Don’t Look At Me Like A Monster.

Chapter Eleven: Don't Look At Me Like A Monster

The rain poured down as Zhedya’s car pulled up to Ian’s apartment.

He saw him immediately…a lone, drenched figure standing on the front porch, not even trying to escape the downpour.

“Very dramatic,” Zhedya whispered to himself with a faint shake of his head. He grabbed his umbrella and stepped out.

“Ian,” he called out, his voice cutting through the sound of the storm.

But Ian didn’t move towards him. Instead, he broke, his words tumbling out in a frantic, rain-soaked ramble. “It was her blood… the suit… Alisa…”

Zhedya approached him slowly, holding the umbrella over both of them.

His voice was the softest, gentlest it had ever been. “You’ll get sick from standing in the rain, sweetheart.”

He gently took Ian’s arm and led him inside. Ian didn’t resist, but his body was stiff, unyielding, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

“You’re soaked,” Zhedya murmured, his hands moving to unbutton Ian’s wet shirt. “How long were you out there?”

Ian suddenly shoved his hands away, a spark of life returning to his eyes, burning with anger and hurt.

“Did you know? Did you know about Macrom Pierce all along? Since when?”

His voice rose, cracking with emotion.

“The red suit you bought me… did you know it was connected to Alisa? That it was designed with her blood on it? WHAT ELSE ARE YOU HIDING FROM ME?”

Zhedya didn’t flinch. He simply hung his own coat on the rack, a faint, unreadable smile on his lips.

“Clothes are just clothes, Ian. It doesn’t matter. You’re being dramatic.”

His calmness was a stark contrast to Ian’s storm. “You wanted justice, and you got it. What else do you want?”

Ian stared at him, baffled. How could he be so dismissive?

“You went to his fashion show tonight, and magically, Pierce is exposed! You never go to those things, Zhedya! Don’t lie to me!” Ian’s mind was racing, connecting terrifying dots.

“It’s weird… you stepped in on the Zack case, and he got exposed. Now you’re around Pierce, and he gets exposed. Is there something about you? Are you… are you in any way like them?”

The slap was swift and sharp, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

Zhedya’s hand fell back to his side. His expression was pained.

“You say things you shouldn’t. It’s very provoking. I didn’t mean to, but I had to.”

He stepped closer, his voice low and intense.

“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe I got involved because of you? Zack wanted to kill you. You wouldn’t stop talking about how much you wanted Alisa’s killer caught. I did it for you.”

His eyes searched Ian’s, full of a wounded pride. “So now I’m the villain? What’s next? Will you accuse me of being the murderer and framing them for it?”

He reached out and held Ian’s chin tightly, forcing his head up so their eyes met. The pain in Zhedya’s voice was raw, and it felt terrifyingly real.

“You look at me and call me a monster, when all I have ever done is protect you and give you what you wanted. You looking at me with those eyes… it kills me more than a bullet ever could.”

“But… I was just thinking…”Ian stammered, the fight draining out of him, replaced by confusion and guilt.

“I think you should stop thinking for a second and listen to me,” Zhedya cut him off, his voice firm but softer now. He released Ian’s chin.

“I suspected the killer was tied to the fashion industry. I checked a few brands, and one was talking about unveiling something ‘extraordinary.’

That’s why I purchased the suit. I’m sorry I had you wear it; I thought my suspicion was wrong.”

He took a step back, running a hand through his hair, the picture of a misunderstood man.

“I help the BSI quietly, behind closed doors. I risk my life. I pushed them to keep an eye on Pierce. That’s all.”

He looked directly at Ian, his grey eyes pleading for belief. “And I hope you believe me. I’m leaving.”

He moved to walk past Ian, his shoulder brushing against him deliberately.

That small contact broke the last of Ian’s resolve. “I’m sorry!”

The words burst out of him. “I’m sorry!” He spun around and hugged Zhedya from behind, burying his face in the man’s back, his body shaking with sobs.

“I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry for doubting you. I didn’t mean to say any of that.”

He felt Ian’s hot tears soak through his shirt.

A faint, triumphant smile touched Zhedya’s lips before he could stop it.

Then he turned, his expression all warmth and forgiveness, and pulled Ian into a tight, crushing hug.

“It’s fine,” he whispered into Ian’s hair, stroking it gently and placing soft kisses on his head.

“Everything has been so hard on you recently. I understand. If you are really sorry, you have to prove it. Prove it by trusting me, you know?”

“I trust you,” Ian mumbled into his chest, nodding weakly.

“I’m glad you do,” Zhedya murmured, his voice like velvet. “And I hope you do forever.”

In that moment, Zhedya secretly savored Ian’s broken state.

This was what he wanted…Ian completely reliant on him, his emotions, his truth, all controlled by Zhedya’s carefully crafted words.

“I would never let you go, Ian,” he vowed, his arms tightening possessively. “Even if the whole world turns against me, you are the only one I need by my side.”

He pulled back slightly, cupping Ian’s tear-streaked face.

“You need to prove you trust me. Show me you are mine, even if it’s just for today, Ian.”

He leaned in and kissed him, a deep, claiming kiss.

Ian clutched at his shirt, his response needy and desperate, seeking comfort and forgiveness in the very person who had orchestrated his pain.

Zhedya pushes Ian towards the couch, Ian lays on it as he hornily watches Zhedya take off his belt. He grabs a condom from his wallet.

"You walk around with a condom like a perv?"Ian teased him.

"No, only when I'm on the way here", he replied.

Zhedya does hesitate to pound on him, kissing hungrily as he takes off Ian's shorts.

Ian covers his eyes, clearly nervous.

"I'll be gentle and you have to relax", Zhedya whispers to him, pinning both of his hands above his head.

Zhedya slowly begins to slide his cock into Ian's hole.

Ian winces from pain that came with pleasure.

"Breathe, it's okay?" Zhedya kisses him as he moves more into him.

"Ahh", Ian gasped, and shivers as Zhedya suddenly buried all of his length at once into him.

He wraps his arm around his shoulder, as Zhedya begins to move, and gently thrust into him. This actually felt good to him.

“Fuck…”, his nail’s digs deeper into Zhedya’s skin, he closes his eyes, flushed, shy and slightly embarrassed.

“Ian…open your eyes”, Zhedya command, every words earned a thrust.

“I…think…I’m gonna…come”, Ian whispers, uncontrollably gasp and moans escape his lips as he kept arching and stretching in the sheets.

Zhedya wraps his hand around Ian’s neck, add pressure to both side of his neck, choking him.

Ian grabs the shit, “ahhh”. He semen, hot fluid shoot hard, spring out on Zhedya’s chest.

Zhedya thrust a few more times, his body jerked and buck, releasing into Ian’s. They were both spent, gasping for air, breathing uniformly.

*****

Later, as they lay together in the quiet dark, Zhedya’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He reached for it, the screen illuminating his sharp features.

It was a message from an unknown number.

It’s been a while since we played and dined together. I have missed you. Don’t you miss me too? - R

Zhedya’s eyes narrowed, staring at the screen. A coldness settled over him.

Ian stirred in his sleep, groaning softly as he lay against Zhedya’s chest.

Looking down at the trusting face nestled against him, Zhedya pressed a soft, possessive kiss to Ian’s forehead.

But his mind was elsewhere, filled with a single, irritated thought: Why does this son of a bitch have to show up now?