IDRIS

Idris pays a visit to a house that late evening. The locks have already been bashed in, granting him free access. He has Croff with him who scopes out the interior; from the living room to the kitchen. It isn't until the sound of water splashing meets their ears do they find their objective. It comes from up above. Someone must be showering.

The bedroom is average sized. There's a window which has been sealed shut, a ceiling fan, and of course the door leading to the bathroom where the shower currently runs.

"Beer on his last night?" Says Idris as the bottles of Guinness meet his eyes. "Typical Nigel."

Croff emerges from the closet with a file. "Look what I found. Locations of the places we run our armory contraband."

Idris studies the file. "His research is thorough, I'll give him that."

Croff agrees. He shoots his gaze towards the bathroom. "I can drag him out."

"No." Idris takes a seat. "Let him come to me."

It takes a matter of minutes before the shower ends. Nigel walks out the bathroom with a towel draped around his waist, and instantly he freezes, as the sight of Idris and Croff wasn't expected.

It takes a couple seconds before he has the resolve to speak. "Idris Night Verdonni."

"Nigel Bitch Casso." Idris spits. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

Nigel shrugs like he isn't bothered, but Idris knows he is. Because his chest is heaving. He probably hasn't even realized it yet. "I was hoping you would find out after I got those files to the Toulour family."

Idris disregards the comment. "Since you're about to die, you could at least tell me where Silas is."

Nigel remains mute. Then says, with shaky breaths, "I don't know anything about his whereabouts."

Idris sighs. He could at least put some effort into the lie. He pulls out a gun, this one a temporary stand-in for the customized pistols, and fires at Nigel's left knee. Nigel screeches and hits the floor, the blood from the bullet wound now trickling through the hole.

"Silas?"

"Go to fucking hell, Idris!" Nigel cries out.

"Very original, Nigel. Who helped you with that, your dead mother? Or perhaps the father who sold you off for a pack of weed?"

This one he can tell hit Nigel hard, because he's no longer mourning his knee. He gives him a glare worth more hatred than a thousand men. But Idris has little patience. He points his gun towards his right knee this time.

Nigel begins panicking. "W-wait, I'll talk!" He gulps down as much of his fear as he can. "Silas is currently trying to join the Toulour family. He's been trying to join them for a while now, but that's all I know!"

Idris considers his answer, but fires his gun again anyway. It lands in his left thigh, the next one after that burying itself in the right. He pulls the trigger once again and targets both his shins, and then his feet, until all that erupts from the room is a never ending series of screams. This will teach him to accept bribery from the enemy. It will teach him regret. It will also teach him death.

Idris grabs the file Croff confiscated from the closet, then throws his gun to a wretched Nigel on the floor. "There's a bullet left. In case burning alive isn't on your bucket list." Then he leaves with Croff behind him.

Truth be told, there was no need torturing the information out of Nigel. He has a clear idea of where Silas, the other traitor, could be, but just wanted to be certain the information aligned with Nigel. And now that it does, Idris has no more need for him.

They set the house on fire just as Idris promised. It burns bright under the night sky, making their location an instant attraction. Nigel would probably choose to end his life with the gun than sit through such excruciating torture. But there will be no gunshots. Because the gun Idris gave him was empty. It seems burning alive has made it on to Nigel's bucket list after all.

Before leaving, Idris poses in front of the burning building with a smile, snaps a photo of himself, then hands the phone over to Croff. "Have that sent to Silas."

If there are any more traitors, Idris will sniff them all out. He will reach between the smallest cracks, dig through the darkest alleys — far and wide — until all muddles have been rid of. Like he always has. But what he doesn't know is that his greatest enemy is closer than he thinks.

~《¤》~

JOSI

The sun has set for Josi, and now the sky has taken upon its usual dark tint. She closes the door to the balcony and heads back into the bedroom, where Idris will soon join her in a couple hours' time. Or minutes. Depends on what business he's taking care of.

As the news from Dami has it, the plan has carried on to the last stage, and now all that's left is for the authorities to take charge. If this somehow blows over, Josi has countermeasures in place, but hopefully the situation won't call for it. The plan will work. It has to work. Should it fail, not only will it set her back, but it will discredit her worth in front of the assassin. She will wait to find out tomorrow, as that's the day set for the underboss's visit to the chapel.

Idris arrives minutes and not hours later. He sees Josi in the familiar attire consisting of lingerie and a red robe. Except there's no bra, just the panties. He stands there just staring until he finds some words to say.

"How was the sunset?"

"Very pleasant. Though not as vibrant as yesterday's." Says Josi, already aware of his interest in her body. He takes a seat on a couch and pours himself his favorite drink, whiskey neat, and even offers her a glass. But she declines. Josi is not a lover of whiskey.

She climbs and sits on his lip with legs astride. "Who died this time?"

"What makes you think someone died?"

"Your eyes. They're calmer than usual."

To this, Idris smiles. "You're right."

Josi gives him a smile of her own, then bridges the gap and kisses him. Slow and thorough it is, all while sliding his suit off. And when she pulls away, she looks him straight in the eye with so much intensity. "Be rougher with me today."

Idris returns the stare she gives him, perhaps trying to read into her mind. He wastes no time, though, and immediately he continues the kiss she started-slow at first, then gradually begins picking up speed. Josi sends her fingers through his hair, almost as desperate as Idris is, but he has her beat in that department. He brushes his tongue against her lips on his way in, savoring as much of her taste as possible, until he finds her own tongue.

Josi keeps up the kiss, matching the energy Idris pours in. He carries her to the wall where he sets her down to her feet, lips still glued to hers, as if breaking apart will cause some natural disaster. Then finally, he ends the kiss and flips her over so her chest hits the wall, and so her ass is directly in front of his shaft. Josi's breathing grows heavy, chest heaving at how hard Idris already is. He zips his trousers down with one hand, and with the other finds Josi's mouth.

"Open."

Josi does as told, even sucking his fingers to make things easier for him. Once his fingers have been coated in her saliva, he uses it as a lubricant, then moves her underwear to the side and finally thrusts into her. The pain is what Josi feels first. She gasps at the friction, eyes shut and nails against the wall. With each thrust, she finds a certain level of pleasure from the pain. It spikes her body's temperature and brings with it anticipation.

Idris's pace starts off slow as he eases into Josi, then gradually builds up in speed. He clamps down around her waist with one hand, then intertwines the other with Josi's fingers on the wall. The pleasure seems as unbearable for him as Josi, because he begins whispering curses in the three languages he speaks, right into her ear. She leans her forehead against the wall as a measure for coping, but Idris gives her no space to do so. He selfishly plunges into her, as the warmth she brings him has clouded his mind.

Josi begins growing weak in the knees. But almost as if Idris had sensed it, he pulls away, turns her back around, and carries her up once again. Josi gives him more fervent kisses, which he gleefully returns with the same energy. Then she grabs his cock and slips it back in. This time, curses are thrown from both sides. Josi bites down on her lip as Idris fills her up, emitting waves of pleasure that turn her body hot. The pain may have subsided at this point, but the gratification still remains.

Josi is lost in the pleasure, to the point where she begins clawing at his back. Idris seems to enjoy this pain, as his thrusts have become faster. Harder. Until all Josi can emit is a stifled breath that doesn't even fully make it through her throat. He lays kisses against her collarbone; bites against her neck. He must not want her to catch her breath, because all this does is drive Josi further to the edge. She's swimming in a sea of pure lust, drowning in the fulfillment Idris brings her.

But even with her incapacity to keep up, Idris doesn't stop. He is not yet done with her. He carries her over to the bed and lays her down on the edge, then once again, gives her another such intense kiss. He kisses her until both their lips become swollen and he has to pull away. Even better for him, because now he can kiss other places that drive Josi mad. Such as her neck. Her chest. He leaves a steady trail down until he meets her breasts. Then he really takes his time.

He sucks on the right first, all while fondling the left. He gathers what he can of her breast into his mouth, savoring the saline taste, relishing in the moans Josi emits. When he allows it go, he takes a bite of her dark nipple, a form of teasing as Josi understands. She squirms as he switches to the left, doing exactly as he did to the right, sucking and biting and teasing until Josi's mind grows numb.

Now comes the part that truly sends Josi on a roller-coaster ride. Idris continues his journey down to her stomach, leaving the kisses until he arrives between her legs. He still keeps up with it, placing them through her underwear, decreasing his pace so it leaves her on the edge. He plants a kiss on her inner thighs, and then another on her pussy. Josi grips the sheets, already too sensitive from the earlier acts of gratification.

"Stop teasing me." She tells him, which comes out more as a plea than as a statement.

All Idris does is smile, perhaps at her inability to do anything about the situation. Still, he takes his time. "And miss the chance to watch you squirm?" He places another, ending it with a teasing bite. "Wouldn't dream of it." And he continues laying down the kisses on the same spot-right on her entrance, through her soaked underwear.

Josi's ragged breath hangs in the air, chest rising and falling from the anticipation Idris has built.

"It already tastes so good, Josita."

She digs her fingers through her hair, waiting, coping. Until finally, Idris slips her underwear off and throws it to the floor. The pleasure hits Josi hard. He keeps a steady pace when he licks his way in, then slows down when he glides over her clitoris, all to make it as excruciating as possible. Josi moans. She cries out. But Idris only takes this as more incentive. He sucks on the folds, savoring the taste, then dips his tongue in once again.

Eyes glazed with tears, toes curled over his shoulders. Josi is on the brink of losing her mind. She grips and ungrips the sheets, unable to manage the warmth Idris's mouth brings. Unable to even call out his name. And at the pace he's going, she can tell things won't be over any time soon. This will be a long night, leading into a tomorrow that will bear good news.

__

The following morning starts off with an interruption. A phone ringing. Josi sits up on the bed and tries recollecting herself, but with a body too sore and lacking of strength, she has to rely on the headboard for support. Idris is sitting on the edge of the bed, handling the call which woke them both from sleep. It must be something serious seeing as he hasn't said much since the call began.

Josi collapses onto his back and embraces him, still exhausted, but also straining to see if she can make out the nature of the conversation. Not much can be heard, but it matters little. Because Idris's tone gives it away.

"How did that fucking happen?!"

Josi slows her breath down, heart thumping in her ears. Is this it? Did the plan follow through? Idris ends the call and throws the phone on the bed in frustration, then leaves Josi's grasp and grabs a robe on his way to the door. He slams it so hard, the echo seems to rage on for ages.

Josi, already aware of the situation, scrambles for the remote and turns the TV on. The news channel is what brings her the good news. There on the side of the screen is a photo of Ramsey with footage of his arrest in the background. There are police cars everywhere, swarming the chapel from every corner, their attention all on the now declared criminal, Ramsey Di'Marino.

The anchorman relays the news to the viewers, but Josi has already tuned out. Her plan worked. It was executed perfectly. Ramsey has been detained. A surge of energy washes over her body, bringing with it a feeling that makes her weightless. Like she's floating. Then she smiles, which then turns into a grin, and then a chuckle. And finally laughter. She can't contain her glee. She's soaring over cloud nine.

Josi basks in her first victory, knowing that there will be more to come in the future, and that she will succeed until Idris Night Verdonni is the last man standing. This is still only the beginning.

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#Josi1stwin