"Come on now," he purred, his tone smooth, mocking. "You should know me by now. After all, we share something... or rather, someone."
There was a sharp intake of breath. :: Keith? Is that you? ::
"Ah, there it is," he replied, the smirk deepening as he looked down at the woman, her eyes wide and desperate, tears clinging to her lashes as her cheeks bloated whenever she gobbled the whole thing up and down.
He didn't relent, clenching his hand and forcefully tugging her head back fully, forcing her to take more of him into her mouth as there was a hint of bulge near her larynx, showing the length reached deep into her throat.
"Mmh... mphh"
Her gasp was swallowed by the rhythmic sounds of her desperate sucking. "Recognizing me must sting a little, doesn't it?"
:: What the hell is going on? Where is she?! What did you do to her? ::
He tilted his head slightly, a dark amusement flickering in his gaze. "What I did?" he echoed, his voice light, deceptively calm. "I didn't do anything. She just... upgraded to first class."
The sharp intake of breath from the other end was enough to make him grin.
:: You're lying! We love each other, you bastard! :: The voice was seething with panic and anger.
"I don't lie," the man replied smoothly. "But maybe you're not ready for the truth." His fingers dug into her hair again, pulling her deeper, drawing out a strangled moan from her throat as she struggled to keep pace.
"Haah...! Haah....! Unh.... w-wait—Mphhh!?"
He once again pushed her back, sealing her mouth to get some silence.
"Hear that?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery. "That's loyalty.... something you failed to inspire."
"You bastard!" the voice roared. "I swear to God, if you touch her—"
"You'll what?" he interrupted, his voice sharp. "Yell a little louder? Or maybe convince yourself you were enough for her?"
There was a pause on the other end before the voice returned, furious, broken. ::You think you've won? You're nothing but a sick—::
"A man who knows how to take what he wants?" The man cut in, his smirk widening. "You're not angry at me. You're angry at yourself. I didn't steal her. She just realized what she deserved."
:: You— ::
"I'm sending you something," the man said, cutting him off as his thumb hovered over the camera button.
He snapped a photo, his gaze cold, meticulous.
He lowered the phone and looked down at her, his grip tightening in her hair again as she let out another soft, muffled cry, her body trembling from the effort.
"That," he said, almost whispering. "That's the sound of giving in."
The phone buzzed moments later.
When it rang again, the man answered with deliberate slowness. "Yes?"
"You sick son of a—what the hell are you doing?!"
He chuckled darkly, his voice low, measured. "Just reminding you that some men live dreams, while others... chase them."
"Don't touch her! Don't—"
"Don't what?" the man interrupted, his tone chilling. He yanked her head back sharply, forcing a strained whimper from her as he looked down at her disheveled face, her mouth still moving over him. "Make you face what you couldn't hold onto? Maybe next time, try being enough for her."
The call ended abruptly, the beep of the disconnect cutting through the room.
The man slipped the phone back in the drawer, his fingers tightening in her hair once more.
.
.
.
.
Keith was standing out on the balcony, feeling the cool morning air brushing against his bare skin.
Below him, the city was stretched out, waking up slowly in the soft light of dawn.
His sharp, detached eyes were focused on the bustle starting to pick up far below, but honestly, his mind was wandering off somewhere else entirely.
Behind him, a woman lay on the bed, completely naked except for the blanket she held tightly, looking completely spent after their long, wild night.
Reaching for the pack of cigarettes resting on the railing, he lit one up, watching the flame flicker briefly in the wind while muttering with a smile, "They can't think of anything else? Poison in cigarettes..."
He took a deep puff, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling slowly, the tendrils curling up into the morning light.
Knowing it was poisoned, he made sure to inhale a good amount of it.
He kept his expression composed, almost unreadable, but there was a strange calmness about him—like he'd already come to terms with whatever was coming next.
Then, the sharp ring of his phone cut through the quiet.
Not even flinching, Keith let it ring once more before muttering to himself, "Yeah, finally. I guess it's time."
He answered the call.
On the other end, a smooth, slightly mocking voice greeted him.
"Well, how unexpected. Agent Seven decided to skip me and head off to settle his own little revenge?"
Keith smirked faintly, the cigarette still hanging between his lips.
"Hey, before I kick the bucket, shouldn't I at least get the chance to settle my own score?"
There was a pause, then the caller let out a curious chuckle.
"Oh, so you figured it out?"
His voice was calm, with a hint of grim amusement.
"If someone can hire me to take out the President, it's pretty clear they'd want to get rid of me too to cover their tracks. I knew from the moment I took the job."
"And you still went ahead with it?"
He took another drag, letting the ember flare as he thought it over.
"Yeah, I guess I was just bored with this life."
The silence on the other end said a lot, but the caller didn't seem shocked.
"You're such an enigma, Keith. One of the best spies I ever had....."
'....' Keith didn't say anything back, and the call ended abruptly with a faint click.
The cigarette dangled from his lips as he rested his hand on the railing, eyes fixed on the horizon.
For just a moment, old memories flitted through his mind.
Years ago, right after college, he was so close to ending it all, but that woman on the phone pulled him back—she trained him hard for a decade.
Keith had gone from a broken, suicidal kid to a top-tier agent, holding power over governments and lives.
Yet, in the end, he had lost something that couldn't be replaced: a reason to keep living.
This last job, the one that would seal his fate, was to take out the President.
Planting the bomb had been easy enough.
But the reason he took the task was simply to have a final piece of rest.
Though in his way, he met some old college 'friends'...so he decided to live for a few more days.
drip
As the first drops of blood trickled from his nose, Keith smirked.
He looked down at the red streak on his hand, unfazed.
Soon, the blood was flowing freely from his nostrils and mouth.
His body was shaking, revealing the effects of the toxin he had knowingly consumed in the form of cigarettes.
Still, he kept his cool.
With effort, he typed out one last message on his phone.
His fingers trembled, the blood staining his screen.
Just as his knees buckled, he pressed send, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
The message read:
::The bomb isn't in the President's car. It's in the client's. ::
Thud
Keith collapsed to the floor with a dull sound, his lifeless body sprawled out across the cold tiles of the balcony, his eyes hollow and somewhat relieved looking towards the sky.