The Killer of Killers v 1 & 2 (complete) by T. X. Brooks
Finished September 14, 2026
So, given the subject matter (a serial killer who kills serial killers and his tense affair with the FBI agent out to catch him) I was super excited about this one. It could not have sounded more up my alley. With that plot, it was made for me!
I came so close to not even finishing the first book. It was only through my perverse obsession with completion and having to know the ending that I finished the second.
I don’t even know where to start so I guess I’ll let the quotes do the talking.
Okay, this first one isn’t too bad, a bit cliche but a little funny:
Wayne’s face crinkled as he smiled. “You’re very welcome, buddy. You’re the most lovable international student I’ve ever met.”
Ears flushing red, Binqing lowered his head.
“Aw, he’s blushing! How adorable. I’d better leave while I can, before I take a bite out of those cheeks.” Guffawing, the muscular man walked away.
Was that… sexual harassment? He was more or less certain, but on the other hand, Americans seemed capable of saying whatever they thought and felt. Maybe it was he who should adapt to the forwardness of the local culture?
But then we get into some great dialogue between factions on campus after a body is found:
“The guts you bunch of apes and dog-eaters have to be here chit-chatting. Shouldn’t you be cowering in your bedrooms, curled up under the sheets? Maybe you’ve forgotten, but the one from five months ago and this one were both impure breeds like you. Who knows, one of you might be next.”
The ginger student was quick to fire back. “Seriously, fuck off, Clyde! Take your Nazi eugenics bullshit and rot in your inbred hell.”
Clyde scoffed and shot right back. “What? Is your cunt wanting a good ramming again, Colin? Your hole must be puckering at the thought of getting a nice, thick wood shoved right up there. Y’know, the Rose Butcher’s just a call away. Oh, maybe you didn’t know: those pathetic lowlifes were also faggots, and I have to thank the Rose Butcher for making the world a greener, cleaner place.”
The slur pushed Colin over the edge. The ginger let out a roar as he swung a fist at Clyde, who did not back down. The two groups instantly became tangled in heated fighting.
Binqing swiftly backed away, eager to distance himself from this brawl pitching racist homophobes against anti-racist allies.
Racist homophobes! The most cliche, tropey, embarrassingly-dialogued racist homophobes to ever exist, even! We need the most stereotypical bigot we can find and that is CLYDE BRANDY. Need more proof?
“Any priors?”
“Speeding, DUI, disorderly conduct, simple assault—none of it is on record, but our officers have dealt with him plenty of times. Students and professors at PSU report that he’s expressed extreme right-wing and homophobic opinions.”
“So he’s a racist homophobe. Perfect! He just needs to also be a pathological liar to qualify as a congressman,” Thea jeered. “Why haven’t you detained him?”
So witty and clever! Yes, why haven’t you detained him? Let me guess:
“We have. He doesn’t have a reasonable alibi for the estimated time of death provided by our forensics team. What’s more, the crime lab report came back with reasonable suspicion that an injury on Myravitch’s arm was cause by Brandy’s damaged diamond watch. There was even a diamond fragment stuck in Myravitch’s skin, but… that was only detention. We had to let his lawyer take him.” Sergeant Jackson was hesitant. “The thing is, he’s a Brandy. In fact, he’s the future heir to the Brandy corporation. His old man’s a senator too, thanks to which his priors have been wiped clean.”
Of course! Like we haven’t seen this a hundred million times before! Fuckin’ homophobic racist extreme right-wingers and their rich ass parents getting them out of trouble. Boy. I just…amazing. Such creativity.
Of course this is all a red herring and Clyde Brandy is totally not the killer, not the serial killer or the person who kills Colin. Which, about that:
“His next target? Based on the profiles that experts have put together on him, the targets have been homosexual men of color. Paired with an especially violent way of killing that suggests pent-up hatred and anger, they suspect he’s a white supremacist and homophobe.”
The sheer amount of times Colin is referred to as “the ginger” actually made me come back to this (incorrect) profile because do I not understand what “ginger” means that it at all matches with “men of color?”
Anyway, spoiler, the white supremacist homophobe is getting done dirty here because the killer is actually the closeted Latino.
Moving on, we have a really cute example of one of the things that repeatedly drove me crazy. Two of the things, I guess. One is that the author chose to be really specific about certain things and I don’t think it was necessary. I get this is a very…personal pet peeve and that a lot of people can read gun stuff and just let it roll right on by. But my asshole self always has to stop a moment, “Really? I don’t think that’s right.”
But second from just weird gun name-dropping is this mechanical, robotic, cut-and-pastey exposition style:
Holding his Glock 18 in his hands, he was comforted by its smooth barrel and 17-round mag as well as its ease of carry and rate of fire of twenty rounds per minute.
“I’d trust you over any grappling technique, Glen old boy,” he confessed tenderly to the fully automatic firearm before storing it in his shoulder holster.
??? The first paragraph has me wondering if this was lifted straight from an ad for Glock (no, I doubt an ad would be that cringe-worthy) and the second paragraph made me wonder: 1. fully auto? really?; 2. Glen???
Now, in case you think I’m being too harsh and you like the fact the author did enough research to add such detaily details:
When he saw a blade slashing toward him, he was overwhelmed by a sense of dread—but only momentarily—before his survival instincts kicked in. With a fistful of dirt that he had grabbed while on the ground, he managed to make his attacker intuitively raise both hands to protect his eyes. Taking advantage of the momentary lapse of attention, Leo leapt some ten feet away in one breath—toward the Glock that had been knocked away. Milliseconds ahead of his assailant, Leo wrapped his hand around the grip and, knowing the safety was off, pulled the trigger.
Of course the fucking safety was off. Glocks don’t have traditional mechanical safeties.
Whatever.
Somewhat related to the cut-and-paste over-explanation of things, we have regular occasions of very fanfic-esque, yay representation, could you be any more stereotypical dialogue and exposition:
“I’ll take this to the profiler,” he said, taking the sheet that the boy was holding up. “You can wait here in the meantime. The break room has drinks and snacks if you need them. Don’t get too close to that girl.”
“Why?” Binqing blinked his wide, innocent eyes.
“She’s bi, and she doesn’t cut ties properly with her exes. I doubt you want to make enemies with a big, chunky policewoman with a fiery temper. Because believe it or not, that ex came into the office yesterday and mistook me for Emily’s new man crush, so it became a whole situation.”
Oh, shit, bro! Not the sassy chunky lesbian. And man crush? You bet it became a “whole situation.” Damn.
Further along into the “I don’t think real people talk like this, what even is this dialogue” rabbit hole, we have the scene where Leo meets the Killer of Killers, the Green Cleaner, or…”GC” for short as he so cutely calls him. They’re in this murder house fighting for their lives against a common enemy but in the short reprieve:
Seeing such a cold-blooded expression on such a handsome face sent a sharp pang through Leo’s chest. He wasn’t quite sure what it was. Resentment, disappointment—both? For a moment, he even wanted to try persuading the criminal to change his ways for the better.
“Your work, you say? GC, this is neither your job nor your responsibility—it’s mine. I know you despise those murderers, but at the same time, you’re becoming the very thing you hunt. Trust me, you don’t want to look in the mirror and see someone you want to kill.”
“I suppose you’re trying to convince me to give up my evil ways and embrace Lady Justice? It’s a pity that she’s got a tad too much on her plate with all the corrupt politicians, predatory lobbyists, greedy corporations and violent gangs. Lady Justice is now a lady of the night dying from AIDS. Murderers are the last of her concerns if you know what I mean. Think about it, even the most deadly murderer has got to murder his victims one at a time, but politicians, on the other hand, might exterminate whole nations with a word.”
Wow! So deep! So edgy! So original and insightful and raw. So…long fucking winded when people are trying to kill you?
That and I have to laugh because having made it to the end of this thing, this conversation really has nothing to do with anything. Yeah, “greedy corporations” might get involved somewhat at the very end in a side story, but overall, “GC” (I cringe every time for some reason) is motivated by something extremely personal, not something as ambiguous as politics.
In the midst of this, they do return to trying to kill (or apprehend) the people trying to kill them. Leo gets shot in the leg. Well, as we allll know, if you have a bullet in your leg, you gotta get it out!
The Cleaner began pressing and nudging the quadriceps in a particular way. With one specific squeeze, he maneuvered the bullet to the opening of the skin, eliciting a grunt from the federal agent. When he tried to pinch the cartridge
Wait, the cartridge?!
[…] When he tried to pinch the cartridge out with his fingers, however, it slid away.
Next, he opted for another strategy, much to Leo’s surprise. The federal agent watched, dumbfounded, as the man ducked between his legs and gingerly held the bullet between his teeth. When the man looked back at him, the bloody, distorted round was nestled between lips stained scarlet by his own blood. The LED light made the man’s fair skin glisten like frost against his dark hair, and when his brown eyes met his own blue ones, Leo gasped and lost his breath.
Clink.
As the bullet hit the concrete, Leo’s brain finally registered the initial gunshot wound. Like a mirror, cracks began forming and spreading from the puncture until the entire pane shattered. Eyes wide and mind blank, he was blinded by a rush of colors and palpitations, so much so that he didn’t see the Cleaner’s face drawing closer and closer—until their lips were touching. Then the kiss deepened. The taste of blood exploded in his mouth, simultaneously scorching his tongue and coating with sweet syrup.
This was so fucking stupid but I actually kind of dug the last bit. It was already so dumb, might as well just go over the top.
The “like a mirror” bit reminds me—this thing is loaded with simile and metaphor to the point of being excessive. I get that the author is trying to be artsy (at least, I think that’s what she’s doing?) but it feels less artsy and more ridiculous. And a lot of them just don’t land. (In my opinion, of course.)
Okay so this and that happens and Mr. By-the-Book handcuffs GC and naturally GC dislocates his thumb and escapes.
Realizing that “double-edged sword” was the perfect descriptor for the Cleaner, Leo began to regret having let the man slip form his handcuffs this time. He could only pray for another chance, and by then the Cleaner would surely be appearing before him with a brand new face.
His eyes glanced up by chance at Binqing, who was in his seat, quietly waiting for him to finish the meal. A peculiar idea arose in his mind. If only that reckless killer were a little more docile and sweet like his pudding boy. His. It didn’t occur to Leo that the possessive pronoun was out of place.
It also didn’t occur to Leo that Binqing is GC in disguise either. But I’ll allow it; that’s part of the fun.
I’ll spare you some of the other quotes I picked, they’re getting annoying. So we find out (of course) that ultra-rule-following Leo has some ~trauma~:
“I said, no!” Leo shrieked in a pitch that didn’t belong to his voice.
“But—”
Leo flung the glass onto the wall. Before the shattered glass even touched the floor, he swept everything off the table, causing a wet mess on the carpet, and sprang to his feet. He sent the table crashing into the bedside table with a kick.
“No! I said no! How many times do I gotta fuckin’ say it?! I don’t wanna see no damn doctor. I don’t wanna pop no pills. This is my body, and I get final say over it! Not you, not anyone else!”
The man had completely lost it. He was no longer the poised professional who exuded self-control and confidence. Binqing could not fathom the level of distress the man had been bearing to make such a strong individual crumple like this, but he couldnt’ just let this escalate into hysteria. There had to be a way to appease his aggression and calm things down. He took a tentative step toward the taller man.
Okay, yeah, I get we need trauma to further the plot (and give them an excuse to cuddle and for Leo to be weak and for Binqing to tell him he ~understands~ and it’s “not his fault” blah blah blah) and I get that trauma makes people do weird shit. But this was just super out of character to me for one thing: no matter how upset Leo is, I can’t picture him using double negatives. “I don’t wanna pop no pills.” Yeah okay, gangsta. Gotchu.
Oh, this is long, but it’s a super normal, natural-sounding conversation:
On the way back to the inn, Binqing didn’t make a peep. Once in the privacy of the room, Leo looked him in the eye as earnestly as he could.
“I want to hear it. Say what’s on your mind. I’m listening.”
A few seconds of silence ensued before it was broken by a quiet voice.
“Why is it that we as a society have so much sympathy for someone suffering from a physical illness like a broken arm or a blinded eye? But when it comes to mental illness, all you get is rejection and discrimination? I don’t get it, Leo. There are people who constantly wash their hands or check a hundred times whether they’ve turned off all the lights due to OCD. There are people who lose sleep thinking about some trivial thing. There are people get depressed and lose their minds over a failed relationship, a lost job or disqualification. What I’m getting at it, we all have some kind of mental or emotional problem. It’s just the degree of severity that’s different.” Getting emotional himself, he clutched the special agent’s arm. “If that’s the case, why aren’t we more understanding and considerate when it comes to mental illness?”
Whoa, bro, that’s deep.
There’s way more to this scene, culminating with Binqing’s impassioned:
“You’re the best member of law enforcement I’ve ever met. You’re brave and honest. You have strong principles. You vehemently oppose all that is evil and still have a soft spot for all that is good and kind. Did you know you light up like the sun when you’re pursuing criminals? You don’t deserve to be tormented by anything. Whatever it may be, I don’t believe that you were in the wrong.”
Ignoring the fact that “light up like the sun when you’re pursuing criminals” comes of as a bit strange, this whole thing is so cringeworthy. The slight exception I might allow is that GC as Binqing is trying to worm his way into Leo’s heart, so it could be that these giant paragraphs aren’t “true” or meant to be taken seriously.
I hope so but for some reason I don’t think that’s the case.
So Leo confesses his sins to Binqing, they snuggle together in their just-one-bed situation. Leo (allegedly) wakes up first next to (an allegedly) still-sleeping Binqing:
Binqing now lay on his stomach, his T-shirt riding up his torso to reveal his waist. Leo’s eyes traced the suggestive dip along the spine that extended beneath the blue elastic band of his briefs. The sheer fabric stretched thin over a perky bubble butt before giving way to a pair of long, toned legs.
hahahaha noooo not the “perky bubble butt” whyyyy
Leo was sitting at a table full of wonderful culinary creations, but he was only allowed to eat with his eyes and nose. Out of other ideas, he reached into his own briefs and imagined it was Binqing who was holding onto his member, who stroked it back and forth, who choked and gagged on it, who took it up his tight hole…
Well that escalated quickly!
So yeah, Leo jerks it to the kid (“kid” doing a lot of heavy lifting here) sleeping ~oh so innocently~ next to him, blows in his undies, and is of course immediately ashamed. (Super belated note: Binqing is supposed to be Leo’s sister’s fiance.)
Okay, this part made me laugh. The entire previous 302 pages we have been hit over the head with the fact Leo is a workaholic, obsessive agent, super by-the-book, all about The Rules. Okay, know the type, got it. After his confession to Binqing about accidentally killing a hostage and then covering it up, we see okay, maybe he’s not as rulebound as we’re led to believe, but he’s still all about the LAW. You can’t do shit that’s illegal. It’s wrong.
Not sure if the abbot was a light sleeper, Binqing trod lightly, whereas Leo whipped out an air-tight pouch from his jacket just for the occasion. Unsealing it, he pinched out a piece of wet gauze and pressed it over the abbot’s nose and mouth. About thirty seconds later, he released the pressure and cautiously resealed the gauze in its own packaging.
“Forane. It’s used in general anesthesia. He should be out for three to four hours, which is plenty enough time for us to investigate.”
Uhhh okay? I guess we don’t bend the rules at all ever unless we need to break into the abbot’s secret room by stealing his secret key and to do that we knock him out? That’s super totally legal and normal.
(And yes, the abbot—while not the killer—was of course super crazy religious zealot embalming dead children. Because of course he was. He’s the abbot at an orphanage.)
This made me laugh, whether it was intended to or not:
Leo could only stare dumbly at his gun. The smell of gunpowder permeated his nostrils, the muzzle flash lingered on his retina, and the blast echoed in his ears. Nevertheless, he couldn’t begin to wrap his head around the ease with which he had fired the shot—the shot that disintegrated his perpetual nightmares, mental obstacles and wayward emotions.
He had always assumed that the process of healing would be excruciating and take years. He had totally given up, instead allowing himself to become dependent on an increasing dosage of drugs and to drown himself in work so as to have too little time to brood over the subject. Now, five years later, the bullet had finally traveled its rightful path, never to stray again.
The lesson here: you don’t need therapy, you just need to shoot a bitch.
Now we’re onto the next case and we’re introduced to Xavier, a gang member fresh out of prison. A bit of his backstory:
In the heat of war, every soldier was a ticking time bomb, and Xavier was no exception. As the First Superior of a set based in Brownsville, he started beef with a Crip set by stabbing a Crab eleven times because the fucker wolf-whistled at one of his side squeezes and called her his shawty.
I can’t quit laughing what even am I supposed to say about this. Yep, those are words. Good job.
Xavier is our eyes into the “rich people hunting poor people on Epstein a private rich people island bet you’ve never heard that plot before” arc. GC goes undercover as “Duke” one of the poor people recruited as prey so he can get access and of course kill all the rich hunters. Leo is undercover as a rich hunter trying to get info on the ultra-rich diabolical mastermind and bring him to JUSTICE:
Rafael Garcia-Yang—or should we say Special Agent Lawrence—had successfully infiltrated the Artemis Club but still had some ways to go until his ultimate objective. He was to make contact with the founder and mastermind behind the club, Andrew Stuart, and collect incriminating evidence to convict him and expose the heinous events that had taken place on these tropical islands.
And by all means, Leo was as prepared as he ever would be. He just didn’t expect to run into a certain someone who would throw a wrench into his plans and bring about a complete train wreck.
DUN DUN DUNNNNNN. Omg who could that be. I can’t wait.
Are you ready for volume two?
GC and Xavier kill one or two of the rich dudes and get some weaponry. They run into Leo. Xavier sells out Leo to the horny weirdo that runs the island, so Leo and Duke are hiding out in a cave, I think on a slab of rock since the cave is filled with water from the tide.
Naturally, the thing to do in this situation is fuck. Leo spits on his dick and goes for it.
He stayed in the blissful hold for a few moments longer just so Duke could get used to his size. What followed was beyond the control of his first brain. Just as promised, he learned all the ins and outs. Duke fit him like a glove, as if tailor-made with “Leo Lawrence” stitched along the seam, sliding on and off at his whim and enduring whatever treatment he threw at it with silent fortitude.
hahahahaha what the fuck
Also, Leo is a horrible, selfish lay and “pumps everything he had into the perfect receptacle beneath him” not realizing that Duke is totally not getting off:
He felt a bit silly for not realizing Duke couldn’t get off with anal stimulation alone and immediately got down to making amends.
As his hand mixed his own seed with the killer’s love juices along the erect shaft, he received positive feedback on his work […]
LOVE JUICES I’m just going to stop there
After a while they manage to infiltrate Stuart’s hideout. Leo drugs him. He and Duke/GC make out more, even with the truth-serum-drugged-rich-pervert watching. Rather than quit making out in front of the guy, Mr. Lawman just drugs him some more.
“You sure that won’t fuck up his brain?” Duke asked between pants. “That’d be against Bureau policy.”
“Come on, he was fucked up to begin with. And to hell with policy. I’ve completed the mission. I’m off the clock now.”
Now, I would be mostly okay with Leo’s personality switch here except that not too many pages later when the Feds show up and take Stuart into custody, Leo is adamant that he get taken alive…and gets super pissed when GC (disguised as a nurse) injects him with something fatal and kills him.
I guess people can be multifaceted but I’m kinda over Leo one minute being “to hell with policy, make out with me, hot serial killer man” and the next minute “you can’t do this! He must face JUSTICE; hot serial killer man, you can’t KILL.”
Unrelated, but fun:
Duke yanked him up by the collar. “Don’t waste my time, Xavier. You heard those two explosions. They came from the airport, which means law enforcement’s here. If there’s one thing America loves, it’s blowing shit up.”
Americaaaa, fuck yeah!
Oh shit:
“But this Stuart guy is worse than Hitler!”
Not WORSE THAN HITLER!!! Yesss, he said the thing! Woo!
Revisiting all this I’m becoming convinced this was not meant to be anything actually but rather an amalgamation of tropes, stereotypes, cliches…a tumblrspeak chimera possibly written by a teenager. A giant, very un-funny inside joke, maybe?
So after killing Stuart, they arrest GC and finally take off his mask:
This was the Green Cleaner’s face. But instead of the satisfaction he had imagined, Leo felt his breath catch in his throat. He’d seen the face before—a fairer one with a warm, affection gaze.
Gasping for air, he staggered backward.
He was looking at Binqing Li!
OMG!!!
To be fair, the reader is in on this. Or should be, from all the clues. I’m mocking Leo here, not the writer this time lol
So book two really goes off the rails. Most (?) of it is GC’s time in prison, doing some really elaborate, manipulative shit of this and that. Meanwhile, after Leo has a nervous breakdown (of course he does) he decides to go on a quest and find out what horrible, traumatic thing made hot killer man this way. Because he can’t really be a bad guy for no reason. He must have some heart-wrenching origin story that made him that way.
Leo’s love will save him.
Meanwhile, Duke is in the slammer:
The momentarily stunned Latino jerked awake. “Not so fuckin’ fast, Chinaman.” He lunged for the snack bar, but the next thing he knew, he was flung against the back wall. He had no idea what had happened, and neither did the others watching. One thing was certain, however: he landed on the back of his head and lay dazed on the fetid floor for more than a hot second.
“Well , if you insist…” Duke began collecting the goods until he couldn’t carry them in two hands. “Don’t mind if I do.”
“Fucker knows kung fu!” shrieked a detainee. “Shit, really be fast as lightning!”
I laughed the first time I read it and I’m laughing now.
Leo visits Duke after court:
“You stirred up a lot of shit in the courtroom today, I’ll give you that, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. You, on the other hand, will be locked up, maybe for the rest of your life, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure to visit you, because you know what? I just realized that maybe some people just end up in a weird, unconventional kind of relationship that can’t be understood with a normal mindset. If that’s us, then I’d rather accept the reality and learn to live with it.
“Anyway, I have to go.” Leo walked to the door but turned to look back, his probing gaze showing concern but not so much as to cause fright. “What happened to you by the window? If I had to take a guess, I’d say you were in a nightmare. I remember how you lent me a helping hand and dragged me out of mine. Maybe it’s my turn to help you out.”
This sound all sweet and gentle and a bit therapyspeak, but I do think it’s worth noting that this is immediately after Leo gets mad and rapes GC raw, no lube, no spit this time, just sticks it in and fucks. GC’s only complaint while this is happening is “don’t do it by the window” which Leo ignores, and GC ends up having a flashback and almost going into convulsions.
The handcuffs around Duke’s wrists made the slightest clink. The killer’s eyes were void of light and heat like the depths of the Mariana Trench, where untold millions of bodies lay concealed in death. Under this gaze, Leo felt as though the air around him had grown thin and he could no longer breathe, but the next moment, the man broke the illusion with a simple shrug.
“What happened? A federal agent sexually assaulted me, that’s what. Should I file a police report at the nearest precinct?”
“I know I shouldn’t have done that, but I’m not going to apologize.”
Lips pursed, Leo opened the door and walked out.
Uhhh okay? Maybe you should apologize? Duke goes back to his cell with blood on the ass of his pants and you’re not even gonna be like “shit, dude, my bad, sorry, hot killer man”?
Maybe this was written by a teenager and/or as an inside joke—there are multiple references to slash fic, fanfic, etc:
“[…] Seriously, just listen to this crap. They say you and GC are—”
Leo nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Oh, never mind, sorry, it was a slash fic.”
“What’s a slash fic?”
Robby stole glances at his partner out of the corner of his eye. If Leo had truly gotten over it and moved on—and he did appear to have—maybe he wouldn’t have to skirt around certain topics anymore.
“Um, y’know, it’s mostly young women writing these, like some of them say it should be K-slash-L, and others say it’s L-slash-K.”
A bunch of nonsense happens and somehow, thankfully, we get a happy end where (spoiler) Roy (GC/Duke/etc) is still in big trouble and has an ankle monitor that can tranq him but he’s in Leo’s custody and is working for the FBI as a serial-killer-hunter. Leo of course found Roy’s tragic backstory and we also had this weird secret Arctic Foxes merc group that young, abused Roy ended up in that trained him as a super awesome assassin.
So now Roy and Leo live and work together and take turns topping.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Doing you.” Roy teased the entrance with a finger. “You promised that I’d be topping next time.”
“Yeah, next time,” Leo said, panting.
“You sonuva—” Roy flipped them over and climbed on top. “I’ll have you know that I can force my way in too.”
Leo gulped. His gaze lowered. “Right,” he sighed. “You can.”
Roy tightened his arms around the man. “Wait, Leo, this isn’t to get back at you for… what you did last time. I never blamed you for it, though it does piss me the fuck off when I think about it.”
Leo shut him up with a kiss. “Listen, I get it. It doesn’t matter who’s on top. What’s important is that this is a relationship of equals. Your physical and emotional needs are just as important as mine. We should complete each other, not dominate each other.”
Wow, how sexy. Couples therapy mid-fuck. Great. (barf)
When Roy started stroking his swollen member in rhythm with each thrust against the bundle of nerves deep inside of him, it was as though he were struck by lightning. A primal roar ripped from his throat as his vision flashed white. The bucking against his ass grew desperate until finally, he felt Roy’s scalding release inside, prompting his own member to unleash ropes of cum that glues not only the two bodies but also the two souls together.
This has to be parody, right. She has to be fucking with us. This is a joke, right? Because ignoring the swollen members, ignoring the “primal roar” that has received endless fic-reader-mockery, ignoring the (somewhat fun but perhaps overused) “ropes of cum”—
“glues not only the two bodies but also the two souls together”? Noooooo hahahaha stop
Another fanfic shoutout:
“Wrong,” Roy said with a smirk. “Discipline is me whipping your ass and your balls with a little leather whip.” He nudged the laptop screen toward Leo while trying not to laugh.
Leo skimmed over the words on the webpage. His fingers tightened around the teacup handle and his eyes widened in shock. “What the… what the hell is this?”
“Online fanfiction,” Roy explained with glee, “written by women with the wildest imagination—no limits, no boundaries. Look, I did a quick tally. Forty percent of the time, I’m topping you. Thirty percent, you’re topping me. Twenty percent, we’re switching. Oh, and the remaining ten? That’s the kinky stuff, including BDSM, of which the ‘D’ is discipline and dominance. Did you know I supposedly cuff you to the dining table with police handcuffs, pour red wine up your ass, and swirl the bottle around while saying ‘Look how thirsty your little mouth is?’”
Leo spewed a mouthful of tea straight onto the carpet. Hacking up a storm, all composure gone, he croaked, “What the fuck is this crap?!”
It’s the SVSSS extras, obviously. I did check out of curiosity and SVSSS was published before this book. So maybe there was a little inspiration there…
So that was The Killer of Killers. A massive disappointment. An almost-drop. Maybe a giant inside joke. But even if that’s the case…I’ve read so many better meta/tongue-in-cheek/self-referential works that do it so much better.
Though I included a bunch of excerpts, I feel like they don’t really give you the flavor of repetition and absolute nonsense of the whole thing. I had some actual intelligent commentary justifying my critique but going back through all of this, it doesn’t deserve the effort.
Rating: 2 stars. Don’t know if I feel dumber for reading it or dumber for bothering with this giant post about it
Leave a Reply