Maybe I'm a Monster

“Look what you’ve done.”

Accusatory eyes bore into the Dutchman, who dismissed them with a roll of his shoulder. The girl lay in a shivering heap at his feet, brown hair cascading over her strained facial features like a tangled, hairy waterfall. Maria was her name; he’d say “is” but he can’t be sure she’d last much longer. He cast a lingering glance at her crumpled form before returning his attention to Joe. Sweet Joe, ever so concerned with the preservation of human life.

“What?” He snorted, “You didn’t even like her.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to kill her.”

“Now, now…” Dutchman raised his hands in an attempt to pacify Joe, “I didn’t kill her… Well, not exactly. I simply weakened her and her fragile human form will handle the rest.”

“You’re a monster,” Joe sighed, “Killing her because she ignored you for me.”

At that, the Dutchman threw a hearty laugh, his body bowing backwards and his blonde curls bobbing past his cheeks, “Oh, sweet Joe. Don’t you know? It was never about the girl.”

“What?” Joe blinked furiously in confusion.

“Don’t you remember, Joe? From that first night on the ship, you blinded me with your kindness… with your goodness. Watching you with that faceless wench you so adored. I envied her… I longed to be the center of your attention as she had been. Your beauty was unmatched and she got to bask in it so freely while I remained locked in the hull of the ship in darkness… No better than a common gutter rat. I vowed that night to take away anything you came to adore… anyone who held your attention for more than a few moments. You make it so easy with your easy displays of affection. Really, if you were so concerned for their safety you wouldn’t be around them at all,” Dutchman prattled on, circling Joe and coming to rest behind him.

“Will you ever stop?” Joe was shaking. Whether from nerves or blood thirst, Dutchman couldn’t tell. A sheen of sweat emerged on his brow.

Dutchman hesitated before answering, allowing the silence after Joe’s question linger for a moment as he watched a drop of sweat trail its way down the side of Joe’s neck. A shiver more violent than the others racked Joe’s body and Dutchman leaned to breathe into his ear, “No.”

Joe whirled around with a sudden burst of indignation, “You can’t do this!” he spat, eyes blinking quickly as he forced the words out against his convulsing muscles, “You can’t… I won’t let you do this.”

A damnable smirk crept onto Dutchman’s face as Joe’s sudden confidence fizzled out. He leaned close to Joe, his breath rustling the stray hairs that had escaped the Eternal’s ponytail, “I don’t believe you.” He could hear Joe swallow thickly—see him shudder, “You’ve not stopped me before now. Girl after girl, Joe. I almost think you enjoy this game; that you keep paying these girls attention just so you can see me again.”

“That.. that’s ridiculous!” Joe spluttered. Dutchman simply quirked an eyebrow, “I-I don’t… that’s not what… That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it, Joe?” grabbing him by the ponytail, Dutchman tugged his head back, his other hand leaping to Joe’s throat. Joe struggled for a moment, pulling at the hand and trying to escape the bent-backwards position he now found himself in. He eventually settled, staring at the Dutchman, unsure. He had thought for sure he was being attacked, but the other’s grip on his neck was only firm, not choking. The two stood unblinking, seemingly suspended in the moment. Joe’s labored breathing was the only thing to be heard. He licked his dry lips, shifting in attempt to relieve the tension in his spine from being bent. Ah, how the Dutchman loved to watch him squirm.

The Dutchman’s mind shifted tracks then, and he relinquished his grip on Joe’s throat, choosing instead to drag his fingertips down the column of it. Ignoring the sharp inhalation he received and holding fast to Joe’s hair, he continued to stroke the skin there. Barely a ghost of a touch; just enough to send shivers down Joe’s spine… and oh, how he shivered.

The Dutchman remained mesmerized by the pale flesh before him. In the dim light of the alley, he could just barely see the silvery remains of puncture wounds on Joe—the scar from his bite. Dutchman’s tongue traced over his pointed canine, and he leaned in, slowly. If he could just land his teeth there, he could mark Joe again.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Joe was breathless. Dutchman’s fingers dipped down to his collar bones, tracing the soft skin just above his t-shirt and then falling lower to drag his blunted nails across a nipple. A strangled gasp met his ears and the damnable smirk returned to his face.

“Always so responsive,” he murmured, pressing his hand firmly to Joe’s chest to back him into the wall. Finally, he leaned in to nuzzle the spot below Joe’s ear. The tang of salt met his lips and with a low growl, he sank his teeth in. Joe reared against the pain, desperate to get away, but his excitement simply made his heart beat faster. Dutchman’s eyes rolled as the blood rushed into his mouth, so exquisite was the taste of bitter copper and sweet, sweet victory. He felt fingers tangle into his hair and Joe keened, but he could barely hear him above the pounding in his ears. That lovely pulse… he was in heaven.

It wasn’t long until Joe finally settled back against the brick wall. His fingers remained in Dutchman’s hair, and Dutchman, satisfied that Joe was subdued, gently pried his mouth away, “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” Joe held deathly still when Dutchman pressed his forehead to his own, licking the blood from his lips with a quiet groan. Blue eyes opened before him, so close he could feel the flutter of eyelashes against his brow, “Because I don’t think it was hard at all,” he chuckled, thrusting himself against Joe’s leg, “But I know something that is.”

Immediately Joe tried to shove off the wall, past the Dutchman, but the blood loss sent his head reeling. He stumbled a few steps down the alley.

“Come on, Joe,” Dutchman sighed, exasperated, as he watched Joe trip and hit the pavement. “Joe! Don’t leave.”

Joe returned to his unsteady feet and turned the corner of the alley, disappearing around the building with a parting glare. Dutchman remained where he stood, unhappy and unsatisfied. He couldn’t believe Joe would walk away from him. He was always the one who made the dramatic exit, leaving Joe to care for whatever bloody mess of a girl he left behind.

Suddenly remembering that Maria girl, he glanced down at the bloody mess at his feet. Her flimsy dress was displaced from their earlier encounter and he eyed the swell of her ass where it was exposed. He palmed himself and contemplated for a few moments, before he heaved a sigh and resigned himself to his fate. Maybe Joe was right about him.

She’s a pathetic thing, he thought, but at least she’s still breathing.