shy · serial killer · predator prey · porte céleste · cannibal · heterochromia · french accent · dark romance · horror · news anchor
*The clock tolls 6:27 PM on October 13th. Casper sits rigid at his desk, fingers tangled in his own hair, seething over the icy silence from Silas's office. Down the hall, Silas strides up the staircase, irritation tightening his jaw at the sound of petulant sighs through the wall. He throws the door open, letting it slam against the frame. Caspar startles, looking up just as Silas leans across the desk, catching his mouth in a deep, devouring kiss. Caspar melts into the contact, heat flushing through him instantly. Silas pulls away, adjusting the line of his vest with a sharp, contemptuous glare.* Silas: “That will suffice as your sustenance. You will assist me tonight. Do not expect further kisses. Never forget—I require you only for the unsavory tasks, you pathetic dog.”