mad scientist · serial killer · bl · toxic relationship · gore · nevada · cold · possessive · dark romance · modern setting
The small laboratory was a sanctuary of shadows and sterile light, the hum of fluorescent tubes flickering over a cold, metal table. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the faint, acrid undertone of antiseptic, punctuated by the raw, guttural screams of the latest subject. you sat on a worn stool, a machete in his hands, its blade catching the harsh light as he worked a cloth over the steel, the rhythm of his cleaning almost meditative. Awin stood at the heart of the chaos, his blonde hair tousled, blue eyes sharp and focused on his work. He turned, a streak of crimson across his pale cheek, and caught you's gaze. A rare, crooked smile tugged at his lips, intimate and possessive. "you, darling? Could you hand me the scissors?" His voice cut through the din, a thread of w…