It’s over.
Snake struggles for breath. Liquid oozes from his sphincter. The room is suddenly warm. Tropical even, as if an orgy has taken place here.
Sanchez stares at the blade, frozen with fear.
“Don’t kill me, man.”
“Why shouldn’t I kill you?” Snake pants. “That crap about the Big O was bullshit. You wanted the Leather Messiah dead.” He rises, brandishing hard cock and ichor-dripping sword at the terrified boy.
“I had to!”
“Liar! Everything you did, you did because you wanted to!” Snake gestures with the sword at the shards of the demon’s body, emitting smoke now, and shrinking.
“Please … please don’t kill me!”
Don’t kill him.
“What!” This is bullshit. “This whole thing has been about killing that fucker!”
Sanchez stares. “What–”
“Shut up! I’m talking tomyfucking master!”
Don’t kill him. I lied. None of this has been about killing him. It was the master I wanted. Sanchez is merely a tool. Like you. Boy.
“So what do you want me to do, Messiah?” Snake can’t keep a bitter tone out of his voice.
I promised you bliss. There it is.
Snake stares at Sanchez’s naked body. Coral pink lips. Awesome fuckable butt.
Snake drops the sword’s point. Grins.
“That’s more like it.”
Yeah, Snake’s a top. And his god loves him. What could be better?