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Summary
In his previous life, before he’d lost his memories, he may have loved the man. No, love was not quite the right word. Obsessed, perhaps, not with the person himself, but with the countless ideas on how to make a mess of the man, both as a sexual partner and a corpse. To have him scream and cry, in pain and pleasure, to have his arms and legs twist how he wanted, to break his bones and hear the cracks, to taste the blood and tears as he bit him and clawed at him.