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Time	By : cr8zymommy Category: 1 through F > Criminal Minds Views: 4585 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story

Chapter List
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In the silence of his cell, a monster lurked in the dark, hiding in plain sight. Those that passed it caught a glimpse of it in the eyes of the normal looking body it resided in. They saw the monster lurking in the depths of those ice cold eyes and they couldn’t help but shiver and try to hurry past. A smile would curve those lips. Humor would leak into the eyes.
On the outside, if one only gave him a casual glance, there was nothing to give away what lived inside of him. There were those that had known Vincent would have said he was a kind man, albeit a quiet one. A man of few words who looked too serious for his age, but he was kind to them. Like a chameleon, he put on a mask to the public. To the cretins he encountered on a daily basis.
But underneath the skin hid the monster that he was. It lived inside of him, controlling him, lurking in the dark until it had the freedom to roar to life. Freedom to roam free and fulfill its darkest desires.
In the dark, the monster closed his eyes and smiled.
They thought these four walls would hold him in. They thought putting him in solitary confinement would keep them all safe. Even the other prisoners had shown fear of Vincent. The guards didn’t want to talk to him; didn’t want to deal with him unless absolutely forced to. It amused him. The monster inside cackled.
So, to keep the prisoners safe and calm, to reassure the guards who were terrified to come in view of those hellish eyes, Vincent was stuck in solitary confinement. They had no idea that he preferred it in here. He stretched out, enjoying the darkness. Nothing could hide from him in the dark. This was his realm. This was his area. He held no fear of things that go bump in the night. That thought had him laughing lightly. He was the thing that went bump in the night.
Somewhere out there, Vincent knew that there was one being in the world that would fear the dark. One soul that would look around a darkened room and quiver with the knowledge of what could come out at him. What, at one time, had come out at him. The thought made Vincent lick his lips. Pleasant memories flooded his mind.
All the others he’d tried before had been nothing compared to the last one. They had just been tests for him. Learning processes on the road to the final truth. They had helped teach him and prepare him for the final conquest. And it had made it so much sweeter. If he hadn’t learned his control by then, the boy would never have survived as long as he had. Or, maybe he would have. None before had had the stamina of his Boy. None had possessed that inner strength that never quite burned away, no matter what was done to him.
The boy had been perfect. The culmination of years’ worth of work and preparation. He had been heaven and hell rolled into one. A perfect specimen, always there, always waiting for him. Always so eager to please. After the initial period of fighting, his boy had broken as all of them did. Yet he hadn’t broken completely. There was still a spark there underneath that shell of compliance. No matter what Vincent did to his boy, that spark never faded, never went away.
It had spurred the monster to new heights. He had pushed further and further in his games, doing things he had never dreamed of doing. Playing ‘games’ that had killed previous toys. Yet somehow this boy survived. Somehow he kept breathing, kept going. That spark remained. Taunting him. Intriguing him.
A shudder ran down Vincent’s frame. The pleasure he’d received with his boy had been immense. None had ever pleased him quite the way the boy did. That small, lithe body. A glance would suggest that the boy was fragile. One wrong move and he would shatter into a million little pieces. But appearances were deceiving. He had taken pain the others hadn’t. He had not only survived it, but taken even more as time went on.
Then there were those huge, expressive eyes. So full of emotion even when boy tried to hide it. Vincent could see them in the dark now. He imagined how they were looking right at that moment. Was he lying somewhere alone in a room, dreaming of the same things? Was he curled on the floor, longing for his Master? They would be together again. Yes, they would. The monster sighed its approval at the thought. Soon, they would be together. Soon, no one would separate them again. The boy was his. He owned him.
Others may think they had him now. They may think that he was theirs and that they would ‘save’ him. The boy would most likely play along with them, too. He might even be trying to regain his old life. But Vincent knew the boy was his. The boy knew who he belonged to. One word, one command, and the boy would come running. He was well trained. The things that had been done to break him, to bind him, wouldn’t disappear overnight. If called, he would come. He wouldn’t be able to resist.
He imagined the boy was with him. Those thin, long fingers running over him, over his skin. It had taken time to get to the point where the boy would touch him without cringing. Where he didn’t even need orders on what to do. All he was told was to wait upstairs in the bedroom. Rarely did they go up there together. Upstairs was for Master. Downstairs was for boy.
But then some nights he would call the boy up there and Vincent would lie back on the bed underneath the gentle ministrations of his boy. There he relaxed, the monster slumbering in his chest, and he was simply a man. A man with his lover. Those were the times that Vincent thought about the love he felt for the boy. Was there any other word for this all-consuming sensation that existed inside of him for the young man?
He licked his lips and chuckled into the darkness again. Soon, he would have his boy back with him. He could run his fingers through that long hair. Feel that silky smooth skin underneath his hands. Watch as the boy chained himself to the cuffs dangling from the ceiling. It always turned him on to watch the boy lock himself into the cuffs. It reaffirmed to Vincent how badly the boy wanted it. Then came the best part of all. The blood.
He loved the sight of it, the feel of it, the smell of it. On his clothes, his skin, his hands. He loved to strike and watch it well up from the broken skin. To watch as it trickled down that pale white skin until it dripped onto the floor. He loved how it felt on his hands; warm and wet. When he bent the boy over, taking him on the floor, he would run his hands over his back and paint patterns into the skin, tracing with the boy’s blood. Never did his boy look any more beautiful.
Then, those screams. Oh, God, his screams. There was no sweeter sound in Heaven or Earth. He groaned low in his throat. If he listened, he could just hear the sound in the distance, the echo of screams.
He needed to hear it again. He needed to touch and taste and see. It had been so long since he had touched the boy. So long since he’d had him. Since he’d felt that skin against his or heard those screams echo around the room.
These others thought they would take his boy away from him. They had no idea. The boy was his. He did not belong to them. They may have him at the moment, but he would come home. Anyone who stood between that would be taken out. The dark skinned agent—he couldn’t even think his name without the monster in him snarling—would definitely have to go. He could not be allowed to live. First, Vincent would take care of him. Then…then he would go for the boy.
Just a little while longer the monster in him soothed. The plan is in place. Just a little longer and he’ll be ours again. A little longer and we can have him in our grasp once more. Then, no one will separate us. No one will come between us ever again.
In the silence of his cell, the man smiled a monster’s smile. Soon, soon.
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