bossy.

He presses a finger inside her and feels her stretching around him. The water makes him feel like he’s weightless, which boasts how powerful he is. He focusses on the sounds they’re making, the feel of her body against his. He moves faster, pounding into her as he kisses her. For a moment he’s confused why they haven’t been doing this for the whole of their honeymoon. Then he realises that they’ve spent most of their time discussing murder and bickering. The norm frightens them both. 

He begins to move and her moans spur him on. It’s easy to switch off and become distracted, but Clara always seems to keep fascinating him. Sex like this can be so boring, but anything with her sparks his interest. He wonders what it would be like to have her as a teacher. She’d be stern. An utter control freak but playful and unable to resist his charms if he were a student of hers or a fellow teacher. If she wrote another book now it would certainly peak a lot of interest, as well as a prison sentence if someone put the dots together. Maybe some terrible poems would be a better idea. He just says “I know” and kisses her like he loves her.

He’s sure she could name a number of circumstances right now that would still want to make her throw up. Everyone has their limits - even Gods. Of course she’s probably holding back because she wants to keep hold of the shred of humanity still left within her - that and she still wants the sex right now to be about her and what she finds pleasurable to think about. 

“Something that will satisfy the girl born in that hotel room, the first time I fucked her” he mutters before gripping her shoulder and thrusting inside of her. He doesn’t move yet, letting her take in the magnitude of what he’s saying. “Oh, daddy’s so proud of what you’ve become” he chuckles hotly into her ear. 

For a moment she thinks back to when they first had sex. It was something she was scared of at the time, but he had never actually raped her. What was it about her that changed the way he took her virginity? She'd never be completely sure, but she thinks it has something to do with the fact that he does love her somewhere deep down inside. Though thinking of love while they're fucking is hard for her sometimes and right now she gives into primal things instead. Her lips part and a moan slips out as he thrusts inside of her. 

He listens to every word, completely captivated. He feels pride in knowing that he was right all along and she’s confirming it. How confusing it must have been for her having so many mixed emotions about what he was forcing upon her. “Revelations. Exactly. I promised they would change your world - and look at what happened” he grins smugly. Nothing has ever been black or white for her, he’s merely helped her lift the vail and uncover the grey. He pulls at her hair roughly as she kisses his Adam’s apple. “And then you became my creation, my daughter, my accomplice, my Goddess.” 

He moves to straddle Clara, grinding against her slightly but the water gives some resistance. “Next time we kill, you said that you’d do anything I wanted. I’m having a long hard thing about it.” he muses. She’s said no to certain things in the past that it wouldn’t be fair for her to reject now. Her moral compass is gone. “It’s difficult - thinking of something so horrific that you wouldn’t want to do it - but you would just for me. For us.”

There's something she hasn't thought about: what he's going to make her do. It's true that she's willing to kill most anyone as long as it makes him happy. To keep him happy is one of her ultimate goals. However, she can think of a few things that'd potentially cause her to be hurt. She knows, as an example, that she could never go back to being handcuffed in the warehouse. She could never spend a night in there again. The memories are too much for her and the place has the imprint of negativity on it. Though it isn't time for thinking of things that could harm her and she remains unphased, slowly continuing to grind down on him.

His cock hardens under her touch. “Yes” he hisses in reply. He hasn’t forgotten anything about the way she’s killed and how she’s been aroused by it. He manages to recall it relatively clearly, despite her hand distracting him. “The first girl wanted to die. You thrust the knife inside her chest, as an apparent mercy killing. I forced you to do it. You wouldn’t stop crying but you knew that you’d do it again. You wouldn’t admit to it but I know that you felt something that first time. After that you developed a fondness for the axe. You chopped some whore’s head off and then discovered how much you loved coating yourself in blood. Then we fucked in the mess.” Then he stops because he wants to know her side of the story. His hands move from her breast down her body and pause at the top of her thighs patiently. 

She teases him gently as he speaks, hearing how excited it makes him. Her lips curl into a grin as he talks and she moves to kiss over his neck gently, then she can tell when it's her turn as she begins, "I was scared, but now I know I wasn't scared of killing, I was scared of liking it. When I killed that first girl, I felt something new, the high of taking someone's life. Then I realised that it wouldn't be too hard to do it again. I started wanting it, I kept dreaming about it, but I never considered the dreams nightmares. The first time turned me on, if only I really understood how it would keep turning me on," which it was now as she thought back on how complex that first kill had been. He broke down all of her walls.

She’s so eager that he almost wants to stop just to spite her. He dips his hand in the water and then brings it to one of her breasts, cupping it before he pinches the nipple roughly. He circles the bud with his thumb and thinks of just how many nipples he’s ever bit down on or cut off. He’s opted not to use the knife in the water because he wants this to be simple and memorable. It’s just him and his wife on their honeymoon, doing what they’re suppose to. It’s so weird that it works. All they need is to talk and feel, and it should be enough.

 “I remember back in the warehouse….so long ago. I remember when I used to make you masturbate for me. I made you moan my name when you came. You were so scared, so innocent…what happened?” 

It seems like only yesterday when she'd tell him she didn't want him. She used to be so afraid of everything and wanted to live and go back to travelling with her best friend. But her best friend never came to see her again, and her boyfriend was dead, and then she killed someone, and all that was left in her life was to change and to transform. Though she isn't really sure what to say to him. It's too cliche to say that he's what happened. Her moans are gentle as they leave her lips as she struggles to answer him.

“Let’s make today special, if it’s gonna be our last day in London” he wonders out-loud.They’ll go shopping in Oxford Street, Visit Buckingham Palace or do something else tourist like. He cups her face and then with the other hand he strokes her hair. It instantly reminds him of the night before and he wants to more on from her kill, cover new ground now that doesn’t involve her past. Their future is them being together and she’s just reminded him of that by encouraging him to ignore his family. He’s kissing her neck and whispering against it, “But first i’m gonna make you cum.”

“No they’re not. Sean’s still doing a much better job than I ever would.” he chuckles bitterly before he just nods to everything else she says. There’s no use arguing with her and there probably isn’t even anything wrong. Just maybe Sam was reaching out for his help and then he’d rejected it. 

He goes over to get in the hot tub and hopes that she isn’t going to lecture him on how annoying his family is. He’ll hate on them all, but only on his own terms. “It’s just you and me Clara.” 

“I suppose so. She’s not normally this desperate though….What if something’s happened with the kids?” The words must sound strange coming from him, having go on about his family not meaning much to him anymore. He’s had plans to kill teenagers but his nieces are different. No matter how much he tries to shut them out, he still seems to care. Maybe he should text Sam. 

He pretends to think about it for a moment, giving her a puzzled expression. “Depends on the price of the bikini. I don’t wanna ruin it for you and have to buy you a new one. Unless of course it’s unflattering, which might be the case…You’ll probably look much better without it.” Clara’s phone starts ringing and he realises that maybe something’s wrong - unless she’s just being very persistent about ruining their fun. 

For some reason he’s relieved when she switches the phone off. It’s not that he’s got anything to hide - he just doesn’t want her sending texts to Sam - or anyone else - on his behalf. She’s kissing him and he’s thinking maybe they don’t have to leave the hotel room just yet. Maybe they can just get back in bed and kiss the day away. He’s thinking back to that last time when they were in a hotel together. When he’d gotten drunk and poured his heart out while they were in a hot tub together. It was so long ago. “Ok Mrs Bateman. What I really need to know is - are you changing into your bikini now, or are you just gonna stay naked?”

The next day they eat breakfast and then go and get changed so that they can get in the hot tub. It’s a different kind of rush for him, spending time with Clara without talking about the kill. Although there’s still a dullness that he’ll never be able to shake about just sitting around, ‘relaxing’ and enjoying each other’s company. 

While he’s getting changed his phone goes off a couple of times, but it’s his mother so he doesn’t want to answer it. Surely she knows that he has much better things to do. “Shall I answer and let her know everything we’ve been up to? Every single detail?” he teases with a grin to his wife. Then a text comes through and it’s from Sam, so he deletes it without even reading the thing. 

The fact that his mother is calling is worrying, what could she need and want right now? She knows they're on their honeymoon, or at least she hopes Patrick told her. The buzzing of the phone is getting on her nerves and once he makes the comment she grins a bit in return. She sees him swipe away something, but she doesn't ask what it is, then she moves forward to steal the device from him quickly. She turns the power off then tosses it on the bed before moving to wrap her arms around him.

It pays off and she instantly seems happier. He relaxes into her touch, giving her a smile and then a yawn. “We’ll go back to New York tomorrow - or whenever you want to” he tells her, still wanting to make the most of their time together in London. The hotel is actually very nice and he hasn’t had the chance to try out their hot tub. That’s what honeymoons were suppose to be about - spending all day in the hotel. “Maybe we can pretend to be a normal couple for a while. Whatever that is.” 

Patrick can’t fault anything that she’s saying as a whole. It all makes sense and his judgement is clouding the logic. They don’t kill all of the time, but it seems like that’s all they’ve done together for a life time.  Only now she’s taking the spotlight away from him - only she hasn’t really, she’s just making the kills more personal for her. It’s a consequence of the marriage that he hasn’t got use to. 

He sits next to her on the bed and cups her face, “I don’t want to stop you from achieving your potential. I just want to be part of everything you do, because I helped to create what you are now…” She’s said so much and he doesn’t want to fight with her, so he settles it the only way that he knows will work. “I love you.”

The point he makes is one she can't refuse because it sounds heartfelt enough, and she's about to say okay whenever he says he loves her. She's too dumb to realise that he may just be saying it to get her to shut up and agree with him. She loves him to the point that it hurts sometimes and so any admission of love from him makes her happier than ever. She smiles at him warmly and then moves to hug him tightly.

She’s really bigging herself up to be this amazing murderer now and he’s dumbstruck how she can be so confident. Killing Linda has made her ego expand but he refuses to believe that she has ultimate control over him now - even though they seem to be on equal footing. 

“So back in New York, you’re gonna do this full time?” He’s unsure she has the energy for that, although she obviously craves the sight and feel of blood against her fingers just like he does. It’s what he’d really wanted all along - for her world to revolve around death and the pleasure she takes from it. Now that it’s real it just feels like she’s taking away everything that he has - to use his experience to become a bigger psycho than him. His killing use to be so casual that he never thought twice about it. Now he had someone analysing his every move and learning all of his techniques. “Do whatever you need to do. Just don’t steal all of my fun.” 

The way his acting doesn't fit with the way she thought he would. Shouldn't he be proud of her right now for getting past all of the bullshit instead of trying to tear her down? She feels saddened by this and the high that she's still on depletes a bit as she realises that he doesn't want her to be good at this, that he wants her to need him. Though he should know that she'll always need him, even if she's capable of destruction.

Well it’s not like a lot of people want to get murdered these days he’s thinking. It just happens. It could even happen to him if his back was turned and he was distracted enough. He snorts at the suggestion of jealously, even though it happens to be true. “Not to be sexist, darling… Men are strong and more likely to pin you to the ground and keep you under their control. You should know. So maybe i’m just a bit worried that someone will catch you off guard like I did. You’re a killer now, but could you really handle me?”

Actually, she's pretty sure she could. She knows him well, better than anyone else has, and she knows how often he thinks about his death. She could distract him and kill him if she wanted, and so she tells him, "Yes, I could handle you. Now. Maybe not before, but that was different." Doesn't he know that he's given her his life in her hands? She doesn't think he understand their marriage yet, but she avoids pointing it out.

Her change of ambition surprises him, but something was bound to be triggered by her recent kill. He wonders if by things she means different victims, strategies and murder weapons. There are too many options for them now - or rather for her. His heart feels like it’s beating into his ears and suddenly his head id pounding as if he’s been hit with a hammer. Her needs are going to differ from his and maybe they won’t even want to kill together anymore. He compares the event to adultery in his mind. The thought of her even touching another man makes him feel jealous and it’s pathetic because in a way it’s what she’s put up with all along.  

“Some men, maybe. But it only takes one to rape and murder you before you get the chance to even touch him.”

Whatever smile is on her face disappears as soon as he's bringing up an argument against her. She isn't sure what his problem really is but she sees nothing wrong with killing men, plus she doubts any of them would ever get the chance to even touch her breast let alone fuck her.