Convicted murderer

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Title: Convicted murderer
Author: Myself
Written: August 2010
Chapter: Stand alone
Pairing: David/Pierre
Rating: NC-17
Genre: AU
Summary: I want you to live, but... you can't.
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, didn't happen


Hello, my name is David Phillippe Desrosiers and I’m 75 years old. When I was 30 years old I murdered my last boyfriend. His name was Pierre Charles Bouvier. When I was 15 I murdered my first boyfriend. I’ve murdered all my boyfriends, 25 boyfriends. I just needed to do it. I didn’t want to get hurt. So instead, I hurt them.
I loved Pierre, more than anything. He was the one I was living and breathing for. He was different than the other boys. I didn’t want to kill him… I was 32 when I got into this prison in Montréal and I will be here until the day I die. I turned myself in when Pierre finally was out of blood, he was dried out. I was just convicted for that single murder. No one knows how many people I’ve actually killed. And maybe that’s for the best, because if anyone had known I would probably have been convicted to death. And I have never wanted to die like that.
Now, I would like to share what Pierre and I had and why I had to kill him.

I was naked in my bed, it was almost 11AM. Pierre was next to me in the big bed, he was still asleep. I watched him sleep, he looked so adorable. I smiled and gently stroked his cheek. That made him opens his eyes. The smile was still on my face.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”
“Good morning… what time is it?”
“Almost 11AM.”
“Shit, I fell asleep at five…”
“I know… sorry for waking you up.”

He smiled and shook his head. He looked so tired, but that made him even more adorable. I pulled my cover off and put his over both of us. Our legs were intertwined, I took his soft hand and intertwined our fingers a swell. He looked into my eyes. His brown eyes made me melt inside. I really wanted to stay with him.
We laid there quite while looking into each other’s eyes. I didn’t knew what he was thinking, but I knew what I was thinking about. I thought about my 24 previous boyfriends. What I had shared with them and what I did to them.
Also, when I looked into those beautiful eyes I knew what I wanted. I didn’t want to kill this beautiful man. I wanted to have a life with him. A life where we could get married and have kids. I wanted to have a beautiful life with him. This man didn’t deserve to die.

“What are you thinking about, David?”
“That I love you. And what are you thinking about?”
“That I’m hungry.”
“Let’s eat something.”

We got up out of bed and stood up. We both were naked. Pierre looked so beautiful when he was naked. I went around the bed until I was standing next to him. Gently, I pressed my lips on his. He kissed me back and wrapped his arms around me. My hands gently stroked the sides of his body as he played with my hair and my nipples. I giggled into his mouth and pressed myself closer to him. When my penis touched his penis like that, Pierre smiled and parted our lips.

“Baby, I’m too tired to play with you.”

I just smiled and bent down to the floor to pick up my boxers. So did Pierre and we went out of the bedroom out to the kitchen. Pierre made some bacons and scrambled eggs while I toasted bread. Eventually, our breakfast was ready and we sat down and ate it together. It was quite and romantic.
Months passed by, I never felt the need of killing Pierre. The only feeling I felt around him was love. I loved him more than anyone I had loved before. I was driving home from work and dropped by the cemetery. No one else was there. It was a small cemetery; I was alone almost every time. I went straight to the newer graves and stopped by a simple grey stone. The only thing that was there was the name and the dates of birth and death. I smiled to the grave. “Charles-André Comeau. Born in September 1979, dead in August 2009. May God be mercy with his soul.” I kissed the stone and then walked away.

I heard some sobs when I got inside the door. They follow by a small cry. It came from the bedroom. I walked in there, and on the floor sat Pierre. He looked in a book, a book where I kept pictures of my old boyfriends. What they looked like when I first met them, how they looked like when they were dead and how I killed them. I was frozen; I didn’t know what to do. Pierre got to the 25th page and saw a picture of him. Nothing stood about him. Eventually he turned his head and looked at me. He looked scared to death.

“Don’t come any closer.”
“Pierre…”
“Shut up! David, what the fuck?! When were you planning on killing me?”
“I don’t want to kill you. I love you.”
“Yeah, right. And Santa Claus is for real.”
“It’s true…”
“Shut up with that crap! I’m calling the police. You’re sick.”

He turned to pick up his phone from the floor. I grabbed a book on his bedside table and hit him in the head.

When he woke up he was tied in the bed, with no clothes. I sighed and looked at him. I didn’t want to kill him. Why did he have to find the book? Why was he so curious? Couldn’t he be a normal boyfriend and don’t care about my personal things? Sighed once again and played with the knife in my hand.

“David…”
“I never wanted to kill you. I love you so much.”
“You don’t have to. We can forget this, get over it.”
“No, we can’t.”

I cried and sat beside him on the bed. I stroked his cheek and played with his hair. Pierre looked so scared. He looked like he thought I was going to rape him. Slowly, I bent over and gave him a kiss. He didn’t kiss back, but that didn’t stop me. I licked his lips and begged for a kiss back. Eventually he did. It wasn’t a normal kiss. It was a goodbye kiss. A kiss that said that we were never going to kiss again.

“I love you, Pierre.”
“You know that I love you too…”
“I’m turning myself in after I’ve killed you. I promise.”
“David…”

He never said anything more. I cut him in the neck and met artery immediately. I knew it was only a matter of seconds. He looked chocked. After a minute he was completely dried out. Pierre Bouvier had ended his life, 31 years old. In 15 years I had killed 25 people. I burned my book and walked out of the house. Straight to the police office.

So now you know what I did. This is the last time I tell anyone what happened the day Pierre Bouvier died. Tomorrow when the guards find this letter I will be dead.
And when I end my life I hope that God will be mercy with my soul and that the people I killed will forgive me. Especially Pierre. I hope that I can live with him in the next life. Forever, married and with two kids.
I look at the razorblade and cut my neck artery, I will die the same way as Pierre.