Claimer: I do indeed own each and every character within this story and I'm hoping the plot is somewhat of an original concept. Ah, and this is not for profit. Please don't steal anything from me unless I have given you permission to do so.

Warning: Psychological thriller of sorts. Language. Slash (though I don't think this should have to be a warning at all but... the world is hetero dominant). More warnings as the chapters progress.

Summary: The first time I broke someone, I was thirteen. He loved me, he loved me so much, and when I tore his heart to shreds I think I almost felt something. Actually, I did feel something: I felt excited. MxM

A Razor As Sharp As My Tongue

Chapter I

The first time I broke someone, I was thirteen.

He loved me, he loved me so much, and when I tore his heart to shreds I think I almost felt something.

Actually, I did feel something: I felt excited.

I was completely enraptured with the idea that I had the power to make someone feel like nothing, to make someone beg for mercy without using physical force. I was given the power to control when someone ate, when they slept, when they were happy, and when they were sad. So easily was I able to slip past the barriers of such a strong boy's heart and once I was within that comfort zone, I took complete advantage of it.

It's amazing how much power someone so easily hands over when their love is called in to question. So much so that it's pathetic.

It's far too easy to manipulate someone into become my puppet using that method alone.

It's disgusting how easily they fall for me and return to me time and time again despite my foul behavior. I push and I push before I reel them back with faux kindness and then I continuously crush their spirit until they fall apart. I obliterate their love with so little effort. And still, they only seek to have more of me. It's always entertaining when they come back, lured in by my false promises of change because they actually believe that they'll be the one to fix me where so many before them have failed.

They wholeheartedly believe that they can mend my "broken" heart.

I'm perfect as is.

They're the weak ones who need to assimilate their mentality in order to be intellectually on par with me.

Nevertheless, my favorite part of a relationship is always the end. That's when they try so hard to hang on to that last shred of themselves before they completely break. I enjoy pushing them to that point, live for it even. Goes to show how pitiable and easily swayed the human psyche is when it comes to "love."

Is "love" really that blinding? No. It's such a twisted and sadistic emotion that leads people to commit the worst sins and drag themselves through hell in its name. For those who believe so deeply in this phenomenon we call love, I can't bring myself to pity them.

Those are the ones I want to shatter and mind fuck the most.

I'll teach them not to believe.

I'll fucking teach them to never believe in love again.

That is, if I don't kill them first.

Over the years, I've driven four to commit suicide… no, they drove themselves to do such a cowardly thing due to the feelings they had for me. I've broken three that still haven't recovered yet but they were such beautiful disasters. My latest conquest attempted to kill himself after we broke up for the third time and he did it in front of me. Lovely vermillion flooded my kitchen floor and I was so mesmerized by the divine sight of his pale features starkly contrasting with the bright red blood flowing out of his veins that it took me a minute or so before I got around to calling for help.

Rather unlucky for me, he lived.

The begging afterwards... the attempts at luring me back from the ones who tend to live... it sickens me.

It's disgusting.

Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting.

It makes me sick to my stomach every time they cry or butcher themselves as a means to prove how much they care for me. It also sends a jolt of pleasure through my veins when I get to see the end result.

When they reach that point, the most beautiful point of all, I get so excited.

It's a turn-on really, knowing that I've snapped and mangled a once gorgeous mind, because I always pick the ones with a brilliance that should no doubt be similar to my own. It's nothing short of erotic, that final moment when their soul shatters into a million dazzling little pieces. They're always so beautiful lying there bleeding, broken, and drained. The sight engorges me with the strongest sense of desire.

During that time I yearn to be thoroughly fucked to a point where I can not so much as walk the following day.

I like my sex raw and animalistic, that's its purest form, and sex that way is generally devoid of all emotion sans lust.

Lust… there's a dependable emotion if I've ever seen one.

You can't deny your sexual urges, you can't deny that carnal, gut clawing, need to be filled and exposed without a care in the world. That's the only time I'm ever vulnerable, the only time I'm ever so unaware of myself that it's excruciating.

Oh how it brings me joy.

It's a shame that people never pick up on this side of me.

Never.

I'm far too good at the game of pretend and by the time people realize the truth, it's already too late. The charming, innocent, sweet, and shy Dalton Saunders is only one of many masks that I enjoy wearing when it's convenient. There is only one person and one person alone who knows and adores all of the layers that make up who I am: Gavin Lund. Lucky for him, he's my childhood friend and the only person I trust to consume all that is me after I finish successfully destroying the entirety of one of my toys.

Once upon a time ago, Gavin hated me for what I did to others. He didn't understand that it wasn't my fault my lovers and those who considered themselves my friends tended to break. They snapped due to their lack of strength. I got through to him after I submerged him in the world that my lover's experience. He survived. There's no use being friends, or even associating, with weak minded individuals, therefore, no one is exempt from my meddling.

With Gavin, I was no different with him than I am with anyone else, childhood friend or not.

He was so beautiful when he reached his mental limit.

And he survived.

He survived and now he sees that love is nothing more than a sham. It is nothing more than a word used to extort, confuse, and destroy the ones you bestow the word upon. All feelings that relate to attachment result in nothing more than pain and anger. There is no need for feelings other than lust to exist in this sordid world.

Perhaps that is why I find myself tangled in this ornery erotic web of games with the gorgeous Dr. Phoenix Halverson.

TBC

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