Low.

The thrum of the car engine and The Jefferson Airplanes were the only sounds in the car. Warm, the lights were switched on, Jack shamelessly kerb crawled. His wiffe was staying with her sister, and in his night of freedom, he engaged in something to make him sick to the stomach with guilt. May as well take advantage of this situation to the fullest. Boys lined the street, slim boys, muscular boys, chubby boys, boys barely 16, to young men aged 25, all of them had one thing about them which tied them all together. Standing in the freezing cold night, swaying this way and that, eyes flickering up and down the street, tense and irritated, they waited. Jack took his time. He wanted something perfect. An 18 year old, just blossoming into manhood, he had to be slim but tall with dark and angular features. A handsome one. The requirements were imperative. Anything less would be useless, the desired effect would not be achieved. He stopped. Suddenly. Perfect. Six feet and two inches tall, with narrow hips and low slung black jeans, tan skin, dark dim eyes, cropped jet black hair, perhaps Puerto Rican? Something like that. Fearlessly this man-boy walked to the car, the cocky confidence of a teen still present as he slid into the passanger seat.
'How much?' Jack's voice was calm. He had done this before, of course.
'$200 for the night.'
Cheap and cheerful. Just how Jack liked it. He tossed $200 into the boy's lap, he pocketed them quickly. He supposed this filthy little wretch would only try to steal his wallet if he got the chance. Already, the boy was making bedroom eyes at him, skimming his form with his gaze, checking him out, so to speak. A lazy smile curled his thick, full lips which had probably sucked more cocks than Jack had eaten hot dinners.
'So, where are you taking me?' the boy's voice was accented, but his English was fair.
'A motel.' Jack did not want to make small talk.
'Ohh... That sounds good.' Jack stared at him blankly. Five minutes of ignoring the road. The boy felt nerves rolling in his stomach. This wasn't the average punter. No point trying to welch out now, though, might as well stay in it for the long haul, it wouldn't be the first time he had to do something weird. His thouhts were distracted when he felt Jack's fingertips caressing the skin exposed between the tears in his jeans.
'Mmm... I like that...' the practiced purr of appraisal, it did feel good, and this was a fairly good looking guy. Maybe he wasn't a weirdo, and he just wasn't so good at talking.
Jack didn't smile, however, or even acknowledge anything happening.

The motel carpark was desolate. Nothing. Apart from a lonely car in the corner, the windshield was smashed. Jack walked past it, his arm snaked around the waist of his prize. The owners asked no questions, didn't even look at them, Jack's kind of place. He gave a fake name. Marshall Hauser, from the top of his head, and took the boy away.

Jack closed the door behind them with a quiet click. A lit cigarette clenched between his teeth, sweat beaded on his skin and he looked a little pale, the worst was yet to come.
'Sit on the bed,' his voice was raspy, demanding. The boy obeyed quickly. His heart was thumping hard. 'Take off your jacket, infact fuck it, strip,' a hip flask in Jack's hand contained fiery whiskey. He drank it. Dutch courage for when he let the demons loose. Time to go down low, as low as he could go. He emptied the flask, gurgling and coughing as he tossed it aside. Jack strode across the room and bought his arm back, the boy's eyes were wide, frightened, he knew what was coming. 'You're just a fucking child,' Jack hissed. Sometimes he said things and didn't know why. His fist moved in a graceful arc, cutting through the air and colliding with that pretty cheekbone, and again, and again, fast, hard, relentless blows. Blood began to smear his fist, Jack couldn't stop, the boy was screaming, begging him to stop, he stopped. His cigarette was finished, and he pressed it to the exposed flesh of his inner thigh, a mark. The boy looked perfect now. His nipples were small and pink, his limbs long and graceful, he wasn't at all toned, just painfully thin. His chest heaved, rattling and frightened breaths, Jack clasped his sore and bleeding face in his palms and looked into those scared, big eyes. 'Is this worth $200?' he whispered. The boy just stared. 'IS THIS WORTH TWO HUNDRED FUCKING DOLLARS?' he screamed, in the boy's face, shaking him. The boy shook his head, eyes closed tight, whimpering. Jack threw him back on the bed and turned away. His cock was hard, pressing against the front of his slacks relentlessly, it depressed him that this made him horny.
'Why are you doing this?' a tiny voice whispered behind him.
'I don't know.' the floodgates were open, Jack turned and began to strip down, clothes falling to the floor in a pool around his feet. 'Suck it.' he commanded. The boy crept on his knees and took his cock in his mouth, tentatively sucking, he couldn't fit the whole thing in but he sure as Hell tried. Eyes skyward, how watching Jack could save him, Jack certainly didn't know. This was a beautiful creature, servicing him, blood and saliva and precum mixed on his cock and made him feel harder still. He began to fuck the boy's face, slowly, he didn't want to choke him, he wasnted this to be a fairly pure moment. He groaned, painfully close to climaxing already, he shot his load after 14 minutes and 32 seconds. The boy sat back and wiped his mouth. Jack picked him up from his armpits, and pulled him to the bathroom.
This is where it all goes black, or rather red, a vicious assault. Jack tied the boy to the toilet on his knees, arms wrapped around the bottom of it, he used his tie. He filled the bath with water. Jack wasn't sure what he was doing anymore, he was sweating more than ever, breathing harder now. His semi erect cock remained in it's half aroused state and he found himself wanting to scratch and scrape and hurt, found himself clutching a razor blade firmly in his fist, his eyes were wide. The boy was crying. The pathetic, panicky sounds spurred him on. Red pooled on the bathroom floor, it had ended quickly with choked gurgles. Jack moved to his knees and stared.
'Not again... Not again...' his fingers fumbled, the boy choked and gugled and coughed, tried to scream but his voice box was severed as Jack tried to pull his throat back together, the boy grew paler, paler, limper. He was gone.

Jack sat still with blood stained hands, face, chest. The bath was overflowing, water filling the room, diluting the blood some. Jack turned off the taps and pulled the boy to the bathtub and began to wash the blood away. His wound was deep, he would have to wait, he didn't want to make a mess of the bedspread that's just rude. He waited and smoked, naked sat on the lid of the toilet.

At 4am it was time, he dragged the corpse from the bathtub and dried it thoroughly. He lay him down on the bed and clambered in with him, resting his head on his chest and humming to himself quietly.
'Well that was fun, wasn't it?' Jack asked.
'Yes. I had a wonderful time.' the corpse spoke back. But of course, the corpse did not speak back as far as you and I are concerned. But it was real as day to Jack.
'Let's stay here for hours until it's check out time. I like you better when you're dead.'
'Yes, lets.' Jack would stay, hug the cold and rigid body, maybe press his fingers against the ugly gash he had caused. He had closed the eyelids, he didn't like them to look afraid. Just quiet as if they were slumbering. Day break came, he planted a kiss on blue and freezing lips. He scrubbed the blood off his skin and dressed in his fairly untainted clothes. He picked up the clothes of the boy, he would keep them, hide them in his basement where his wife never went with the others.