doctor's car exploding in a fireball that took out the front room and the remains of her parents.
We were home free.
Coming back to the present with a smile on my face, I let my eyes wander over the wood and brick that was the first settled home I had ever known with my wife. It suited her perfectly. Not too modern or flashy, it was the perfect mix of classic colonial and modern mansion. The wrap around porch would be perfect in the summer.
"You're getting wet!" Alice laughed, standing under the overhand of the porch, keys in hand.
"Well then, you'll just have to get me out of these wet clothes so I can dry off," I challenged, staying put for a moment longer. The rain had already soaked through my coat and was rapidly making its way into my shirt and pants. The idea of Alice drying me off was a tempting one, but the rain was cold. I hated the cold.
"When do you start work?" I asked, climbing the steps, careful not to slip on them.
"Tomorrow," she sighed, welcoming me into her arms.
"Then we had better christen the house tonight," I purred, whisking her up into my arms before she could protest.
The inside of the house was as stunning as the outside, and it did absolutely nothing for me. It was perfect for Alice, and that was all that mattered. To me it was just a house, the same as every human being walking the earth was just another life waiting to be extinguished. It didn't matter who they were or what they had done, it only mattered that they were alive and breathing, and that they would scream or beg or simply die when the time came.
The human body could withstand a lot of pain, and even more if done correctly, but there was a limit to everything. At some point the heart had to stop beating, and the time came when the torture had to stop and the killing had to begin. The whys of it were simple; I liked the feel of it. When someone's kneecaps gave way under my foot or when their eyes popped out like seeds from a lemon that you've squeezed too hard. I just liked the feel of it, of pushing the human body to the limits and then bathing in its blood as I ended another life.
Downshifting to living in a small town was going to kill me. For more than a decade I had moved from place to place, killing whenever I felt like it and fucking anything that moved. I still killed when the urge took me, and I had the best sex a man could ask for, so fucking about wasn't needed, but giving it all up for my Alice was going to take some getting used to.
We'd have to plan holidays and book multiple tickets or drive somewhere if we wanted to give in to our most pleasurable of sins. It was going to be a nightmare to organise. Which was where Alice would come into her own. Not only was she the clean up queen, she was also the queen of organisation. I had complete faith in her to keep us safe.
That is, until she came home from work three weeks after we moved to the sleepy town of Forks where absolutely nothing happened. I'd been feeling restless, marking the passing of time by pottering around the house and snooping through Alice's diaries. She knew that I did it, not that it would have mattered if she didn't.
Three weeks after we christened each and every room in the house, twice, I found a new entry in her diary, one that spiked my curiosity.
"Would you do it?" I asked her the moment she walked through the door.
Her diary was sat on the table in front of me, open to the page that I had been reading, to the page that I had jacked off to three times whilst she was at work. My wife sure did have a beautifully twisted mind.
Her eyes immediately latched onto the diary, and her face tinged a stunning pink that reminded me of her nipples.
"Would you do it?" I demanded again, leaning forward so I could look into her eyes as she dipped her head. "Answer the question, Alice. Do you want this to happen?"
"Yes," she breathed.
"Then you have some planning to do," I informed her, smirking.
It would be a complicated operation, but one that I was sure would yield explosive results. The first thing that she needed to do was to burn her diary. The whole thing. She did it to every single one that she had ever written in, a stipulation of her being allowed to write down her fantasies. After the incident with her parents, and the dozens of people I had murdered in front of her, she became very careful about her written records of her deepest desires.
"I already have," she whispered. "There's nothing else to do in this town, and working at the police station gave me everything that I need."
"You have been a naughty little minx," I chastised her playfully. "When?"
"He's off in two days for the weekend. He's going fishing, but his friend, Billy, can't make it, so he's going on his own. He's scheduled to be unreachable for three days. And I am off as well, which means that you and I will be each other's alibis, and we have no reason to go after him, so we shouldn't even be suspects. Which means we get to stay," she explained in a rush, almost stumbling over her words as she hurried to get in her explanation. "I was going to talk to you about it soon."
"I know you would have, darlin'. Now, come here, I want you to tell me some more of what you want to do."
Two days later and I could barely hold in my excitement. I'd listened to every one of Alice's fantasies and speculations. The Chief of Police, Charlie Swan, would certainly offer up an interesting quarry. I'd never taken the life of a fisherman before, and the wealth of possibilities in what his home offered was enough to get me hard as a nail. Fishing hooks were the least of the possibilities, but I was sure I could come up with some way to make them inflict unforgettable pain.
Alice knew exactly where we needed to go, and when we needed to do it. It was, apparently, not unusual for good old Chief Swan to disappear off into the wilds for a couple of days, and the only physical reminder of his presence would be his car. That was easily taken car of. Lord knew there were enough woods in the god-forsaken place to hide the thing.
Getting in was easy enough, as well, as it turned out.
"Alice!" Charlie exclaimed. "What can I do for you, hun?" So damned friendly.
"I thought I'd bring my husband over to meet you before you headed out," she told him, no hint of the devastation to come.
And with that, we were in.
The next part came as easily as breathing.
Even the big man that the Chief was could not withstand a knife to the back of kneecaps. He went down like a sack of potatoes, crying out in pain and confusion. Alice was quick to find something to stuff in his mouth to stop the screaming. There were too many neighbours that were too close to let him scream. Shame.
"Now, whilst my wife here takes care of your car, I'm going to have a look see around your house," I informed Chief Swan once I had deposited him in a kitchen chair and securely tied him up.
Dragging the chair to the living room and making sure all the curtains were drawn, I double checked the binds, and made sure to strip the Chief of Police of any weapons and anything that he could use to escape. No way was I letting a rookie mistake land me in the chair.
Searching my way through the house, I found an array of implements that I could use on Charlie, and some of them made my hands shake with excitement as I thought of the damage that could be done. By the time that Alice returned I had them all laid out in the living room, chuckling to myself as Charlie's eyes widened with the realisation of what was going to happen to him.
"Ooohhh, goody," Alice said when she saw what I had assembled. She clapped her little hands and did a little jig, her eyes wide with anticipation of what was to come. "Can I play?"
"You know you can," I told her, gesturing to the tools. "What would you like to do?"
Skipping lightly over to the coffee table, she poked around the items, finally settling on a random box of fishing hooks that I found in a cupboard. It was one of a thousand. I didn't realise anyone could collect fishhooks. What was the point?
"I know exactly what I want to do with these," she sang, carefully fishing through the hooks.
I watched her for a moment, dancing around the room, checking through drawers and cupboards, and even down the side of the couch. Then I strolled over to the collection of knives and guns and hooks, and I took my sweet time about choosing one.
"Now, this is a sharp knife," I said, waving the skillet knife in Chief Swan's direction. "I guess you keep it that way for gutting the fish. Hmm, wonder what it'll be like to gut you." There was a roll of fishing line sitting next to the skillet knife, and I picked that up next. "Course, I might just use this to strangle you until you pass out, and then revive you and start again."
"Ohh!" Alice gasped. "I like the sound of that."
"I thought you would. First, however, how about we do something about those pesky knees?"
With a wink at Alice, I picked up the hammer, just a normal, everyday hammer, and planted myself in front of Charlie. Alice had replaced the makes shift gag with something a little more durable, and it worked a charm as I brought the hammer down onto Charlie's kneecap. There was a crunching of bone, and muffled howling of pain, and one of the kneecaps was almost obliterated. It took more than one blow, and each drew out that wonderful sound of a human being almost begging for his life. The second soon followed, and the cries of agony melted into each other like a symphony of destruction ringing in my ears.
"Can we have some blood?" Alice asked, snaking her hand up inside my shirt.
"Whenever you like," I whispered, kissing her deep and hard.
She slipped a knife into my hands, and I smiled when I saw that it was the little vegetable knife from the kitchen. Such a simple tool, so innocent in its uses. And so utterly pleasurable in its sins.
Alice made quick work of the Chief's clothing, cutting it off with a rusty pair of scissors. Once his body was exposed, she stepped back, admiring her work, a bright smile on her face. One of the first complaints that she had about the man was that he dressed like the town he ran; rugged, and not in a good way.
"Darlin'," I purred, fingering the hem of her shirt with the knife in my hand. "Lose the top."
Obligingly, she lifted the shirt over her head, and I was happy to see that she had forgone the wearing of a bra. Her perky breasts were swaying gently as she trembled with excitement, eager for the start of the show.
The Chief was still whimpering when I made the first of a series of cuts. The knife slid through his skin like a carving knife through freshly cooked chicken. Opening up little slices of flesh, just enough to hurt, just enough to bleed, and just enough to turn both of us on.
I had wanted to take my time, to enjoy the slicing of flesh and the crushing of bones, but my urge to have Alice withering underneath me drove me to cut deeper, eliciting more pain and blood from the human body in front of me.
"More," Alice whispered.
She was perched on the couch now, completely naked, and absolutely soaked. Her pussy was glistening as pumped two fingers in and out of herself. The sight was almost enough to do me in, almost enough to make me forget about the life that was mine for the taking and just bury myself deep into my wife and fuck her so hard that she saw stars.
But she wanted more, and more she would have.
Making a deep indentation just below his right collarbone, I listened with intense pleasure as he screamed again, the knife cutting deep. The blood ran down the Chief's chest in a great gush at first, slowing as the clotting got its groove on. Bleeding out wasn't a problem, but I'd prefer it if he was awake when the final blow came.
Part of the joy of killing someone was watching that last little shred of hope leave their eyes. When they finally came to realise that their life was over and there wasn't a damned thing they could do about it. Everyone reacted to that knowledge differently. Some were thankful that the pain was over. Others were scared for what was to come. And the few, so very few, were actually happy to the point of making me gag.
But all lost hope in the end. That was one of the many fascinating things about the human mind. It never lost hope until the very end.
The end was a while away for Chief Swan. A while, but not as long as I had originally planned.
Cupping my hand under the slowing rush of blood, I gathered it there and carried it over to my waiting wife. She spread her legs wide, opening herself up to me as I trickled thick, cooling blood over her breasts and stomach. It splattered gently, covering her thighs in little red spots that were soon smudged as her hands worked herself over.
"Was this what you had in mind?" I asked, teasing her clit with the blunt end of the knife.
She nodded, a whimper leaving her lips. "I want you."
That did it. As her hands, covered in rapidly drying blood, snaked down to her pussy, and two red fingers slipping inside of her, I made my plans and put them into action. Swiftly.
Stepping out of my clothes as I crossed the floor to Charlie, I pressed the knife into his throat, careful not to cut too deep. I wanted him to bleed, to die, but I wanted him to witness the most spectacular sex in the whole world before I took his last breath.
His eyes widened at my approach, flipping so wide that I thought they would pop out. Then the knife went in, slicing into his thick flesh, getting drenched in a wave of blood.
I was mesmerised for a moment, caught up in the rush of colour against the pallor of his skin. As I was caught up in the beautiful simplicity of it, a hot, wet hand snaked around my waist, taking my hard as fuck cock and pumping it up and down. A second sneaked out to drown itself in the slowing blood.
"Fuck me," she whispered, gripping me tighter.
"With pleasure," I growled.
Taking her down to the floor, I had her on her back, legs spread, and ready for me before Charlie had taken his next breath. She looked so fucking hot as she arched her back, taking all of me into her with pleasure. She was so hot and wet and deliciously tight. It made me ache for more, and the knowledge that the walking dead was staring down at us, witnessing our private act, made it so much hotter.
It didn't matter what he saw, he was going to die anyway, and his constant whimpers through the improvised gag were soon drowned out. The harder I drove into Alice, the louder she moaned. When her hand came up to my hair, trailing blood over my shoulder, she gripped me hard, fusing her mouth to mine.
That only made me fuck her harder. With the sound of two moans reaching my ears, I pumped into my wife, giving her everything that I had and crying out when I came in a rush. Driving my teeth into her shoulder as I came, I felt her convulse under me, grabbing onto me and milking me for everything I had.
It wasn't over.
Fucking her the first time was a matter of urgency, the need to get inside of her, to share the wetness that was both her own and someone else's. The real show came after the body was cooling.
"Now," she hissed, digging her heels into my ass briefly. "I want to do it now."
"Now it is."
Deciding on the skillet knife, I weighed it in my hands, and changed my mind about finishing his throat. My baby was still splayed out on the floor, licking her fingers as she gathered my cum from herself and tasted it.
I wanted her bathed in blood, and then I was going to fuck her over and over until it dried on her skin and in her hair, and then I was going to take her into the shower and fuck her all over again.
With a slow swipe of my hand, I dug the sharp blade of the skillet knife into the Chief's gut, tugging it open. As a cloud of blood sprayed out over the room, coating everything in its path, he moaned, having no will left to scream. With his guts spilling out over his knees, I took the knife and drove it into his heart, the killing blow. The air rushed out of him, his heart ceasing to beat, and it gave me the best feeling in the world. One of power and desire, and one of pure lust.
I was all geared up to bend my wife over the still-cooling corpse of her now-former boss and make her scream my name, when the impossible happened. The front door swung open, and a voice called into the house.
"Hey, Dad. You here?"
A panicked glance at Alice told me that she knew nothing of any visitors, let alone a daughter that had planned on showing up.
I shrugged my shoulders at her, retrieving the knife from Charlie's chest.
"Well, well, well," I said when a slim brunette appeared in the living room door. "Two for the price of one."
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