Not Only for the Hunt (Cyncii & EvenEcho) {18+}

[EvenEcho]

 

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[TD]Username: Fenton Todd [/TD]

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[TD]Age: 31[/TD]

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[TD]Height & Weight: 5'11" (180 cm, 1.8 m) 155 lbs (70.31 kg)[/TD]

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[TD]Position: Seke [/TD]

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[TD]Personality: Fenton is truly a dominating kind of person. He demands respect from crowds with his perfect posture and snobbish attitude, but never does it become annoying. It is rather charming as he is a very charming man. He is authoritative and confident in himself only adding to his regal attractiveness. When he is in front of an audience he radiates power. Despite only being average in height, he has a much larger presence making people think or perceive him to be much taller than he truly is. [/TD]

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[TD]Equipment: Knives, lots of different knives. He prefers knives over other weapons like guns. He also doesn't like swords, just regular 3-8 inch knives. He also has an entire area filled with certain butchering equipment and other supplies that will be describe later. [/TD]

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[TD]Accessories: He often wears leather gloves as a fashion statement and a watch as well as a nice, unique tie, but for his extracurricular activities he prefers to wear latex gloves, generic as they are harder to find exact make and model and so on. [/TD]

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[TD]Main Skills: Fenton is extremely skilled with knives. He's also quite good at general butchering so he knows how to use butchering equipment well. He is also rather witty and intelligent. His day job is a professor of Philosophy and sometimes English. [/TD]

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[TD]Biography: Fenton grew up in France with his mother and father. His father was highly abusive, and he learned and was intimate with violence from a young age. He watched as his mother bled to death. Somehow this triggered a fascination with blood and the human body. Since he was about eleven, around the time when his mother died, he started to read books on anatomy and he would help the local butcher, telling him that he liked the idea of working with him in the future. Nobody thought anything off about him. He was a sweet child, quite the charmer. Probably because he is a sociopath and therefore able to be charismatic while lacking empathy. Fenton grew up, got good grades. His father's violence turned on him a few years into middle school and by high school, he had disappeared. His father had been his first victim and that was when he learned of the easiest way he could dispose of a body. Fenton had never thought himself to be a cannibal, however hours and hours in a butchery along with the sick satisfaction he got while knowing he would eat what he could kill, started to give him cannibalistic urges. Soon after high school he was offered a spot at an Ivy League college. He majored in English and minored in Philosophy, but by the time he realized that he wanted to go into anatomy and medicine, he was already on his way to medical school thanks to passing his MCATs and American school being rather lenient about majors and minors to get a bachelor degree.

Fenton became a physician, and soon raised up the medical staff until he was doing surgeries, and he was damned good at it. He paid back his loans and then went back to school and got a Masters in Philosophy. He soon gave up his life of surgical procedures to focus on philosophy where he became a proffessor at a rather noteworthy college. He however continued his practice of murder, only it became far better and much more entertaining. He was honestly quite an artist and they usually tasted so good.[/TD]

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[TD]Quote: "A great man once said that if you talk sense to a fool, they will call you foolish. Now my dear, are you foolish or are you just ignorant?" [/TD]

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[TD]Theme Song:

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Fenton had a long day of lecturing young adults about philosophical content that they didn't seem to quite understand, or at least not the first few dozen. There was one that stood out though, and he had kept an eye on him for quite some time. It seems that he wasn't only well versed and intelligent, he was also quite the philosophy buff and Fenton had been made clear that he had actually worked on this patient when he was a surgeon. What luck. Lawrence was a prodigy, or at least he seemed like one compared to all the simpletons he taught. Most just took his class to get the credit, not because they actually cared or were interested, and he understood, that's how he sat through his English classes, therefore he had a thick French accent.

 

He hadn't only taken a professional interest in Mr. Simmons, but he had also found him quite stimulating. While he didn't connect with people on an emotional level, he could definitely be intellectually stimulated by them as well as being amused and a word he didn't like describing himself as but what seemed to be happening; his obsession. There was the usual sound of feet rushing from his lecture hall by the end of the day and he started to pack his papers and research into his suitcase. One thing that anyone could tell about Fenton upon seeing him was that he spent quite a large sum of money on his clothes as they were pristine and tailored immaculately. Although his tie wasn't disturbed, he reached up to adjust it before grabbing the handles of his briefcase and setting off to leave. He had to get ready for the fun of the night. He had yet to kill this month and it was burning his bones, he ached with need to feel the rush of the hunt, to feel the power when he consumed, to feel the pleasure when he thought about his deeds and realized how amazingly predatory he was.

 

Sheep, that's what the majority of the population were. Or perhaps lambs. Either way, they were almost entirely defenseless and he used that to his advantage. While he didn't mind the flesh of the evil, he prefered the beautiful, the ones that would be missed by at least one person, because he knew that he was affecting people on a larger scale as opposed to killing the homeless man on the corner of 4th and B.

[Cyncii]

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[TD]Appearance:

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[TD]Full Name: Lawrence Simmons[/TD]

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[TD]Age: 22[/TD]

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[TD]Height & Weight: 5’10’’ (177.8 cm, 1.78 m) 150 lbs (68.04 kg)[/TD]

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[TD]Position: Seke[/TD]

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[TD]Personality: He is more of the quiet type, rarely voicing his opinions to the point where he seems submissive in nature. Former partners could say this is far from reality. In truth, he carefully and quietly absorbs information, allowing said tidbits to boil deep within himself for a long, long time. Lawrence may appear to be insanely patient, and yet his eyes tell a story of a man who wants to kill. Not that he has or will, but the desire remains. On top of this, he has a highly vivid imagination, one which is rather twisted and macabre.[/TD]

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[TD]Equipment: Other than various kitchen knives and several bottles of strong pharmaceutical drugs, he has none. To put it frankly, he lacks experience.[/TD]

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[TD]Accessories: From sleeping to showering, he always wears a black ring with simple, flat emeralds on his ring finger. There’s not a single person out there that has seen him without it for more than a second.[/TD]

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[TD]Main Skills: While he is considerably sickly, he makes up for said downfalls in sheer intelligence and observational skills. Lawrence has also picked up a fair amount of muscle mass from his exercise, notably biking and swimming. He has had no job so far but he is enrolled in college, studying Philosophy as a major and History for a minor.[/TD]

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[TD]Biography: He was born to American parents, growing up in Indiana for the majority of his life. A rather peaceful life, at that. However, he was ridden with a plethora of health problems. From childhood up until college Lawrence has suffered through asthma and a congenital heart disease, at the peak of it all requiring a heart transplant. These are unfortunately coupled with several serious allergies, including but not limited to cats, insect bites and latex. To put it simply, he is a ticking time bomb concerning health. He has assuaged the situation with medication and various safe methods of exercising, yet the threat still remains. The thought of death scares Lawrence, not that of others but of his own. To this day, he is still in an out of the hospital.

Though he was fully and truly sick, Lawrence had found a niche of his own in his schooling and had proved to be very bright and intuitive as a child. And so, it was no surprise he’d found himself being accepted into a well-respected college to study philosophy.[/TD]

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[TD]Quote: “He was too tough to experience disappointments and resentments - negative affections. ln this nihilist fin de siecle, he was affirmation. Right through to illness and death. why did I speak of him in the past? He laughed, he is laughing, he is here. lt's your sadness, idiot, he'd say.”[/TD]

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It was safe to say that Lawrence had no friends, no one to really cling to in this class. Well, there was the professor, but could he have really be considered a friend? Fenton seemed to be more of a fatherly figure than anything.. the cold, demanding type. Not that he minded or cared. In truth, it was appreciated. He needed it, considering how much he was utterly babied back at home. Sure, he had the illnesses to permit such treatment, but sometimes he felt as though it was too much.

 

Anyways.. back to this class of his. More specifically, the professor. There was something about him that was so intriguing that he couldn't quite pin down. Was it his teaching style, his accent, or simply his overall charm? Whatever it was, it was making him lose focus! Curse this man for being so interesting. Lawrence may have to force himself to intervene if it caused him to spot a drop in his grades. Perhaps he should speak with Fenton himself? No, that would have been too sudden, wouldn't it? That would have to wait, he thought. He would just have to stick with talks of his health, or to ask for assistance with some sort of project.

 

Lawrence got himself so caught up in the hurricane of his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed right away it was time to leave. He managed to jump slightly in his seat as he noted everyone left, save for a few stragglers and the professor himself. But ultimately, he was going to be the last one out. Of course. Brows furrowed, Lawrence gathered up his belongings and pushed himself out of his seat. Unfortunately, he'd rushed himself down to the door of the lecture hall, to the point where he felt a bit of a coughing fit coming on. Damn him and his respiratory system. He was right at the door, too! He would have to sit down for a moment before resuming. And so, he plopped his bottom down onto some of the very last steps leading down to the door.

 

But there was one problem he had - Fenton. Seeing that the professor was so keen on leaving, he spoke up all apologetic, "Ah- sorry, sir. I need a minute, but I'll be right out." He kept on repeating in his head how much of a fool he was, for not properly taking care of his own body.

[EvenEcho]

Upon seeing one of his students, particularly one of the students he actually enjoyed teaching, Fenton made his way to stand beside Lawrence. "Take your time. Do you have an inhaler, or something to help clear your lungs?" Fenton took a seat beside his student. He had to admit that Lawrence had looked familiar, and he had heard some of the teachers talking about coughing fits and other problems he had. He wondered if he had a deeper illness, but it wasn't his place to ask such questions, it would have been highly unprofessional and he quite liked his job.

 

"Here, let me help you up. Do you have any night classes? I am still a doctor, I could write you a note to excuse an absence if you don't feel like you can make it," he offered with false sympathy. He knew how to act human very well, he had been practicing his entire life as many sociopaths and psychopaths did. Fenton offered a charming smile to one of his favourite students and dropped his briefcase in favour to help Lawrence up and steady him. He didn't want him falling over if he had another coughing fit. He wouldn't admit it, but he was surely obsessed with Lawrence as he knew all the small details about him. He took an interest far beyond the professional level with Lawrence, and perhaps it was morally wrong, but morals never bothered or mattered to Fenton before and they wouldn't start anytime soon.

 

Fenton was planning on going out to hunt later that night, but he would surely postpone his nightly activities to make sure that Mr. Simmons was safe and healthy. Perhaps his obsession had become something more than he thought, but he also knew that whatever he had for Lawrence was extremely unhealthy, but once again, that didn't bother Fenton very much. One could consider him and his thoughts, activities and very being were unhealthy and they would be partially correct.

[Cyncii]

"Oh..?" Lawrence would have been taken aback if it weren't for the corners of his eyes catching a glance of his professor's shoes. As he looked up, he could not help but feel as though Fenton was.. a tower. A tower, yes, that was one way he could put it. He was barely taller than himself, and yet Lawrence still felt that dominating aura emanating all over him. It caused him to shudder, albeit faintly, though this initial reaction began to die down as the older man sat beside him.

"Ah. Yes," he finally responded. He'd always kept an inhaler in his pocket, as well as another in his bag in the case it ran out. And so, soon after Fenton brought it up, it was in his hand and he was in the process of taking it. Afterwards, he spoke in his usual, quiet tone, "This has been getting worse.. and worse. I would be optimistic, but such thinking would grant me false hope."

At the offer, Lawrence was fairly skeptical. He knew of no other professor who would be so eager to do this, doctor or not, for something that didn't even turn into a fit of coughing. He didn't know Fenton all that well, and so either he had some motive, or he was being genuinely sympathetic. Lawrence highly doubted the latter. But still, he would take advantage of such a gift that was presented to him. "I am.. not sure of the need to write me a note, but I appreciate the gesture. You can write me one," the younger male accepted, nodding his head for a moment. He'd also accepted Fenton's help in standing him up, taking his hand for some brief support.

Lawrence had another issue to address. Fenton had seemed so eager, so pressed to leave.. at least, from his own perspective. What exactly would he be doing at this time of day? He was too observant for his own good, he thought. Most of the time, he believed he was overthinking the situation. Still, he felt it alright to inquire.

"Forgive me for asking, but do you have any plans for tonight? You appeared eager to leave, more so than usual, so I was curious." Lawrence had just noticed he was still holding on to Fenton's hand, and so he drew back. He chalked that little awkward moment up to his somewhat clingy nature, born from his poor health and whatnot. While he was a bit bothered by it, he hoped his professor wasn't.

[EvenEcho]

"Here, let me help you back to my desk, I keep some slips there... a habit, I usually don't expect to use them," he offered his hand again, and for some reason (perhaps the human touch he had been missing his entire life from his family and friends) he rather liked the feel of Lawrence's hand. How logical was it? Not very seeing as it was just a hand, but hands were so powerful, they could allow one to do so many things. "Oh, well," he started as he helped Lawrence to his desk, he offered Lawrence his chair before digging around in his desk for a slip. It would seem he was very organized with the way his external appearance was, always so pristine and regal, but he was truly disorganized by nature; he became organized for a few reasons and he was organized most when dealing with his nightly activities as one had to be to avoid being captured by law enforcement. "I planned to go home and finish writing a paper. It seems to have my concentration focused on it; really the paper is hopefully going to be published in a few literary and philosophical journals," he smiled, "but that's just the old man in me talking."

 

He found a slip and filled it out in his best doctor scrawl before signing it in a contradicting meticulous swirl and then handed it to Lawrence. "I found your last paper very interesting, by the way, I enjoyed reading it very much," he offered before closing his drawers and leaning against his desk. "Perhaps you should consider entering something to the journals, if you would like, I could send it along with a recommendation. It's a great way to get your insight out into the world and for others to give you feedback... Well, I'll see you Monday. Have a good Friday and weekend Mr. Simmons," he smiled, and once again it was originally fake, but there was truly some delight in being within such close proximity and speaking with Lawrence outside of a professional standing. He walked out of the classroom with his student before excusing himself and heading in a different direction. He had left his lecture room unlocked, which was uncommon, he was meticulous, as one had to be in order to get away with murder like he did. It had been very careless to leave his lecture room unlocked for any student to walk into. He didn't realize it until he arrived at his home.

 

That night, once it was dark and the sounds of the city were loud despite the time and the artificial lighting was harshly brightening the sidewalks, Fenton made his way out into the world, slipping into high quality bars undetected in young-looking casual clothes. He paid for his drinks with cash and he danced with everyone all the same until he had caught to the prey he had been watching since he had entered the room that night. He had attracted the attention of a man who had captured his attention similarly. Upon his prey's drunken stumbling and with a little guidance, Fenton had taken the look-alike to one of his butchering warehouses. Tonight's victim had short platinum blonde hair and blue eyes with cute glasses resting on his nose. He actually saw him and thought of Lawrence. Tonight he would pretend that he was his obsession.

 

(Graphic, Violent, Disturbing Content)

 

Fenton started by tossing his obsession's look-alike into a chair. Before the man could protest he locked his wrists into the cold metal chair using similarly cold, metal locks. He started by humming one of his favourite songs: Piano Trio No. 1 in D Major, Op. 70, "Ghost Trio", which only added to the already disturbing atmosphere. By the time that Fenton had forced the man to open his eyes, he could only grin in depraved pleasure before starting by cutting pieces off of the living body causing blood curdling screams to reverberate through the shaky, wooden, shit hole of a warehouse in the middle of nowhere, far out of the city limits. He soon shot a cocktail of paralysing drugs into his victim's neck to have him stay quiet and still. Once his victim was unable to move himself, he unlocked him and too him to a steel slab to cut his clothes off. He practiced in the worship of his body before he quickly killed him, stabbing his in the heart as he straddled his hips. When he pulled the knife from his chest cavity a spray of blood, with the last force of his muscles due to adrenaline, coated his front. He could only wiped the blood from his lips with his tongue and wash his face off so he could focus on butchering and preparing his body to become a meal. What should he make with him? He was guessing the first dish using the doppelgangers meat would be a roast, that sounded quite delicious.

 

 

Arriving home in similar circumstances to the night before, Fenton took a long shower, this time not being able to contain the arousal that shot through him at the thought of his precious obsession being completely at his mercy. He would have to freeze and store the meat away in his freezer but besides that, he was fine to go to bed. The only issue with two kills in two nights was that the public would be absolutely terrified and therefore he would have to stay back, hide in the shadows until the chaos blew over and just when people thought that they were safe, he would strike again.

 

The death of Alan Jones, the doppelganger, many friends were protesting to help fund to stop the murderer, and his family had curled in on themselves to hide from the demanding news casters. Fenton watched with barely contained amusement before he slunk off to continue on his weekend before he would never seen Mr. Simmons and be busy once again with his class.

[Cyncii]

In that moment, Lawrence dared not to think about it. He accepted the offer of Fenton's hand almost immediately and got so, so very flustered when he was allowed the comfort of his professor's chair. He sat down, yet leaned forward a slight amount in order to curiously observe Fenton's every move. So beautiful, so sublime, and yet so disorganized. It was akin to a swan with a limp. Charming, really, but everything was just so charming about this man. At least, that which he was aware of. "Oh.. well, I hope you receive your desired outcome. It would be an odd feeling to return to school and see you disappointed," Lawrence spoke, fully in truth. For people he felt close with, or simply the smallest connection, it in a way hurt him to see them hurt. Not that he had many people in those categories to begin with, of course.

 

Fenton's compliment came to a bit of a surprise to him. Being more than a bit modest, he felt his last paper was.. say, lacklustre. But perhaps there was something Fenton saw in it which he did not. Lawrence stared down at the slip in his hand with a hum-like sigh escaping his lips. He wanted to feel this was genuine, he really did. But something inside of him was telling him it was not. Perhaps it was just the pessimist inside of him speaking.

 

Before leaving to deal with his last class, he thanked Fenton for his help. Even with all the skepticism he was harboring, he still appreciated it all. With this said and done, everything, including said class, he found himself on the way to his dorm. All settled in bed, he thought, he would be relieved of his suffering.. that is, for the night. His pains, that of his health troubles and of torturous thoughts swirling in his head, would be soothed. And if he felt better in the morning, Lawrence would consider taking up Fenton's suggestion of entering something of his own into a philosophical journal. He wouldn't disappoint his professor.. he wouldn't disappoint himself.

 

 

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Saturday was a true nightmare.

 

That night, Lawrence found himself sitting in a bar by his lonesome with the purest of intentions - to eat, drink no alcohol, and leave. It was the food he liked more than anything, and so it was why he was there in the first place rather than something fancier or a fast food restaurant. There was that, coupled with the fact he, respectfully, didn't have the money and would be too unhealthy for his poor, sickly self.

 

It would have been a relatively peaceful dinner, albeit with the usual loud background chatter, but there was this man who appeared near the end of his meal. Jean, he said his name was, the soft version rather than the one which was harder on his tongue. Anyways, this man, about his height, had offered him a drink and Lawrence promptly refused. While this would have been alright on its own, as he seemed rather decent at that point, he grew aggressive in his flirting. Over and over Lawrence did his best to avoid listening, but then again, this man was sitting directly next to him.

 

Finally, with the bill paid in cash, he felt relieved in that he was able to leave. However, this couldn't have been so simple, now could it? It was a good walk back to the campus, a couple miles to be more exact. Since he was in no hurry at that moment, he did not really risk his health acting up. But perhaps said health would be risked in a different way, as Jean had followed him for about a mile. The scum of the earth, Lawrence believed, to have someone so keen on snatching up such a pretty boy to enact all their whims on. Sickening.

 

Jean confronted him on the sidewalk, not with words but while brandishing a decently sized pocket knife. He told Lawrence to come have a good time with him and, quickly refusing, revealed the blade. "Stop this," Lawrence urged, a bit of a warning in his tone. Step closer, and you will regret it. Jean attacked him, or at least, he tried to. With care, the knife was wrested away from the other man and, with the adrenaline running through his veins, he struck.

 

This attacker fell into the grass, grasping for and holding onto every ounce of life he had left. The pocket knife remained lodged in his neck, and the blood which spilled flowed into the soil and watered the weeds. It was quick.. one second Jean was panicking, losing blood by the millisecond, and the other second the life had left his eyes.

 

Lawrence took a step or two back, basking in the horrible act he'd committed. It was to save his own life, so seeing a man die didn't horrify him. Not at first, at least. He was relieved to see this scum leave the planet, and yet something inside his head was telling him something about his thinking was wrong. Why, really, was he so strangely relieved? This was.. justified, or was it?

[EvenEcho]

Fenton had left something on campus and decided to go out for a drink. He had food to be prepared at him, but for the most part, he just wanted to relax. He had all the grading done and he was ready to just spend Saturday night and Sunday relaxing, lazing around his house, or lazing around as much as one like him could. Then he saw it, Lawrence, his favourite student, the person he was utterly enthralled by, was standing over a corpse, or at least a rapidly bleeding body. Soon though that warm body was a corpse. Fenton walked up to the boy and pulled him away, pulling out a cloth to wipe his hands and then going to wipe the blade of the handle out of habit. What was he doing this far away from the campus? He didn't take Lawrence as the type to drink and they had plenty of food shops and stations on campus. His hands went to Lawrence's shoulders until he cupped his cheeks and forced him to look at him.

 

"Are you okay? What happened?" He asked, this time his panic was genuine. He looked around and saw no camera, no pedestrians. He called the police and held a hand up to keep Lawrence silent. He reported seeing something strange outside of the college, about a mile from the popular bar. He then held Lawrence's hand. "Are you in shock? Come on, I'm going to lead you away from here, when the police show up, we don't want to be here, understand?" He stood behind his pupil and gently guided him in the direction of his car. He hadn't expected to walk but he had just wanted to stretch his legs. The entire day was spent in his desk grading papers, long, tedious and mostly dull papers with no real thought behind them.

 

Once they were at the car, Fenton crossed his arms. He didn't know what to do. If he had seen what he thought he'd seen then Larence had killed someone. The thought of Mr. Simmons killed someone sent shivers through his body, but he was good at hiding things like that. He remained stoic despite feeling rather excited due to seeing such a murder by his favourite student and possibly love interest, but definite object of Fenton's desire.

[Cyncii]

The surprise didn't immediately settle in when Lawrence's professor entered the picture, barely even flinching as he was pulled away from the body. There was little to no panic in his eyes, just.. pure, complete numbness. "What..?" Lawrence asked quietly, mostly to himself, when Fenton spoke. In an instant, he appeared to snap out of his little trance at the realization of Fenton cupping his cheeks. "I- Ah, I just.. I-I just wanted to eat. It's my favourite place, so I.. I thought the walk was worth it. He-" the young man paused, referring to the now-corpse of Jean, then continued, "He wanted to give me a drink, but I don't drink. He wanted to.. ah. No, no.. disgusting. Then he took out that knife."

As Lawrence was finishing his confession, his professor was on the phone with the police. If it weren't for how Fenton worded the situation to the authorities, he would have been so much more concerned and even frightened. But then, Fenton's hand held out and grabbed his own. Instinctively, Lawrence's other hand joined the mix. He felt safe here, under his superior's protection, under his caring wing.

 

He nodded faintly in timid agreement to Fenton and his words. The very moment he found himself inside his professor's car, he felt his breathing pick up in pace.. not a very good sign. At this rate, he was bound to have some form of panic attack. Lawrence knew this, and so he pleaded for help.

"Please.. take me away from here. Don't- Don't leave me," he sputtered out, well and truly afraid. Lawrence leaned back and forced his eyes shut, attempting oh so hard to clear his head of the event. To put it simply, it wasn't working.

[EvenEcho]

Fenton helped Lawrence to the car and took a breath before getting inside. He locked the doors. He was so angry that someone else dared to harm his precious Lawrence. He started the car, "I'm going to start driving, can I touch you?" He asked, holding a hand hesitantly over his shoulder to try and reassure him that he was safe. He started to pull out of the parking lot. "Do you want to go back to your dorm? Do you have somewhere you can go? Somewhere safe?" He wished he could have offered his house, but he knew that wouldn't be appropriate. "I won't leave you, don't worry. You're safe, okay?" But was he really safe? Lawrence was with a killer, a true killer, far more violent than anyone that could possibly be dumb enough to try and rape someone. He also didn't need the power that came with it, he had slaughter, that's how he gained his control.

 

Soon they hit the freeway. Fenton knew it wasn't the way to the campus, but he could always turn around and go back. Perhaps he could just take Fenton somewhere that the other could feel safe. He went to turn on the music but decided it was a bad idea, it was actually an audio book, Thomas Harris actually. He rubbed his sweating palms on his pants. It was so exciting to be so near his obsession, the person he knew he couldn't live without. Someone he loved, if he could love; whatever it was that he felt, it was magnificent and only occurred inside of him when he was around Lawrence. Perhaps it was the other's intellect, but sometimes he thought it was because he could see that Lawrence had a similar darkness, it only needed to be awakened, but he hadn't yet figured out to get the other to love him enough to trust him. He was just a professor; nothing more. He was no love interest, or at least he wouldn't be to any normal student.

[Cyncii]

Lawrence shot his eyes open and blinked a bit rapid at the very first thing his professor told him when they were both in the car. What an odd request, he thought, though he soon realized the gesture was meant for comfort. The young man accepted it with a small nod, allowing for the reassuring hand to fall on his shoulder.

He straightened up a little at Fenton asking him where he wanted to go. But then, he followed with telling Lawrence that, with him, he was safe. It didn't exactly come out of the professor's mouth like that, but Lawrence had this interpreted that way. Lawrence managed to crack a smile for the first time that night, and hopefully not the last. He was not aware of Fenton's doubt regarding how much he trusted him, but in truth, Lawrence trusted him more than any other man. Perhaps it was how he was a professor and doctor, though said appeals to authority rarely cut it for the college student. So what was it? What about him exactly did he trust, and how? Why?

The man noted they were on the freeway.. while this path did not lead to campus, he did not seem to care. "Are you.. taking me to your home?" Lawrence finally asked, his tone mellow. "If so, I.. ah. It doesn't matter. I want to be as far away from that place as possible," he added, referring to the scene of the murder.

Lawrence went dead quiet for a good chunk of the ride, allowing dark, disturbed thoughts to muddle up his brain. He shouldn't have opened his damned mouth, but he did, as he truly just wanted his opinions to be heard, "Is it wrong of me to wish that that moment had.. lasted? What he wanted to do to me was so awful, so detestable, that I.. I wanted to watch him suffer. It went by so quick, so soon. It was like a flash, and then he was there, no longer there." He needed confirmation, confirmation that what he had done and was thinking was justifiable. If anyone, he thought, Fenton would be there to gift him with it.

[EvenEcho]

"We can go to my home if you would like. It is about a few more miles North," Fenton offered kindly. He, with an absent mind, stroked his thumb over Lawrence's collar bone as he continued to drive. Soon they were pulling into a small road with large manors on each side about a mile or two apart from each other. Fenton continued to drive until he pulled into his home. It was large but kept due to his maids. He had quite a bit of money and he liked to live luxuriously. Once one had luxury it was difficult to go back to a life of near poverty and student living.

 

"It's not wrong," Fenton started, "In fact, it is completely understandable. What he did was wrong, you merely defended yourself. Their is nothing wrong with self preservation... but that isn't what you're worried about. You liked seeing him die because he deserved it, am I right?" He sighed and turned his car off, the lights turning off as well to leave a dark road and darker atmosphere around the lamp/streetlight-less road. "Come inside, I'll make you some tea, I have quite a variety; just something to calm your nerves." He opened his door and stepped out. He locked his car once Lawrence left the passenger seat and unlocked his front door. He turned on the porchlight and then turned the inside lights on. He closed and locked the door.

 

Fenton made his way to the kitchen, "I have chamomile, lavender, peppermint and rose... I think I have sme passionflower tea leaves as well, let me see here," He opened the pantries and looked around for all the different tea mixes he had for stress and anxiety. He heated up some water. Even if Lawrence didn't want any, he planned on making him some as well as a little for himself. He put the kettle on the stove and turned the gas on. He turned back to go to his favourite student, "Here, let me take you to the sitting room, it's much more comfortable I assure you," he led him to the sitting room which was a cozy room with bookshelves lining the walls filled with all sorts of texts, English and others (mostly Latin, French and Chinese). He offered a smile in an attempt to let Lawrence know that this was a safe area, that he didn't have to worry despite what urges he had.

[Cyncii]

Lawrence hummed a little in appreciation, as a direct response to Fenton letting his student go home with him. He believed it purely to be for the comfort, but as the thumb traced along his skin, perhaps his professor thought it a bit differently. Surely this was a misunderstanding of the situation, but being how Lawrence was with his observational skills, it was difficult to bring clouds of doubt over his mind.

Subconsciously, the young man had tilted his head slightly to the side in order to expose that side of his neck a little more. If it weren't for his attention being caught by the beast of a manor before him, he may have gone a little further. Lawrence's eyes went wide. Was this how Fenton lived, such a life of luxury? His initial surprise died down as his professor began to confirm his thoughts from earlier. He felt guilty, a bit more than guilty for said thoughts, at how Fenton worded it. Lawrence did, however, still found comfort in those words. For once, someone understood him. It was appreciated.

 

"Tea..? Hm," Lawrence murmured, following oh so close behind Fenton as he led him inside. He was stuck, wordless, as his professor took him through his kitchen and eventually the sitting room. All this time, he was pondering on what exactly he should go with.. in more problems than one. Though, the issue of tea was at the very surface of his mind and dared to spill out of his lips. "Lavender would be nice, but if you can mix it with some chamomile, that.. would be preferable," he finally told Fenton, sitting comfortably down in a large, cushioned chair. Needless to say, without the tea, this was still rather cozy.

At the smile, Lawrence promptly returned it. Surprisingly enough for the man, his expression had softened considerably with all thanks to Fenton. "Thank you," he spoke up, quiet and simple yet wholly genuine. "For everything."

[EvenEcho]

Hearing the kettle whistle, Fenton excused himself to prepare the tea. He dropped lavender and chamomile flowers into the hot water before taking the teapot along with a set of cups and honey into the sitting room. He set it down on the coffee table. "Let's wait a few minutes for the tea leaves to steep," he offered a smile before crossing his legs on a chair across from Lawrence. "No need to thank me," his eyes softened to match his expression, "I'm going to tell you something, and this will determine something very important about you," whether you live or die, "I was not frightened about the murder, in fact, I deal with them quite often. I was more afraid for you, because the first kill is always the hardest. It get's easier, I would know, I do it quite often," he ended, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

He stood up and put his hand out, "Don't be scared, I would never hurt you... I would never dare to harm you," but he would act out his sickest perversions on people that looked similar to him. He had two sides to him. He wanted to care for Lawrence and teach him his art and knowledge, but he also wanted to abuse him and use him, but this was all done, in his mind, with care. He knew that whatever he felt for his brightest pupil was not love, because he knew that he was wholly incapable of such an emotion (or any emotions actually) but he had somehow managed to feel something for him, and that something made him protective, he objectified Lawrence as well, thinking of him as a possession that he could own, could hide away from the world and mold into someone even better than his current self. Perhaps it was wrong, but it didn't bother Fenton (which wasn't saying much).

 

The tea had seeped for long enough, Fenton decided as he picked up the teapot and poured them each a cup of tea. "Would you like honey in your tea?" He asked as if he hadn't just told Lawrence that he too was a murder, but a murder that has killed at least twice as he mentioned the first time was the hardest, implying that he had killed afterwards to know that the first time was the most difficult to carry out.

[Cyncii]

Lawrence leaned back in his seat, getting more comfortable than he should have despite the reality of the situation. Though on the the inside he may have been cold, Fenton's outside radiated pure warmth. It was better than any fireplace, or so he thought. If only he could snuggle up to it. Well, he definitely could, but his mind told him it was a horrible idea. As much as he liked Fenton, this was not the time.

Definitely not, considering the very next words which spilled out of his dear professor's lips. The.. first kill? I would know? The very man Lawrence trusted so much was.. a murderer. Or so he claimed to be, but Lawrence believed him. Truth be told, he'd held suspicions that something was rather off about his professor, but to what degree? He got his answer, and right out of the man's mouth. For a moment he felt uncomfortable about it all, about this. Less uncomfortable than he should have been, but uncomfortable nonetheless. Lawrence shifted a little in the chair when Fenton approached him, but instead of shrinking away into the cushion, he drew closer. The younger man took his hand, in both of his own, and gently caressed the skin there with his fingers. Lawrence's expression would have appeared blank if it weren't for the troubled, perplexed look in his eyes.

The student eyes wandered to the teapot and honey, where he uttered a somewhat unexpected - to himself - "Yes." However, this was followed by the next, less quiet statement, "As.. long as you do not hurt me, I.. I am.. alright with this." What was he saying, especially to a potential serial killer? He should be running, calling the police, as soon as possible. But he wasn't. Lawrence remained there, holding the killer- no, his professor's hand. Tenderly.

[EvenEcho]

Fenton's thumb stroked the skin between Lawrence's thumb and index finger as he held his hand. His hands were warm, and soft, as if he hadn't seen any hard labour in his life. Perhaps that was true, he was a philosophy student which were notorious for not becoming construction or other hard labour workers. He added a little bit of honey to his tea before offering the cup to his student. "I'm glad you didn't reject me, or scream," if you had screamed I would have gagged you of course, he didn't add this because it was rather terrifying. If Lawrence had reacted badly he surely would have done something considered regrettable.

 

There was a second where Fenton wanted to clue his little jewel into why he wouldn't hurt him, but he decided to stay quiet, or at least try to keep it mysterious until the other asked it on his own accord. He took his own tea and sipped at it. Lavender and chamomile were truly soothing and he enjoyed this combination very much, so much that he had already premixed leaves in a large mason jar ready to be used whenever. "I have a guest room if you would like to stay there tonight, there aren't classes tomorrow so I will be here if you would like a ride back to your dorm," he wanted to offer his home, to let Lawrence stay with him, to take him away from the dorms and potentially other threats to his love, to his affection and threats to him in general. He wanted to be the only one that Lawrence saw, and if he had to break him before moulding him, he would, but he wouldn't do it immediately, he needed for Lawrence to trust him explicitly.

[Cyncii]

"Reject you?" Lawrence repeated, managing the tiniest of smirks. "You made it sound as though you asked me out. Not that I would have minded," he added, but then he laughed, small and sheepish. "Hah, sorry. You are still my professor. That would be a bit odd." More odd than the fact he was sitting there, all calm and collected before a murderer, all the while saying he was alright being around him? Apparently so, at least for Lawrence.

Still, though, he grew curious. "What would you have done? If I had rejected you, that is. Remove my tongue? Cut me up into little pieces? Screaming would have been a bit outside of my capabilities. And if I ran, my asthma would become your accomplice. There is nothing I can do, other than feign trust and wait for a safe window of escape. But.. now that I told you this, would you trust me if I said I trusted you more than any other person, even family?" Lawrence finished this by taking his hands away to accept the cup of tea in them instead. Closing his eyes for that moment, he took a sip. If he did not already know the soothing qualities of these flowers, he could have sworn Fenton was drugging him, right then and there. It was that good, if he were to be honest.

 

"Oh..," Lawrence murmured to himself. "I would.. like that, thank you. I wouldn't want to take more time out of your night by taking me to my dorm. Not that I really cared to go back in the first place." Looking up from his tea after a good minute, he asked, tone turned more hushed, "Why is it exactly that you care about me so much? Is it my poor health? I would better hope not."

[EvenEcho]

This time Fenton laughed, it wasn't cruel laughter but sweet. "You think me being your professor is a bit odd? I just told you I am a murderer and you think that me wanting you while I'm still your professor is the odd thing?" He sipped on his tea again. Fenton's smile switched slowly into a face that could show some sort of worry, perhaps. "I don't know what I would do," he lied, hoping that they would drop the question. It seemed as if Lawrence hadn't connected the dots with the latest murder, the man that went missing looked an awful lot like Lawrence.

 

"I wouldn't have cut you up," he said honestly this time, almost like a plead, "No, no, no..." he knew that he would want to kill Lawrence, it was in his blood, murder, violence, sickness, and perversion. He wanted to heal him but he also wanted to hurt him. He wanted Lawrence to grow dependent on him and him alone. He paused awkwardly, his charismatic facade falling for a moment. He recomposed himself quickly, hoping that Lawrence hadn't seen him fumble. "You can stay here as long as you need... and no, you wouldn't be able to run, and that hypothetical window will never exist," he was almost offended by Lawrence's mention of a window in which he could 'escape'. Fenton knew very well that he was crazy, or deranged one could say, and that tended to make people want to leave, but to hear Lawrence dismiss it so easily it hurt, but only for a second. Only until Lawrence revealed a little bit of his heart, how he trusted him. He wanted to ask him so many questions, more specifically, 'why?'. Why would anyone trust a person who just admitted to being a cold blooded killer essentially.

 

Fenton felt himself get warm when Lawrence admitted to trust him no matter the questions he wanted to ask. He heard the hushed tones that Lawrence spoke in, mostly due to his keen senses from being a predator, from hunting so long in such dangerous environments. He shook his head. "No, it's not because of your poor health, I don't know how to pity. No, I care for you because of something that has inexplicably drawn me towards you. It could be a multitude of things, but none of them could truly explain how deep I care for you, how much I desire you, how much you're mi--" he stopped and drew back, away from Lawrence. "I apologize, I got away from myself for a moment."

[Cyncii]

Carefully, as he sipped his tea, Lawrence observed his professor's mannerisms like a hawk would watch its prey. If he paid incredibly close attention to someone, he was sometimes able to spot when someone was lying. Considering that Fenton seemed to be a whole different being altogether, he was not sure if this observational tactic would work on him. It appeared, despite that, that Fenton was lying when he said he did not know what he would do to him. Lawrence did not, however, confront him about that in particular. He would leave it at that.

 

"Hmm? Are you sure? Are you so positive that you would be able to prevent me from leaving? I would be kidding if I told you I would try to leave, because I am staying out of my own volition. You can think otherwise, but this is the truth," Lawrence spoke up, wishing to stir a touch of doubt in Fenton. True, pure trust in someone would only lead to deceit. Lawrence knew this. He did not trust Fenton completely, but was certainly telling the truth when he told him he trusted him more than anyone else. If Fenton still grew to fully trust him, even after this, that would.. be lovely, actually. Perhaps he could flip the switch at that point. It was an interesting thought, but he highly doubted it would become the case.

Lawrence listened attentively as Fenton tried to explain himself, explain his feelings towards him. He set his cup of tea down, then crossed his arms. "I do not believe you got away from yourself. I believe you were yourself, just then. To put it simply, you are obsessed. I see..," Lawrence trailed off, glancing off to the side for a moment before turning it to look directly into his professor's eyes. "Would you, by chance, go so far as to kill someone who looked like me? Be honest here. I won't judge." A rather sudden question, even for someone like Lawrence. Perhaps he knew more than he let on. "Whatever your answer is, I still find the idea of it a little flattering. Odd, yes, but you don't see me caring."

[EvenEcho]

Fenton licked his lips and narrowed his eyes. He could see Lawrence observing him and it felt bizarre to be on the other end of what felt like a hunt. "I could definitely, without a doubt, get you to stay," he was so close to mentioning the fact that Lawrence was sickly, but he stopped himself and bit his lip. "Perhaps my methods wouldn't be the most pleasant, but I'm sure I could convince you to not leave if I wanted to," he leaned forward and reached out to hold Lawrence's cheek in his hand. His thumb stroked just along his zygomatic bone, just beneath his eye. He wanted to lean forward and kiss him, but that could only shock or make Lawrence uncomfortable, but he wanted to. He wanted to let him know how much he cared for him.

 

'Obsession'? Yes, it was an obsession, but who wouldn't be obsessed with Lawrence and all his adorable charm. He was so perfect, infallible, just right for him. There was a darkness inside of Lawrence, he had just killed someone and despite being highly aroused, he [Fenton] had managed to save him from the backlash. He had been there, he had protected what was his because there was no doubt that Lawrence was his. He had already claimed him, and he decided that no one else could have him. For a moment, pure lust flashed through Fenton's eyes before he turned away and retracted his hand. "Perhaps I am," he knew he was, there was no room for questioning his motive for caring for the jewel before him. "I have already killed people who looked like you," he whispered, almost as if he were ashamed, but he couldn't feel shame, at least not like a normal person could. He was so amazing and experienced at practicing the emotions that he could wear them quite realistically. "You don't care?

 

"How can you not care? I do so many things, and I want for you to see them, but I haven't had a-a chance to speak with you, to protect you and have you become..." he shook his head and smirked, his mood doing an entire 360. "I think that you've probably had enough shock for the night, let's just finish our tea and then I will show you to your room," he finished his tea and poured himself another half cup. He almost leered up at Lawrence, so many things going through his mind. Maybe he had told him about his desire prematurely, what if he had been wrong? Hah, laughable. He was never wrong, he couldn't be. He was too planned to be anything but correct.

[Cyncii]

Lawrence hummed pleasantly at Fenton's touch, appearing to lean into it somewhat. "I admire your confidence," he admitted, cracking one of the sweetest, most genuine smiles he had given so far. "I would like to see you try to convince me, although that would not be a very smart thing to ask of you, now would it? But.. it would be amusing, to watch as you try to break down this stone wall of mine." This was a sort of dare, or at least to Lawrence it was. He, too, had an incredible confidence in what abilities he had, including that of his mental resilience.

 

He could see so much desire in Fenton's eyes.. so much so that he felt his cheek was about to melt under his touch. Lawrence was aware now how far that desire went, how much lust Fenton felt, why he would even kill someone who looked like his student. But should Lawrence reciprocate some of those feelings? It did not matter the answer to this moral dilemma, as Lawrence felt some of it. Some. "How do I not care? I'll put it simply. I am selfish. I only care for my own safety. That of others don't even touch the surface of my mind," Lawrence responded bluntly, sighing. "Would you like for me to care? I can feign it for you."

 

The younger man frowned a little in disappointment as he picked up his tea once more to finish it up. If only he had enough want to tell Fenton he did not have to stop touching his cheek. It felt nice, the warmth, and he only wanted more. "The shock has worn off," Lawrence spoke in between sips. "But I would appreciate that." Finished with his cup, he leaned downward slightly to place it back down onto the table. In the process, he had gotten himself dangerously close to Fenton and, in that moment, did the unthinkable. It was quick like lightning, yet gentle, but his lips touched the skin of his professor's cheek. Lawrence then straightened up, and spoke with a smile as if it never happened, "Well, then? Let's get going."

[EvenEcho]

Fenton set the tea cup on the saucer they came with and stood up. "Follow me," he walked up the stairs and stopped in a long hallway, he was frozen for a moment before reaching out to the right and turning the door knob. He pushed the door open before turning to walk inside the room. He nodded, it was nice, if as nice as his room. "Here you go," he took a step out of the room, "My room is right down the hall, the room all the way to the back. Do you need anything," he asked, hoping that there was at least one more thing he could get for Lawrence before he would likely go to sleep. Which then Fenton planned to watch him for a little while, not caring how odd it was, and take in his sleeping features. He would look similar in death, or at least Fenton could think so.

 

Fenton wished Lawrence a good night and stalked off, back downstairs to put the cups away. He brushed his lips to the lip of the cup that Lawrence had been drinking out of before putting it in the sink and rinsing it out. He continued rinsing and washing all of the dishes used to make the tea and he dried them off before putting them away. Soon however, Fenton wandered off through his home and went to his freezer to see the frozen meat of the Lawrence-lookalike from the other night. He could feed Lawrence his kill, that would be sickly glorious and Fenton was already getting bothered by it in a deliciously nasty way.

 

After taking the meat out of the freezer and putting it in the fridge to that, Fenton went up to his bedroom for a shower and then to watch Lawrence sleep for a few hours. Then he would go to bed and try to sleep. He had many things to do the next day, the most obvious was watch over Lawrence but he also had to make sure all of his tracks from the last few murders were covered. The police were getting desperate and the smallest discrepancy could ruin everything.

[Cyncii]

Yet again, Lawrence remained incredibly close to Fenton as the other man guided him to the guest room. It was lovely, far nicer than any bedroom he's had over the years. He.. could make a habit out of this, staying here, living a lavish life for as long as he remained. "Ah.. alright," Lawrence addressed the first bit and, but a hint of hesitation, he added, "Would you mind returning to me in a few minutes, if you are willing? I believe I will have something to tell you." He gave no hints other than the tiniest of smiles, and he brushed his fingertips along Fenton's hand for a moment before entering the bedroom and closing the door behind himself.

The young man plopped himself down onto the bed, limbs lazily sprawled out before him. Would Fenton return? Surely, he would. Still, Lawrence held his doubts. He closed his eyes. What exactly did he mean to tell his professor? Well, for one, he held the desire to spill out his feelings, whether or not it made either of them comfortable. Perhaps this also meant a tad of solicitation as a means of attaining protection. Whatever it was, Lawrence was certain it would end up in some form of perversion. Being how obsessed Fenton was, he was not sure what other way it would have gone.

Lawrence sighed and sat up in his bed, peering out the window from a distance and in turn shining the moonlight onto his features. He did not think much of it at first, but initially he pulled his shirt over his head in order to cool off his chest. Normally, before sleep, he would have this removed. It was a habit of his. On top of this, Lawrence removed his glasses and placed them atop the nightstand beside him. A hand ran through his soft, silken hair, causing it to appear the slightest bit disheveled. There, drawing his knees to his chest and resting his cheek upon one of its caps, he waited. Waited for the inevitable.

[EvenEcho]

Fenton had walked into the room with Lawrence and told him to sleep, that he would stay with him until he was asleep. Once the other was asleep, he stayed for even longer, enjoying the completely slack and relaxed expression on his face. He was tempted to do something rather cruel, and therefore he didn't. Soon however, it was nearly one in the morning and he went to his own room. He went to bed and planned for a good rest of the day.

 

Although he had went to be later than normal, Fenton woke up around the same time he usually woke up. He sat up in bed and groaned before collapsing in bed and curling up. He wanted to go back to sleep but he knew it would be physically impossible to do so. His body was too well trained. So, deciding that he should really get up anyway, he stood up and got his clothes on, dressing nicely despite not having classes or anything similar to work that day. He wanted to look on his phone to see what the media was saying about the last murder, not his murder as his was too cleaned, it was just a missing person. He still didn't want to take any chances though.

 

Downstairs, he started to prepare breakfast for both him and Lawrence. He used the defrosted meat of his latest victim to make sausage, after grinding him into ground meat. He also made scrambled eggs and cut up some fruit. He made little for himself as he often forgot to eat, therefore shrinking his stomach. Fenton was tempted to go and wake his guest up, but he was sure that his attempt wouldn't be appreciated. Instead, he set the table and put the food in the cool oven only to keep it from going cold out in the open. Pulling open the fridge, Fenton looked for some drinks. He had a pot of coffee going and he wanted some juice as well, perhaps grape; grape juice was always refreshing.

[Cyncii]

Lawrence appeared a bit.. disappointed, if he were to be frank. He wanted to talk, and yet Fenton insisted he should sleep. The younger man glossed over the fact that his professor essentially wanted to watch him sleep, as it didn't matter. It wasn't as if Fenton was going to hurt him, and so Lawrence didn't mind. He did, however, want to protest having him wait until he fell asleep. What was the point in that? Did he want to make sure his student didn't die in the process? Did he really think of him as that incompetent and weak? Whatever, Lawrence allowed his eyes to close and his head to fall on the pillow.

 

He woke up sometime in the morning, feeling more than groggy, disorienting himself in combination with his incredibly blurry eyesight. Brandishing his glasses and leaving the shirt behind him on the bed, he nearly stumbled out of his bedroom. His hair was a mess and, if Lawrence did not insist on fixing it every morning, it would have been the preferred hairstyle of his. At least, in the eyes of passerby. It looked cute, messy bangs partially covering his eyes. It also curled naturally, to which Lawrence actually disliked.

 

Yawning, Lawrence entered the dining room and noted how it was already set up. Fenton was serving breakfast to him, or was it a maid or something? His professor did not have to do this, but then again, Lawrence was a guest and it would be expected to take care of said guest for as long as he stayed. The student set his left elbow onto the table and rested his chin onto the palm of his hand, all the while his expression appearing wholly disinterested. In truth, it was his little "resting bitch face" or whatever someone wanted to call it. He appeared bored, even upset, but in reality he was just all spaced out.

 

"Good morning," Lawrence spoke up, so tempted to let his head rest on the table and sleep again, right then and there. His tone said as much.

[EvenEcho]

Fenton walked into the dining room from the kitchen and almost wondered what he had done wrong. Had the other known he would watch him sleep... he actually didn't mind that. If that was all that Lawrence was angry about, then he wasn't too concerned. When Lawrence spoke, Fenton smiled again, "Good Morning," he said still smiling, not knowing what facial expression to use, he only had so many in his arsenal. "You're still tired," he stated mostly to himself, "Why don't you go back to bed? Unless you wish to leave," his voice got grim. He didn't want Lawrence to leave, not yet anyway. He didn't want Lawrence to see him come home covered in blood and change his mind before turning him in and whatnot. That would be horrific.

 

"Have you changed you mind? You look angry," he once again stated as if he were talking to a wall instead of a person. He didn't even look up to look at him. He quickly realized his mistake and looked up. He knew people made eye contact or at least looked at the person they were conversing with while speaking, he didn't know why Lawrence made his brain fuzzy and it was irritating but he couldn't just fix the problem with Lawrence. "Sit down, eat," he said finally, "I made it special; just for you."