Lahat ng Kabanata ng My Dear Master, We're Mates! (M×M): Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

KILLAN I'd always loved punching. The idea of zeroing my mind on a dummy was a relaxation scheme. My relaxation scheme. My father had always said “the most important thing in our world is power, without it you'll be a pawn.” And this was the reason for my obsession. He drilled it into me like a daily mantra, sealed off every other thing—emotions, love, a sense of duty—and all that was left was a deep infatuation for power. I'd always loved control. But Ethan turned on my emotions like a switch. He turned them on and turned them off, showing me that the goddamned power and control that was driving me nuts? I didn't own them. Not when it came to my heart. It was why I couldn't stop punching this dummy. As I punched it, I was supposed to feel relaxed, to forget Ethan, to forget he existed in my world; but I only felt rage, anger, a deep infatuation to be punching an actual person instead. He'd told me to ‘stay the fuck away’ Ethan looked me in the eye and fucking

KILLANSilence—that was all I could hear. But the silence wasn't deafening, it was suffocating, a deep tug that kept reminding me of Ethan's absence. The last time we met was a few days ago, but I could still taste his lips on mine, feel the flavor, the sweetness, the overwhelming feeling it brought to my chest. Two days ago, I visited a bar. I fucked a blonde’s lips to exhaustion, made her throat ache and her eyes teary, but I kept seeing Ethan. A day before yesterday, I skipped school and went bowling. I won with each shot, it made it boring for me—the fact that I never lost—and what made it even worse was the fact that I tapped a stranger's shoulder because he had the same hair color as Ethan. Last night, it was a tug of war. I'd gotten his number—stolen it—by hacking Liam's phone, but I couldn't bring myself to type a single message. I'd type, erase, type. The never ending cycle made me punch the walls again and I ended up with a split, unhealed knuckle. Right now, I was sp

KILLAN “Did you do this deliberately? Drag him here like a little prey begging to be spanked?” I crossed my arm, back leaning on the wall, eyes fixed on Bernard. He exhaled, fingers clasped around the rim of a porcelain vase. “You told me the seer warned you—sixty days left.” “Fifty eight.” I corrected, a bite to my voice. “You think that makes this better?” “You should spend those days with someone you trust.” “And put him in danger?” I scoffed, letting out a soft chuckle. “You don't get it, Bernard.” “You're the Alpha.” He whispered, setting the porcelain vase on a small stand. “If you can't protect him, who can?” I didn't answer. I couldn't. “You deserve happiness, Mr. Grey.” “It's a goddamned illusion, you know that. It never lasts.” “Then make him your illusion.” He said firmly, eyes locked on mine. “And if I forget him?” “Then let him remember you.” A crash rang from the kitchen, followed by a curse word. Ethan. I left Bernard and strode towards the sound. When

KILLANLast night, I allowed him to take over—Rhydian. The beast that lurked beneath the surface. The other part of me I tried to hide from him. It was chaotic. Pleasurable. Tempting. The control I'd always craved for, I felt it slipping through like my cum. I could barely hold it in, could barely keep it together. Sinking my back into my black couch, I surfed the internet, eyes feeding on the news I'd missed out on. Images of my brother, some tweets about my mother, and the pack—but a particular video caught my attention. A blue haired dick had a large grin plastered on his lips. One I badly wanted to rip off. Ethan sat there, cheeks flushed, his transparent tee dripping with brown coffee. He tried to avoid the camera, but a few students surrounded him, calling him all sorts of names, and when my eyes trailed towards the caption, my blood ran cold. ‘Golden boy is actually an old man's fuck toy.’ Hours ago, I'd asked Bernard to take Ethan home because I didn't want him to fre

KILLAN‘He'll haunt my dreams if I should mention his name.’ Clever. From a high tower—an old cathedral in the college—I stared down at the cafeteria, carefully watching as Josiah pleaded for his sins. The cathedral had no life in it, it was just there, living, breathing, housing forgotten prayers and cries of plea. But does the devil pray? I didn't know why I was here, but as the time ticked—fifty days left—I wanted more time. More time to watch fear spread across Ethan's face. More time to watch him smile. More time to fill his mouth with my cum, slap his ass cheeks, to remind him he wasn't alone. But time was one thing I didn't have. I couldn't give. Josiah's fingers were tightly wrapped around Ethan's legs. He looked pale, like he'd seen enough misery, but it was mine to tell if it was really enough. Last night, I gave him a choice. But he picked the latter. FLASHBACKIn the cold, dark night, I sneaked into Josiah's home. His parents were wealthy, well to do, I could tell