The shady looking man turned around the corner and into the alley where he was scheduled to meet with Claquesous. Spying the man and held out a briefcase.
"50k. Upfront and another 50k when I have proof he’s dead. Deal?"
Claquesous was facing the wall as he heard the man’s shoes sounding on the rough cobblestones. “What kind of proof do you want?” He questioned — he hoped it wouldn’t be a head, like some people wanted. A photograph would be nice, or maybe a finger or a lock of hair.
The figure made him shiver — one hundred thousand euros. That’d keep him for over a year.
Montparnasse’s eyes opened and his head turned to look directly at him, expression unreadable for a few moments. “Fair. I shouldn’t have asked. And you know damn well what I meant.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the sensations writhing about inside of him. “Just forget about it.”
There was now spite in his eyes as he gazed straight at Montparnasse. “I plan on it.” He planned on forgetting everything if only his mind would let him get that kind of peace. “Now come on — back to what you were doing.” This time there was no love behind his words, being only a robotic order.
Happy Munday! Have a pic from this weekend when I went golfing with my baby brother & the other men in my family
Oh. So he really didn’t feel guilty at all, and Montparnasse had lied to himself; he really didn’t need to know. His words hurt, in ways that shouldn’t even have been possible. Montparnasse sighed, withdrawing as much as he could. “Get off of me,” he muttered quietly. “I think I’m gonna go for a walk.” He couldn’t even muster up his pride in the descending spiral he could feel his heart taking, and even in his high he could feel the poison leaching back into his veins, curling its claws into the folds of his skin and claiming him.
"No," snapped Claquesous. "If you didn’t wanna know, you shouldn’t have asked. I’m not gonna be held accountable for what I did after you died." He kept saying that — after Montparnasse’s death. But Montparnasse hadn’t ever really died, and as such, Claquesous had been unfaithful. His attitude now was a direct reflection of the guilt he felt, even if it wasn’t a usual one. "You’re not walking anywhere.”
"You were gone for two hours. Give me a chance to miss you and we’ll see."
At his tone, Montparnasse blinked, pulling away. Claquesous… felt guilty, or at least that was how it was coming off.Never had he seen that expression on his face. “Yeah… maybe you’re right,” he muttered, letting his hand drop away. “I’m sorry for bringing it up, I just… can’t help but feel jealous of them.” His arms crossed over his chest with a quiet sigh, and he sat back once more. “And how much more you probably enjoyed it when they could open their own legs for you.” His eyes closed and he reached for his blunt once more.
Claquesous leaned over him, resting his chin on his Montparnasse’s shoulder as he took another puff from his joint. “I did,” he said, resigned. “God, the sex was so great after you died. I think after a certain point I wouldn’t even fuck anymore, I’d just sit back and let them ride me in crazy positions. Fuck, that was amazing.”