Okay, I want to preface this by saying a few things:

Firstly, this is my first foray into slash in a few years. This is my first foray in to wrestling slash ever. So apologizes in advance if I'm a little bit rusty.
Secondly, I'm incredibly intimidated by all of you amazing Death girls but I'm also incredibly inspired by you all to write my own.
Thirdly, I'm pretty sure my sister is going to annihilate my face if I don't post this sooner than later. So here it goes.
Fourthly, I hope you guys enjoy this. I'm not really 100% sure what direction I want to take this, but I really like it and I'm proud of how it's going so far.

Chapter 1: This is a portrait of a tortured you and I.

Colby sits and watches him. The sun is long gone, and the moon is full tonight. High and round in the sky, it casts it's pale light into the room through open curtains. He sleeps, peaceful yet still tortured. He shifts and groans, little pants of air slipping between gently parted lips, quiet as the night. He's fitful again, and this is nothing new - it's just how he is. There's sweat on his brow, tiny droplets in a messy line, dripping down the slope of his forehead, catching in his eyelashes. He never screams, just shoots upright, eyes wide and cloudy, thin rings of blue-gray swallowed almost completely by his pupils.

"Another nightmare?" Colby says from his chair, his feet crossed causally, glancing over at his lover.

"Fuck off,"

His eyes harden as his pupils contract to normal. He is haunted, always. Speaking of it is forbidden, but sometimes Colby likes to press his luck. He watches, intent as always, as his lover punches a pillow into an acceptable shape and stuffs it under his head, turning away as he settles in again to try and sleep.

"Are you fucking coming to bed or what?" His voice is raspy and slurred with sleep, but still demanding.

Colby smiles and stands, stripping off his jeans. "Yes, Jon, of course."

Ever the dutiful boyfriend - or, fuck buddy, he still isn't quite sure - Colby climbs into bed behind his tall, blonde lover. He wraps an arm around Jon's waist, only to have it shoved away. Colby makes a fist, shoving it hard in between Jon's shoulder blades, the knuckle of his middle finger poked out, pressing against a tender spot there. Jon hisses at him and Colby presses harder until Jon swears at him and, grudgingly, allows Colby to put his arm around him. Jon would never admit it, but he needs Colby to hold him while he sleeps, if he wants to sleep at all. Colby's demons keep Jon's on the run long enough for him to rest his mind and he knows Colby needs it too. Colby's demons like to play, and Jon's are their favorite mate. Colby presses his lips to the back of Jon's neck and that seems to relax him. The tension slowly slides from his shoulders as Colby's lips move down his neck, his fingers press at smooth, soft skin just beneath the waistband of Jon's shorts.

"No," Jon grunts. He grabs Colby's wrist, drags his hand away and rests it on his chest. "Not tonight."

Colby pouts but doesn't push this time. He rests his head against Jon's and breathes deep his lover's scent. Colby can still smell the harshness of the cigarettes he smoked before bed clinging to Jon's hair and something about that comforts him. Jon always smells the same, always like cigarettes and warm spicy things. The familiarity and the steady thump of Jon's heart under his hand lulls him to sleep after some time.

Jon is awake first in the morning, standing on the balcony of their hotel room, a cigarette jammed between his lips. He stares at Colby through the glass, lying flat on his belly, one arm tucked underneath him, the other reaching for the body that should have been next to him. The pretty curls of his hair all spread out everywhere because he forgot to tie it back last night. Colby's a beautiful thing, Jon decides. With his golden skin and lean, well defined body. And those eyes? Damn those eyes. It was like staring into some lost galaxy, an endless sea of deep brown that ended right in the center of his soul. His filthy, twisted soul, the thing about Colby that Jon loves the most.

So many look at Colby and see a sweet, patient, caring man, but Jon knows the truth. Colby is just another lost soul, like him. Hurt and twisted, a monster lives inside him, yet somehow, Colby's just that good at hiding it. But that's not what Jon wants, he wants Colby's monster right at the surface, just like his. He wants war. He wants these beasts to fight, that way, one might destroy the other, or they might destroy each other and at least one of them would be free.

Colby hasn't moved when Jon walks back into the room. Jon leans close over him, staring at his sleeping face. His breath shifts one little curl constantly and it's almost unbearably cute. Jon is always fascinated, maybe even a little jealous, of the way Colby sleeps. Like he's really resting and his mind is at ease. He doesn't have the nightmares that Jon does, not yet at least. Violent, gory, brutal things and blood always on his hands. Colby's blood. That gorgeous face that Jon likes so much is massacred, reduced to broken, bloody bits. The body Colby works so hard to maintain is shredded to pieces, and when the demon's claws fade away, Jon sees his own hands. His pale hands that bear more scars than he can count, covered in Colby's blood, his skin under the nails. That's what always wakes Jon. The blood, the skin, the pieces of muscle hanging between his long, crooked fingers. He wakes up because he's scared. Really fucking scared. That happening would be the worst possible scenario. He couldn't be the first one to destroy. He needed Colby to rip him apart first.

"Why are you staring at me?" Colby mumbles, half his face still buried in the pillow.

"Because you're pretty," Jon answers flippantly. He grabs a handful of Colby's hair and yanks his face off the pillow, leaning close. "Pretty little monster."

Colby grunts when Jon shoves him back down and kicks his feet out from under the comforter, aiming for Jon's legs. Jon catches his ankle and pulls him out of the bed, dropping him on the floor in a tangle of sheets and awkward limbs. Colby growls and wraps his legs around Jon's and reaches up to grab his arms. He rocks, back and forth until Jon's balance is unhinged and he lands on the floor on his ass with a loud thud. Jon struggles to free his arms from Colby's grasp, but his younger lover has him trapped. Colby scrambles to his knees, and pins Jon's arms to the floor with them. Colby sits triumphantly on Jon's stomach, his black and blonde hair a curly mess all over his head but he's grinning behind the two-toned curtain.

Jon allows this because he isn't quite sure whether it's really Colby, or the monster inside and he wants to find out. Colby's monster is aggressive and mischievous but every bit as dangerous as the one that lives inside Jon.

Jon gets his answer when Colby leans down and kisses him. Colby's short nails dig into Jon's bare chest. Scratching, gouging like he's trying to get at something. Jon groans but thrashes beneath Colby, in an attempt to throw him off. Colby lets out a snarl against his lips and takes an open palm, and slams it against Jon's chest. The blow knocks the wind out of him and Colby sucks it down, his lips still attached to Jon's.

It's the monster today. Pretty little monster.

Jon lets Colby continue to devour him despite the fact that he can hardly breathe. His heart is racing and there's little white spots dancing in front of his eyes and he feels like he's floating. One of Colby's hands wraps around his chin, fingers digging into his cheeks as he wrenches his jaw open. It gives Jon a precious second to draw in a breath before Colby's tongue invades his mouth. Colby licks Jon's teeth and the inside of his cheeks, sucking down the taste of his cigarettes. Colby's hand strays away from Jon's face since he's holding his mouth open on his own just the way he wants. His hand lays around Jon's neck gently, innocently, treading on thin ice.

A warning growl rumbles up Jon's throat and Colby feels it vibrate against his hand. Colby bites Jon's bottom lip and caresses that long, delicate column of his throat gently. Colby's free hand is in Jon's hair, tugging those sandy locks and scratching at his scalp. Jon groans when Colby's lips graze along his jaw. Colby drags his tongue along the shell of Jon's ear, his teeth catching Jon's earlobe.

"I'm a monster," Colby murmurs, the hand on Jon's throat tightens quickly, squeezing. Colby nuzzles at Jon's cheek as his lover chokes for air. "Yeah I'm a monster. I'm your monster."

Jon hates and loves the feeling. His lungs screaming for the precious air he needed, his brain dancing with consciousness. Colby squeezes harder, sealing his lips around Jon's again, cutting off any source of oxygen he could hope for. Jon groans and thrashes in earnest this time, the edges of his vision going hazy. Colby doesn't stop, doesn't let go until he absolutely has to. He knows there'll be hell to pay when Jon regains himself but that's what he wants. His monster wants to play and the only way to satisfy it is to make Jon's angry, to make Jon want to punish him. Colby welcomes the danger, embraces it deep in his soul.

And he waits. Colby sits and waits for Jon to start breathing normally again. He waits for the moment that will freeze his blood and send those familiar sick, sweet chills down his spine. Jon opens his eyes and they're almost completely black. Jon's pupils have almost swallowed the clear blue of his irises and there's danger in those black depths. Colby's heart hammers in his chest, thrilled and eager. The snarl that comes up out of Jon is a primal, deep thing that resonates through Colby's body. Jon shifts back and forth and Colby finally allows himself to be unseated. Jon sits up, his hands shoot out to grab Colby, his fingers digging into lean muscles surrounding his ribs. Jon shoves Colby backward, slamming his lover into the bed and Jon's on him before he can blink. Jon wraps both of his hands around Colby's neck, as he holds him up, bent awkwardly against the bed.

"Hurt me." Colby chokes out and the words drive Jon a little crazier.

"You stupid little shit," Jon snarls. "I'm going to fucking tear you apart."