Title: (destructive is) the way we want to be
Author: Sam (ackleykidd)
Pairing: Evgeni Malkin/Sidney Crosby
Disclaimer: So very, very fake.
Author's note/Warnings: Violence. Crosby as a serial killer. Mention of sex. This is supposed to be part of a longer AU in which Sidney Crosby is a serial killer. idon'tevenknow. Title from "Valmont" by Empires
To call it bonding is probably sick, but Sidney harbors no illusions about the life they lead. Normal people don't do this; they don't kill for kicks, or torture just for fun. He and Geno? They're not normal.
Especially not Sid. He loves seeing people double over in pain when he hits them, loves hearing their anguished screams as he tenderly glides his blade over their skin, spilling their warm, wet, startlingly red blood all over the floor. Sid loves the power of holding someone's life in his hands; he loves the heady, sexual rush he gets as he watches the life leak slowly out of a person's eyes. Sid loves the feeling of his dick hardening in his pants as he does these unspeakable things, trousers tightening as blood rushes to his groin. Most of all, though, he loves the way that Geno watches him intently, sensually, as he teaches his victim a lesson.
Evgeni rarely ever joins in the killing but Sid knows he gets off on it, knows that watching Sid torture people makes him hot, gets him hard. Sometimes, when he's really into it, Geno will stroke himself slowly through his trousers, lit cigarette dangling uselessly in his other hand. This will inflame Sidney even further; he'll get more violent, more blood-thirsty, more painfully aroused. It's all he can do to control himself.
Those nights, he and Evgeni will kiss right there, in front of someone that is dead or dying. Sidney likes them dead, so they're not intruding on this quiet, intimate moment, but Geno likes them alive; he wants them to watch. Either way, though, it's hot as hell, Geno's tongue thrusting almost violently into Sid's mouth while he's still high off of the kill.
They kiss, but they never actually have sex in front of the nameless, faceless victims. That they save for their clean, orderly Pittsburgh apartment. There they fuck on freshly-laundered sheets, stark images of bruised and bloodied corpses burning brightly behind their eyelids.