Imre: POV - Prelude to the Murder

Note: so I wanted to rework the Imre not being able to be with someone else after Crowny and him fight. I like this version better cause he really is bamboozled. A bit NSFW.

He couldn’t quite understand what this boy was blabbing about and frankly he didn’t care to understand. It was all just fodder. His mind kept replaying the words exchanged between himself and them. He just couldn’t understand why they reacted the way that they did. Couldn’t they see that he was trying to help them? Yes, his overall motives began and currently are primarily to benefit himself but he has come to see that they can be benefitted as well. 

So why is it that they can’t see that? He scowls into his drink. He finds beer disgusting but a cup covers up his displeasure. Always the entertainer, always the gracious generous host and always the golden boy. 

On days like these —that mindless buffons are competing for his affections and the one person he has any true effort for has fled from his presence— he feels so tired. His lips still tingle with that kiss. He finds himself comparing it to other kisses he has received throughout his life. 

They aren’t the most skilled, it would be fanciful romanticism if he claimed that. Of course, how could they? As far as he knows they have never been kissed. But what’s making his jaw clench and his hand run angrily through his hair is that he somehow can’t forget it. Why? 

When he first truly conversed with them he had decided to pursue them solely to see if he could. They proved the most interesting challenge he had ever undertaken. A murderer and a pariah? Someone who views his kind as being all the same type of brats who swing their money and social class around like bats? They had no reason to ever let him within feet of them. That was the most enticing thing of all. He had never chased anyone the way he had chased them. Never laid more honesty amidst his lies the way he had with them. 

And he resented them for it. He had begun to wish they hadn’t been who they are. It would be easier if another Crown had been the one he needed to get closer to. If it had been Salvatore, he could’ve convinced him in time, ultimately the so-called heir of the Crown dynasty is rather spineless. If it had been Percy, he could’ve bribed him. Orla… likely seduced her into compliance. 

But this one? This one should’ve been panting, perched on his thighs and begging for his attention with what he’s done with them. This strategy has never failed, the pretty girl pressing up against him is a clear sign of that. 

She smells sweet. He likes a woman who takes care of herself. He appreciates adoring beauty with more beauty. He feels every person is their own flower, and he is merely the gardener that cultivates them. He can be a cruel God and squeeze them beneath his well manicured fingers but destruction isn’t always negative. Destruction is merely creating new ground for a creation. 

Her breath —tinged with rancid alcohol— is left to be desired. She whispers in his ear, “do you wanna go somewhere Imrrreeeeee?”

She hiccups and covers her mouth. “Sorry!” she giggles. He grabs her elbow to hold her steady. 

“Imre?” the blabbing boy says. “Did you hear what I said?”

Of course, you idiot. How could I not with that absolutely grating voice?

“Yes. Congratulations on the car. I’ve heard it’s the quickest on the market,” Imre replies, while still looking at the girl. 

“Yea, totally. I could totally take you out for a spin,” the boy offers. 

“I would love that,” Imre says as he extracts the cup from the girl’s hand. 

“Cool! We could go now if you want,” he says. 

Imre looks at the boy and smiles kindly, “I would but as you can see, Lily doesn’t seem to be doing too well. I should see her to one of the rooms.”

The boy gives Imre a knowing smirk as if they were in on a joke together. The girls surrounding them stare enviously at the drunken Lily. He feels it’s a soothing balm on Imre’s bruised ego. His gift was rejected by them, so be it. He can find multitudes who would jump at the chance to covet his attention. 

Beautiful Lily just happened to be the lucky girl. He leads her out of the throng and into the corridor. She practically puts the weight of her body on his, her breasts squished against his arm as she hugs it. 

Imre opens a guest-room and leads her to the bed where she plops down ungraciously, nearly toppling off the bed. She reaches for his belt but he lightly pries her hands off. “I’ll lock the door first, I prefer not to be disturbed with such a beauty.”

Lily giggles and slaps her hands to her cheeks. Adorable, he thinks drily. 

Once he locks the door he walks over to the bed, his hands tucked into his pockets. He coldly runs his eyes along her lithe form. She moves her arms up in a clear display to show off her ample breasts. A basic tactic but he will take the bare minimum to wipe away the distaste he has. 

“Take off your clothes,” he orders her. 

Lily smiles perversely and sits up. Her ‘costume’ is fairly flimsy to say the least. Leaving little to the imagination and she knows this. She slides down the straps and starts pulling slowly in an attempt to be sensual. 

If Imre was feeling cruel he would have laughed, instead he watches her without much emotion. She’ll likely mistake that for contained desire. 

The dress gets caught along her breasts, interrupting her leisurely strip show and she grumbles as he forcefully pulls it down. It tears and bursts open along her stomach. “Oops!” she squeals and shimmies out of the torn dress. 

Imre takes it from her hand and brings it to his nose, “a pity.”

“Oh, I don’t care! I can buy like ten of that dress with my daddy’s money,” she claims and takes it from him to throw it on the floor. 

“Daddy’s money must be ample,” Imre says as he rubs the strap of her bra in between his fingers. 

“Yep! He got a promotion this year—” she burps, “and he promised we’re going to Switzerland for Christmas.”

“Oh,” he says inattentively.

“If you want,” she says, trailing a hand up his leg, “I could ask him to buy you a ticket too.”

“That would be lovely,” he replies as he trails his fingers on her chest. Lies of course. Imre knows Lily’s father is near bankruptcy. He has wanted to see Imre’s father to beg for a loan. Imre has had to be the one to repeatedly tell him that no one gets a private audience with his father. He hasn’t taken it so lightly and has made some…. unsavoury threats. 

His father said he would deal with it. Imre does not know how but he almost pities Lily’s father for what gaining the wrath of his father means. 

Imre coaxes Lily to kneel on the bed, he watches with a mirthless smile as she starts unbuckling his belt, running his hand through her soft red locks. 

One handedly he unhooks her bra and lets her breasts bounce along her flesh. His eyes travel down from there, along her pale stomach towards her smooth legs. She’ll feel divine underneath him. 

But as he thinks that he finds that the prospect is not so appealing to him. His eyes darken but he lets her unzip his pants and pull his penis out. He’s not particularly hard when she holds him in her and she pouts. 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks in her best impression of an innocent virgin voice. 

Imre runs his hand along her head, “no. I was merely distracted. You’re beautiful, I just need a bit more encouragement.”

She smiles wickedly, licking her lips, “I can give you encouragement.” The smile is wrong, he realizes. 

It’s not the same he wishes to see at this moment. He growls internally and moves his hands away from her as she starts tugging at him. He tries to focus on her hardening nipples and the patch of her he sees through her lace panties. 

He tries to focus on how smooth her hands are when they pull at him. Her tongue when she starts licking him. Oh, how he tries. But his hand clenches in his pocket and his venomous glare is directed at the crown of Lily’s head. 

It isn’t her fault she isn’t who he wants her to be. It isn’t her fault that they had been ungrateful enough to reject his favour and disappear from his sight to god-knows-where perhaps they have already left the party. 

It isn’t her fault. Yet, he can’t help but detest her in that moment from not being who he wants her to be. For not being them. Kneeled in front of him and taking him into their mouth, as a show of how much they value and respect him. How much they need and desire him. 

She stops licking, moving her face away and with uncertainty she looks up at him with worried eyes, “Imre?”

“Damn it,” he swears and moves away from her, tucking himself into his pants. 

“Do you want me to do something else?” Lily asks, all the eager to please. 

“No,” he says stiffly. 

“But I can! I can touch myself if you want? Or let you fuck my boobs? Or let you—”

“Please, be quiet,” he says and pitches the bridge of his nose. 

Fortunately, she listens. 

When he drops his hand he notices how forlorn she is, covering herself with a pillow. He goes to her and caresses her head, “this has little to do with you. I’m a distracted man tonight. Not the most exciting lover.”

Her eyes look too red for his comfort and he selfishly thinks that he hopes he won’t have to stay here and console her shattered confidence for the next half hour. 

“Why are you distracted?” she asks with a barely audible voice. She’s trying to not cry. 

He sighs and sits down next to her, clasping his hands on his lap. “I have a problem, dear. A… bug has been buzzing around me and I can’t seem to shake them.”

“Why not get bug spray?” she sniffles and he reaches over to the bedside table to offer her a napkin that she loudly blows into. 

“This particular bug is a bit hard to kill. Ironically now when I need them to appear and annoy me in order to squash them they have disappeared,” he explains, grimacing at this pathetic analogy. 

She rubs her nose and says, “you should go look for it now. I don’t want a bug to bite me.”

Imre chuckles, “yes I should. It seems I won’t be able to rest until I’ve caught them.”

Imre offers her her tattered dress and stands up, he waits for her to dress and fix her hair before leading her out of the room. 

She turns to him outside the door and asks, “can we try again later? I just really really want to do this with you.”

Imre smiles softly, “I think you should find someone who would appreciate the beauty you are more than I could. My bug issue is far larger than you imagine and will take up my time.”

“How long? Can’t you get an exterminator? I know Barry—”

He shakes his head, “I am the only one who can deal with this. I want to.”

Lily seems confused but doesn’t press him further. “Ok… I guess I’ll go back to the party.”

Before she turns away Imre suggests, “could you lessen the drinking? Some of these schoolboys aren’t gentlemen.”

She nods and gives him a quick smile before walking away. Imre’s smile disappears and a surge of anger shoots through him. What sort of trick have they done to him? Is it a spell? Whatever it is, he’ll relish telling them he doesn’t approve of such base plots. 

He can’t stand to be underneath anyone's power but his own. He can’t stand to not him them trembling beneath him.

He ignores how his groin twitches at the thought of finding them and manhandling their body into deference.