That Sik Luv

Aero

Mesmerizing.

Briony is blinding me with her raw sexuality. Owning every bit I’ve ever attempted to embody her with as she slides across that stage, gripping that pole while her tight little body drops to a split. Her hips roll, an intoxicating swirl of pure sex, before her cat-like prowl focuses on me.

Her body is liquid desire as she moves. Waves of delicious art penetrating the confines of the room, stunning them into her trance. There’s nothing refined about it. Her sexuality is primal and overtly obvious. Nothing subdued by the confines of social norms. Here, in this club, she can be exactly who she needs to be, with no inhibitions.

She marches confidently down the stage to the thumping bass of the erotic notes that reverberate within my chest. As she gains ground on me, my gaze quickly falls over to the men. Pools of saliva might as well be beneath their positions. They’re fixated on her. Her sexual aura captivating every set of eyes.

All but one.

Cal takes a step back, his hand reaching into his pocket when his phone lights up in his dress pants. His slicked back hair falls onto his forehead like angry daggers as the wrinkles there form hard, harsh lines. His eyes narrow in on his screen as a grin grows wild on my face. The crusted blood coated with fresh rolls of oozing red, painting me as the madman I truly am at the delightful realization.

It’s out.

Briony finally closes the distance between us, and I gaze up at her admirably beneath my bruised and beaten face. In a room full of the worst men, I’ve somehow summoned the only God left to save me. My beautiful dirtied doll. My savage saving grace. My sweet, destructive Briony.

I’d worried the sight of me would have her buckling in sadness, in misery, for a man who’s shared his life’s traumatic story. But she’s grown a backbone in our time together. I see it in the way those blue eyes light with flames of sweet, ruthless revenge. Her grief has shifted into endless rage, and the confidence she exudes has my cock threatening to swell beneath the pools of blood they have subjected me to, despite the circumstances.

She bends forward, popping her ass out to the men nearby, her tongue dipping out from between her lips. She laps up the blood on my neck, and I fight back my groan by grinding my back teeth together. Her sweet lips find my ear, licking the shell before whispering, “You’re a goddamn genius.”

She finally understands my sacrifice, my need to surrender. My reasons for willingly putting myself through the torment and pain.

“Nah,” I whisper back, keeping my gaze down. “I just get hard for a dramatic ending.”

She smirks before she turns her back to me, straddling me by tossing a leg over the chair. Pressing her back against my bare and bloodied chest, she avoids my lap by squatting above my thighs.

“You brought me all my favorites,” she whispers back at me, her hand reaching to cup the back of my neck as her body rolls in those intoxicating waves. “Deliciously sick revenge.”

“Fish in a bucket, baby.” I hiss in pain as she rubs against the raw flesh from the oil burns. “You ready to hunt?”

“I didn’t come here to hunt.” She stands again, turning to face me. Her leg kicks up and rests on my shoulder, dangling seductively as she grips the hair at the top of my head. Tipping my neck to the side, I wince in delightful pain as she whispers, “I came here to torture.”

“Alright, alright,” Alastor interrupts in his boisterous tone, cutting through the music and standing from the couch. He pulls Saint up by the elbow, forcing him to stand. “Can’t let his brother have all the fun now. Let this young man have his turn.”

Briony prances her way towards the table of tools the men set up to torture me with. Alastor pushes Saint in her direction.

“Go ahead son, make your father proud.”

Saint shifts on his feet, seemingly nervous as he pulls at the collar of his now wrinkled uniform shirt. His eyes peer at me again as he passes by, finding my glare beneath the blood-drenched hair. Briony places her palms on the table, arching her ass out to him, offering herself to him for a second time tonight.

If I leave this room alive, I’ll be cleaning her of his presence for weeks.

He bends over her backside, planting his palms on the table, surrounding her while his father shakes his head at his phone from across the room, running a hand through his hair. Briony rolls her hips into Saint’s groin, teasing him with her ass as the rest of the group watches with excitement, hooting and hollering for young Saint to dip his dick in the sea of filthy fornication.

“No, no, no!” Callum yells abruptly from the dark corner, heated eyes on his phone as he turns to leave the room.

It all happens so quickly.

Briony slides her hands up the table, gripping what looks like scissors and a scalpel blade from the spread of tools used to torment me.

Saint screams out in agonizing pain as Briony pierces both of his hands to the table with the objects, effectively pinning him to the wood beneath him.

Callum jumps, backing away from the door, pulling a gun from behind his back as Nox bursts through the entrance to the room with a gun pointed right back at him.

Briony dips out from beneath Saint’s stance, grabbing another blade from inside her high-heeled boot, sending it directly into the skull of one of Cal’s bodyguards approaching her from behind. He shuffles on his feet before falling back onto the concrete beneath him like a collapsing wall as she quickly and effortlessly props one knee up and grabs another knife from under her skirt.

With the precision of a skilled assassin, she sends the knife into the chest of the other bodyguard. Her training shines through her fluid movements. He cries out, gripping the blade that’s stuck directly in the center of his chest. Pulling it out, he tosses it to the floor with an echoed clang, stalking forward on heavy feet, his deadly gaze set on her as he pulls a gun from his side. She stands straight before him, her chin lifted, staring at him defiantly. He raises the gun at her, and she closes her eyes.

I pull violently against my cuffs, needing to be freed before he can hurt her, no matter if that means ripping my arms off at the shoulders. But before I get ahead of myself, the guard takes two more steps, stumbling slightly before a shot from across the room earns him a bullet to the back of his head. The man’s blood splatters across Briony’s face and neck as she flinches. Callum looks entirely stunned while Nox’s barrel remains set on him, both of them with arms outstretched, guns ready to fire.

Bishop Caldwell gasps in horror when Baret steps out from behind the stage area, his own smoking weapon aimed directly at him and his attempt to escape. His decrepit old hands shake before him as he surrenders on his knees like the fucking coward he is.

Alastor grabs a gun from within his suit jacket and rushes towards me, placing it against my temple.

“Now, now, now…” he says calmly, looking around the room. “Let’s just all take a nice deep breath before someone important gets hurt, huh?”

His eyes focus on Briony as he forces the barrel against my temple, making his insinuations known. I’m his leverage.

She stands there breathless, maddening rage emitting from her striking blue eyes.

“You rat fuck, you,” Callum says to Nox, their guns still aimed at one another. “And you! You stupid stray bitch!”

I crack my neck at the sentiment directed towards my Briony as she tosses the wig at her feet, shaking out her long black signature locks. Saint stares with an expressionless face, stunned at the realization.

Feeling the darkness building within me, threatening to release the very rage I’ve tried so hard to mold, I keep my focus on her to calm myself.

“How dare you infiltrate this and deceive my son! You’ll pay. You’ll regret this for the rest of your miserable, useless fucking life!”

We’re all at a standstill. Nerves are on high as the energy of the room shifts to terror in the surrounding faces.

Nox laughs. “Well, my loyalty’s always been with the outcasts. Bones just sold me on the idea.” He shrugs his shoulders. “It was creative and sounded fun. Things tend to get repetitive around here.”

I bite back my smirk. The man’s more insane than me.

“So this was your idea?” Callum directs the question at me. “Your plan all along. Bring us all here together, huh? Get your sweet little broken boy revenge because you had a whore for a mother.”

Briony’s fingers roll into tight fists, her lip twitching as those coals within her soul ignite and revenge is the only flame burning.

“You fucking played with me and my money,” Alastor growls, looking down at me.

He winds up and hits me with the blunt end of his gun. My head whips to the side, blood spewing from my mouth, and Briony charges him.

“Don’t.” I say to the floor, spitting out more blood.

She immediately obeys my command, pausing in place. I need Alastor’s gun steady on me and not her.

“I got you out! You’re indebted to me. My weapon!” Alastor continues.

A dry chuckle leaves my throat. It builds, and it builds until I’m laughing hysterically. My head falls back, and the blood draining into my mouth spills to the back of my throat.

“I did.” I continue laughing. “I played you. I played Cal, I played Saint, I played Bishop Caldwell…fuck, I even played sweet Briony, here.” Her eyes find mine. “But I’m not your weapon.” I nod towards Bishop Caldwell. “I’m not his church boy whore.” I nod towards Saint. “I’m not the shadow of a golden boy.” I stare down Callum, my tone shifting into a gritty growl. “And I’m not his dark, deceitful dirt, so carefully brushed under many an old rug.”

I pause to catch my breath. The pain in my chest is overwhelming as my focus falls upon her again.

“I’m her salvation.” I wince, peering back at my Briony. “Just as she is mine.”

“Lodge that bullet into his fucking head!” Callum yells to Alastor. “He ruined us! He fucking ruined us! Saint is everywhere. The video is going viral.”

“What?!” Saint says breathlessly. “N-no, no. No, it can’t be, Dad, it can’t! I deleted it! I…” He hisses in pain, attempting to turn from the table, but she literally nailed his hands to it. Two holes in his palms, just like Christ himself.

Creative as fuck, Briony.

Briony shakes her head in disbelief as she takes in his words. Her gaze finds mine, and relief overtakes her. My smile drops as I nod at her.

You did it, baby.

I’d tried my best to be distant and disconnected, to terrify her to the best of my abilities in that room. To appear cold and utterly heartless so her tears were raw and real as he violated her like she had so angelically approved. It was all recorded. The use of the crucifix, the anger he portrayed as I spewed my words in the silent background, the timely slaps before he fucked her tied to that bed. It was all in that video. And just as the witness came running in, I’d successfully uploaded the clip to the dark web, where content of this nature truly takes off and spreads like wildfire.

“I was coerced! Fuck!” Saint yells from the table, his blood pooling over the edge and dripping to the floor beneath him. “It wasn’t me, Briony. Don’t you see it?” He shakes his head in disbelief as she turns to face him. “I’m not that guy. I’m not like them.”

Not like them.

Briony blinks slowly, studying Saint until she tilts her head back towards Baret. She gives him a simple nod, and he understands her without words, like siblings would, tossing her the gun and pulling out another to keep pointed at Caldwell. She catches it with one hand, pointing at Saint’s temple. He swallows, breathing hard through his nostrils.

“Briony, please. What happened in that room was a mistake. It’s not who I am. It’s who they wanted me to be. My head is a mess of confusion and lies, just like yours…I was lost, okay? I’m not who they want me to be! I’m innocent.”

“Why should I believe you?” she asks softly, tipping her head, causing her black hair to drape over her shoulder. “Give me one good reason.”

I shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts at the moment, but fuck, she’s gorgeous, covered in the blood of another man while her delicate hand holds that thick gun. Power looks stunning on her.

“He knows who your father is!” Saint spits out, his body shaking. “Aero knows.”

It’s his last desperate attempt.

Briony pauses, slowly dropping the gun to her side to peer back at me.

Her look insinuates she doesn’t want to believe him, but the facts are facts. I nod once.

“If he withheld that kind of information from you, think about what else he’s keeping from you. You can’t trust him, Briony. You were always a pawn in his game! A piece molded and used at his will. Just another weapon in this sick man’s arsenal. He’ll dispose of you as quickly as the rest of us once he’s freed.”

She stares at me, his words siphoning through her beautiful little skull. The gaze is blank. There’s no anger, no sadness, no confusion…nothing. She’s giving me nothing.

My only good eye remains steady on her. Surely she knows everything I do is with calculated intent. Don’t you dare lose me now.

Everyone watches the interaction, wondering if it’s enough to sway her. Where does her loyalty lie? The religion she was brought up believing, taught to have blind faith in? Or the man who’s done everything he could to open her eyes to the deceptions of the very organization that’s determined to silence her.