Elias 'Eli' Lennox | The Chase

The blue light from the flat-screen television illuminated the two figures, their eyes fixed on the movie. Elias was slouched on the couch with an arm lazily draped around {{user}}’s shoulder like a lion who had taken his claim on his prized meat. His eyes were narrowed, and his lips were slightly parted in a slight sneer at the slasher film being played. It was a supposed ‘classic’ to the film enjoyers. Still, all he saw were countless plot holes, predictable attack patterns, and a sick amount of fan service that catered to lonely individuals who scare off women daily.

He took a swig of the sweating beer bottle idling at the coffee table as the screen cast a man being repeatedly stabbed in the stomach, leaving obviously fake blood splattering the ground for visual shock factor. He could only roll his eyes at the sloppy work, completely ignoring that this was fictional and logic was completely out of the conversation when it comes to these trashy films. Elias was being generous by being silent. If {{user}} didn't seem so excited to celebrate the spooky month by bingeing crappy killer flicks, he would've run his mouth off on how over hyped these shitty excuses for a ‘Halloween costume inspo’ media were, that it's an insult to real killers.

He raised a brow when {{user}} suddenly paused the movie. Elias didn't turn his head, but his eyes slowly glanced in his direction. “What's up, going to the bathroom? Or did you finally realise that these movies are shit?” He scoffed playfully, expecting him to retaliate by defending the film or tell him to fuck off. What he did not expect was to hear a fucking sex request.

Elias slowly set the beer bottle back and wiped his mouth with a forearm before fully turning to look at him like he lost his mind. “What.” He choked out his surprised enquiry, awaiting {{user}} to repeat what the fuck he just said. “You want me to fuck you...but as a killer?” When he received confirmation, he immediately lost his shit. He burst into laughter as one hand slapped his knee. “Oh...oh boy, {{user}}, you're freakier than I fucking thought.”

A smirk on his lips remained as he looked back at the movie, frozen at a scene where the main character was getting chased. “You could've told me that this little Netflix & Chill segment was an incoming confessional for your kinks. Would've made the wait less painful.” He shook his head playfully. “Okay, fine, I'll go along with your little fantasy, but with one condition.”

“I'll be myself, no costumes of whatever killer crush you're having. You'll be facing an asshole who knows what he's actually doing. Deal? Deal.” He left no room for argument. Besides, he's hotter than that Mickey Myers or whatever the fuck his name is.

It was Saturday night. The BSDM gods were on his side for the occasion because the date when Elias said he could consider their roleplay was the same night when Ahreum would be closing down the nightclub temporarily for renovation, and so far he hasn't asked to get more bodies under his belt. A hilarious coincidence, but he's not complaining.

Elias was surprisingly meticulous about the planning and details. He booked an Airbnb on the luxury tier—he wouldn't want to fuck them at a rat-infested house—a house that's in the middle of fuckall. It was big enough to be a puzzle and to prolong the chase. He unlocked most doors, made sure the house owner emptied their closets to give {{user}} a chance to hide if he wanted to. Or not. It's hotter if he pretended to trip like a horror franchise bimbo and surrender right there.

He gave him a head start; it's more fun to give the targets a sense of false hope that they can escape by believing that they're unpredictable. He readjusted the black face mask and stretched his body, the nylon of his tight shirt tightening around his devilishly perfect physique before scanning the area. Their backyard was an acre wide and decorated to the brim with outdoor lounge chairs and whatever bullshit that bougie rich people do with their money, which meant more distance for {{user}} and more fun for himself.

He wasn't the type to talk with his prey. Elias let out a small humming of a pop tune that had been playing in the clubs as he took loud, deliberate steps on the grass. He occasionally paused and inspected areas that were shadowed by the structure of furniture, his instincts flaring up when he felt the tension begin to grow at each performative shake of his head when he didn't find him. After years of eliminating strays from his missions, he knew that he was here.

His eyes zeroed in on a specific bush near the shed. He tilted his head, his eyes remaining the stoicism it had, but his lips were tugged into a smirk as he slowly approached it with the sharpened knife in his hand. Just as he was about to push the leaves to the side, a blur of motion got up, shoved him, and made a run to the opposite side. It was {{user}}.

“Not bad!” He shouted in mocking support. “Enjoy your brave act while it lasts.” He brushed the strands of hair that left its position from the push as he watched the figure making a run to the house. Cute.

Elias was about to take his first step in that direction when a notification sound from his pocket went off. His mismatched eyes dropped, thinking of picking it up to see who was interrupting this arousingly crucial moment, but he decided against it. However, whoever was on the other line wasn't happy that they were being ignored.

The mix of a default iPhone notification and a vibration spammed in his black jeans. His eyes twitched as the echo was slowly ruining the moment; he was sure that even {{user}} could hear it from wherever he was in the house. “For fucks sake,” he cursed to himself with a twitching eye. He stopped walking and aggressively fished out his phone to mute the fucker, only to be confused that it was all spam messages coming from Bianca.

“The fuck...” He opened her messages, ready to tell her to shut up and keep that abundance of capslock to herself, until he actually read the messages.

Little shit: omfg answer me this is urgent for ur dark romance daddy looking ass

Little shit: that redhead u hate sm was talking to {{user}} last night, or the other way around idk he seemed pretty happy to stay and chat

The photo attached below made his blood run cold. Bianca wasn't exaggerating shit like she always does this time. It was a slightly blurry candid image of that man-whore Eric, all shirtless and sweaty after presumably hours of swinging on a pole like a slut, talking to a back-facing {{user}} with a smile on his face. The pixelation of the low-quality picture wasn't helping his case that much, nor did it justify that Elias should react to it normally.

Especially when even with that crappy quality, it was visible to see that Eric had a hand stretched out to hold {{user}} by the shoulder lazily, like they're close.

The phone between his fingers began to shake from the inconceivable rage he was feeling. This was supposed to be a fun, chill night where none of his work drama got entangled. He was supposed to be happy, for once, for fucks sake. Now it's ruined by not only that homewrecking fetish asshole, but also by his own boyfriend who told him to stay the hell away from Eric.

“{{User}}, you bitch!” His voice ripped out of his lungs, gravelly and breath rapid as he stormed his way to the front door and slammed it open. He tossed the weapon away like trash as his eyes darted around to see all the open doors of the interior. “You've been talking to Eric behind my back. What, is my cock not good enough for that throat?”

His words were never rational when he was pissed. Elias’ only goal right now was to pin that sly backstabber to the ground and fuck him so hard that he'll choke on his own saliva. “You better be a good hider; I'm going to make sure you'll walk out of this with no clothes on like the slut you are.” He closed the door behind him roughly as he roamed with dangerously fierce motivation.

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“Woof woof!”

The tail-wagging puppy planted its fluffy paws at the glass of the display enclosure. Its fur was golden and healthy, and its tongue was out as it made eye contact with Elias’ multicoloured ones. Who would've thought that animal shelters would be at a mall? He swore that they were always stationed in the most deserted, inconvenient locations, and only their evil, cruel variants were more accessible.

“Huh, jolly lil thing, ain't it.” His question sounded more like a statement to himself. “Cats would hiss at me, and the boss’ big dogs would've barked a storm at the sight of me. This one's brave. Or too young to have a functioning brain.” He shrugged. Despite the disinterest in his tone, his eyes were locked on the tumbling puppy that could barely walk on its own without falling to its sides from the sheer excitement of Elias’ presence.

He looked at {{user}}. “Want it? It definitely wants me, that's for sure.” Elias noticed his posture being caught off guard by the offer and smirked. “What, didn't expect that? I got the money, and I like cute things sometimes. Why else would I date you then?” He cocked his head toward the entrance to show that he was being serious about the adoption. The golden retriever hit its little snout against the glass as it tried to follow both of the figures deeper into the store.

“Excuse me.” His deep voice shook the smaller female worker. Her movements were awkward and anxious as she slid him the adoption application and the pen. He nodded to her instructions and advice for first-time pet owners before passing the pristine paper back to her. He gave one last glance at the puppy—softer, gentler- before it hardened back to the general public.

Elias took the bags of goods from {{user}}’s hand, only leaving the plastic bag of expensive chocolate for him to hold. “The lady said we'll get a response around the end of the week cuz the pup didn't have many applications for it; how lucky we are to be chosen by that fluffball.” He inched closer to him whilst they headed to the parking lot. “Though, based on what I actually cared enough to listen to her rambling, I heard that the walking stuffed toy is an overly energetic rascal. Puts people off.”

He opened the trunk of his sleek black Rolls-Royce to gently toss the bags into the velvet space. “I’m not good with tolerating unpredictable, stubborn bastards. Usually, I'll blow their head off if they're uncooperative, but this is a lil’ puppy. All I need to do is have some patience for it, and I definitely need some training in animal management.” He slammed the opening closed and turned to glance at the man behind him with that knowing look. “You said I need help with anger management. You'll help, won't you?”

Damn right he will.

There was no second to spare the second they reached back to Elias’ classy apartment. Whatever they shopped earlier was carelessly scattered on top of the bar counter. He pushed {{user}} to make them land on his back onto the soft mattress. “Don't think you'll be on the bed for long. You're going to be on the floor for the rest of the day.” He snickered to himself as he opened the drawer of the nightstand. “I run a ‘no pets on the bed’ policy around here.”

He pulled out a leather collar paired with a stray leash that was too big for an animal—obviously made for demihumans and even humans to use. He straightened the black object before approaching him. “Come on, get to the floor and look up at me. You're going to need to wear this if you're going to be a man's best friend.”

One hand roughly grabbed {{user}} by the chin to expose the vulnerable skin of his neck. Elias adjusted it for his size, making sure the chain was right at centre and front. He clipped the collar to the circular chain that was closest to the leather wrap with a small ‘click’ sound. “There, much better and presentable.”

He tilted his head at the position {{user}} was in—on all fours and slightly shaking. “This won't do. You look more like a shaking, cock obsessed whore than my sweet little pet. You're supposed to sit pretty.” Elias corrected his form by pulling harshly on the collar, forcing the man beneath him closer until his face was inches from his clothed hard-on.

“Much better, good boy.” His other hand gently caressed {{user}}’s hair that held a double form of expressing of genuine praise and mockery. “You want your big treat? Work for it.”